- Sergeant Murph
- |
- Noble Legendary Member
Hey guys--I'm sorry I'm so late on this chapter. I was pretty uninspired for a while, but now I think I have a better plan to manage this. In this chapter, you'll get some more views on the Director (don't make friends with him) and a continuation of Brad and Pulse's story. Some action as well.
DARKWING CHRONICLES ARE REBORN!
---Murph---
Chapter Seven
Escape Route
The Director of Darkwing Corporation stood alone by the window in his office, his gaze fixed upon the entrancing stars that seemed to taunt him, whisper to him. The fact that they were out of his reach seemed to question his power. He was not content with that. Nor was he content with his current location.
Darkwing's master headquarters was in space.
Although the Director himself had not been fond of the idea, caution was more than necessary. One wrong move and he could have the United Nations Space Command swarming down on him. They needed a solitary place, where no one could easily locate and eradicate them.
Darkwing. No one truly knew its origins other than knowing it was of evil descent. The very name inspired fear in the bravest of warriors. There had never been an organization so deadlyand yet so quiet, inconspicuous. A Darkwing operative had never been captured. The protocol for imminent capture was suicide, and such protocol had always been obeyed.
Now the Director turned away from the stars, his face contorted in a permanent look of grimness. There was a photograph on the black granite table behind him. It was an old photograph, one that he'd only recently scavenged from the heap of strange objects that made up his blood-splattered past.
Not for the last time, he picked it up and examined it thoroughly.
There were eight men in the picture, dressed in their honorable United Nations dignitary uniforms. Their arms were slung around one another, and each one donned a sheepish but pleasant grin, the result of a few too many drinks together.
He devoured the picture with a disturbing sense of hatred. If he could not put this picture to good use, it would have been burned long ago. But it did have a reason for existence. A deadly reason. A reason that could quite possibly be the start of a fresh beginning.
The Director pocketed the picture and made quickly for the door. There was much work to do.
He had found his victims.
---
The two of us must have run three miles or so into the dense woods that enclosed the prison before we finally collapsed in a heap in the middle of a small clearing, the illuminative moonlight being our only guide through the thick trees.
It was then, gasping for breath, that I turned to face the man who had saved me once more. I couldn't help but notice that there was something frighteningly familiar about him. Weird.
"Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you helping me?"
The man turned to me, and, for the first time, grinned, baring his bright white teeth that seemed so unfitting against his battle-torn features.
"Call me Pulse," he said. "As for helping you?" He paused for a moment, squinting as if searching for the correct words. "Well, I guess you could say you and I have something in common."
"And that is?"
There was a long silence. Pulse's eyes were fixated deep into the forest, as if he might find the answer within the dense woods. At long length, he turned back to me, but his expression bore no answers.
"We should get going."
"Not until you tell me what this is all about. I'm not taking another step until you do."
"You're not keeping your word."
"You're not giving me a choice."
He looked at me, flashed a smirk, then shook his head. "I wasn't counting on you being this stubborn. Maybe I'd better walk you back to that hellhole and have you locked up until you can learn some manners."
I stood my ground, my chin a bit higher than normal, my eyes bent downward. I wasn't leaving here without answers. What if Pulse was leading me to a place worse than prison? Worse than imminent death? The thought made my stomach flip.
I began to argue, but suddenly Pulse rolled forward and clamped a hand over my mouth, muffling me. He dragged me to the ground so that I lay flat on my stomach and held his index finger in front of his mouth, and his eyes narrowed warningly. Quiet.
And then I heard the voices.
"Cowardly bastards. Doors opened for twenty seconds and they all ran like hell for the hills!"
"What exactly were you expecting? They're prisoners. When they get the opportunity, they're going to jump on it."
A search party. About three from the sound of them. A dim light knifed through the darkness, illuminating all that fell beneath its beam.
"How did the cell doors open anyway?" another asked. "We didn't give anyone clearance. It definitely didn't happen from the inside, and it would have been damn near impossible to override the entire prison's security system."
I thought I saw Pulse twist uncomfortably beside me. Making certain that I didn't move too suddenly, I turned slowly and glanced at him. His hand had fallen to his waist. His fingers were curling around something, but it was too dark to see what.
"It doesn't matter," a third, more calm voice said. "They're all hiding out here somewhere. We've got guards patrolling every inch of every exit. They won't be escaping this forest."
The footsteps grew louder and louder until I was quite sure they were almost upon us, though I didn't lift my head to check. The glare of the intense light shimmered across my half open eyes.
"Wait-- what's that?"
I wanted to scream when the light rested on us, but Pulse remained where he was, his face expressionless. I hardly knew the guy, but it didn't take a whole lot of brainpower to know that he had one last trick up his sleeve.
One of the guards erupted in a brutal laughter and strode calmly forward to where we lay flat, staring at us like we were dying rodents.
"What do you know? We hit two birds with one stone."
He chuckled again. I slowly brought my gaze up to see a booted foot swinging in a wide arc just before it crashed across my face, sending me sprawling. Blood gushed from my mouth, and my head spun wildly.
"C'mon, Rob, we ain't here to kill them," another guard reminded him.
"We can kill just these two, can't we? C'mon, we can bury them out here. No one will ever know."
"Good luck with that," Pulse sneered. He hadn't moved an inch since the guards had found us, but his hand was still close by his side.
The guards all turned at once, as if surprised that their prey was capable of speaking. The largest one lumbered forward, his eyes narrowed. Pulse turned the glare away and sent back his own knifelike gaze.
"You mocking me?" the big man asked bitterly. "You think I can't kill you right now?"
"I know you can't kill me right now," Pulse snarled, a flash of an evil smile emerging on his lips. "You could try. Your friends over there could try. But you can't. None of you can. That's why you were hired to stand around all day and make sure that no one sneezed the wrong way."
The guard didn't respond. He seemed to be contemplating the statement as if it were some kind of intricate equation.
"Let's face it," Pulse added, his face glowing in delight. "You don't have the balls to kill a man."
At that moment, the guard snapped, and he raised his rifle to deliver a hushing blow to Pulse's face. The others tried to stop him, but to no avail. He was too large to tackle or stall. His finger was already resting on the trigger.
He was about to shoot...
There was a thunderous crack. Blood spurted and somebody screamed in agony. The flashlight's beam rested upon the huge guard, who stood silently with a mixture of emotions on his face. Then, suddenly, blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, and he dropped to the ground, the gun still fully loaded in his hand.
Pulse had shot first.
Then everything happened at once.
[Edited on 11.26.2009 3:31 PM PST]