I pushed the bike around another corner heading for the crossroads where Mac was supposed to meet me. I could see him as i pulled up toward the junction.
"Hey Mikey whats going on? You said something about having to go. Go where? Why?"
"Mac you have to trust me on this. ULAS worked and i did my job but now we have to go and see Queen Mab."
"Are you nuts? She doesn't talk to the likes of us."
"Mac listen to me. I work for Mab. We need to get out of here before the shit hits the fan. Now put your stuff in the back and get on the damned bike."
"Ok ok chill out Mikey. I grabbed as many of the gadgets as i could and destroyed the rest. Anyways you never told me you worked for Mab. How did you get a job from her?"
"Well you know what Lombardi used to say about keeping it in the family? Lets just say theres a distant connection." With that he climbed on the back of the bike and i pushed the bike as hard as i could until i reached the Queens not so humble abode.
I have looked into the eye of the storm and stared it down. I am an adrenaline junky and i know no fear.
*** I guess i will stay a little longer... I don't know who shot Emily... no one that i know of, all so Carlie is next to (or was next to styler) when they got the text that said lombardi would pay 20k for the safe return of Emily. oh and I have no clue why lombardis men would have taken Em in the first place, they just wanted to offer a partnership with the band i think.***
**Yeah, I don't know whats going on really. Why was Emily shot? Did I shoot her? Where the hell am I? I want to sort this out so I can post because I'd really like to post. So, shoot me a brief expo of where we're at and I'll post. Otherwise, I'll just pick up exactly from where Lombardi dropped off at offering the 20k.**
*okay this is what i honestly think happened...(or what we could say happened...) Emily got hit in a ricochet of some sort. Aslo the band + partnership = great idea for success! AlSO I'm gonna try to pull everything together... kinda sorta AN ATTEMPT*
Sam/Maria~~~
As soon as Maria got there, she was pushed out with Shaun into his car.
"Where are we going again?" Sam couldn't help but sound irritable, the shower didn't help her nerves of not getting a full nights rest the past two days. She almost felt as if her small tote bag was filled with bricks and every step, the evil god added three to six more.
"The hospital to make sure Styler got the message," Shaun sounded tired also, a little less but not much.
"Oh.." She sighed as she attempted to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head.
The hospital was a large blocky gray building, a stereotypical one that stuck out the earth and stunk with sickness despite the overuse of antibacterial spray. The main hall was flat and ended with a sickly looking woman whose posture matched the building, she directed the the young adults down the equally dreary hall. They walked a few paces and found a solid looking waiting room with uncomfortable looking chairs, a figure stuck out of one. Maria blew in his ear and he jumped up surprised.
"What are you guys doing here?" Styler's eyes darted to Shaun and quickly iced over, focusing on nothing. Styler's hair was a mess and he was dressed in his normal clothes, he looked like hell, pure hell.
"What happened to you?!" Maria questioned.
"I'd rather not talk about it..." He dragged off, his face was bruised and his eyes looked like they had seen a ghost, he then repeated his question, "What are you doing here?"
"We came to check on the girlfriend," Shaun answered dragging.
"Here," Maria offered, "I'll go get you guys some coffee, you seem almost dead!"
She was met with silence.
"Haha get it?" She sounded akward, "It's a hospital, and their supposed to save lives-?"
Another silence answered.
"Oh nevermind.." She set off to find that machine they passed on the way in.
*See! Styler gets his little raid thing, Emily is in the hospital, and now everything should sail smoothly!*
The one who smiles the most has something to hide.
..i'm lonely...message me..some how add me on your social networking site (unless you are some creepy weirdo who stalks girls for their organ harvesting company..i personally like them inside of me thankyou )
“So, Mr. Fletcher, while we wait for Emily lets discuss a few things,” Toni spoke slowly, “I've got a few arrangements for you that I would like to see eye to eye on. A partnership, if you will. I'm a man with many talents, Fletcher. I can do things for you that will make you an emperor!”
Andy regarded him coldly, “I seriously doubt we'll be able to work anything out.”
Toni drummed his fingernails in rapid succession like raindrops on a rooftop, “We're talking full financial backing, new equipment for all your members, booked shows every other weekend, a travel bus, and luxury hotel suites while you're on tour. How does that not incite you?”
“Because it doesn't make any sense. You've heard us play, what? Maybe one time-”
“Once,” Lombardi assured with a nod.
“-and suddenly you want to fully support my band? Taking not only a huge risk financially, but professionally too? And for what? What will I owe you?”
The fiendish smile curled his lips like the Cheshire cat. He loved this part. “Ten percent, Fletcher. All I ask for is ten percent.”
The kid looked over him skeptically, “Five.”
“Ten. Ten is deal and you know it. I'll be doing you a favor.”
“I'll think about it.”
“You do that,” he twirled in his seat, lifting a steel pen from his jacket pocket and pulled a checkbook from his desk drawer. “In the meantime, though, I'll get you a new set up. A sign of good faith.” He scribbled down on the check, broke it off from the rest, and held it out to him between his two first fingers.
Andy paused and stared at the check like an infectious disease. Did he really want to be working with Lombardi? But what chance would he have to make it in this era of music otherwise? This was a gigantic chance to pole vault his career as a musician, to start spreading his words with his music.
“Seriously. Here. Consider it a gift. Whether or not you accept my offer.” He placed the check directly in front of the boy.
The numerical value nearly made Andy cross eyed.
Interrupting the silence like a crash in the middle of the night, Lombardi's phone rang. He held up a finger as a sign to excuse himself, then spun in his seat and retrieved it. It was his thesbian agent. For a brief moment he was thrilled.
Lombardi made no face when he heard the news. He simply exhaled. His fingers delicately curled around and closed the cellular phone with the care one would take unwrapping a gift, and he turned to face the boy behind him.
“It appears that Emily caught a stray round at the dance. She's at the hospital. I'm not sure if she's going to be alright,” he spoke softly and pulled the heavy longcoat from the back of his chair and swooped it around his body in one motion, “C'mon. I'll drive you down there.”
On their way to the car, he received another phone call from one of his soldiers.
"Yeah, Alfonzo. Keep on 'em.” He clicked the receiver shut and shook his head. “One thing you'll learn about business, Fletcher, never trust anyone. Not a damn one.”
It is a very sad thing that nowadays there is so little useless information.
- Oscar Wilde
"Mac stay here and watch the bike. I'll be right back." I reached into my saddlebag, took out my AK 101 and was about to head out the driveway.
"Mikey wait where are you going?" Asked Mac eyeing my rifle worriedly.
"I think Lombardi sent someone after us. There was a car following us for a while and i want to make sure he hasn't followed us here. Don't worry the Queen will send for us eventually." I turned and strode up the drive and back down the road in time to see the same car round the corner being driven by none other than Alfonzo. Time to die, i thought lineing up his head and by sights. I was about to squeeze the trigger before one of the Queens men grabbed me.
"Mikael?" He made my name a question.
"Yes"
"The Queen wishes to speak with you and your friend."
"What about him?" I asked pointing at the car.
"He will be taken care of" i saw a smirk i recognised from Mac's face when ever something blew up.
"Ok" i replied serpentining back toward the bike and Mac's anxious face.
I have looked into the eye of the storm and stared it down. I am an adrenaline junky and i know no fear.
He had walked through Armageddon with those three and owed at least one of them his life. So when Seth's face suggested that he was a worried friend; Stylers' did as well. His thoughts constantly jarred back to the events of the night with the intensity of flame gnawing at his cheeks. Exiting that dance was more like running through a minefield with a grenade in your hand shouting war cries at your enemies as you charged their campsite. He remembered every horrific second. The gun fire, the screams, the gore, all like Shindlers List and a thousand times more intense.
He wrenched from his dream with the motion of child retrieving his favorite toy. He couldn't be any more glad as his eyes drifted skywards to see the his friend, Sam. He wanted to ask her everything. He wanted to tell her his side... but right now wasn't the time. His guise took over and regarded the Colors with contempt.
“What are you guys doing here?” he spoke as the words sparked his memory. A faceless Color blocked the stair case leading to the top of the stairs, slicing through the darkness like a knife through the heart. The sound of clicking of a semi-auto pistol being checked made the world around him halt. The realization of being out of ammo save for the few grenades loaded in the under mount hit Styler like blow to the gut.
“We've got a wounded girl here! She needs a doctor!” Alex said frantically.
It must have strummed the few strings of sympathy the Color had. He opened the top door and allowed the five to exit. The moonlight shone through the door like a betraying lover, pulling the dark curtain from Emily's face. The Colors eyes widened; they had just witnessed gold and he lunged foreword with greed. Styler whipped into gear, gripped his fingers together like a bound pile of straws, and tightened, breaking them in three different places. The boy recoiled with a scream, his other hand dropping the pistol to the floor. Instantly Styler was on top of him, pushing him hard against the door.
“GO!” He growled, “Get to the fire escape! Get out of here!”
Sam pulled him back to reality with a caring mothers grace. “What happened to you?”
“I'd rather not talk about it...” he said as he slipped back into his memories. The moment he took to pause was one the Color didn't afford to waste. Two punches leapt from his good hand and connected with Styler's nose. He staggered backward, drunk with pain, hands covering his wounded face as defensive as a goalie. The boy's hand clutched his throat with a vice like crushing action. He was going to make Styler meet the end. Alex sprung to action, swinging his knee into the Colors torso. The Color toppled to the left, quickly loosing his footing, and slinkied down the steps. Stylers hands still remained on his nose, but his eyes met Alex's in one momentous pause. His savior. The money for getting these people out of here alive was no longer his motive.
He shook his head and repeated, “What are you doing here?”
“We came here to check on the girlfriend,” the pretty boy responded. Styler watched him blankly, as if he had some awkward fascination with him.
Maria quickly interjected before it got too uncomfortable, “Here. I'll go get you some coffee, you seem almost dead!”
But Styler wasn't there... his mind played the war torn dance on a perpetual loop, like flipping through news channels after a natural disaster. When he came back Sam was already gone and he was left in the waiting room with the pretty boy whom he didn't know. The tension in the room was as thick as waiting for your prom date with her father. Without a word, he pulled himself to his feet and made his way out.
“Need some fresh air,” he explained to no one in particular.
Maybe it was because he was lost in own thoughts that the sterilized halls felt more like a rat maze than a hospital. Of course they were impossible to navigate anyway; every turn led down white walls and long hallways, to a reception desk, or a elevator, and dead ended in exits from the building. The design must have been made to keep people in or out and not a lot of movement between the two. Still, with a little help he found himself outside.
He wanted to ensure that Emily was okay. He wanted to check if Carle was calm. Most of all he wanted to tell Alex thank you. He never would. All Alex would know is that some random Goth called Seth Langsly saved their lives. Police would be all over the scene soon and Styler had to become a ghost.
There was nothing Andy liked about being in the same car as this duplicitous young man. She's fine, Fletcher...Emily caught a stray round at the dance... The words swirled around in his head. It was glaringly obvious to him that Lombardi was lying, but what difference did it really make? Emily was still lying in a hospital bed with a fragment of metal buried inside her.
The thought made Andy sick inside. He should have been beside her when it happened. Heshould be beside her right now. Instead, he'd allowed himself to be led off to be offered a deal that had the potential to propel his band straight into the music scene for a very reasonable price. To think that for a moment he'd actually forgotten about his worry for Emily!
"I trust that you're still willing to consider my offer, Fletcher. After all, I have done everything in my power to see her safely to hospital..."
"Not the time." Andy muttered. He didn't care if he kept overstepping the meager little line Lombardi had drawn in the sand between them. He didn't care that he was sitting next to someone responsible for multiple deaths. He just cared about the fact that he had, even for only a few minutes, caved in to the school's pressure to pick a side. And in hose moments of weakness, he had been punished tenfold.
They arrived at the hospital, and Andy was out of the car and walking into reception before it was even parked. The girl on the hospital desk shrunk back a little as he leaned over the counter, probably taking him to be some junkie trying to get a prescription for narcotics. "Where's Emily?" He asked, forgetting that the receptionist wouldn't have a clue who he was talking about.
"Emily...?"
"Pretty girl? Gunshot wound? Brought in within this hour?" Andy didn't care that his tone was almosthysteric in its annoyed urgency. He wanted this woman to get the message straight away. She nodded, looking like she was about to protest, but Andy cut her off, "Listen, I'm going to find her whether or not you tell me, and you cancall security if you want, but they're not going to stop me seeing her. Now which room is she in?"
The woman scribbled down the number of one of the ICU rooms and handed the scrap of paper to him, watching him dash off towards the room just as Lombardi and his guards entered the hospital.
He had decided to live forever or die in the attempt. - Yossarian, Catch-22
Wide-eyed stupid.
If you're gonna rule the world, you've gotta get up early! - Joel S. Dickens
'Hush, hush!' I whispered; 'people can have many cousins and of all sorts, Miss Cathy, without being any the worse for it; only they needn't keep their company, if they be disagreeable and bad. — Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
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