Balance of Power ~ Chapter Twenty-Two, Part Two
“Warning: Contents Under Pressure”
Arc One: Chapter Twenty-Two, Part 2
Balance of Power
WARNING: Post Series, Post Movie **SPOILER HEAVY** and slightly AU
“Calm down, cowboy,” Heist murmured as she swung open the final door with ease after her little ‘Sherlock’ had unlocked it. “Let’s go get the booty before someone realizes we’re pirates.”
A/N: Hello everyone! This is the Roaming Fool, temporarily taking over for Heathenesque. We apologize for the lateness of the chapter; in two months we've had two of our writers depart the project on a semi-permanant basis and one leave completely. New writers, like myself, are coming into the project. Our lives have also gotten a lot more complicated.
Therefore, it would behoove all of you who follow Balace of Power to take note, as we begin to come to the end of this story (that's right, the ending is closer than you think!) that updates will become less frequent, although the chapters will be longer in and of themselves and packed with content. It takes time to put this together for you and we want to write to the best of our ability.
Please be patient with us and enjoy Chapter 22!
This is Part Two. To read Part One, Go Here
June 3, 2006 - 9:52 p.m.
Wichita, Kansas
Steering the car down the next level, Sidney considered his next victim: Edward Elric, Hero of the People, Mustang's darling prodigy, long overdue for his comeuppance. His final moments, unfortunately, weren't quite as satisfying to imagine as Hughes'. They lacked clarity; Sidney hadn't seen Fullmetal since the brat was fifteen and nor could he decide which approach would be most effective. Given the reputed strength of the bond between the Elric brothers, having the elder witness the younger's extermination seemed such an appropriate choice -- but what if he tortured them separately, permitting them occasional brief glimpses of one another? Young men had such vivid imaginations; a subtle suggestion could conjure horrors in impressionable minds greater than anything he could inflict. Almost. They might even teach him a new trick or two...
Sidney sighed as he felt the familiar electric tingle of inspiration in his palms. Oh, yes. Yes, this would work beautifully. No one could say that James Sidney Bond didn't feel a modicum of compassion or empathy. He was a reasonable man; he understood the value of options. He was perfectly willing to offer the Fullmetal Bastard an ultimatum: your brother dies by your hand or mine. Chuckling, Sidney sped a little faster down the ramp. Such an exquisite fork. What will you choose, Edward Elric? No, don't tell me... let it be a surprise...
Sidney continued to ponder the fate of the Elrics as he made his way down to the first level of the parking garage and turned the car around to go back up, the magical parking spot still eluding him. There was a blocky, older black van with it's lights on; perhaps they were ready to leave and would be so kind as to relinquish their spot. He slowed, peering at the passengers to get an indication of what they were going to do, when he suddenly recognized the back view of a very curly head of hair.
Sidney stepped on the break quickly, bringing the car to an abrupt halt. He felt his head snap back against the seat, and cursed at his lack of self control, counting himself lucky that the tires hadn't squealed in protest. There she is.
His head didn't move an inch to the side, but his eyes kept their focus on the van and the two figures inside it through the rear view mirror. He slowed to a stop at the corner of the row, looked both ways down either side of the intersection, and turned right. The van disappeared from view, but Sidney smiled as he continued along. He had located a target and a convenient open parking space by the elevator was calling his name.
Pulling the car into the spot, he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. This was it, there was no turning back now. He was dealing with amateurs, one lone Investigations officer, and the Elrics. It was unfortunate that Hughes and Elric had found allies; this whole process could have been so much cleaner. Neither body count nor blood bothered him, but the paperwork required to cover it up really was atrocious.
He checked his watch and felt his pockets for his gun, badge, and phone. The proliferation of wireless devices still astounded him. As annoying as they could be, he still appreciated the cell phone's convenience. Sidney had set it on vibrate earlier; there was no sense in getting complacent and ruining a job by an astonishingly loud ring giving him away. He grabbed a couple of permanent markers out of the cup holder next to his empty tea cup and quietly opened the door. They were more reliable than pencil, less messy than chalk, and faster than etching, a veritable array-making dream. The idea was so simple and practical that Sidney swore he would kill the head of Research and Development if they hadn't invented the self-contained inkwell pen by the time he returned to Amestris. But if they hadn't, he had amassed quite a collection from work.
It was one of those "disabled parking only, violators will be fined" spots, not that Sidney cared. Scanning the area, he uncapped a marker. With an amused flourish, he sketched a simple array on the back of the sign. Taking another quick glance around the garage -- it really wouldn't do for an alchemist of his caliber to become sloppy -- he touched the sign with open palms. As the familiar blue light glowed around the edges, he sighed.
There. Now he wasn't illegally parked. The new "Authorized Personnel Only" sign matched an official-looking, completely worthless tag on his dashboard. Visitors returning to their vehicles wouldn't get suspicious and he doubted security would take a second look if they patrolled the area.
He skirted the perimeter, making his way towards the van between the outer wall and closest row of parked cars. He paused at an especially old, decrepit-looking vehicle with a heavy frame, in dire need of either a paint job or a high pressured wash. A valid hospital staff decal flopped over, half peeled off of the rear windshield and the rear passenger window was covered with tape and plastic. Sidney opened the trunk in less than a minute. It was just as shabby as the rest of the car. Where rust hadn't begun to eat through, there was a thick layer of grime covering the otherwise barren floor.
It was perfect.
Whether underpaid or miserly, the owner wouldn't miss the floor of his trunk for at least a week, Sidney estimated. By that time, he planned to be just a memory in this world, perhaps taking four years worth of leave to enjoy a decent cuppa from his private stock of Ishballan goods. After Hughes and the Elrics were cold in their graves, of course...or after their ashes were scattered across the country, depending on how he decided to dispose of their bodies. Either way, they would be dead, Sidney would be home, and this poor excuse for a vehicle would have given its trunk up for the greater good.
Sidney maneuvered a few cars over until he could see the black van that still housed his two targets, who definitely weren't visiting anyone at the hospital. He smirked at the back of the van and returned to his chosen material. Stooping in a low crouch, Sidney lowered the trunk lid with his left hand until it rested on his right upper arm. He slapped the trunk floor with his right palm, his watch face hitting the metal with a light clunk.
The lid shielded most of the light, the construction work covered most of the noise, and within moments, Sidney felt the familiar thrill as one of his favorite alchemic reactions began to take place. The solid metal floor re-formed under his hand and he slowly curled his fingers around the shifting mass, careful not to break contact completely.
It was over too soon, and Sidney cracked open the trunk just enough to extract his arm and newly formed spider. He gave the machine a once-over, admiring his work. Satisfied, he tucked his creation under one arm and continued to creep between the wall and the cars. Once he was three rows closer he cut across the parking lot, never once looking at the van, and made a direct line to the far entrance on the opposite wall. As soon as he passed the last pillar in the van's line of sight, he turned towards it again.
*************
A digital chirp sounded from somewhere in one of the bags stuffed under the back seat. Reilly traced the noise to a cell phone jammed into the front of a backpack.
"It's mine, Reilly," Tom called over his shoulder. "Who is it?"
"Uh... caller ID says Amber. Amber Branch? Why is she calling -- did you ask her for something?"
Tom rolled his eyes and held his hand out for the phone. "Believe it or not, Reilly, I don't always talk to Amber when I need her help," he said dryly. "And no, I didn't ask her for anything." He pondered the situation further as Reilly she made her way to the front to pass him the phone. "Then again... she usually doesn't call directly unless she is getting back to me with information." Feeling more puzzled than he had all day, an impressive feat on its own, Tom answered with a crisp "Hello?"
The greeting was no sooner out of his mouth when their walkie-talkie transmitted a burst of static and the tinny echo of Ducky's voice enclosed in the air duct. Tom's brows furrowed as he concentrated on keeping the two lines of communication separate. Understanding his plight, Reilly snatched up the walkie-talkie and silently gestured that she would take care of coordinating the rescue. Tom nodded and stepped out of the van, trading the two-way radio talk for the more easily ignorable rumble of construction noise. The door wasn't even closed before Reilly had bounced into the driver's seat and taken command, giving Tom the reassurance he needed to focus his attention on Amber.
"--sorry to be calling so late; you're probably busy. You know what? I'll just call back in the morning."
"Amber, wait. It's fine. Is something wrong?"
Tom turned up the volume as the construction crew started their next round of work. He caught the tail end of a sigh as Amber continued, "No, nothing is wrong. At least I don't think so, not yet." She sighed again, and Tom picked up on some underlying tension, something Amber was usually a master at concealing. "I've been researching all day, Alden's been gone all evening on call, and I guess I just needed to talk to someone who wouldn't think I'm crazy."
Tom's eyes ran the length of the Ninjavan, his gaze settling on Reilly yelling into the walkie-talkie, her free hand waving in frustration. She caught his look and shooed him away. "Amber," he said, "right now you are the last person I'd accuse of being crazy."
"Save your judgment until after you hear everything," Amber muttered. "I talked to Llyn this morning."
"A normal activity between family members..."
"He called me. Tom, he's on his ER rotation. I have a hard time getting hold of the kid just to make sure he's still alive -- oh, God, I shouldn't have used that comparison."
"Are you sure there's nothing wrong, Amber?"
"Llyn saw a cursed man."
The din of the construction work faded out. His breathing quickened and Tom could suddenly feel his heartbeat pumping blood through every vein. He thought back to the first time he had met the boy, the clever, scarred Welsh teenager that Amber's new beau had been taking care of since he was young. And remembering hearing the reason behind that arrangement almost two years later, after Amber had sent Llyn into another room to play with the then-newborn Lucy. Finding out that Llyn's living situation had been caused by a cursed man blowing his family to shreds.
"He said he saw a cursed man at the hospital, and he was looking for a patient," Amber paused and Tom heard a faint complaint in the background. "Lucy just woke up. Can you hold on a sec, Tom?"
"Not really," he exhaled, but she had already put the phone down. He glanced up to shoot a silent apology to Reilly and caught the frustrated carding of her fingers through her hair. Only Ed and Ducky could make her react like that, Tom knew, and strode back to the van.
He leaned in the open passenger door and caught Reilly's attention, but before he could say anything, Amber was back on the line.
"Sorry about that, Tom," Amber's voice returned. "Are you still there?"
"Yeah, I'm here, Amber." Tom raked a hand over the top of his head and grimaced, "Reilly is, too."
"Oh, okay... I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
"Actually, we--"
"Ducky to base, we have reached our objective. Commencing operation Duckstorm!"
"Ducky, hold on," Reilly spoke into the walkie-talkie, her eyes never leaving Tom's, "we aren't ready for you yet- give us about five minutes..."
Ducky's voice sounded again, and Reilly turned the volume down slightly. "If we screw this up it won't matter how surprising your attack is!" she hissed into the receiver. "Just wait for my signal!"
"What are you guys up to?"
Tom sighed. "Do you really--"
"You know what? I don't want to know."
"It's for the best, Amber."
"Right," she agreed before quickly resuming where she had left off when Lucy had interrupted. "So this cursed man showed up at Llyn's hospital. The way he described him made me think of some things going on at work, but nothing's adding up."
Reilly was understandably irritated at Ed and Ducky --especially Ducky-- but it sounded like it was under control otherwise. Tom decided she could handle it, and wandered back away from the van with the phone pressed tight to one ear and a finger jammed into the other. "I'm listening Amber. Go on."
"Actually, hold on just a sec again. I wanna make sure Lucy's in bed."
A sharp rap on the van's window brought Tom's attention back to the parking garage. Amber leaving to check on her daughter less than three minutes after putting her to bed was worrying. The woman was not prone to extreme overprotectiveness; it was just another sign of how agitated she really was.
Reilly was motioning for him, her frustration replaced with a much more frantic look of concern. Tom returned to the passenger's seat and noted that she had the walkie-talkie fisted so tight her knuckles were turning white.
Everyone's twitchier than usual tonight, Tom thought. And that can mean mistakes.
"I don't know what they're doing, but it's doesn't sound like what we planned," she all but yelled over the jumbled updates coming from the walkie-talkie. Tom could pick out both Ducky and Heist's voices; they must have been trying to talk at the same time. He flipped his cell phone to the speaker function and dropped it on the van's center console so he'd hear Amber when she came back. Then he relieved Reilly of the walkie-talkie, and the dueling voices almost instantly died down.
"Of course they stop talking as soon as you come back," Reilly grumbled, but less frantic. "What else is new?"
Tom just smiled and started to call for Heist.
***************
Just ahead, Ed could make out the edge of metal that indicated a break in the wall. "Here's the first turn." The direction was unnecessary, but it felt good to hear a voice, even if it was his own. Actually, considering the company, he would prefer to hear his own voice.
Ducky followed in odd silence; the only sound was the muffled thud of his jean-covered knees hitting the floor of the shaft. Distantly, Ed heard a very faint clunk, and a rush of cooled air kicked on, raising the hairs on his left arm. It had a slightly stale, antiseptic smell that reminded him a little of the automail shop. The only scents missing were oil, grease, and Winry's hair. He snapped back to the present when he felt Ducky bump into him from behind.
"Hey, what's the dealio?"
Ed shook his head roughly. "It's nothing. Come on- we should keep moving."
Behind Ed, Ducky coughed, breaking the short span of blissful silence that hadn't been filled with his voice. "Damn, it stinks like decomposing clowns in here."
Having grown used to Ducky's strange euphemisms, Ed raised his brow slightly, but kept his query back for the sake of continued peace.
Peace, however, was a lost cause. Ducky had broken the dam with his first sentence and the words flowed in torrents. "Now I know what a TV dinner feels like. Seriously, I never thought I'd ever pull a John McClane myself, though I have been compared to Bruce Willis on more than one occasion. It must be my rugged good looks. Hey, do you think T-Jr. is into action flicks? Dude, he would totally get a kick out of Lethal Weapon! Or is he more of a thinker, yeah, he probably isn't exactly like you. He'd probably want to watch Mystic River or Ghostbusters. Or, oh wait, I guess Ghostbusters isn't really a thinking movie though, huh? But he is a kid; he might like the special effects--"
Ed's eye twitched at the rambling monologue, but with heroic fortitude, he managed to strangle back his desire to scream.
"Ducky...." He hissed warningly.
"Hey, there's the vent!" Ducky eagerly fumbled past Ed, shoving a knee into Ed's stomach in his haste, before sitting proudly in front of the slotted panel on the floor of the shaft.
Breathing slowly and cradling his abused middle, Ed's teeth clenched so tight his jaw cracked. Curling a fist, he waved his arm around, desperately wanting to punch anything, but knowing he couldn't risk the noise. With a muffled scream, he abruptly pushed the hair out of his eyes, leaving behind a streak of grime. It was only with the desire to maintain silence that Ed resisted the urge to snatch Ducky bald. "Hey, I wasn't through with you yet you bastar-- what are you doing?"
Ducky had opened his duffel and was fiddling with several small, covered tins. "The Almighty tells me he can get me out of this mess, but he's pretty sure you're fucked."
Ed's jaw dropped. "W-What?" By this time, Ducky had opened the tins and begun spreading the contents on his face. "What the hell is that crap?"
Ducky's eyes had taken on an unnatural glint, one Ed didn't feel entirely comfortable with. As he smeared more of the pigment on his skin, he suddenly grinned. "Hand me my weapon!"
Ed gaped for a second, too keyed up now to deal with the mercurial moods Ducky seemed to flow through. It may have been cute when they were safely at the house -who was he kidding, Ed would never think of Ducky as 'cute'- but with Al's life depending on them, Ed felt as close to panic as he'd ever been. Snatching the duffle away from Ducky, he grabbed the young hacker by the collar and pushed him against the wall, causing it to buckle with a watery crumple of sheet metal. With steadily inflected tones, he spelled it out as clearly as he was able without spilling blood. "We're here to save Al, stupid, not take on the hospital guards! Now if you can't get your head out of your ass I'm going to seal you up in this vent, slap some tape over your mouth, and go in alone. You got it?"
There must have been something in Ed's intense gaze, because Ducky blinked quickly, then nodded without smiling.
Releasing him, Ed knelt by the vent opening, trying to peer through the slats. Minimal light filled his vision, indicating the room was likely unoccupied. Flattening his lips, Ed sat up again and nodded to Ducky's walkie-talkie. "Are we ready?"
Ducky fished around for a second until he found a handful of large smoke bombs. Grinning widely, he raised his voice, speaking clearly. "Ducky to base, we have reached our objective. Commencing operation Duckstorm!"
Reilly's voice sounded slightly distracted as she responded. "Ducky, hold on, we aren't ready for you yet- give us about five minutes..."
Ducky wiped a film of sweat from his forehead, smudging the blue face paint. "What's happening? We only have about ten more minutes before the guards change shift! If I don't drop these soon we'll lose the surprise attack!"
The voice on the other end sounded keyed up and tense. Something was definitely going on, but she wasn't sharing. "If we screw this up it won't matter how surprising your attack is! Just wait for my signal!"
Agitated, Ducky set the smoke bombs down on the floor of the shaft. Picking up one of the tins again, he held it out to Ed. "Ready for some war paint?"
Ed jerked back in alarm. "Are you out of your mind?!"
Shrugging indifferently, Ducky retrieved a small mirror on the end of a long rod and proceeded to repair the smudges to his makeup.
Ed only shook his head, barely suppressing the absolute NEED for activity. He almost felt like he was vibrating! Al was so close, and still, he was being asked to wait... and wait... and wait... he was going to explode. Desperate for any sort of distraction, he regarded Ducky's half painted face. "What the hell is that crap for anyhow? It's not like we're breaking into a dark room."
Ducky adopted a stern look. "We go to avenge our father's fathers! Prepare ye'self, for we fall upon them from above, the strength of all Scotland at our backs!" As he spoke, his words deepened, and he affected an accent that sounded vaguely Caledonian.
To Ed's discomfort, Ducky was also advancing on him, a savage look twisting his face into a scowl. Back pressed into the wall behind him, Ed had a moment to reflect on how much he would rather be facing a giant, rolling boulder about now.
A second passed, and Ducky's lower lip trembled slightly. Another moment passed and his cheek twitched. Just as Ed was preparing to belt him, Ducky's scowl melted into laughter as he gave in to his inner psychotic.
Glaring furiously, Ed crossed his arms in frustration. "You really are an idiot."
Ducky picked up the bombs again, spinning them in one hand as he shoved the scattered tins back into the duffel. "You know you love me. Come on, say it just once!"
Ed ground his teeth. "The only thing I'd love is the chance to kick in your teeth."
Unexpectedly the walkie-talkie suddenly crackled to life. "Okay guys, get ready. Hopefully Murphy will give us a break and this will go off without a hitch."
Ed felt a sudden tightening in his belly. Ducky's face lost a bit of its mania as he hunched over the vent, hands shaking slightly.
Reilly's voice came again, steady, but slightly fearful. "The next shift begins in one minute. The first shift guards will be passing you in fifteen seconds, so it's now or never. Good luck."
"Five, four, three, two, one, it's zero hour." Before Ed could protest, Ducky quickly flipped open his lighter and lit one of the bombs.
Ed's face paled. "You dumb shit, you didn't open the vent!"
Ducky smiled. "Ye of little faith! It will fit right through the... right through the... oh shit." As he spoke, he attempted to push the smoke bomb through the vent openings... only to find the opening was too small.
****************
The two guards walked side by side down the hall. There was very little activity in this area of the hospital, owing to the time of day. One of the men wiped unsuccessfully at a powdered smear on the pocket of his uniform.
"You see now why I avoid powdered donuts, Bill?"
Bill glared at his partner as he continued to swipe at the white smudge. "Uh huh. I thought it was cause' your missus didn't care for the extra reach when she hugged you at night."
Chuckling, the other, larger man patted his gut. "Hey, Andria likes me just as I am."
"Andria likes you cause' you play bingo with her on Friday night instead of poker with the rest of us."
The other man smirked. "It's not the only thing we do on Friday night."
Bill shook his head. "Newlyweds. You people sicken me." He stopped at the rumbling sound that rolled down the corridor. “We expecting rain?”
The other guard snorted and kept walking. “Nah. But that doesn’t mean we won’t get any.”
“I think in my next life, I want to be a weatherman,” Bill said as he started strolling again. “It’s the only job I know of that you can get it wrong all the time, and not get fired.”
The sounds of the guards easy laughter filled the hall as they continued their final check before clocking out.
Which was, of course, when the explosion struck.
**************
"What's with all the codespeak, Tom? Where are you guys? Who was that?"
It figured that Amber would come back just as they started talking about X-ray. "Uh, Amber, now's really not the best time--"
"You're at a hospital, aren't you?"
"This is one of those times when questions shouldn't be asked."
"Just -- is everyone alright?"
"For now."
"Listen, I need to make another call. Don't hang up."
Tom had opened his mouth to say something else, but huffed in exasperation instead. He leaned tiredly against the open passenger door of the van and exchanged an irritated look with Reilly. Beyond her, he could see coruscating lights reflecting off the neighboring SUV from the welders in the construction area. The arcs were bright enough that a nearby post on the opposite side of the van would flicker in stark relief and Tom wondered just how much the owners of the SUV had paid for that finish.
You are getting tired, old man, he thought immediately afterwards, if you're worrying about the finish of a Yuppiemobile.
"Now you see why I don't talk to that woman unless I have to?" Reilly pointed out, pulling him out of his sleep-deprived musing. "She never finishes a conver--"
Before Reilly could finish her thought, Tom detected something in his peripheral vision that caused him to drop his cell onto the floor of the van and reach around the back of his pants for his gun.
0o0o0
An older man got out of the van, forcing Sidney to duck behind the closest car, but the man had a cell phone to one ear and his hand over the other. As he talked, the man looked around without appearing to be looking around.
Well, now, Sidney thought, narrowing his eyes, this puts a wrench in things.
Sidney had expected Fullmetal and Hughes to be the only challenges, since they, like Sidney, had similar backgrounds. Those two were one thing, but it appeared that the group of civilians he had previously dismissed was, in fact, highly coordinated. That was a completely different annoyance. Sidney surreptitiously watched the man until he was sure his initial reaction was more than a hunch. The longer he watched the old man with a ponytail, the more convinced he became that there was training behind that one, be it law enforcement or perhaps some sort of military service.
Grabbing a garbage can out of a nearby stairwell (leaving the bag full of rubbish for someone else to deal with) Sidney retreated out of ear-shot before enhancing his spider and shortening the length of its final fail-safe fuse. That would buy him a little more protection against anyone who tried to tamper with it.
Sneaking back to the target, the old man and the Reilly woman were both back in the front seat. The old man was still on the phone as Sidney straightened and took a few steps away from the van. It was a shame the construction noise was so loud; he would have liked to eavesdrop. It was a great way to find a little information to add that special touch to his victims' last conversation.
He slowly inched his way closer to the van, careful to stay hidden from view. The woman sat in the drivers' seat, her unruly curls obscuring a clear profile as she turned to talk to the man. Sidney set his spider down and prepared it for detonation.
It skittered quietly against the wall that the van was backed up against. They must have parked that way for the best view of the hospital entrances as well as making sure their backs weren't exposed, a sensible precaution in his opinion. It also meant they probably weren't checking too frequently in the rear view mirror. The spider made it to the van and slowly crawled its way up. Sidney snuck another glance at the two inside, envisioning how they would die when his creation finally exploded.
Completely clueless, they continued to only watch what was in front of them as the spider trailed along the van's back edge and planted itself in the center of the roof. Now all someone had to do was try and remove it.
Sidney patted his jacket and rested his hand on the slight bulge of his gun underneath the cheap fabric, feeling a creeping tendril of excitement curl low in his belly. He could help it along, if he wished.
*************
The two stared at each other for a single beat.
In a flurry of arms, Ed lunged for the vent to force it open, only to become entangled as his legs caught on the rope Ducky had insisted on bringing.
His fingers collided with Ducky's as the hacker tried to pull the wick out of the smoke bomb. The smack of their knuckles caused the bomb to slip, and it dropped it into the open duffel by their knees. "Oh crap oh crap oh crap!" Ignoring Ducky's panicked mutters, Ed tried to rescue it, but was suddenly smashed in the chin by Ducky's knee as the other man lunged for the duffle at the same time. Ed's teeth snapped together sharply, catching the edge of his tongue. His eyes watered in sudden pain, and his head flew back, ramming into the wall of the shaft. A loop of rope caught on Ed's wrist as he tried to sit up, and he abandoned his hunt for the smoke bombs as he fought to free himself.
Their combined thrashing was deafeningly loud as flesh and metal collided with the floor, walls, and ceiling around him. It had the odd resonance of a thunderstorm, and was just as deafening. Ed finally stopped struggling and was just preparing to turn his automail arm into a blade when Ducky gulped.
"We have a problem!"
Ed's eyes glared at Ducky from behind a layer of woven cord. "You think?!"
Ducky's face blanched as a wisp of smoke rose from the bag. "Oh, this is gonna hurt."
Ed stared at the other man. "Don't be stupid..." The wisp grew stronger as more smoke bombs were affected. Growling, Ed began fighting the rope again. "At least it's just smoke bombs, a little acrid, but they won't kill us... what?"
Ducky looked ready to cry as he started to struggle with the vent cover. "I'm sorry Ed!"
Before Ed could ask what he meant, a sudden shriek rose deafeningly from the bag, leaving Ed's ears throbbing. When it reached its peak, the bag shook with a muffled explosion.
"Ducky..."
"I thought it would take more than smoke bombs for a distraction! I've got a friend of a friend, he hooked me up with some fireworks and..."
"Who the hell cares, just get this damn rope off of me!"
Ducky continued to pull at the vent. "There's no time, see- one of the fireworks is..."
And time ran out with a thunderous explosion. Brilliant light tore through the shaft, and Ed felt something hot strike the flesh of his left leg, just above the automail. "Ducky!"
Ed made a valiant lunge to free himself from the rope at the same moment Ducky managed to wrestle the vent cover free. With dual cries, the two plunged from the shaft in a hail of bursting light, screaming rockets, and coiling smoke.
It took nearly a minute for the ruckus to abate.
As the last few fireworks snapped and died, Ed finally had time to take stock of his situation, and suddenly wonder why he hadn't hit the floor yet.
It was about that time he heard a light click, and inexplicably, it started to rain.
*****************
Without even being aware of it, both guards dropped to their bellies on the floor. "Shit, goddamn it, not again!” Bill shouted over the alarms as he grabbed for his walkie-talkie. The other guard already had his gun in hand and was carefully rising to his knees.
"This is Wright and Campbell, we have an explosion on level two, I repeat, an explosion on level two, do you copy?" Static met his inquiry. Depressing the button once more, he rose to his feet, followed by Campbell. "Wright to base, do you copy?"
Static again, and then a voice broke through. "We copy, backup is on the way. Stand by and wait for their arrival."
"I hear ya, waiting for backup." With a sharp curse, Bill shoved his walkie-talkie back on his belt and pulled his gun. "Stand by my ass. If there's injured in there, we need to check it out. Keep your head down and follow close. If it gets hairy, we beat feet and wait for backup."
Nervously, Bruce nodded his head once, sharply. Wiping the sudden sweat out of his eyes with his sleeve, he followed.
Fifteen feet down the hall they saw smoke and water trailing out from under a door. "Shit, we got a fire!" Bill ran a short way down the hall where a fire extinguisher was mounted on the wall. Hefting it, he rushed back to the doorway where Bruce waited nervously, gun still drawn. "Alright, I'm going in, cover me!"
After the initial eruption from the room, it had fallen eerily silent. Save the smoke lazily tracing out from under the door, there was no indication anything had even happened.
Bill glanced back at his partner, giving him a short nod before easing up to the door. There was a sound, though it was difficult to interpret. Taking one final, quick breath, Bill spun through the door, immediately followed by Bruce.
What they saw brought them up short.
The sprinklers were on; however, the cold water was largely ignored...
****************
"For now," Tom said into the cellphone. Reilly could see the tension in his jaw as it clenched.
Reilly had met Amber a few times and while she didn't dislike the woman, she found her a little too hyper for her temperment. From the little Tom had said about her, she was a valuable ally and had helped him in more than a few investigations in the past. To this day, she still had no idea how they met, or even what the woman actually did for a living; all she'd ever been able to figure out was that Amber had a government job, and not some paper-pushing clerical one, either. As far as she was concerned, it was probably better that she didn't know the whole story.
Reilly knew Tom well --hell, he'd damn near raised her after her mother died and her father spent so much time working nights-- but there were blanks about the man she'd never been able to fill in. When she was a teen, she'd made it a mission to find out everything she could. Unfortunately, the old bastard was as slippery as an eel when he didn't want anyone to know something. During that phase of her life, she did learn one thing... if she needed to know, he'd tell her. Even if she didn't want to know.
Tom opened his mouth to say something else, but from the exasperated huff that came out instead, Reilly guessed that Amber had put the phone down again. Tom leaned against the open passenger door of the van as though he'd been drained of energy and exchanged an irritated look with her. Reilly could sympathze. Between the events of the past 48 hours, Ed and Ducky's antics, and now, Amber's scatter-brained phone call, Reilly wouldn't be surprised if the normally easy-going man blew a gasket.
"Now you see why I don't talk to that woman unless I have to?" Reilly pointed out. "She never finishes a conver--"
Before Reilly could finish her thought, Tom dropped the cell onto the floor of the van, reached around to the back of his pants and pulled out a gun.
Her heart stopped as she stared down the barrel of the .38 Police Special. Black spots ringed her view and narrowed until there was just a tunnel that was filled with the gun and the glacial hardness in her surrogate father's eyes.
Her first thought --that he really had gone postal-- was instantly replaced with one much more logical and far more frightening as she slowly followed the line of sight from the gun to a point over her left shoulder.
She barely had enough time to comprehend that they were in danger, before she felt the cold bite of nickel plate against her temple and a large, warm, calloused hand curl almost lovingly around the side of her neck. She tried to swallow with a throat that was horribly dry and heard the different tones of two hammers being pulled back at the same time.
"I seriously doubt you have the nerve required to chance pulling the trigger," the stranger said, the words heavy with an almost lyrical, Old World accent. Ed has that same accent. Oh Goddess...
Her rather irrelevant train of thought was derailed, however, as the gun was held steady to her head while the man's thumb almost absently stroked the back of her neck.
"You can attempt it, but you and I both know she'll be dead before your bullet exits the chamber."