C.N. - chapter 87

The thing about being the first person shot in a situation like this was that everyone usually had their attention on you. When we exited the submarine onto the dock, all of Mr. Wolf’s henchmen kept glancing at me. Presumably none of them had ever taken a bullet to the shoulder and they were all curious how it felt.

Curiously, when we congregated with Mr. Dragon’s henchmen on the beach, only every other henchmen that surrounded us from Mr. Dragon’s group had their attention trained on me. Each curious henchman stood next to another henchman who dressed identically but didn’t notice me at all. I wondered if those henchmen who didn’t notice me had been shot in the shoulder before, which eliminated their curiosity.

All of a sudden, I heard someone snap their fingers, and all the henchmen who didn’t pay any attention to my shoulder wound trained their guns on the nearest henchman beside them, all in a split second. Just now, their guns had been trained on me, Theo and the others. I was going to conclude a minute ago that we were probably hostages again, but now the situation had changed again. It was getting confusing trying to keep track of it all.

Mr. Dragon and Mr. Wolf, who were engaged in a heated conversation some distance away, noticed the abrupt change in who pointed a gun at who. Mr. Wolf, who spoke first, said, ‘Men, kill the hostage-‘

Before he could finish his sentence however, Mr. Dragon karate side-chopped Mr. Wolf in the nose. In the same instant, the henchmen whose guns were trained on the henchmen whose guns were trained on us opened fire, shooting down every henchmen whose guns where previously trained on us except one. The one extra henchman whose gun was previously trained on us received a fatal-looking kick in the jaw from Laura.

‘Damn it, bloody useless henchmen!’ Mr. Dragon cursed.

‘You forget, Clarke,’ Laura said coolly, ‘no matter how well-trained and well-equipped they may be, henchmen who serve villains are always of an inferior quality.’

Mr. Dragon shrugged in the same way dad always does when mom gets on his case about something he knows he can’t get out of, he said, ‘that’s why I made all the necessary precautions myself.’

I realized that Mr. Dragon was holding a button device in his hand the whole time. Laura yelled ‘Duck!’ and everyone hit the sand flat. Then the ground exploded.

An enormous shower of sand filled the air. When the air finally cleared, I was half-buried in the sand. So were Theo and Wolfgang near me. Dennis had leaped into the water, she was just coming out. Laura was the first to dust herself off and stand up, followed by Graham, Eric, Michael, Terry, John and Terry and some of the henchmen who fired at their fellow henchmen. These henchmen were now taking off their ski masks and were exchanging high-fives with Laura’s six henchmen.

‘Where’s Heathcliff?’ Dennis asked.

‘Get me off of here!’ Heathcliff’s voice shouted from the top of a palm tree at the edge of the beach line. His clothes had been shredded to ribbons, and his face was covered in soot. The blast must have blown him up there.

‘Those were gas bombs,’ Laura said, ‘and judging by the little harm they did us they must have been buried in the sand for a long time. Clarke must have figured a hostage reception on his island might get out of hand one of these days.’

‘Little harm?!’ Heathcliff yelled from the tree, ‘Look at me! My suit is ruined!’

Mr. Dragon and Mr. Wolf had both disappeared. More henchmen in ski masks came out onto the beach from the palm trees and began taking their masks off.

‘What was that explosion just now, Laura?’ One henchman greeted Laura with a smile and said, ‘it sounded like five hundred pigs letting out gas in perfect unison.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Laura replied, ‘good job, you came in the nick of time. What did you do with Clarke’s island patrol?’

‘Every single one we could find is now hanging upside-down from a palm tree with clown makeup on his face.’ The henchman replied with a grin. ‘That was some swell infiltrating we did just now, wasn’t it?’

‘It was excellent, Kevin. Where are the flymachines hidden?’

‘You mean the pterocrafts?’

‘Yes, you’ve parked them in a secure location?’

‘Indeed, they are perfectly invisible.’

Laura clapped her hands for everyone’s attention, ‘Alright, my henchmen-‘

‘Ahem, colleagues, you mean,’ said at least ten of Laura’s henchmen, including Graham.

‘Right, my colleagues in the League of Shadows, we are about to launch our long-anticipated attack on the home base of our arch enemy, the League of Terrorism. You all know the floor plan of this facility-‘

‘Thanks to me,’ John chimed in.

‘Thanks to our colleague John,’ Laura continued, ‘and each of you know your part in the mission, so let’s head out and KICK ASS!’

Laura’s henchmen/colleagues hollered, and dispersed back into the jungle.

Wolfgang tucked on Laura’s suit, ‘Mom, what should we do?’ He motioned towards himself, Theo, Wolfgang, Dennis, Heathcliff (who was lifted out the palm tree by Michael), and me.

‘All of you stay close to me, especially you, my son, I won’t lose you a second time.’

‘You got that right, mom.’ Wolfgang smiled slyly.

‘That’s my boy.’ Laura smiled back, ‘Terry, Terry, take Charlie to the infirmary. You know where the rest of us are heading, join us after Charlie is treated.’

Terry and Terry scooped me up by the legs. ‘Roger that, Laura.’

We headed out into the jungle, brushing past some dense foliage, and quickly came upon a concrete ramp leading underground. We were then jogging down a dim tunnel, which emerged into a concrete hallway lined with windowless doors and pipes running along the ceiling. More hallways began to diverge from this one. Carrying me between them, Terry and Terry ran down a different hallway away from the others. It looked like we were in the hospital wing of the facility.

Soon enough, we arrived in a large room where many stretchers were parked. Terry and Terry unloaded me onto the nearest stretcher, and raided the medical cabinet and drawers. They returned with pouches of white powder, gauze, bandages, and some surgical instruments – including a tong and a pair of scissors – I recognized from the last time I got shot. Terry removed the bandages Theo applied to my shoulder, and Terry dumped a pouch of the white powder on the wound.

‘What’s the white powder?’ I asked.

‘Just some morphine,’ Terry replied, as he dipped the scissors in a can of disinfectant liquid, ‘you’ve gotten shot but never seen morphine in your life?’

‘No,’ I said plainly, ‘see, the first time I got shot, we went to my family doctor, who said he had to operate straight away. They just strapped me to a stretcher, got the scissors, and cut the bullet out of me.’

‘Woah,’ said Terry, strapping my arms and legs to the stretcher, ‘how did you manage to withstand the pain?’

‘I fainted.’ I replied. I noticed that my chest was now numb. I couldn’t feel the pain from the bullet wound anymore, and I felt rather sleepy all of a sudden, like I just spent up all the energy in my body.

‘Let’s see…the bullet got wedged right between the collarbone, and only minor tissue damage. Terry, isn’t that a miracle!’ Terry exclaimed.

Terry leaned in closer to have a look, ‘It certainly is Terry, now let’s get to work.’

‘Are you going to cut the bullet out of me?’ I asked groggily.

‘Yep, so you just relax and take a nap, the morphine is acting up.’ One of the Terries reassured me.

‘And we’ll have the Wolf pay for this, before you even wake up!’ The other Terry said.

Then I drifted off into unconsciousness.

T.N - Chapter 86

The gunshot rang out, echoing off the walls, and my heart dropped.

There was silence as the Wolf slowly lowered his gun, and all I wanted to do was to say something, to check to see if Charlie was ok, to cuss out the Wolf, to yell at myself for not doing anything.

But it felt like all of the air had been punched out of me.

Charlie stood there, one hand pressed against his shoulder, the other in a tight fist at his side to stem the pain. He lifted his hand and looked down, and I could see the blood staining his palm before he started pressing against the wound again. He didn’t move or speak, just stood there, and slowly met the Wolf’s gaze.

I had heard stories about the Wolf during my eavesdropping sessions at the Justice League. A human trafficker who preferred to get his hands dirty and do his own work. It made him very efficient, and very effective with a gun.

Which meant that shooting Charlie was just a warning shot.

The Wolf took a couple of steps towards Charlie, his finger still ghosting over the trigger. He tilted his head and glanced at the bullet wound.

“Not bad, kid,” the Wolf smirked. “Most people would’ve at least cringed, if not fainted.”

“It’s not my first time getting shot,” Charlie replied, to which the Wolf barked out a laugh.

“Hell, I can’t tell if you’re acting tough or if you’re really serious.”

“Why would I lie about something like that?”

“Why would you indeed?”

There was a small lull in the conversation, where they both just observed each other, both with genuine curiousity in their eyes.

“Have you ever seen Pulp Fiction? Because you really do look like Harvey Keitel’s character from there,” Charlie said.

“Well, how about when you take a closer look at me?”

The Wolf was about to take another step forward when suddenly there was a grinding that shuddered through the floor. Everyone pitched to the side with the sudden stop in momentum. Charlie stumbled backwards to regain his balance, and Dennis grabbed onto this uninjured arm, pulling him back towards us.

“Seems like we’ve arrived,” said the Wolf, placing the gun back in a holster at his hip. With a wave of his hand, the armed men encircled us, trapping us in a tight clump. “We’ll talk later.”

He turned around and walked out of the mess hall, and we were escorted through the winding hallways. I wriggled my way around Heathcliff and reached out to tug on Dennis’s sleeve. He pulled me towards him, and I was finally close enough to Charlie to talk to him.

Charlie had visibly blanched, whether from the shock or the blood loss, but otherwise he looked fine. His hand was still compressing the wound, and his knuckles were white from the grip.

“How are you doing?” I asked quietly.

“It hurts like I remember, but I’m fine,” he shrugged.

“You really were shot before?” asked Dennis.

“Yep, when I was a lot younger. A long story shot, I decided to take a walk in the woods when my family was out hunting, and I’d forgotten wearing a hat with antlers wasn’t the best idea.”

“Where were you shot?” Dennis asked. “Your leg or something?”

“Actually, on my other shoulder here,” Charlie gestured with his head. “It’s almost in the exact spot as this one.”

“Well, now you’ll have a matching scar and a hell of a story,” grinned Dennis, trying to lighten up the mood. He reached out to lightly punch Charlie on the shoulder before quickly rethinking his actions and pulling his hand back.

“It won’t just be a scar if we don’t bandage it up soon,” I remarked. I pulled at the hem of my shirt and ripped a fairly even strip from the bottom. Reaching over, I gently removed Charlie’s hand before wrapping the bandage tightly around the wound.

We reached the ladder that lead to the outer hatch. The Wolf climbed up first, and then we were ushered up, guns trained at us at every move. Charlie had some trouble, only able to use one arm to haul himself up, but Dennis was able to reach down and help haul him up.

The glittering water and the white sand was a glaring pull away from the dark walls of the submarine, and I had to blink several times before I could see properly. Down the gangway was an island that seemed straight off of a postcard. There was a beach of fine white sand that extended a few meters before abruptly shifting into a densely populated jungle.

It was picturesque, except for the large, black structure that sat at the edge where sand met trees, and the very disgruntled, bruised man standing on the beach, looking up at us.

“Well, well, better not keep the boss waiting,” the Wolf said, and he sauntered down the gangway. The rest of us had no choice but to follow him.

As we got closer to the Dragon, I could see the full extent of what must’ve been a very nasty fight in the control room. His jacket and pants had cut and tears, some with small bloodstains. Bruises were starting to form along his knuckles and his right eye. His bottom lip was cut, and the corner of his scowl was starting to swell up. There was a smear of blood leading from the bottom of his nose to his cheek where he had hastily wiped at a bleeding nose.

To my relief, Grandfather was nowhere in sight, and from the looks of the Dragon’s dour mood, he had escaped.

It seemed like the Wolf had picked up on it too. “You let the old man get away?”

“It wasn’t a matter of ‘letting,’ Mr. Wolf,” the Dragon growled.

“Whoa there,” the Wolf said, holding his hands up. “You still have these ones, and they’re not getting away any time soon.” As if to emphasize his point, the men around us shifted to reveal our cluster, their guns slightly raised in warning.

The Dragon nodded grudgingly. “I knew you’d get the job done.”

“Great, that’s settled then,” the Wolf clapped his hands together. “Now onto the more important part of this transaction.”

The Dragon grimaced. “You’ll get your payment soon enough.”

“With the bonus?”

In reply, he got another glare. “You’ll get even more if you help track down Damien North. Until we wrap this business up, you won’t be getting anything.”

“This wasn’t part of our deal.”

“It is now.”

The Wolf took a moment to think, and then he beckoned over a couple of the closest armed men. He whispered a few things to them, pausing to wait for their nods.

As the Wolf was doing that, the Dragon shifted his attention to us. It was a quick go-over, as if he was appraising goods he had just receiving. When his gaze finally reached Charlie and he noticed the makeshift bandage, his scowl deepened.

“Mr. Wolf, I thought I said to capture them, not shoot them.”

The Wolf startled out of his conversation, and straightened up to face the Dragon. “Oh, come on,” he protested, “I tried to not kill anybody. And that’s not my modus operandi.”

“You tried?”

“Give me a break here, Mr. Dragon.” The Wolf’s easygoing smile dipped briefly into a glower before lifting back up. “You brought me onto this job knowing what I’m like. In fact, you chose me because I work this way.”

“I would’ve appreciated it if you had been more civil with my son’s friends, we’re not animals here.”

“Well shit, that’s ironic considering our pseudonyms are all animals, thanks to your suggestion.”

“Are you questioning my choices?”

The Wolf laughed. “Is that even a question?” His smile dropped from his face completely. “I’ve been questioning your choices for a while.”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get an immediate response, the Wolf continued. “You’re getting soft, my friend. You’re letting emotions and all that get in the way of our best interests here.”

“Our best interest?”

“In case you’ve completely forgotten, you originally brought us together cause we’re a group with common interests. We needed you, but you also needed us.”

“What is your point, Mr. Wolf?”

“You’re prioritizing your interests now, and that’s not how this business is going to work.”

“And?”

There was a pause as the Dragon had straightened himself up, trying to impose a threat with his presence. The Wolf rubbed his hands in careful thought as he calculated the risks of speaking his mind. His hand grazed his gun in the holster, and he matched his posture to the Dragon’s.

The Wolf smirked. “I think it’s about high time you retire for good, Mr. Dragon.”

Without hesitation, the Dragon’s hand shot out and grabbed the front of the Wolf’s shirt, hauling him forward until their faces were only a few inches away from each other.

“How fucking dare you,” the Dragon hissed. “After all I’ve done for you. You were insignificant before I found you, before I helped you.”

“I’m in your debt, but you’re in mine too,” the Wolf retorted. “In fact, I think you’re more indebted to me than anyone else. Remember the situation in Malaysia? And in Ecuador? Guess who covered your ass?”

Silence. The Wolf placed his hand on his gun, slowly easing his hand onto the handle.

“Face it, you’re becoming irrelevant. You’re weighing the group down, you have no right to call yourself a leader. And I think I could be the one to fill your shoes.”

The armed men were silently glancing at each other, their guns wavering as their concentration dropped from us to the quarrel. They shifted uneasily, not sure whether they should be taking sides, intervening, or staying out of it.

There was a flicker of movement as Laura raised her hand ever so slightly. She waited a second, then snapped her fingers.

C.N. - chapter 85

Have you ever wondered how well a banjo and a dubstep synthesizer go together? Well, Graham had connected his iPod playlist to the intercom system on Mr. Dragon’s submarine, and the music coming out of the speakers had exactly that: a banjo and a dubstep synthesizer.

‘Aww, this is disgusting!’ A henchman shouted, covering his ears. I noticed for the first time that all the henchmen wore nametags on their uniform. This particular henchman’s tag said ‘Gus’.

‘Make it stop!’ Yelled another henchman whose nametag displayed ‘Pete’.

Similar complaints issued from the mouths of Mr. Dragon’s other henchmen in the hall. There were clangs on the floor as henchmen who had been holding kitchen gadgets dropped what they were holding in shock and bewilderment. Everyone had stood up.

Laura’s henchmen, on the other hand, were enjoying what was coming out of the speakers so much they hopped onto the counters and began tap dancing (I think it was tap dancing).

Then the lyrics came on. The singer sounds to be rapping…with an exaggerated Midwestern accent. I couldn’t exactly comprehend much of the lyrics, though I caught a few lines about haystacks, shotguns, and the verse ‘Imma milk the cash like I milk my cow’, whatever that meant.

‘This is just wrong,’ the henchman with nametag ‘Bob’ said, ‘it’s like eating live shrimp with cheese dip!’

‘With blue cheese dip,’ added a henchman bearing the nametag ‘Ed’, sticking out his tongue in disgust.

‘Yeah, you would know.’ Countered Eric, who was rapping along with the song.

Theo turned to Laura with a puzzled look on her face, ‘what is this music?’

It seemed Laura had had the question put to her before. ‘Well, my henchmen-‘ Laura began. Michael interrupted her.

‘Ahem, colleagues, you mean.’ He said.

‘Right,’ Laura continued, ‘my colleagues all possess a rather alternative taste in music. What you’re hearing is a relatively unknown fusion genre combining gangsta rap and country music.’

‘It’s called craptry.’ John added.

‘Not exactly my cup of tea, but I don’t mettle in the kind of music my colleagues listen to.’ Laura said.

‘WHAT?’ Half of Mr. Dragon’s henchmen in the room gasped incredulously.

‘Makes sense, it sounds like crap.’ Henchman Gus said.

‘Who said that?!’ Graham spun around angrily, ‘which one of you cretins said that?! Who dares to insult my tastes in art?! Speak up, I’ll fight you!’

Several henchmen including Gus, Pete, Bob and Ed stepped forward, as if accepting Graham’s challenge.

At this point I noticed that Mr. Virus (who had been knocked out by a saucepan to the back of the head a few minutes ago and was lying unconscious on the floor up to now) had regained unconsciousness and was rising up from the floor. He was holding a fruit knife by the blade tip, his arm arched back like a circus knife thrower about to perform a stunt. The arm was aimed at Graham, who was nearest to where he lay.

‘Mr. Virus is awake!’ I shouted to Graham.

Mr. Virus threw the knife and Graham ducked sideways off the table. The remote in his hand flew in the other direction. Wolfgang quickly threw another saucepan at Mr. Virus, which hit him squarely in the forehead, knocking him out cold a second time.

Henchman Bob dived for the remote, as did John. They collided midair and knocked it on a different path through the air. Henchman Ed leaped up to catch the remote, but a rolling pin thrown by Eric smacked into his groin mid-leap and he fell back down, doubled over in pain. Michael ran forward to intercept the remote from landing in Henchman Pete’s outstretched hand, but Henchman Gus fly-tackled him sideways and they both crashed onto the floor. Terry tripped Henchman Pete, was tripped by another henchman called ‘Marv’ (according to his nametag), and Henchman Marv was tripped by the other Terry, who in turn stepped on a bar of soap and fell flat on his bottom. The remote landed in Laura’s hand.

‘Turn that infernal music off, we beg you!’ Mr. Dragon’s henchmen cried.

‘Alright boys, I think we’ve had enough digressions for now.’ She promptly and calmly switched the music off.

‘Aww fiddlesticks!’ Laura’s henchmen sighed in unison.

‘Take that, you tasteless bumholes!’ Mr. Dragon’s henchmen shouted in triumph.

‘Who you calling bumholes?’ Graham yelled back, ‘I’ll fight all of you!’

Laura’s henchmen and Mr. Dragon’s henchmen all got to their feet and began throwing insults at each other, as well as criticizing each other’s musical tastes (from what I gather, Mr. Dragon’s henchmen were either fans of country or gangsta rap, but not a combination of both).

Laura touched my shoulder, ‘while our former ally Mr. Kent is still unconscious, I should go tie him up, seeing that these musically passionate colleagues of mine will be occupied for quite a while on their present undertaking. Look after your friends and my son for me, won’t you, Charlie?’

I nodded, and she went to tie Mr. Virus up.

Dennis suddenly brightened up. He nudged Theo, and said, ‘You know, with all this excitement I almost forgot one thing.’

‘What’s that?’ Theo asked.

‘It’s your birthday. Happy birthday, my dear sister.’

‘Why yes it is!’ Heathcliff exclaimed, ‘Happy birthday my dear Theodora, here, um…I have to get you a birthday present!’ He took off searching for one.

Theo looked confused, then surprised, then even more surprised. She opened her mouth, but words did not come out of it for some time. Finally she said, ‘well that doesn’t surprise me, I’ve forgotten about my own birthday.’

‘That’s why I’m here to remind you.’ Dennis said with a smile.

‘You’re here for more than that, to me, Dennis.’ Theo smiled back.

‘What about me?’ Wolfgang cut in, ‘what am I here for to you?’

Theo didn’t say anything, but just turned to him and gave him an enigmatic smile.

‘Step aside, I know what I’m here for,’ Heathcliff declared, having found a present. Striding up to Theo, he presented her with a massive ribbon flower, the kind used on a cake box. ‘I couldn’t find any real flowers in this place, my darling.’

Theo raised her eyebrow at Heathcliff. ‘Have you ever missed an opportunity to attempt to propose to me?’

Before Heathcliff could give his answer, the intercom blared to life. However, the remote was still with Laura, so the system must have been overridden by another controller.

‘By god, what was that infernal music on the speakers just now?’ I recognized Mr. Dragon’s voice on the speakers. ‘Somebody better answer me this instant!’ For a moment everyone froze.

The argument between the two groups of henchmen stopped. Henchman Bob took out a walkie-talkie and said into it, ‘It was your ex-wife’s men, they hacked into the speaker system and put that awful stuff on air.’

‘Well where are the prisoners? Where are they now?’ Mr. Dragon barked.

‘Um, everyone’s here sir, in the mess hall.’

‘Everyone?’

“Yes sir.’

There was a loud crash through the speakers, followed by shouts and cursing. Then a different voice appeared.

‘Theo, are you alright?’

Theo snatched the walkie-talkie from Henchman Bob and talked urgently into it, ‘Grandfather! I’m alright. Are you alright?’

‘I’m alright, just fighting it out with my arch nemesis here. Bring reinforcements to the control room-’

There was another crash, and the speakers died.

Theo turned to Henchman Bob, and said, ‘show me to the control room.’

‘Hold your horses little lady,’ said a voice I had never heard before, ‘nobody’s going anywhere.’

Everyone turned to look at the source of that voice. At the other end of the mess hall, a door had opened and a man in a pitch-black suit who looks exactly like Harvey Keitel entered, followed by a line of men in black military uniform, carrying automatics. The men aimed their guns at us.

Seeing that everyone else was wide-eyed and seemed to know the identity of this person, and further seeing that they all seemed too stupefied to reveal that information to me, I decided to find out for myself, once again.

‘Are you Harvey Keitel?’ I asked the man.

‘No,’ the man replied, seemingly amused, ‘I’m the Wolf.’

And then he did the strangest, most incomprehensible thing. He raised a pistol and shot me right in the shoulder blade.