Subject: [FFML] [Orig][DRAFT] Chronicles of War, Ch. 10
From: Jared Waddell
Date: 8/16/2005, 5:29 PM
To: ffml@anifics.com


Contains violence and bad language. Consider yourself warned. Standard
copyright applies. As usual, previous parts can be found at:

http://www.geocities.com/rick_spiff/cow.html

Please note that chapter 4 is done, I just need to get off my lazy butt
and post it.

On with the show!

------------------------------------------------------------------------


Chronicles of War

Part 1: Way of the Storm

------------------------------------------------------------------------

    "He gay in triumph, and Mercutio slain!
     Away to Heav'n respective lenity,
     And fire-ey'd Fury be my conduct now!
     Now Tybalt, take the 'villain' back again
     That late thou gav'st me, for Mercutio's soul
     Is but a little way above our heads,
     Staying for thine to keep him company.
     Either thou or I or both must go with him."

    - William Shakespear, "Romeo and Juliet"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 10: Oops

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking through the empty hallway to the Food Court, Ed expected every
sound he and James made to be unnaturally amplified. He expected
accusatory, sinister echos to be formed from his every footfall. He was
waiting for shadows to come alive and assault them, sucking their life
from them while cutting out their still-beating hearts. He expected that
he would feel the cross-hairs drawn on the back of his neck with every
step, waiting for the hammer to fall, for the gun to fire, for the
bullet to fly true and...

But there was nothing.

Even on this overcast day, there was no such things as a hard shadow in
the mall. It was open and peaceful and serene. It was white-on-white
with bland cookie-cutter decorations breaking the monotony with
unimaginative shapes cruelly parodying good taste and style. It was a
mall, honest and unassuming.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, what was intensely disturbing, was the
utter absence of noise James made when he walked. Ed had known people
who were quiet and could literally disappear into a crowd, but this was
a deserted mall with no shadows and an architecture that amplified every
sound as it bounced back to your ears and the man was _silent_.

He was wearing huge work boots for fuck's sake! By all that was sane,
James should have been making a distinct 'tap tap tap tap' as he walked
next to Ed, but if the guard didn't keep catching glances at his old
friend out of the corner of his eye, he might as well have been marching
down this hallway alone.

James had chastised him before about talking while they were being
hunted, so he pondered. His eyes scanned the place for anything out
place--such as the odd black-clad mercenary armed with automatic
weapons--while his brain tried to imagine what James the assassin would
make of this situation. Did he find it enormously funny that he was
pitted against part-time killers, soldiers who acted only on orders? Was
he scared? Or was he calculating and emotionless as a computer, taking
in the situation and spitting out solutions with equal ease, be he
confront with an army salivating for his blood or an empty room?

Ed sighed as quietly as he could--a virtual tornado of sound in his
ears, and looked at the ceiling. It was over twenty-five feet across at
the narrowest point in this section of the east-west hallway. Slightly
convex and interrupted by regularly spaced skylights, it was an
impossible space to hide in.

Did James sleep with one eye open, hand on a loaded gun? Did spent every
waking day trying to forget another night worth of nightmares? Had he
spent his considerable spare time in high school training, planning to
run off mere days after graduation to kill people for cold, hard cash?

Something keep niggling him, tickling his curiosity from the back of his
mind. Unable to pin-point the single problem with James was like being
unable to separate one diamond from a river of mud. Sort the truth from
the bullshit. He knew something was off--something was wrong with all
that James was. Someone had lied...

With nowhere for his thoughts to take him, Ed resolved to pay more
attention to the present, to look and listen. Patience was what was
needed. Patience would bring him answers.

The pair turned left at the T junction and the Food Court came into
view. A copse of wooden chairs with matching tables in front of the
'Cinnabun' marked the halfway-point of the north-south hallway. Passing
the central kiosk, they entered the field of wooden chairs and tables.
Ahead of them was a string of small island stores, numerous this time of
year. At the junction ahead of them, at the south end of the Food Court,
was a crowd of five stands that would be cleared out this weekend to
make room for a twenty foot high Christmas tree.

Each stand was a simple and cheaply constructed affair done in shades of
bland tan and brown and arranged in neat rows down the center of each of
the hallways. They too were fitted with neon lights, and most also had
glass counter tops displaying their wares. One stand wasn't a stand at
all, but actually a pedestal holding a cash register and a collection of
metal shelves that held cooking implements. They didn't look out of
place in the mall, with their matching decor, but many of the colors
that were meant to compliment the rest of the mall wound up insulting it
instead. Ed hated the things.

Lacking any proof for his theories, Ed figured that James had either
information or objects of great value. The man had something that
someone else wanted, and that someone else had sent mercenaries after
him. The whole situation wasn't the act of terrorist, despite how the
cops were calling the thing. Although these bastards did have their hand
on a very real red button of doom, that did not make them terrorists.

They had a goal that centered around James.

They had a reason for being here.

That was what scared Ed.

Ed decided it was time to ask the assassin what he hoped would be a
casual question. "So, why do you think these guys are after you?"

James appeared to think this over. "I'm sorry, what'd you say?"

Ed stared uncomprehending at James for a moment, then repeated his
question. "Why do you think these guys are after you?"

"Oh... well, there is a reason why, but for your own safety, I can't
tell you."

Every warning bell in Ed's head went off at the same time. *James
already knew who they were, who sent them, and probably why...*

Trying to keep his voice level, Ed continued. "What makes you think
they're after you at all?"

"Well," Said James in his best stern school teacher tone of voice. "That
bastard on the phone specifically asked for me. He asked for me by
name."

"He called you Rick Genoni."

"But he asked for James Rahn. He called me Rick Genoni only once I was
on the phone."

"But you said those guys were looking for someone else... Rick Genoni
isn't you, and isn't an alias you've used."

"Precisely. He thinks that James doesn't really exist, and that this
Rick person is just using an alias. It's the only thing that makes
sense."

*Because I'm certain I've never killed anybody by the name of Rick
Genoni.* James did not say.

"I figure he thinks I've already got one foot in the grave. He expected
Rick to cave in, got me instead. Since I'm not who he's looking for, his
only recourse is to have his men drop me, then blow up the mall to erase
evidence of government involvement."

Ed wasn't sure what people James usually hung around, but he said that
so casually, like he expected present company to simply nod in agreement
with his implications and understand every word that left his mouth.

*Government involvement.*

Ed wasn't going to touch that one.

*...drop me instead.*

People were trying to kill him. James made it sound like it was hardly
news.

Ed glanced back at the chairs. So far, he had not spotted anyone
following them. Up ahead, if these guys were as smart as James seemed to
think they were, an ambush would be waiting for them.

It happened once he looked away, and even as the words rang out in the
hallway, he felt like he's stared at a painting of trees and bushes for
an hour, only to look away when someone else walked up and announced
that they could see a deer standing in the scenery.

"PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP!"

James was firing before Ed could even hear the echo. Two figures had
popped out from behind one of the islands directly before them. The
bullets ran true to course, hitting the first man with the force of a
thrown hammer, knocking him out of his crouch and onto his back, blood
spraying into the air.

Ed was fumbling his way into a proper shooting crouch as James sent lead
at a second man, who cowered behind the island. A hand hit him in the
ribs, sending him sprawling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James
fall, twisting as he dropped, and opening fire on a jewelry store that
took up the inner corner of the junction they had passed.

Ed flipped onto his stomach during a lull in the continuing exchange of
bullets, and crawled back against a small kiosk that held a map of the
mall and several advertisements. He was halfway between the cluster of
tables and the cluster of islands with the other armed man, and the
kiosk would stop bullets about as effectively as a pair of sneakers.

*Just great.* He looked at the islands as the hallway abruptly went
silent, and saw James dashing at the lead island. The second man came
up, gun in hand, but James actually dodged to the side as the man fired.
He knocked the gun away and jumped over the island's counter. The man
slashed at James' airborne body with a knife held in his other hand, and
James retaliated by grabbing the wrist and holding it tightly as he
dropped out of sight behind the counter. The arm was bent quite suddenly
into an unnatural angle, and Ed looked away.

Checking his gun, Ed glanced around the other side of the kiosk, just
exposing his head for a split-second. Then he waited a second and a
half, and took a better look, this time bringing his gun to bear as
well. Some of the display cases in the jewelry store were shattered, and
a body law in front of the main counter.

Then three things happened at once. A gunshot from the island, that
meant either James had just executed his attacker with the broken arm,
or the man was up and after him again. Someone showed a part of their
head from behind the counter of the jewelry store, and the gunshot
caused Ed to flinch and spray ammunition at the head, missing it.

What happened next happened way too fast. Two figures revealed
themselves in the jewelry store, popping up like homicidal
jack-in-the-boxes and hurling grenades all over the hallway. Then James
was there, in a sliding dive, like an enthusiastic shortstop. He was
grabbing every grenade and returning each one with interest. He emptied
the rest of a fresh clip into the store for good measure, then threw
himself on top of Ed.

The first thing that came out of Ed's lips was a pained grunt, followed
immediately by what little air that was in his lungs.

Then the jewelry store blew itself into shiny, sparkling little pieces
of flaming junk.

"Ambush." James said into Ed's ear.

Ed answered without thinking. "The music store."

James was on his feet in a flash, offering a hand to Ed. The guard was
about to scoff, nothing that he had James by eighty pounds. Then again,
James had pushed him over as easily as one might take a sip of tea.
Taking the offered hand, James pulled his friend quickly off of the
floor with sure strength.

----------

When a person witnesses a traumatic event, they experience an
involuntary sympathetic reaction. Primarily, the adrenal gland basically
goes into overdrive. The brain responds by improving its memory a
hundredfold during the event.

People who have survived car crashes often speak of a moment of 'slow
motion.' A moment where they can remember every detail of what they
witnessed to an inordinate degree.

The average person will experience several such moments within their
lifetime, and remember them with great detail for many, many years.

Kat was having one such moment right now.

--Blood--

She'd been standing there talking to one of the hostages, a young man by
the name of Peter who was oddly calm about the whole affair. Admitting
he was highly religious...

--Lots and lots of blood--

He was highly religious. He had faith. He was standing there, talking to
her, saying...

--A thousand drops of blood that might have been a million they all came
out at once in a spray and for a moment it might have been a garden
hose--

He said that at moment, being afraid was going to accomplish nothing.
She agreed with him, she was nodding...

--cowering--

He was just fine...

--dead--

She was just...

--screaming and the pop-pop-pop sound of a gun going off like in the
movies--

And James came out of nowhere, tackling her like a football player,
bowling her over, while he fired back at an unseen target. She could
read the serial number stamped into the slide of his handgun, hear every
sound of the operating mechanism, watch the shell come sailing out and
tumble end over end.

Then the floor hit her jaw and up went sideways.

"DOWN!"

He was shouting. She wasn't screaming, but the screaming was still
there.

"DOWN!" He said again.

He was holding her down, covering her, using his body like a shield. Her
hands, somehow thrown up in alarm, felt his muscle loosen and move, then
snap taunt again, going from liquid to solid so fast she expected to
hear a 'twang' like a rope makes when suddenly jerked taunt.

He jumped to his feet, walking away from her. There was--don't think
about it don't think about it. She got to her feet slowly, looking
around. Everyone else appeared shocked, staring, cowering...but Ed was
ready. Grim. Perhaps afraid, but standing ready, a large gun in his
hands. James was walking towards someone, a someone in clothes Kat
vaguely recognized as belonging to a soldier.

And she could tell just by the way that James walked that he was going
to kill the soldier.

The 'soldier' was shouting. "I surrender!"

He was. His arms were out from his body, hands open and empty.

"I surrender!" He repeated.

Kat could see every drop of blood in her mind's eye. A detached part of
her noted that the wound must have been obscured from her line of sight
because she couldn't actually see the origin of the blood. It must have
been on the side of...of...Peter. Yes, Peter's neck had been hit. In the
side.

In the side of the neck.

Oh.

James was going to kill the soldier.

For one sickening moment, Kat wished he was dead. She wanted to throw up
at the thought. She ran to reach James before he...

----------

James stood before his enemy. A young man with sandy blond hair and a
fair complexion stared back, hard green eyes framed by freckles that set
on his face like pale brown drops of rain. He looked ready, prepared.
Prepared to...do whatever he had to. Shooting the man Kat had been
talking to was an accident, that much seemed obvious to James.

There were two of them. The young man with a pistol and the other with
an M16. The other man had fired a burst over the hostages to freeze them
and threaten James. He startled the young man, who fired his pistol
before raising it high enough to miss the hostages.

One took a round in the neck during the burst of fire from the M16, and
that was it. James went from running and shouting to sprinting and
shooting. A lucky hit took down the man with the M16. A half-dozen more
shots had shown the youth he meant business.

Now to prove it.

*It was an accident.* He said to himself. *They want me, but...in the
end they'll have to kill the hostages anyway. This could be an ambush
James. I don't care.*

James stood before the young man, gun held loosely at his side.

"Hi." He said.

The young man pleaded his case. "Jesus. I'm awfully sorry."

"I know. It was an accident. But you aren't the leader, are you?"

James waited for realization to reach the young man's eyes. It didn't
take long. About one second even. Irises widened too late.

James shot the youth through the throat.

The bullet, he mused, must have deflected off of the spine--not much
penetrating power in a 9mm--leaving the boy conscious control of his
body while he lost the ability to speak and keep his life's blood within
his body.

Kat was at his elbow, watching him, watching the young man. Her eyes
spun like the reels of a giant tape recorder. They took in every detail,
but nothing had reached her brain yet. It might take days, years.

James knew what he looked like, starring down at the young man with a
look of pure fury written across his features. Inside he wondered if he
could chance getting a bite to eat from the restaurants in the food
court. Damn he was hungry.

"What?" Was all she managed to get out.

James' face took on a distant look. He tried to picture a respected
General. "Imagine you're plotting the plot to end all plots. You're
trying to capture someone who's impossible to capture. You're going to
put people's lives on the line. You're going to break the rules. You
pick your men...and do you tell them everything?"

"I don't follow."

James looked her in the eye. "To whomever they work for, these soldiers
have about as much individuality and humanity as a pile of bolts. Most
are the same, a handful have critical defects. You throw enough at your
problem and pray they'll solve it. You don't explain your plans to them,
and if you do, you lie and feed them bullshit because if one of them is
flawed and gets captured they spill the beans and you wind up on
somebody's hit list and get a forty-five caliber wake-up call one
morning."

"You mean to tell me that you killed him just because he--"

"Couldn't tell me _why_. He could only say he was following orders, and
that's all he really knows."

"He surrendered."

"He didn't have a white flag."

"That's besides the point--"

"No it isn't!" James shouted vehemently. "He didn't look _at_ me and
_tell_ me he surrendered. He didn't hold up a white flag. Look up the
laws."

"Laws? FUCK LAWS, JAMES! He was unarmed!"

James was unphased by the shouting, calmly offering her his gun. "You
want to take care of the rest of those bombs? You want to talk down his
friends?

Kat sood fast. She folded her arms over her chest and scowled. Her
breath rushed in and out between her teeth with a slight whistling
sound.

*Yeah, as if that says anything.* James thought, and turned away from
her and the dead body, back towards the music store. He was suddenly
very tired. He was now very tired and very hungry and he'd just killed a
few people in cold blood.

"All I wanted was some goddamn turkey." He muttered to himself.

End chapter 10.


		
____________________________________________________
Start your day with Yahoo! - make it your home page 
http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs 
 

             .---Anime/Manga Fanfiction Mailing List----.
             | Administrators - ffml-admins@anifics.com |
             | Unsubscribing - ffml-request@anifics.com |
             |     Put 'unsubscribe' in the subject     |
             `---- http://ffml.anifics.com/faq.txt -----'