Part One by Rebecca S.
(Currently Rated G)
All in all Murdock had to admit he’d had better days. Worse ones too, but today just wasn’t going according to plan. He rose and shot of another few rounds, scanning the area quickly before dropping back behind the meagre protection of the burnt out car. Three, he thought to himself, moving a few feet to the left. At least we still have the advantage.
It was supposed to have been one of those simple ‘rough ‘em up and let ‘em know they’ve got company’ kinda visits. They’d been hired by an old army friend turned law officer to check out the local scrappers. Cars had been going missing of late and the owner of the junkyard, one Mr Verbruggen, was a prime suspect. With no evidence and an increasing crime spree on their hands, the local police were pretty desperate. Somehow, however, Verbruggen knew they were coming.
“Seen” yelled Face suddenly. Murdock couldn’t see where he was, but the voice was unmistakable. “One high top of building. Second left of pallets. Third cab of truck.” Face shouted the information in a loud, clear voice; their training allowed them all to keep a cool head under fire. Just like Nam. Follow procedure: return fire, go to ground, locate the enemy and win the firefight. Well, boys and girls, its time to kick butt. He rose and let rip at the truck, to be rewarded with the sound of shattering glass and punctured aluminium. No problem.
At least, it wasn’t until a splinter of metal from returning fire fractured from the car and flew towards him. He dove for cover, mentally cursing the betrayal of his haven, eyes wide with the realisation of the sudden pain in his side. He rolled and gasped as he hit the floor, grimacing in pain. Crap. Crap. Crap! Not now. The guys… He bit his lip and struggled towards his dropped weapon. They needed him. How could he screw up like this? He frowned at the strange yet uncomfortably familiar sensation of fresh blood soaking his top, glancing down. Oh jeez… He closed his eyes for a moment as a wave of dizziness washed over him, only dimly aware of the ensuing battle.
Only to open them in surprise, and no small measure of panic, from a gentle touch to his shoulder. He tensed, ready to lash out at a would-be captor, or worse, and looked up to meet a pair of serious, soft brown eyes.
For one of those rare moments that feel like a lifetime, Murdock forgot how to breathe. His mind reeled, confused and he stared, his mouth working silently. Oh god. Oh god oh god…
“Its alright Captain.” Came a voice that seemed distant. “I’ll take care of it.” He felt more than saw the newcomer move away; heard three measured shots ring out amid the background chaos… and then silence, broken by the running of feet. Another moment. Maybe this one did last a lifetime? Another gentle touch. His eyes cleared and he looked up at Hannibal who was checking his injuries.
“You’ll be alright. It doesn’t look too bad. That was great shooting Murdock.”
“Yeah. Crazy fool did sumthin right for a change,” came B.A’s voice as he came to report on the situation. “Its all clear Hannibal. Those punks’ll be stealing hospital trolleys for the next few weeks!” Murdock strived to sit himself up, looking around wildly, wincing.
“But… but it wasn’t me Hannibal. It was …” He gasped, clutching at the colonel’s arm as if to physically bore into him the truth of his declaration. “It was Songbird.”
Stony silence met his statement. Hannibal looked up at B.A and met his eyes, conveying his concern and finding it reciprocated.
“Help me move him, B.A. We have to clear out.” The heavily built man nodded and lifted him easily onto his shoulder for the swiftest escape, and held him tightly as the slighter man started to struggle against him, howling.
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(Archivist note: Who's next??? If you want to adopt the next part of this round robin, email Pax. Thanks!)