He Gets Away?

Liz

As soon as the shooting started, I was outta there. Not in a cowardly way, mind you, although burning-hot, flying shards of lead do very little to help maintain my calm. No. I left because I realized that this situation was only going to grow more violent and, what is more, would involve Tony. Mixing Tony and violence is like mixing baking soda and vinegar . . . with nitroglycerine. As such, a good portion of the main building would have to be evacuated.

I made my way through the building, aiding in the evacuation process. My frantic rush to save lives and avert further disaster ended in one of the labs on the 30th floor.
I was ushering a group of interns and scientists into the elevators when the intruder staggered into the lab.
His once dazzling white suit was ripped and charred and stained with blood. He was bleeding profusely from dozens of wounds. His face was flushed and glistening with exertion, and he was limping. I knew at a glance that he’d already tangled with Tony. Despite his grievous injuries, the eyes of the intruder shone with an unsettling, almost eager calm. This was a man who was unused to losing and clearly did not expect, even now, to do so.
Those deep blue eyes were slowly scanning the lab; he was looking for something. Worried for the lives of those in my charge, I hurried them into the lift, watched as the doors shut, and then turned to meet the enemy. The elevator began its descent with a blissful, oblivious ding and at this the intruder’s head snapped around and those blue eyes landed squarely on me.
He smiled.
At any other time such a smile would have been charming. But with his face bloody and pale, eyes alight with that confident hunger, it became terrifying. Almost unaware of what I was doing, but knowing that I had to do something, I took a few hesitant steps forward.
“Hey, Slick,” I said with a nonchalance that startled me, barely hearing my own words over the thudding of my heart. “Looking for something?”
His devil-grin widened.
“Matter of fact I am, babe,” he answered, smooth as silk. “I was wondering if you could help me find it.”
“Depends on what it is you’re looking for.”
“I am looking,” he said, “for that disintegrator ray you’ve just developed. I understand it’s in this lab.”

Pawel

I slowly regained consciousness to the sound of Andrew extricating me from beneath a mountain of debris. I blinked. My eyes stung with sweat and blood. My ears were still ringing from the blast.
“You okay, buddy?” Andrew was saying. His voice sounded muffled and far away.
“Yeah, I think I’ll be good once I get to my feet again. Is everyone all right?”
“I doubt it. If you’re feeling fit enough, we need to go get help, recruit some others to for a search and rescue party.”
“I’ll go,” I said, rocking slightly.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. You stay here, keep digging people out. I’ll be back with help.”
And, leaving him there to scrape the ruins of the building off of our unconscious friends, I made my way down the hallway to the stairs.

Everywhere I went seemed worse than the last. There was substantial damage to the building’s interior. It looked like that maniac had been liberally distributing those poker-chip bombs throughout the complex.
The magnitude of the carnage was staggering. Bodies littered the hallways. Lights flickered weakly, hanging from the ceiling by loose wires like gouged eyes. I could smell smoke from nearby fires. I felt my mouth harden in a grim and determined line.
We would find this bastard and make him pay.

Tony

It must have been about an hour before we were found.
A group of rescuers, led by Andrew, was drawn to Richard’s excited recitations of his favorite wet dreams, and also to someone screaming, obviously in mortal agony. That was me, by the way. (Endure sixty solid minutes of Richard’s perversions and see how you fair, my merry little gum drops.)
Using shovels, pry-bars, and their bare hands, Andrew and his group of diligent helpers made quick work of the mountain of debris under which my pirate companion and I were buried. Thirty short minutes after our temporary tomb was discovered we lay blinking in the sunlight that streamed in through the high windows of the room. Andrew stepped forward, extended about fifteen feet of left and right arm, and helped us up. I rubbed my head gingerly and tried to collect my thoughts. They stubbornly refused to cooperate.
"All right, then," I said with as much authority as I could muster, "someone report on something. What are the whereabouts of the board?"
Pawel stepped forward, sporting a nasty gash on his head.
“Dan and Jake suffered only minor injuries. They're off now in the lobby, leading a second rescue team. We're lucky to have Dan; his military training is invaluable. Caitlin is in the sick bay with a fractured tibula. She's under heavy sedation. Not so much from pain as to stop her from jumping out of bed to help us. Steph is in the sick bay with her, helping the doctors. Sunewan went off in search of Jackie herself, much against my wishes. Liz is still unaccounted for. At last reports she was evacuating the middle levels. The Captain and Sprockets are leading search patrols. Oh, and Veronica is all right. We found her trussed up in a closet near her desk. Other than a slight concussion, she was fine. She asked how you were.”
I gave a small smile.
“What else?”
“There was considerable damage to the main lobby—17 dead so far. We’re still exhuming bodies from the rubble.”
A sad, uncertain silence followed this.
Pawel went on, his voice remaining cold and distant.
“There are also corpses on nearly every level from the ground floor to 48. Some of the corpses appear to have been tortured.”
Suddenly Rich leapt forward.
“Stop it!” he yelled. “Just stop! These were our friends! How can you stand there referring to them as bodies and corpses. How can you speak in such callous terms, you heartless bastard!?” Pawel’s slightly robotic façade broke.
“You think this is easy for me, Rich? I’m the one who’s had to pry our friends out of the rubble. I’m the one who’s had to witness this carnage firsthand! I've been wading through this destruction. If I didn’t stay detached I’d break down completely!”
They advanced on each other, eye hard and jaws set.
I stepped between them.
"Idiots!" I said.
They turned their furious glances to me.
"Do you realize how you're degrading the sacrifice of our fallen comrades, arguing like this? What good is beating each other even further to a pulp going to do?"
Their eyes softened.
"We need to figure out who is injured, who is missing, and assess this damage to its full extent. But first we need to find the bastard who did this and cut him into pieces."
"Let's get to the security headquarters," Sam said. "We can see the every room in the complex from there."
Then he, Pawel, Andrew, and the rest of the gallant band of rescue workers bolted out the door and down the hallway to the elevators.
I looked at Rich.
"Shall we?"
"After you."
And we proceeded to hobble out of the room, punctuating each step with a grunt of pain.

Liz

I was speechless for a moment, as a myriad of thoughts spun inside my head.
He knew about the ray. How? How could he possibly know so soon? An insider? What did he plan to do with it? Judging by how he had torn the complex to pieces, probably something bad. “I know it’s in this particular lab,” he was saying. “I had to torture two scientists on the way here to be sure. Don’t try lying to me—it’d be an insult to their memory.”
“Wh-why two?” I stammered, not really paying attention.
“Well, the first one talked, but I wanted a second opinion. You know how it is.
“Now, if you were to tell me of the ray’s exact location I would be eternally grateful. I might even let ya leave with all your fingers.”
I realized then that I had no chance of talking my way out of this. We were less than ten feet apart at that point. I could see direct action was called for. Adopting the fiercest pirate snarl I could muster under the circumstances, I drew my cutlass and advanced.
He frowned.
“I am running short on time, here.”
“You’re running short on life, scumbag,” I retorted.
He shrugged.
I thrust forward with the point of my blade, but he was remarkably fast. He leapt backward, slid over a lab table, and ran to the far wall, where he procured a fire axe.
Now we ran at each other, our fighting blood pumping courageously through our veins.
*Clash*
We blocked and struck and sliced the air in a mad and frantic dance. The empty lab resounded with the clanging of our weapons as we chased and pushed each other across the tiled floor. I hacked, stabbed, and parried until my hands were numb and tingling.
We locked blades. I jerked the cutlass sideways, catching him in the jaw with the hand guard and knocking him, cursing and staggering, to his left.
Our blades whirred and whistled through the air—mere inches away from puncturing and parting vital organs.
I swung and missed, the blade burying itself into a lab table. The intruder brought his hand upward in a chopping motion, hitting my elbow and knocking my hand from my sword hilt. He jabbed me in the chest with the axe handle and I tipped backwards.
My hands went up to block, but he grabbed me by my wrists and heaved me over a table, shattering beakers and scattering papers.
I hit the tile floor hard, but immediately tried to lift myself up, out of the puddle of acrid chemicals and broken glass.
He helped, grabbing my hair and yanking me to my feet. He cruelly pried my head back and placed a knifepoint on the exposed flesh of my neck.
“Enough games,” he panted. “I came to get that disintegrator ray and I don’t intend to leave without it. Show me where it is, or I swear to you, your co-workers will not be able to recognize your corpse.”

Tony

The hub of the security network for Ninja Pirate Incorporated was located on the 26th floor of the main building. It was a large, circular room with a raised center. The room was divided into three concentric rings.
Lining the walls were computer stations upon which NP Inc security officers monitored various floors of the building in various spectrums. Some sensors picked up heat, some sonic resonance imaging, some ultraviolet light.
The next ring was of a more tactical theme; racks of laser rifles and batons were interspersed with holographic maps of the grounds and complex.
In the center, on the raised dais, was a massive strategy and conference table.
We arrived to find the headquarters nearly empty; squads of security guards were swarming the halls searching for the mysterious killer.
Pawel, Sam, and Andrew were in fervent conversation on the dais with a distracted-looking man in the black and red uniform of an NP Inc security officer. His uniform was unique in that it had sleek epaulets and the breast of his left jacket was adorned with a few simple bars.
He was of medium height and build, with platinum blonde hair, and a very clichéd-looking scar running along his jaw line. His icy blue eyes were red-rimmed with exhaustion and his pencil-thin moustache seemed to droop slightly.
This was Karl Heinz, our head of security. He came to us from an elite military task force centered in Germany. We didn’t ask questions.
He and our friends were engaged in a hushed and frantic talk.

Rich and I made our way around all the separate video-monitoring stations, stopping at each one in turn.We spent twenty minutes of fruitless searching, during which our spirits were further lowered by snippets of the conversation with Heinz.
"He moves like a ghost,” Heinz was saying, obviously distressed. “Zere is no vay to catch eem.”

We were about ready to go out and search for him ourselves, for all the good it would do, when we saw it.
There was Jackie, plain as day, caught on camera. We were viewing him from a table-mounted camera in one of the labs . . . lab 39, by number on the door . . . a camera that was usually used for recording scientific trials. His back was to us, and he was very close to the camera, so we could not see much.
Then he turned, ever so slightly, and I saw a pair of terrified eyes peeking from around his shoulder.
He was holding a hostage.
"Liz!” Rich and I both said at once.
"He’s in Lab 39,” I shouted. “Floor 30. Rich ‘n’ I’re goin’ there now!”
And with that we bolted out the doors as fast as our beaten legs would carry us.

Pawel

Seconds after they had left, I heard Heinz mutter something behind me.
"Lab Shirty-Nine? Zat is vere zuh deesintegrator ray ees stored.”
His laughable accent aside, this was harrowing news.
I spun round and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Heinz!” I shouted. “Rally your men. Get as many of them as possible to the 30th floor! That madman has got to be stopped!”

Liz

My mind was racing.
My eyes darted to a large metal door across the room from us. He noticed where I was looking.
“In there, is it?” he asked.
I said nothing.
“Good enough, then.”
And with that, he marched resolutely over to the imposing portal, dragging me with him.
While he gave the door a searching look, I spoke up.
"It’s no good. You need a special lab pass key to open this. It’s bullet proof, fire proof, certainly knife proof.”
He seemed to ignore me. He only ran his hand over the door’s smooth surface, which was painted bright warning-sign yellow and white in alternating diagonal stripes.
"Ya got dis key?” he asked, softly.
"No.”
He looked me in the eyes, seemed to get that I was telling the truth, and then chuckled.
"Dat’s okay,” he said, “I brought my own.”
And he let go of my hair and procured a poker chip from his pocket.
Rich must have hit him harder than I thought, I mused to myself.
But he placed the poker chip right above the key pad to the left of the door.
"I’d advise stepping back if you value your face.”
We made our way around the side of a lab table and crouched down.
"Three . . . two . . .one,” the assassin counted down under his breath.
Exactly timed with “one” came a small explosion which enveloped us in a cloud of choking smoke.
When finally the dust and ash cleared, I was able to see the crater left by the bomb’s force. The key pad was gone completely. Only crackling wires remained in the crumbling socket.
Then, slowly, the heavy door slid open.
The intruder seemed to forget all about me. He shuffled forward into the bright, halogen glare of the vault, eyes wide with delight.
I followed tentatively after him, not sure of what else to do.
He passed shelf after shelf, row upon row of technological marvels. He would glance at one in awe for just a moment, and then move on to the next. I had to admire his discipline.
Finally, at the very back of the vault, in a large glass case, sat the disintegrator ray. It was a nondescript, oblong metal box which looked large enough to hold a pair of shoes.
The assassin came to a stop before it, seemingly uncertain of what to do.
Then, in a flash, he struck out with his elbow and shattered the glass case.
A piercing alarm sounded throughout the complex.
"Oh, shucks,” said the assassin glibly, “now they’ll know I’m here.”
He came back out and se the case on a lab table. He flipped the lid open and peered inside. He shut it and looked back up.
"Dat’s it?” he said. “Doesn’t look like much. Still, I imagine the boys back at the HQ’ll be able to get it runnin’.”
The intruder turned his attention back to me.
"Well, my ride should be here any moment. Now that I have what I came for, I’ll just tie up this one last loose end.”
He drew a knife and advanced toward me.
Though I could feel the icy grip of terror crawling up my spine, I forced myself to smile.
"I warn you, I won’t go quietly.”
"I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He tensed, about to strike, when the cavalry came at last.
"Hold it, you son of a bitch!”
I spun around to see Tony running in through the doorway, closely followed by Rich, Pawel, Andrew, Sam, and a platoon of NP security guards.
The assassin was apparently impossible to rattle. He wasted no time in grabbing me by the throat and using me as a shield.
"You need to learn to admit when you’ve been bested, Celi,” the intruder sneered. “I win.”
Suddenly the sound of approaching helicopters filled the room.
"Ah, there’s my ride now.”He tossed a poker chip behind us, blowing a hole in the concrete wall. The wind rushed in, buffeting his long coat tails and swirling our hair wildly.
"Let her go!” Tony hollered.
"I think not. Because you wouldn’t quit, I’m going to kill her, to teach you a lesson.”
I could see no way out of this one.
"Say you’re sorry, Celi,” the assassin taunted. “Tell your friend you’re sorry for getting her killed.”
"Liz, I . . .” Tony began.But he was cut off.
"Fuckin’ shit teeth!”
It was Sam.
His face was purple and he looked full of a maddened rage.
"You’re tellin’ me, Tony, that you’re gonna let this candy-tit, brill cream bustlin’ whore chewin’ goat-dick come in here an’ treat us like this?”
"What?” said Tony.
"What?” said the intruder.
I felt his grip loosen.
"I mean, yer supposed ta be the ninja supremo, basket’a boob lickin’ jew-twirlin’ ass rapes! How in the fuckside of dick rings are the lemony assholes gonna emerge outta this one!? It’s all a fuckin’ shit cow whore dick spic lick runaround! Chink monkey sperm house!”
The assassin’s hand went slack now. I saw the chance and went for it.
under his grip, I swung back with my elbow as hard as I could. Then I grabbed his arm, twisted it, and flipped him completely over. He hit the ground on his back, the wind knocked from him.I ran back to the safety of the crowd.
The villain staggered to his feet. Behind him, just beyond the gaping hole in the wall, there dangled a rope ladder.
made a dash for it. In a startling display he leapt from the building out into the void, 30 stories up, still clutching the ray in it’s case under one arm.
He clasped onto the ladder and he helicopter slowly began to pull away.
Tony rushed forward, a knife at the ready.
The assassin locked his legs around the ladder and threw his knife first. Tony dodged, and it buried itself in the floor to his left.
"You haven’t seen the last on me!” the assassin yelled as he made his getaway.
"I certainly hope not!” Tony countered, loudly, and then, under his breath, “I certainly hope not.”

Tony

I felt the blood slowly empty from my face. I stood, eyes squinted against the wind and the glare of the setting sun, and watched the helicopter disappear over the horizon.
"Tony,” I heard a voice behind me say, but I wasn’t ready yet to turn around.
"Tony,” the voice repeated.
I turned. It was Rich.
He placed an arm around my shoulder.
"Hey, we made it out alive. That’s enough of a victory for today.”
I could think of nothing to say to him.
"Hey, Tony,” Andrew this time, “what’s that by your foot?”
I glanced down and noticed that the knife Jackie had thrown had a piece of paper attached to it.
Slowly, I picked it up, unfolded it, and read the contents aloud.

"To Whom This May Concern,

You have just been honored by a visit from us. Interpret this action as you will, harmless transgression or declaration of war. However you feel is irrelevant to us. We will stop at nothing to hold steady the status quo, i.e. our superiority on a global scale. Be warned. Retaliate at your own risk.

Thank you, The Management.”

There was a prolonged silence, broken by Andrew.
"Oh, God,” he said in a voice childlike with fear, “We are in way over our heads.”

Richard

Construction crews bustled back and forth throughout the hallways of Ninja Pirate Incorporated, repairing the damage left in Jackie Forcella’s wake.
Meanwhile, the board of directors struggled to piece their departments back together and get back to work as soon as possible.
In the midst of all this purposeful, albeit cluttered, rehabilitation, we quickly forgot our grief and stress and put the needs of the company—and each other—first.

I made my way past several industrious-looking workmen moving stacks of sheetrock along the 49th floor corridor up to Tony’s office. The door was wide open, but I knocked courteously on the molding before entering.
He was seated at his desk, looking disheveled and dismayed. The bruises from his epic fight with Jackie had begun to purple intensely.
He looked like someone who had emerged from the losing side of a bar fight. I imagined I didn’t look any better.
“Get in here,” he said wearily, and beckoned me with a weary wave of his bandaged hand.
He drained the clear contents of a glass and quickly poured himself a second from a crystal decanter on his desk.
“I see you’re heeding the doctor’s advice about 8 glasses of water a day,” I said, noticing.
“I hate doctors,” Tony muttered. “This is gin.” And he started on the second glass.
I was rendered speechless and Tony was busy pouring gin down his throat, so we were silent for a time.
Finally, Tony had finished his second glass. He slumped in his chair and rubbed anxiously at a fairly well furrowed brow.
“Jesus,” he said. “Do you see what it’s like out there? What he did? One guy? I mean, what if Andrew was right? What if we are in over our heads?”
There followed a more contemplative period of silence, one that was less choked with gin.
“Well,” I started, “I think I know the only possible answer to that question. I’m surprised you didn’t think of it first. Of course, you did take quite a few shots to the head . . .
"It comes down to this: Who cares?”
Tony gave me a puzzled look, which he then cast down at his empty glass.
“I thought this was gin . . .” he mumbled.
“We’re in over our heads? People are trying to kill us? The situation is more dire than we previously anticipated, or are anticipating now? Who cares? I’m sure there are hundreds of cutthroats, murderers, thieves, maniacs, and villains out there just itching to slice us into bits--”
“This is supposed to be a pep talk?”
“But who cares? We’ve dealt with overwhelming odds before. I look out at those unseen forces arrayed against us and laugh. I say, bring it on!”
Tony slammed his glass down.
“By God, you’re right!” he yelled. “We’re ninjas, we’re pirates, it’s in our very natures to scoff at death and continue on in the face of adversity, against overwhelming odds. Let’s just keep havin’ fun and savin’ the world, and damn the torpedoes!”
He poured himself another pint of gin. I was confused.
“You’re still drinking? I thought I had successfully cheered you up.”
“You most certainly did! Before I was drinking sad. Now--” he paused here to down half the glass, “I’m drinkin’ happy! Where’s my sword? I feel like going on an adventure!”
He snatched a katana off a rack, grabbed a pack of chewing gum and the bottle of gin, and marched out the door and, I imagine, into the sunset somewhere.
I stood, perplexed, for a moment.
Then I shrugged, stole fifty dollars from his desk, and went off to harass Caitlin.
The storm hadn’t passed. On the contrary, it was right here, swirling and howling. We were simply moving on in defiance of it.
And that felt just fine.





The End!

(For now)