Falling Down Like Dominoes, 3/5
Title: Falling Down Like Dominoes, part three
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word: Count: 4,911
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Supporting Characters: The Baby Face Morales gang
Summary: Barry encounters the mob that's also interested in the stolen jewels. Meanwhile, Sean worries over the others' fates.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
From where he was, Sean also heard the brakes squeal and screech. He frowned, freezing where he was as his pulse quickened. It did not have to mean anything was wrong with one of the others. Something was not always wrong with them when there were unsettling noises.
And yet . . . the horrible feeling that something was wrong this time would not go away. It only increased as he turned and ran towards the source of the sound.
By the time he burst around a corner and saw the ACME agents gathered around the front of a car, he was convinced that something dreadful had happened. He pushed his way through, but he could only stop and stare when he finally reached the center of the circle.
Scott was laying on the ground, much too still. His eyes were closed, his head to the side. There was a red mark on his left cheek.
The driver had taken off his jacket, laying it over the lifeless body. Scott's feet were elevated, and as Sean drew closer, he could see the scratches and bruises visible on the younger man's hands. Scott's right pant leg had pulled back slightly, revealing another cruel bruise beginning on his calf.
Sean dropped to his knees. "What happened?!" he demanded in horror. "Is he . . ."
"Very lucky," one of the other agents said with a shake of his head. "He's got some killer bruises, and he must've hit his head when he fell, but he's alive."
The driver looked up at Sean, his eyes haunted. "H-he was just running past," he managed to say. "I was just coming from over there . . ." He gestured to a warehouse. ". . . And . . . and suddenly he was there! I tried to stop in time, but . . ."
Sean took up Scott's hand. It was limp and clammy, with no indication of life at first glance. But when Sean found the pulse, his shoulders slumped in relief. It was strong.
"Why was he running?" he frowned.
The driver shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I didn't see anyone else, just him."
"I hope you've called an ambulance," Sean said, perking up as Scott began to stir. Had he been chasing the Contessa? She most certainly would not stick around to see his fate. She would be pleased if he was hurt.
"Of course," the agent replied. "We're going to take him back to the infirmary at ACME. . . ."
Scott groaned, his fingers curling slightly as his eyes fluttered open. He gazed up at the man bending over him, his vision slowly coming into focus. "Sean . . . ?" Where was Elliott? Did he even know what had happened? Had he still run, just as Scott had done after pushing him through the trapdoor? Or . . . had the thing possessing him taken control again? Elliott was in danger! They had to find him; he was in terrible danger!
Sean nodded. "Yeah, it's me," he said. "For crying out loud, I knew going out on a mission would probably be dangerous, but I didn't think it'd be this hazardous to your health. How are you feeling?"
Scott shook his head. "Never mind me. It's El . . ." It was hard to speak. His mind was still in a fog and he felt like he was going to go under again. Was what he was saying even understandable?
"El?" Sean repeated, frowning more. "What do you mean?"
"He was running," Scott tried to say. "He was scared. . . . Terrified he would hurt me. . . . I chased him. . . . Something hit me and . . . everything went dark. . . ."
Sean stiffened, his heart momentarily stopping. Elliott?! Scott had been chasing Elliott?! And now Elliott was nowhere in sight. But . . . he would never abandon Scott if he saw Scott was in trouble. Had he thought poor Scott had been killed? Or . . . had Scott's double or whoever was trying to control him made him run away?
Scott squeezed tightly on Sean's hand. "We have to save him, Sean! We have to!" He struggled to rise, but his body would not cooperate. Everything felt like jelly. He fell back on the hard pier before Sean could try to support him.
Sean winced. "We're going to save him," he promised. "Everything's going to be okay." He laid Scott's hand gently on his chest. "Just rest, Scott. The ambulance is going to be here soon."
"Ambulance?!" Scott wanted to rise again, but he knew it was useless to try. "No! I have to get up. We have to find El . . . !"
"El would want you to just rest," Sean said. "You've been hurt, Scott. We have to get help for you."
Scott slumped further against the wood. "But . . . he's in trouble . . ." he whispered, even as unconsciousness descended on him again.
Sean clenched his teeth as Scott fell limp. "Where is that ambulance?!" he muttered under his breath.
He dug in his pocket for his cellphone. One friend was laying in front of him, battered from being hit by a car. Another friend was who knew where, still chasing the Contessa. And the third was being controlled by an evil spirit, also who knew where.
Frantically he dialed Barry's number, leaning back as he waited for an answer. "Come on," he said. "Barry, where are you?!" But it continued to ring.
The sound of a motor brought his attention upward. Relief washed over him to see the ambulance from ACME Medicnet coming to a stop. At least now Scott would finally be properly helped.
But . . . where was Barry? Was he in trouble too?
He clenched a fist, ending the pointless call as he stepped back to allow the paramedics to get to Scott.
"This day keeps getting better," he said to himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
He stared at Scott without really seeing him as the medics lifted him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Then he climbed in as well, staring out the square windows as the doors shut.
I'm sorry, Scott. This never should've happened to you.
I'm sorry, Barry . . . if you're also somewhere in trouble.
He gripped his upper arms tightly as his eyes narrowed.
I'm sorry, El. I let you down.
I've let all of you down.
And I don't know how to fix it.
****
Barry, meanwhile, had indeed gotten into a sticky situation. In the process of chasing the Contessa, he had come to realize that he was being followed. He paused, frowning as he strained to listen. The person behind him had stopped as well, trying his hardest not to move.
Again Barry started to walk, turning a corner. Without warning he whirled back, just in time to see his shadow emerge from around the same corner. Realizing that the jig was up, the other man stiffened. As he turned to run away, Barry gave chase.
Being younger and in better physical condition, the ACME agent caught up and overtook the stranger in no time. He lunged, grabbing his pursuer and shoving him against the wall of the nearest warehouse. Just the sight of his cold glare was enough to freeze the spy in his attempt to fight.
"Why are you following me?" Barry demanded.
The older man shook his head, keeping silent as he stared. He was dressed in a brown suit and a fedora, but somehow Barry doubted that they were on the same side of the law.
On impulse Barry asked, "Are you part of the Baby Face Morales gang?"
Now the eyes widened. At last the captive gave a slow nod.
Barry nodded too. "I thought so. And you're hoping I'll lead you to the Contessa. Is that right?"
Another nod.
Slowly Barry released the mobster. If those were the man's only orders, then he would not attempt to harm Barry until the Contessa and the jewels were found. And though Barry did not like it, maybe he would have to allow himself to be followed for now. If he played his cards right, he might be able to get all of the gang captured as well as the Contessa.
"She should've left this area hours ago," he said. "Was your gang detaining her?" He crossed his arms, still looking intimidating. "And I want to hear your reply."
". . . Yes," said the mobster in a low, uneasy voice.
"But she still escaped and took back the jewels." Barry shook his head. "That must be quite an embarrassment to your boss."
". . . Do I have to answer that?" the older man frowned.
"No," said Barry. "But I have to wonder, if he's really dangerous enough to have the reputation of 'the most vicious killer in America', why didn't he get rid of her immediately?"
The mobster glared. "You ask too many questions." He started to reach into his pocket.
"If you're going to pull a gun on me, I'll arrest you here and now," Barry warned. He would have to be prepared to grab his own weapon, though he really did not want to have to use it.
"The boss's second-in-command wanted me to offer you a deal," was the reply. He took out a folded piece of paper. "If you'll sign this, agreeing to let us go free, you'll get a cut of the jewels."
Barry accepted the paper, looking it over with a deadpan expression. This was certainly not what he had expected at all. It was drawn up in a formal and legal-sounding way, with a place to sign his name at the bottom.
"You say this is your boss's second-in-command's idea," he said. "He knows a lot about legal documents."
"He used to be a cop. Just like you." The mobster stood by, watching as Barry skimmed through the contents.
So that was their game. They were hoping that he could be bought, since apparently this second-in-command had been a dirty cop.
Barry refolded the paper. But instead of handing it back, he slipped it into his pocket. It would be good evidence.
"And what if I refuse?" he asked.
"Then we'll have to kill you when we take the jewels," was the reply.
"Correction-I'll have to arrest you when you take the jewels," Barry deadpanned.
"There's more of us than there are of you."
Barry frowned at the new, Brooklyn-accented voice. To his surprise, a short man stepped out of the nearby warehouse, flanked by a heavyset man who was clearly the brawn of the gang.
"We don't want any trouble," the short man continued. "We'd rather get out of here without shedding any blood."
Barry looked at him, unimpressed. "You want to 'get out of here' with something that doesn't belong to you," he said. "And you want to drag me down with you."
"You'd be a fool to refuse," said another new voice, "but then again, I thought it was a stupid plan to begin with. ACME cops can't be bought. At least not ones like you."
Everyone stiffened. "Baby Face," gulped the heavyset man.
Barry looked towards the sound of the gravelly tones. A brown-haired young man, only a year or two older than Scott, stepped out from between two warehouses across the pier. This was the most vicious killer in America? Barry glanced back to the other mobsters, all older than this Baby Face. He did have to wonder how someone so young had ended up in charge of this crew.
"I'll deal with you crumbs later," Baby Face said, looking to his gang. "But as for you . . ." He looked to Barry. "We're still clearly on opposite sides of this conflict, even though we want the same thing. We're going to keep following you while you look for that dame with our jewels."
Barry looked back calmly. "Or you would, if you were going to stay free to do it," he said. "I still have the document your associate drew up. I can use it as evidence that you were trying to bribe an officer of the law and arrest you on those charges."
Baby Face fixed him with a hateful glare. "You won't try to arrest us yet," he said. "You're hoping to catch us in the act of liftin' the rocks."
"Then maybe you shouldn't try it," Barry said.
"You know, it's four against one," Baby Face sneered, "and there's more of you guys we can tail. We could shoot you down right now and take back that paper."
"Do you really want to do that?" Barry held his ground, unshaken. "If you kill me now, every ACME agent on the docks will hear and come running. You'll be surrounded."
"Not if they can't hear. We're all using silencers. And we'd make sure to dispose of the evidence." But then Baby Face smirked, waving a cellphone in Barry's face. "And I think you've got bigger things to worry about than a few mobsters followin' you around. My girl Ruby tells me that there's been an accident."
Now Barry's heart tightened. "What accident?" he growled, his voice suddenly steel.
"Oh, that strikes a nerve, eh? I thought so." Baby Face slipped the phone back in his pocket. "I think it was the, uh, blond guy. He got run over by one of your own cars while chasin' that other buddy of yours."
Barry felt the color drain from his face. Scott? Scott had been hit by a car-an ACME car, no less?! And he had been chasing . . . who? Elliott? He swallowed hard.
"They're takin' him back to the L.A. ACME place to try to patch him up," Baby Face said. "If there's much left to work with. The guy with the crazy hair's goin' with him." He crossed his arms, a smug smirk adorning his features. "You don't wanna be left out, do you?"
Barry narrowed his eyes, pulling his own cellphone out of his pocket and studying the screen. Sean had been trying to call him. Baby Face could be lying about the accident, but he could not take a chance.
When he looked back up, the mobsters were fading back into the shadows of the oncoming twilight.
"And one more thing," Baby Face hissed. "If your little buddy with the dark curls so much as smiles at Ruby again, I'm gonna break every bone in his body. To start with."
Barry stiffened. Again? When would Elliott have seen her to begin with? . . .
His eyes widened. The girl from the museum . . . was she Ruby? Had she alerted her boyfriend to ACME's presence? Maybe they were the owners of that tan Pontiac and it really had been following them!
He gritted his teeth. He would have to find out later. Right now, his friends were his first priority.
He flipped open his phone, dialing Sean's number and waiting while it rang. As he started walking, he heard a click.
"Hello, Sean?" he said, hoping he could quickly figure out where their car was located from here. ". . . Yes, I'm alright. What happened to Scott?"
He listened, his eyes narrowing as Sean related everything that had happened in the past couple of hours. Baby Face had lied about the seriousness of Scott's injuries. But Barry would not bother getting angry over that. It was just a relief to know that Scott had not been badly hurt in the crash.
And on the other hand . . . it was a horror, what had happened to Elliott. Where had he even gone? Sean had not been able to reach him on the phone.
He clenched a fist. "Sean, I'm coming out there," he said. "On my way I'll look for Elliott."
But he had a sinking feeling that it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
What were they going to do?
****
Sean paced back and forth in the waiting room after he hung up with Barry. It was a relief to know that he was alright . . . though the reason why he had not answered his phone was still a mystery. Hopefully that would be answered when he arrived.
And hopefully the doctors would be done poking Scott by then. They had determined that there was no internal damage-thank God-but they still wanted to run some other tests. Scott had regained consciousness long ago and was probably highly edgy-which was how Sean had felt waiting all this time.
He stopped by the window, running his hands over his eyes as he tiredly looked out at the Los Angeles skyline. Lights twinkled all over the city from various buildings and homes. The people of L.A. had been getting back on their feet after the earthquake that had all but torn the place apart the last time Rockapella had been there. They had bounced back even from what had seemed a hopeless and heart-rending tragedy.
But could he and the others bounce back from their own tragedy? They had not even recovered from the one before this. Then again, maybe this one was an extension of that one, since it seemed to prey upon Scott's fragile emotional state. In any case, it was looking so hopeless.
Or maybe Sean felt that way because he was certain he had made it worse. What had he been thinking? How could he have snapped at Elliott back at the museum? The way Elliott had been talking should have made it obvious that it was actually something else using his body. But Sean had ignored that.
"Oh El . . ." he said quietly, still staring out at the night. "I think I know now how bad you've felt about how you acted during that fiasco with me. But after all the weird stuff we've seen since then, I have far less of an excuse to have treated you like that. I hope you'll forgive me. . . ."
Of course Elliott would. Especially considering how he was still upset at himself about the case with Sean. After all this time, he had not been able to let it go.
Sean frowned. Was there any possible chance . . .
His phone rang, interrupting his train of thought. But as he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, his eyes widened. It was Elliott! . . . Or the creep possessing him.
He opened the phone, putting it to his ear. "El?!" he exclaimed. "Elliott, where are you?"
"I was hoping you'd ask."
Sean's heart sank. It was not Elliott in control.
"The earthquake took out a lot of buildings," the stranger continued. "And there's a couple of high-rise corporations that are still being refurbished. Right now I'm sitting at the desk of one of those company's presidents, just kicking back with my feet up. If I turn towards the window I can see for miles. I can even see ACME from here."
Sean's eyes narrowed. "Okay, so you're chilling up there in Elliott's body. And what? Do you want us to come to you?"
"Yes, actually. I've been looking forward to meeting with you again."
It was bizarre to hear these formal words coming out in Elliott's voice. And Sean froze at the last statement, his thoughts from before the phone call returning to him.
". . . It is you," he realized, gripping the phone tighter. "How did you escape?!"
A cold chuckle. "There are loopholes, even in the Netherworld. I emerged to take revenge upon you. And in the process, I have gained a host who is not as strong as you were. He will never be able to shatter my control!"
Sean's hands were growing clammy. Even he had not been able to force that wretch out completely. It had only been when he and the others had broken the medallion that the spirit had been expelled. But now there was no medallion for them to break. And the parasite would not reveal the details of his "loophole." How would they get him out of Elliott's body?!
"Of course he'll shatter your control," he snapped then. "He's been breaking free at different times all through the day."
"Only because I was not exercising my full power over him," the wicked adviser said in cruel delight. "But when he saw that blond fool struck by the automobile, he was struck as well. He does not even have use of his speech!"
Sean paled further. Elliott could not talk?
"The only words you will ever hear in his voice again are mine. Even if by some slim twist of fate you manage to remove me, Elliott can never speak to you."
Now Sean was disgusted. Why was he letting himself be intimidated by this loser? Was some part of him afraid of the guy, since he had suffered possession in the past? Well, it was time to take off the kiddie gloves and get down to business.
"I'm reminded of a song," he said sardonically. "When you talk, all I hear is 'blah, blah, blah.' Just sit tight, you unctuous creep! I'll come out, alright-but I'll come to free El. And I'll succeed, too." He moved to hang up the phone, but then paused.
"And now I'm going to talk to El," he said. "Scoff all you want, but he's still in there and he can hear me.
"El!" he called before the spirit could interrupt. "Scott's alive! He's alive and he's worried about you, like we all are! Just hang in there and keep fighting."
A click met his ears. The adviser had hung up. Well, no matter. He had said the most important things. He closed his phone, shoving it back in his pocket.
What building was the creep at? He had said there were at least two possibilities. But he had hopefully given a clue when he had said that he could see ACME from the window. Sean pulled out his handheld computer. He would bring up some maps of the city and try to pin down the location.
"Sean?"
He started at the sound of the weak voice. Then he whirled, his eyes widening as Scott limped into the room, holding onto the wall for balance. Scott gritted his teeth, wincing at the pain of the bruises.
Sean shoved the computer back in his pocket as he hurried over to assist his close friend and unofficial second-in-command. "Scott!" he exclaimed. "You're the walking wounded! Are you supposed to be up?" He pulled an arm around Scott's shoulders, guiding him to a soft chair.
Scott gratefully accepted the help, leaning against Sean as they walked over to the chair. "Everything checked out," he smiled as he sank into it. "I'm going to be sore for a few days . . . really sore . . . but that's the worst of it." He looked up at Sean, who was pulling a chair over to sit facing him.
"Sean, I have to help find El!" he pleaded. "You understand that, don't you? I know exactly what he's going through. I . . . I'm afraid he thinks I was killed. And I'm so afraid of what he might do! . . ."
Sean swallowed. Scott had been ready to make a trade with the ring to die in Elliott's place, if it would only bring Elliott back. He had tried to do it, actually . . . even though Elliott had not been killed at all. And Elliott might very well have similar thoughts now.
"Yeah," he said, "I know it. And you can help find him right now." He pulled out his computer again. The maps had loaded, displaying Malibu and the surrounding area on the small screen. Sean glanced at it, then turned the device to face Scott. "What's a currently empty skyscraper where you can see ACME from the top floor?"
Scott blinked in surprise, taking the computer in his scraped hands. "There might be two or three in different parts of the city," he said. "Let me see here. . . ." He typed, enlarging portions of the map.
Sean watched, amazed that Scott was this up to par. It was likely because of his drive to find Elliott, of course. Otherwise he probably would not have the energy. And Sean would not even be asking him for help if it was not urgent.
"Why do you think El would go to one of those buildings?" Scott asked as he worked.
Sean sighed. "I got a call from the guy possessing him," he said. "It isn't your double after all. Turns out the whole thing was orchestrated just to get at me." Now anger had slipped into his voice.
Scott stiffened. ". . . What? Sean, you don't mean . . ." He looked up, his eyes wide and alarmed.
"Yeah," Sean grumbled. "It's him-the guy who took my body for a joyride. He came all the way out of the Netherworld to have a bowl of revenge, hot and ready. I'm not sure why he grabbed El this time. I doubt he'd really care that El's the only one of us who hasn't had to fight for control of his body. Unless he thought that'd make El the most vulnerable or something."
Scott's hands shook as he looked back at the computer. ". . . How are we even going to save him?" he moaned.
"I've been wondering that myself," Sean frowned. "If we just knew how this creep got out of the Netherworld to begin with, that could help!"
Scott nodded, that sick feeling in his stomach growing stronger. "Poor El," he whispered.
He swallowed hard. "I've narrowed it down to two buildings, but I'm not sure which one it is," he said. "One would look at ACME head-on, while the other would see it from a right angle. Did he say anything else? Anything at all?"
"No," Sean said. "Just that he could see for miles."
And he hesitated. Should he say what else the adviser had told him, about Elliott being mute? That would be a horrible shock for Scott, if he only saw it firsthand. But on the other hand, what if it was not even true? Sean did not want to worry him unnecessarily.
Before he could make a final decision, the doors slid open and Barry entered, exhausted and concerned. He stopped short, staring in disbelief and amazement at the sight of Scott sitting up looking at a computer while Sean observed. His friends looked up, relieved to see him safe.
"Barry!" Scott grinned. "Where've you been, man?"
He was fixed with a stern look in response. "Should you be up?" Barry asked.
"I'm okay," Scott said. "It's El who we need to worry about."
Sean looked to Barry. "So where have you been?" he wanted to know.
Barry shook his head, walking over to them. "I'm being followed by Morales' gang," he said wearily. "They're hoping I'll lead them to the Contessa."
Sean frowned. "If only someone could lead us to El," he said.
Barry dug in his pocket, pulling out a familiar gold earring. "I found this near a skyscraper," he frowned. "I looked around the area, but there wasn't any other trace of him."
Sean took the earring, turning it over in his hands. "Do you remember what building?" he asked, the urgency in his voice. "He's probably in it!"
Barry blinked in surprise. Only now did he fully take note of what Scott had up on the computer screen. He leaned over, studying the satellite map of the downtown area. But seeing the buildings from above did not help much without the street labels.
"I think it was called Trapezoid Solutions," Barry deadpanned.
"You think?" Sean blinked. "That's the kind of name I'd never forget! I wonder what the deal is with naming companies after shapes, anyway. There's that company up in Oregon called Fragmented Triangle." He shook his head, leaping up. "Well, anyway! Let's go there right now! El's there."
Scott nodded, handing Sean's computer to him before trying to rise from the chair. Barry hastened to assist. Scott stumbled, gratefully leaning on the older man for support.
"Let's go out a back exit," Barry said. "Maybe we can lose those mobsters."
"They followed you all the way here?!" Scott gasped.
"It's a long story," Barry sighed.
"One we're still waiting to hear," Sean said.
"Later," Barry said. "In the car."
"We'll hold you to that," Sean said, wagging a finger at Barry, who grunted.
Sean stuffed the computer in his pocket and moved to help on Scott's other side, if he needed it. And now he needed to warn them of Elliott's possible condition, which was not something he looked forward to doing at all. He was still hoping it was not true. But in case it was, he had to let them know.
He took a deep breath. "Guys . . ."
Scott and Barry turned to look at him with questions in their eyes. Sean draped Scott's other arm around his shoulders.
"The creep on the phone said . . . he said El can't talk."
Scott stiffened, staring at Sean in horrified disbelief. "But . . . he was still possessing El when you were on the phone with him," he protested.
Sean shook his head. "It's a mental thing," he said. "The spirit can talk through El, but El himself . . . he suffered such a shock when he saw you hit by the car that he . . ."
Scott looked down, trembling. "El," he whispered. The thought of Elliott being so agonized that he had suddenly become mute was heart-breaking. And it had been because of him. . . . If he had only been able to watch where he was going and stay out of the way of the car . . . !
"Don't blame yourself," Barry frowned as they reached the outside doors. "It isn't your fault."
". . . It's hard not to think it," Scott said as they stepped into the cool Los Angeles night.
"I know," Sean said quietly. "Do I ever know."
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Rating: T/PG-13
Word: Count: 4,911
Main Characters: Fictional Rockapella (Sean, Scott, Elliott, Barry)
Supporting Characters: The Baby Face Morales gang
Summary: Barry encounters the mob that's also interested in the stolen jewels. Meanwhile, Sean worries over the others' fates.
Will be posted to 10_hurt_comfort.
From where he was, Sean also heard the brakes squeal and screech. He frowned, freezing where he was as his pulse quickened. It did not have to mean anything was wrong with one of the others. Something was not always wrong with them when there were unsettling noises.
And yet . . . the horrible feeling that something was wrong this time would not go away. It only increased as he turned and ran towards the source of the sound.
By the time he burst around a corner and saw the ACME agents gathered around the front of a car, he was convinced that something dreadful had happened. He pushed his way through, but he could only stop and stare when he finally reached the center of the circle.
Scott was laying on the ground, much too still. His eyes were closed, his head to the side. There was a red mark on his left cheek.
The driver had taken off his jacket, laying it over the lifeless body. Scott's feet were elevated, and as Sean drew closer, he could see the scratches and bruises visible on the younger man's hands. Scott's right pant leg had pulled back slightly, revealing another cruel bruise beginning on his calf.
Sean dropped to his knees. "What happened?!" he demanded in horror. "Is he . . ."
"Very lucky," one of the other agents said with a shake of his head. "He's got some killer bruises, and he must've hit his head when he fell, but he's alive."
The driver looked up at Sean, his eyes haunted. "H-he was just running past," he managed to say. "I was just coming from over there . . ." He gestured to a warehouse. ". . . And . . . and suddenly he was there! I tried to stop in time, but . . ."
Sean took up Scott's hand. It was limp and clammy, with no indication of life at first glance. But when Sean found the pulse, his shoulders slumped in relief. It was strong.
"Why was he running?" he frowned.
The driver shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I didn't see anyone else, just him."
"I hope you've called an ambulance," Sean said, perking up as Scott began to stir. Had he been chasing the Contessa? She most certainly would not stick around to see his fate. She would be pleased if he was hurt.
"Of course," the agent replied. "We're going to take him back to the infirmary at ACME. . . ."
Scott groaned, his fingers curling slightly as his eyes fluttered open. He gazed up at the man bending over him, his vision slowly coming into focus. "Sean . . . ?" Where was Elliott? Did he even know what had happened? Had he still run, just as Scott had done after pushing him through the trapdoor? Or . . . had the thing possessing him taken control again? Elliott was in danger! They had to find him; he was in terrible danger!
Sean nodded. "Yeah, it's me," he said. "For crying out loud, I knew going out on a mission would probably be dangerous, but I didn't think it'd be this hazardous to your health. How are you feeling?"
Scott shook his head. "Never mind me. It's El . . ." It was hard to speak. His mind was still in a fog and he felt like he was going to go under again. Was what he was saying even understandable?
"El?" Sean repeated, frowning more. "What do you mean?"
"He was running," Scott tried to say. "He was scared. . . . Terrified he would hurt me. . . . I chased him. . . . Something hit me and . . . everything went dark. . . ."
Sean stiffened, his heart momentarily stopping. Elliott?! Scott had been chasing Elliott?! And now Elliott was nowhere in sight. But . . . he would never abandon Scott if he saw Scott was in trouble. Had he thought poor Scott had been killed? Or . . . had Scott's double or whoever was trying to control him made him run away?
Scott squeezed tightly on Sean's hand. "We have to save him, Sean! We have to!" He struggled to rise, but his body would not cooperate. Everything felt like jelly. He fell back on the hard pier before Sean could try to support him.
Sean winced. "We're going to save him," he promised. "Everything's going to be okay." He laid Scott's hand gently on his chest. "Just rest, Scott. The ambulance is going to be here soon."
"Ambulance?!" Scott wanted to rise again, but he knew it was useless to try. "No! I have to get up. We have to find El . . . !"
"El would want you to just rest," Sean said. "You've been hurt, Scott. We have to get help for you."
Scott slumped further against the wood. "But . . . he's in trouble . . ." he whispered, even as unconsciousness descended on him again.
Sean clenched his teeth as Scott fell limp. "Where is that ambulance?!" he muttered under his breath.
He dug in his pocket for his cellphone. One friend was laying in front of him, battered from being hit by a car. Another friend was who knew where, still chasing the Contessa. And the third was being controlled by an evil spirit, also who knew where.
Frantically he dialed Barry's number, leaning back as he waited for an answer. "Come on," he said. "Barry, where are you?!" But it continued to ring.
The sound of a motor brought his attention upward. Relief washed over him to see the ambulance from ACME Medicnet coming to a stop. At least now Scott would finally be properly helped.
But . . . where was Barry? Was he in trouble too?
He clenched a fist, ending the pointless call as he stepped back to allow the paramedics to get to Scott.
"This day keeps getting better," he said to himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
He stared at Scott without really seeing him as the medics lifted him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Then he climbed in as well, staring out the square windows as the doors shut.
I'm sorry, Scott. This never should've happened to you.
I'm sorry, Barry . . . if you're also somewhere in trouble.
He gripped his upper arms tightly as his eyes narrowed.
I'm sorry, El. I let you down.
I've let all of you down.
And I don't know how to fix it.
****
Barry, meanwhile, had indeed gotten into a sticky situation. In the process of chasing the Contessa, he had come to realize that he was being followed. He paused, frowning as he strained to listen. The person behind him had stopped as well, trying his hardest not to move.
Again Barry started to walk, turning a corner. Without warning he whirled back, just in time to see his shadow emerge from around the same corner. Realizing that the jig was up, the other man stiffened. As he turned to run away, Barry gave chase.
Being younger and in better physical condition, the ACME agent caught up and overtook the stranger in no time. He lunged, grabbing his pursuer and shoving him against the wall of the nearest warehouse. Just the sight of his cold glare was enough to freeze the spy in his attempt to fight.
"Why are you following me?" Barry demanded.
The older man shook his head, keeping silent as he stared. He was dressed in a brown suit and a fedora, but somehow Barry doubted that they were on the same side of the law.
On impulse Barry asked, "Are you part of the Baby Face Morales gang?"
Now the eyes widened. At last the captive gave a slow nod.
Barry nodded too. "I thought so. And you're hoping I'll lead you to the Contessa. Is that right?"
Another nod.
Slowly Barry released the mobster. If those were the man's only orders, then he would not attempt to harm Barry until the Contessa and the jewels were found. And though Barry did not like it, maybe he would have to allow himself to be followed for now. If he played his cards right, he might be able to get all of the gang captured as well as the Contessa.
"She should've left this area hours ago," he said. "Was your gang detaining her?" He crossed his arms, still looking intimidating. "And I want to hear your reply."
". . . Yes," said the mobster in a low, uneasy voice.
"But she still escaped and took back the jewels." Barry shook his head. "That must be quite an embarrassment to your boss."
". . . Do I have to answer that?" the older man frowned.
"No," said Barry. "But I have to wonder, if he's really dangerous enough to have the reputation of 'the most vicious killer in America', why didn't he get rid of her immediately?"
The mobster glared. "You ask too many questions." He started to reach into his pocket.
"If you're going to pull a gun on me, I'll arrest you here and now," Barry warned. He would have to be prepared to grab his own weapon, though he really did not want to have to use it.
"The boss's second-in-command wanted me to offer you a deal," was the reply. He took out a folded piece of paper. "If you'll sign this, agreeing to let us go free, you'll get a cut of the jewels."
Barry accepted the paper, looking it over with a deadpan expression. This was certainly not what he had expected at all. It was drawn up in a formal and legal-sounding way, with a place to sign his name at the bottom.
"You say this is your boss's second-in-command's idea," he said. "He knows a lot about legal documents."
"He used to be a cop. Just like you." The mobster stood by, watching as Barry skimmed through the contents.
So that was their game. They were hoping that he could be bought, since apparently this second-in-command had been a dirty cop.
Barry refolded the paper. But instead of handing it back, he slipped it into his pocket. It would be good evidence.
"And what if I refuse?" he asked.
"Then we'll have to kill you when we take the jewels," was the reply.
"Correction-I'll have to arrest you when you take the jewels," Barry deadpanned.
"There's more of us than there are of you."
Barry frowned at the new, Brooklyn-accented voice. To his surprise, a short man stepped out of the nearby warehouse, flanked by a heavyset man who was clearly the brawn of the gang.
"We don't want any trouble," the short man continued. "We'd rather get out of here without shedding any blood."
Barry looked at him, unimpressed. "You want to 'get out of here' with something that doesn't belong to you," he said. "And you want to drag me down with you."
"You'd be a fool to refuse," said another new voice, "but then again, I thought it was a stupid plan to begin with. ACME cops can't be bought. At least not ones like you."
Everyone stiffened. "Baby Face," gulped the heavyset man.
Barry looked towards the sound of the gravelly tones. A brown-haired young man, only a year or two older than Scott, stepped out from between two warehouses across the pier. This was the most vicious killer in America? Barry glanced back to the other mobsters, all older than this Baby Face. He did have to wonder how someone so young had ended up in charge of this crew.
"I'll deal with you crumbs later," Baby Face said, looking to his gang. "But as for you . . ." He looked to Barry. "We're still clearly on opposite sides of this conflict, even though we want the same thing. We're going to keep following you while you look for that dame with our jewels."
Barry looked back calmly. "Or you would, if you were going to stay free to do it," he said. "I still have the document your associate drew up. I can use it as evidence that you were trying to bribe an officer of the law and arrest you on those charges."
Baby Face fixed him with a hateful glare. "You won't try to arrest us yet," he said. "You're hoping to catch us in the act of liftin' the rocks."
"Then maybe you shouldn't try it," Barry said.
"You know, it's four against one," Baby Face sneered, "and there's more of you guys we can tail. We could shoot you down right now and take back that paper."
"Do you really want to do that?" Barry held his ground, unshaken. "If you kill me now, every ACME agent on the docks will hear and come running. You'll be surrounded."
"Not if they can't hear. We're all using silencers. And we'd make sure to dispose of the evidence." But then Baby Face smirked, waving a cellphone in Barry's face. "And I think you've got bigger things to worry about than a few mobsters followin' you around. My girl Ruby tells me that there's been an accident."
Now Barry's heart tightened. "What accident?" he growled, his voice suddenly steel.
"Oh, that strikes a nerve, eh? I thought so." Baby Face slipped the phone back in his pocket. "I think it was the, uh, blond guy. He got run over by one of your own cars while chasin' that other buddy of yours."
Barry felt the color drain from his face. Scott? Scott had been hit by a car-an ACME car, no less?! And he had been chasing . . . who? Elliott? He swallowed hard.
"They're takin' him back to the L.A. ACME place to try to patch him up," Baby Face said. "If there's much left to work with. The guy with the crazy hair's goin' with him." He crossed his arms, a smug smirk adorning his features. "You don't wanna be left out, do you?"
Barry narrowed his eyes, pulling his own cellphone out of his pocket and studying the screen. Sean had been trying to call him. Baby Face could be lying about the accident, but he could not take a chance.
When he looked back up, the mobsters were fading back into the shadows of the oncoming twilight.
"And one more thing," Baby Face hissed. "If your little buddy with the dark curls so much as smiles at Ruby again, I'm gonna break every bone in his body. To start with."
Barry stiffened. Again? When would Elliott have seen her to begin with? . . .
His eyes widened. The girl from the museum . . . was she Ruby? Had she alerted her boyfriend to ACME's presence? Maybe they were the owners of that tan Pontiac and it really had been following them!
He gritted his teeth. He would have to find out later. Right now, his friends were his first priority.
He flipped open his phone, dialing Sean's number and waiting while it rang. As he started walking, he heard a click.
"Hello, Sean?" he said, hoping he could quickly figure out where their car was located from here. ". . . Yes, I'm alright. What happened to Scott?"
He listened, his eyes narrowing as Sean related everything that had happened in the past couple of hours. Baby Face had lied about the seriousness of Scott's injuries. But Barry would not bother getting angry over that. It was just a relief to know that Scott had not been badly hurt in the crash.
And on the other hand . . . it was a horror, what had happened to Elliott. Where had he even gone? Sean had not been able to reach him on the phone.
He clenched a fist. "Sean, I'm coming out there," he said. "On my way I'll look for Elliott."
But he had a sinking feeling that it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
What were they going to do?
****
Sean paced back and forth in the waiting room after he hung up with Barry. It was a relief to know that he was alright . . . though the reason why he had not answered his phone was still a mystery. Hopefully that would be answered when he arrived.
And hopefully the doctors would be done poking Scott by then. They had determined that there was no internal damage-thank God-but they still wanted to run some other tests. Scott had regained consciousness long ago and was probably highly edgy-which was how Sean had felt waiting all this time.
He stopped by the window, running his hands over his eyes as he tiredly looked out at the Los Angeles skyline. Lights twinkled all over the city from various buildings and homes. The people of L.A. had been getting back on their feet after the earthquake that had all but torn the place apart the last time Rockapella had been there. They had bounced back even from what had seemed a hopeless and heart-rending tragedy.
But could he and the others bounce back from their own tragedy? They had not even recovered from the one before this. Then again, maybe this one was an extension of that one, since it seemed to prey upon Scott's fragile emotional state. In any case, it was looking so hopeless.
Or maybe Sean felt that way because he was certain he had made it worse. What had he been thinking? How could he have snapped at Elliott back at the museum? The way Elliott had been talking should have made it obvious that it was actually something else using his body. But Sean had ignored that.
"Oh El . . ." he said quietly, still staring out at the night. "I think I know now how bad you've felt about how you acted during that fiasco with me. But after all the weird stuff we've seen since then, I have far less of an excuse to have treated you like that. I hope you'll forgive me. . . ."
Of course Elliott would. Especially considering how he was still upset at himself about the case with Sean. After all this time, he had not been able to let it go.
Sean frowned. Was there any possible chance . . .
His phone rang, interrupting his train of thought. But as he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, his eyes widened. It was Elliott! . . . Or the creep possessing him.
He opened the phone, putting it to his ear. "El?!" he exclaimed. "Elliott, where are you?"
"I was hoping you'd ask."
Sean's heart sank. It was not Elliott in control.
"The earthquake took out a lot of buildings," the stranger continued. "And there's a couple of high-rise corporations that are still being refurbished. Right now I'm sitting at the desk of one of those company's presidents, just kicking back with my feet up. If I turn towards the window I can see for miles. I can even see ACME from here."
Sean's eyes narrowed. "Okay, so you're chilling up there in Elliott's body. And what? Do you want us to come to you?"
"Yes, actually. I've been looking forward to meeting with you again."
It was bizarre to hear these formal words coming out in Elliott's voice. And Sean froze at the last statement, his thoughts from before the phone call returning to him.
". . . It is you," he realized, gripping the phone tighter. "How did you escape?!"
A cold chuckle. "There are loopholes, even in the Netherworld. I emerged to take revenge upon you. And in the process, I have gained a host who is not as strong as you were. He will never be able to shatter my control!"
Sean's hands were growing clammy. Even he had not been able to force that wretch out completely. It had only been when he and the others had broken the medallion that the spirit had been expelled. But now there was no medallion for them to break. And the parasite would not reveal the details of his "loophole." How would they get him out of Elliott's body?!
"Of course he'll shatter your control," he snapped then. "He's been breaking free at different times all through the day."
"Only because I was not exercising my full power over him," the wicked adviser said in cruel delight. "But when he saw that blond fool struck by the automobile, he was struck as well. He does not even have use of his speech!"
Sean paled further. Elliott could not talk?
"The only words you will ever hear in his voice again are mine. Even if by some slim twist of fate you manage to remove me, Elliott can never speak to you."
Now Sean was disgusted. Why was he letting himself be intimidated by this loser? Was some part of him afraid of the guy, since he had suffered possession in the past? Well, it was time to take off the kiddie gloves and get down to business.
"I'm reminded of a song," he said sardonically. "When you talk, all I hear is 'blah, blah, blah.' Just sit tight, you unctuous creep! I'll come out, alright-but I'll come to free El. And I'll succeed, too." He moved to hang up the phone, but then paused.
"And now I'm going to talk to El," he said. "Scoff all you want, but he's still in there and he can hear me.
"El!" he called before the spirit could interrupt. "Scott's alive! He's alive and he's worried about you, like we all are! Just hang in there and keep fighting."
A click met his ears. The adviser had hung up. Well, no matter. He had said the most important things. He closed his phone, shoving it back in his pocket.
What building was the creep at? He had said there were at least two possibilities. But he had hopefully given a clue when he had said that he could see ACME from the window. Sean pulled out his handheld computer. He would bring up some maps of the city and try to pin down the location.
"Sean?"
He started at the sound of the weak voice. Then he whirled, his eyes widening as Scott limped into the room, holding onto the wall for balance. Scott gritted his teeth, wincing at the pain of the bruises.
Sean shoved the computer back in his pocket as he hurried over to assist his close friend and unofficial second-in-command. "Scott!" he exclaimed. "You're the walking wounded! Are you supposed to be up?" He pulled an arm around Scott's shoulders, guiding him to a soft chair.
Scott gratefully accepted the help, leaning against Sean as they walked over to the chair. "Everything checked out," he smiled as he sank into it. "I'm going to be sore for a few days . . . really sore . . . but that's the worst of it." He looked up at Sean, who was pulling a chair over to sit facing him.
"Sean, I have to help find El!" he pleaded. "You understand that, don't you? I know exactly what he's going through. I . . . I'm afraid he thinks I was killed. And I'm so afraid of what he might do! . . ."
Sean swallowed. Scott had been ready to make a trade with the ring to die in Elliott's place, if it would only bring Elliott back. He had tried to do it, actually . . . even though Elliott had not been killed at all. And Elliott might very well have similar thoughts now.
"Yeah," he said, "I know it. And you can help find him right now." He pulled out his computer again. The maps had loaded, displaying Malibu and the surrounding area on the small screen. Sean glanced at it, then turned the device to face Scott. "What's a currently empty skyscraper where you can see ACME from the top floor?"
Scott blinked in surprise, taking the computer in his scraped hands. "There might be two or three in different parts of the city," he said. "Let me see here. . . ." He typed, enlarging portions of the map.
Sean watched, amazed that Scott was this up to par. It was likely because of his drive to find Elliott, of course. Otherwise he probably would not have the energy. And Sean would not even be asking him for help if it was not urgent.
"Why do you think El would go to one of those buildings?" Scott asked as he worked.
Sean sighed. "I got a call from the guy possessing him," he said. "It isn't your double after all. Turns out the whole thing was orchestrated just to get at me." Now anger had slipped into his voice.
Scott stiffened. ". . . What? Sean, you don't mean . . ." He looked up, his eyes wide and alarmed.
"Yeah," Sean grumbled. "It's him-the guy who took my body for a joyride. He came all the way out of the Netherworld to have a bowl of revenge, hot and ready. I'm not sure why he grabbed El this time. I doubt he'd really care that El's the only one of us who hasn't had to fight for control of his body. Unless he thought that'd make El the most vulnerable or something."
Scott's hands shook as he looked back at the computer. ". . . How are we even going to save him?" he moaned.
"I've been wondering that myself," Sean frowned. "If we just knew how this creep got out of the Netherworld to begin with, that could help!"
Scott nodded, that sick feeling in his stomach growing stronger. "Poor El," he whispered.
He swallowed hard. "I've narrowed it down to two buildings, but I'm not sure which one it is," he said. "One would look at ACME head-on, while the other would see it from a right angle. Did he say anything else? Anything at all?"
"No," Sean said. "Just that he could see for miles."
And he hesitated. Should he say what else the adviser had told him, about Elliott being mute? That would be a horrible shock for Scott, if he only saw it firsthand. But on the other hand, what if it was not even true? Sean did not want to worry him unnecessarily.
Before he could make a final decision, the doors slid open and Barry entered, exhausted and concerned. He stopped short, staring in disbelief and amazement at the sight of Scott sitting up looking at a computer while Sean observed. His friends looked up, relieved to see him safe.
"Barry!" Scott grinned. "Where've you been, man?"
He was fixed with a stern look in response. "Should you be up?" Barry asked.
"I'm okay," Scott said. "It's El who we need to worry about."
Sean looked to Barry. "So where have you been?" he wanted to know.
Barry shook his head, walking over to them. "I'm being followed by Morales' gang," he said wearily. "They're hoping I'll lead them to the Contessa."
Sean frowned. "If only someone could lead us to El," he said.
Barry dug in his pocket, pulling out a familiar gold earring. "I found this near a skyscraper," he frowned. "I looked around the area, but there wasn't any other trace of him."
Sean took the earring, turning it over in his hands. "Do you remember what building?" he asked, the urgency in his voice. "He's probably in it!"
Barry blinked in surprise. Only now did he fully take note of what Scott had up on the computer screen. He leaned over, studying the satellite map of the downtown area. But seeing the buildings from above did not help much without the street labels.
"I think it was called Trapezoid Solutions," Barry deadpanned.
"You think?" Sean blinked. "That's the kind of name I'd never forget! I wonder what the deal is with naming companies after shapes, anyway. There's that company up in Oregon called Fragmented Triangle." He shook his head, leaping up. "Well, anyway! Let's go there right now! El's there."
Scott nodded, handing Sean's computer to him before trying to rise from the chair. Barry hastened to assist. Scott stumbled, gratefully leaning on the older man for support.
"Let's go out a back exit," Barry said. "Maybe we can lose those mobsters."
"They followed you all the way here?!" Scott gasped.
"It's a long story," Barry sighed.
"One we're still waiting to hear," Sean said.
"Later," Barry said. "In the car."
"We'll hold you to that," Sean said, wagging a finger at Barry, who grunted.
Sean stuffed the computer in his pocket and moved to help on Scott's other side, if he needed it. And now he needed to warn them of Elliott's possible condition, which was not something he looked forward to doing at all. He was still hoping it was not true. But in case it was, he had to let them know.
He took a deep breath. "Guys . . ."
Scott and Barry turned to look at him with questions in their eyes. Sean draped Scott's other arm around his shoulders.
"The creep on the phone said . . . he said El can't talk."
Scott stiffened, staring at Sean in horrified disbelief. "But . . . he was still possessing El when you were on the phone with him," he protested.
Sean shook his head. "It's a mental thing," he said. "The spirit can talk through El, but El himself . . . he suffered such a shock when he saw you hit by the car that he . . ."
Scott looked down, trembling. "El," he whispered. The thought of Elliott being so agonized that he had suddenly become mute was heart-breaking. And it had been because of him. . . . If he had only been able to watch where he was going and stay out of the way of the car . . . !
"Don't blame yourself," Barry frowned as they reached the outside doors. "It isn't your fault."
". . . It's hard not to think it," Scott said as they stepped into the cool Los Angeles night.
"I know," Sean said quietly. "Do I ever know."