[FIC] Chapter 15/?? BRINGING DOWN THE HOUSE 01
Posted: Mon Jan 26, 2004 4:15 am
Spent almost 6 hours straight pounding this out, no stop, last night...
Trying to keep the humor, but alot of seriousness crept into it, which
I hope doesn't spoil the humor I've had for the last chapter.
Next chapter, BONTA-KUN!! Always on duty!
Regards
----------------------------
Police Chief Sterns of the NYPD was normally a very controlled person, or so he said of himself. Right now was one of the times when he wasn't controlled. New York was his home since childhood, and damned if anybody messed with it. Problem was the guy talking on the screen was messing with it, and there was little he could do about it.
"...release of political freedom fighters held in numerous Western nations, list to follow... payment amounting to $100 million US dollars, account to follow, in reparations to the above freedom fighters' families for loss and sufferings incurred... withdraw of the US from delicate Mideast Peace Negotiations as a biased and destablizing negotiator... reprimand of the nation of Israel, and admittance to sanctioning state-sponsored terrorism in Israeli-held terriorties... lifting of sanctions against nations that support our noble cause, list to follow..."
Sterns slammed his fist down onto the table and swore in his best invective. "Son-of-a-BITCH!! The BALLS of this...!"
Shunya Chidori stood further aback, equally horrified. He'd been a diplomat his entire professional life, one he'd felt he'd nobly and honorably performed over the years with others he believed equally willing to give-and-take for the greater good. Never in all of his experiences had he found someone so inflexible in their demands, so driven to achieve their ends. And the price of refuasl is the life of children... of children!! One of them my own flesh and blood. He felt sick to his stomach.
* * *
The Leader felt an extreme sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. Not only had he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, he had REALLY done the impossible! Originally from the Middle East, where exactly no one could tell as the lines on the map had been drawn and redrawn over the last fifty years, he'd watched the arrogance of the West -- the Americans, especially -- as they came in with their wealth and military might, crushed those whose only desire was a place to call home, took what they wanted, and if anyone dared disagree, well... many of his comrade-in-arms had learned just how deadly the Americans could be... when they had spine and stomach.
The Leader would never forget that night when an American cruise missile, a Tomahawk he later learned, had targeted a refugee camp and wiped its inhabitants from the face of the earth. Of course, the then-sitting US President had made platitutes ranging from 'it was an accident' to 'we were targeting terrorist infrastructure.' The Leader knew better. The image of the explosion was forever etched into his memory, as was the image of the aftermath the next morning. And now, he'd be returning the favor, with interest.
He inhaled deeply, drawing himelf upright. He had to project the image of confidence, of a victor dictating terms to the vanquished, or they wouldn't be taken seriously. Staring straight into the camera, he continued his speech, savoring it. He'd waited long enough...
"Before you go back to your comfortable existences, to your news analyses and commentaries of how we are barbarians, of how evil we are, I ask the American people to look at themselves and remember one thing! I once had a family, children, dreams of a bright future... but AMERICANS took that from me! From my comrade-in-arms! You Americans! With you Nike shoes, your $5,000 tropical vacations... your SUPREME ARROGANCE! Your Tomahawk missiles, your Desert Storms! And you call US TERRORISTS?!?!"
He felt such satisfaction after delivering that line... why shouldn't it? It was the punchline, afterall... And one more to close the performance.
"'You Reap What You Sow,' America! You will learn this lesson again if you do not meet our demands!"
The signal was killed after that.
* * *
Sousuke watched with rapt attention to the broadcast, but less the rhetoric than the speaker's body language and other indicators. A detached portion of his mind focused on the closing remarks made. Privately, he had to admit he agreed with the man... if this were another life. In that life, he would still be a slave to the sick, twisted ideology that believed in an eye for and eye, a tooth for a tooth. That if a man or a nation killed your family, you would continue to seek revenge, even if it took a thousand years.
In this life, he only saw a group of men nursing their hatreds and acting out on tissue-thin facades, twisted egos... and most importantly, on the innocent. On children too young to know -- or even care -- about what circumstances had placed them in the line of fire. In this life, he had a reason to live, to survive, friends to protect, comrades who cared about him...
Unforgivable he thought. Death is the only sentence. There would be no negotiations. Period. They'd never agree to negotiate, and neither would he.
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"Uh... yeah, sure Bonta-kun. I can get you to the guy in charge here. Why..."
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"O...okay, I won't ask. I'll just do! Okay! This way..."
"Fumo."
* * *
"Chief? That crazy tech Corwin wants to see you."
"WHAT?! I thought I told him I want him AND that side-show if his OUT OF HERE!!"
"Well, sir..."
Sterns stormed past, ready to rip Corwin's head off again. SWAT was needed, but NOT the damned... whatever they were! They never worked, the program was behind schedule, SWAT didn't even had a licenced AS pilot on staff. What possible use was he?! "That damned geek! I want him out of here..." He froze in his tracks when he got a look at what was standing outside.
"Wha...Wha...Wha...!" He was looking at an 8 foot tall walking...
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"Uh... You are the one in charge here?" Corwin asked weakly. He felt like such a fool, but he had a job to do.
"CORWIN!! I TOLD YOU TO GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE NOW!"
"But, Chief..."
"CORWIN!!"
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"AND WHAT'S WITH THIS DAMNED MOUSE!! I DON'T TALK MOUSE!!"
"Fumo fumo. Fumo. Fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"Uh... he says he's not a mouse. His name is Bonta-kun and he's here to help... he knows the situation..."
"CORWIN!! SHUT THE fudgie UP!! AS FOR YOU...!!" Sterns ran over to Bonta-kun, ready to tear the stupid thing limb from limb. He was in charge of a hostage situation here, not some three-ring circus.
He suddenly found himself on the ground, the damned mouse standing over him speaking gibberish again.
"Fumo fumo fumo. Fumo fumo. Fumo!"
Corwin was shocked! Bonta-kun COULD'NT'VE said that, could he? "Uh... Now is not the time to show your pride. Lives are on the line. I offer my help. Refuse and people will die!"
"WHY YOU..!!" He positioned his stance for another attack.
"CHIEF! The guy's on the phone, he wants to talk, ASAP!"
Sterns stared Corwin and the mouse down, unsure whether they or the terrorists holed up in the school were a bigger threat right now.
* * *
The Leader patiently waited for whoever was on the other end to pick up. He could wait, for he knew time was on his side.
"Yes?" Defiance and pride in this one. It made his next course of action easier to decide.
"To whom am I speaking to?"
"Police Chief Sterns, NYPD. Who is this?"
"Have I not made myself abundantly clear, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD? Who we are is not important, our demands, however, are! Unless you consider the lives of those in this building worthless..."
"Before I can negotiate, I must know who I am speaking to!" He listened to the rage held back in the man's voice. He'd be fun to play with Leader thought. So we shall play!
"The demands are non-negotiable. I will not repeat myself, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD. We've been most generous to you. If you will not reciprocate, then someone will suffer for your impertenence." He let his anger build like water behind a dam. Soon it'd be released, which made it that much more satisfying. Soon now, so very soon...
"I must refer this to a higher authority... I need time!"
"Time? Time, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD, is not on your side. You seem to be unable to understand that. I know your Ops manual calls for waiting us out. I know it very well, for I have studied it intently beforehand. I must say, I have no intention of following your so-called Standard Operating Procedure. Either you give in to our demands, or those in the building will suffer! And if you seek proof of our conviction... you shall have it!"
* * *
"No, wait, damn you! I can get..."
"Get what? You have nothing I want. Good day, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD. Oh, you may want to tell those newsmen to focus on the front door. There will be quite a show for them in five minutes." The line went dead.
"Clear the front door! Now!"
Shunya was growing increasingly agitated. He'd hoped... he'd so hoped he could negotiate, but the interchange between the Chief and the terrorists...
"Chief Sterns?"
"I'm sorry, Commissioner, but you'll have to excuse me. CORWIN! GET THE fudgie OUT OF HERE NOW! That INCLUDES your little stuffed doll, in case you can't figure that out!!"
"Fumo fumo. Fumo."
"I cannot leave. Lives are at stake."
"SHUT UP!"
* * *
Ayume cowered with the rest of her schoolmates, pondering for the thousandth time the universal question, "Why?" The last thing she consciously remembered was it was the last period of the day. She'd be going home soon. Her father had promised to pick her up after an important meeting -- being the preceptive child she was, she'd made him promise he wouldn't be late -- and they'd go out for dinner together.
The next she knew, the principal told everyone to calmly and quietly walk to the gymnasium, as some "nice people want you to do it, do not ask why." They all learned very quickly why they shouldn't ask when they got there. Inside the gym, a plethora of men held guns to them all, yelling at them in a language she didn't recognize. The fiercesome sight of the guns alone, frantically pointing at them, then to the floor told them to sit down quickly and behave, lest any of them got an itchy trigger finger.
Ayume had little time to feel afraid, feeling more disgusted at those guns the men carried. Her father had said enough he didn't understand why anyone needed any of those things. All they were good for was bringing pain and suffering to everyone.
Her homeroom teacher, Miss Wright, did her best to keep everyone in the class calm, but she could tell she was even more rattled inside. "Shh, be quiet class, and this will all be over soon."
"Are you sure, Miss Wright?"
"Yes, please be quiet..." Others in the class might've bought that outright lie, but Ayume didn't. She knew better than that.
The eldest of the men -- the leader of them all, she guessed -- was talking rapidly in that language again. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but it sounded like something important and very controversial. Some men were wildly pointing in various directions. The Leader finally closed all discussion and looked in the direction Ayume's class was seated. She felt her blood get very cold.
"Miss Wright, he's... he's..."
"Yes, I see. Keep quiet, and they'll let us go soon."
Miss Wright, you're lying again Ayume wanted to say, but she was now too scared to say it, much less do anything, for the Leader and two of his men were standing next to her class.
"May I have your name, Miss?"
"Darlene Wright. Why do you ask?"
The Leader pondered that name a moment, rolling it around in his mouth as if he were tasting it. "Ah, never mind. It is not important. Tell me, Miss Wright. Do you believe in God?"
"I goto church on Sundays..."
"But do you believe in him?"
"Why...?"
The Leader turned away and spoke to the two men. They immediately grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. Some of the class tried vainly to keep her seated, but it was a losing battle. Screams of the desperately frightened sounded, but in the end it was all for naught. Miss Wright was pulled to her feet, her face full of tears.
"No! I CAN'T go! Please! What have I done to you?!"
"Nothing, Miss Wright. Please, walk with me some. I want to know, 'Do you believe in God?' Answer me that, and I will let you be with your class again."
"Class, stay seated, alright? I'll be back soon." She tried to put some conviction in her voice, which only served to anger him more. It didn't matter, her fate was long ago decided.
Give them hope, take it away. Give them alittle less hope, take that away. He repeated it to himself over and over, for it was a lesson the Americans had taught the world, and he'd learned it well. It was how they'd gained dominance over the Middle East, wasn't it? No more!, he thought to himself. Tonight, the Americans would, as their idiom went, 'get a taste of their own medicine.'
* * *
"Sniper Teams Four and Six, check in!"
"Four, roger."
"Six, in position."
"Stay sharp! Be ready for anything!"
"Four here. ROE?"
Sniper Team Four wanted to know the Rules of Engagement. Prudent, considering the situation they were in. Sterns paused a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, thinking how he'd answer that.
"ROE: if it's enemy, take it out ONLY if you have a clear shot... I don't want any friendly casualties!"
"Crystal. Out."
Sterns wiped his forehead again. Damnit! What the hell did he mean by that? he wondered. They weren't playing by any set of rules ever set down in a police manual. Why? They wouldn't go that far, would they? The Commissioner was with him, which was good in case things escalated. A career diplomat in his hand wasn't too bad, in case these guys wanted to negotiate, which was what he was banking on right now. However, Corwin and that damned mouse were with him as well, and that mouse kept making some prophesy about how he should 'expect the unexpected, most likely a killing.' I don't need anyone telling me how to run this show. I'm in control here!
* * *
"I've told you, I've been going to Church since I was a child! I still do!"
The Leader felt some pity for the woman, totally oblivious that she was being led to her death. No matter, he was simply paying the Americans back in kind, and in their own coin. "But you have not answered my question. Do you believe in God? Going to church is one thing, any person can do that..."
No matter, it was a pointless discussion, of which she could continue in the other life, if she made it there. "Ah, we are here."
Here was the school's main door.
"Where...? I... I CAN'T go! My class...!"
"They are not your concern, Miss Wright. Do not take my generousity lightly. Go."
She stood there, mute and confused.
"Oh, before you go, would you put on this bullet-proof vest? You never know, but American law enforcement officials tend to have such itchy trigger fingers." She naively complied. Fool!
One of his subordinates spoke in Arabic. Five minutes, Leader.
Excellent. It's time.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing important. He was just making a comment about how well it fit you. Be careful, Miss Wright!" He watched her go, every last shred of pity for her gone. If she truly cared about her class as she claimed, she'd've not accepted the vest and instead insisted on returning immediately. Not that it mattered, she would die anyways... his question forever haunting her. Infidel! Unbeliever!
His hand made for his pocket as his two subordinates opened the door, giving her a glimpse of fleeting freedom.
* * *
"Sniper Teams, target is friendly! Hold fire!"
"Roger."
Sterns adjusted the focus on his binoculars, trying to get a clearer view. "Target is female, say mid- to late- thirties. Non-valid target, repeat, non-valid target! No hostiles in sight."
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"There's three behind the door, out of sight of your snipers." Corwin translated, his voice low, barely above a whisper.
Sterns didn't justify that with a response. "I want EMS on standby, she may be injured...!"
* * *
Miss Wright looked out into a cool New York night. The lights of the police cars and ambulances dancing around in the fading sunlight, creating an eerie feeling. Part of her felt ashamed for taking the man's offer of freedom. I should be with my class! If they're not released, I shouldn't be released! All the training in life didn't have a section on what to do in a hostage situation, but she figured she'd handled it well. She'd kept her class calm and alive, that was the key, wasn't it? The man sounded sincere enough, and if the police did things right, they'd all get to go home, wouldn't they?
She idly wondered why the man was so insistent on asking whether she believed in God? I guess he's just the religious type... she figured. That was the last conscious thought she had as she took her first step towards safety.
* * *
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"JESUS!!"
Various other colorful invectives flooded the radio as the shockwave subsided, but not before knocking over everyone in a 300 meter radius, and shattering every glass window for about a block. The blast was powerful enough to set off a few car alarms in the immediate vicinity.
Subconciously he knew what had happened, but the rational part of his mind couldn't grasp it. The bastards! The cold-blooded bastards!
Lifting the binoculars to his eyes, he surveyed was remained of the school's front portion. Doors were intact, but a large crater maybe ten feet deep was all that remained of the stone stairs leading to the door. He prayed somehow the woman had survived, but deep down he knew...
A ringing caught his attention. "Yes?!"
"Did you have the cameras rolling for that one, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD?"
"YOU BASTARD!!"
"You doubted our sincerity. Surely there is no more doubt now, yes?"
Sterns didn't have a response for that.
"I'll take your silence as a yes. We have many more vests, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD, and many more... 'candidates.' If you do not want the schoolyard to become filled with craters -- each one marking the grave of your indecision -- you will fulfill our demands now!" The line clicked off.
"Fumo?"
"Chief Sterns?"
"Okay, whoever you are! You've just succeeded in PISSING ME OFF!" With that, Sterns stalked off towards the command center. The gloves come off right now!
But first, he had a private matter to attend to.
* * *
"I'm Katie Williams, of NY Evening News. To repeat what's just happened: earlier this day a group of armed men have taken over this school, and have threatened to kill all the hostages unless their demands are met..."
Not everyone in his group spoke english, so he translated the broadcast for their benefit.
"Just now a large explosion occurred on the school's front steps. Police are refusing to comment..."
How appropriate. There was someone who'd had their cameras pointed in the front steps at the right time. Though it was only for an instant, they could all see Miss Wright standing there, just about to walk to her freedom, the next...
His men cheered at the sight, and again as the sequence was repeated again at slower speed. Some took their guns and aimed at the roof, letting off a stream of celebratory bullets. The occupants of the gym screamed, little good that it'd do them. He had a right to celebrate as did his men, every one of them remembering the Americans publically celebrating after every victory they or their Zionist allies 'won' in the Middle East.
In your own coin, America! You will pay the full price!
* * *
Trying to keep the humor, but alot of seriousness crept into it, which
I hope doesn't spoil the humor I've had for the last chapter.
Next chapter, BONTA-KUN!! Always on duty!
Regards
----------------------------
Police Chief Sterns of the NYPD was normally a very controlled person, or so he said of himself. Right now was one of the times when he wasn't controlled. New York was his home since childhood, and damned if anybody messed with it. Problem was the guy talking on the screen was messing with it, and there was little he could do about it.
"...release of political freedom fighters held in numerous Western nations, list to follow... payment amounting to $100 million US dollars, account to follow, in reparations to the above freedom fighters' families for loss and sufferings incurred... withdraw of the US from delicate Mideast Peace Negotiations as a biased and destablizing negotiator... reprimand of the nation of Israel, and admittance to sanctioning state-sponsored terrorism in Israeli-held terriorties... lifting of sanctions against nations that support our noble cause, list to follow..."
Sterns slammed his fist down onto the table and swore in his best invective. "Son-of-a-BITCH!! The BALLS of this...!"
Shunya Chidori stood further aback, equally horrified. He'd been a diplomat his entire professional life, one he'd felt he'd nobly and honorably performed over the years with others he believed equally willing to give-and-take for the greater good. Never in all of his experiences had he found someone so inflexible in their demands, so driven to achieve their ends. And the price of refuasl is the life of children... of children!! One of them my own flesh and blood. He felt sick to his stomach.
* * *
The Leader felt an extreme sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. Not only had he succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, he had REALLY done the impossible! Originally from the Middle East, where exactly no one could tell as the lines on the map had been drawn and redrawn over the last fifty years, he'd watched the arrogance of the West -- the Americans, especially -- as they came in with their wealth and military might, crushed those whose only desire was a place to call home, took what they wanted, and if anyone dared disagree, well... many of his comrade-in-arms had learned just how deadly the Americans could be... when they had spine and stomach.
The Leader would never forget that night when an American cruise missile, a Tomahawk he later learned, had targeted a refugee camp and wiped its inhabitants from the face of the earth. Of course, the then-sitting US President had made platitutes ranging from 'it was an accident' to 'we were targeting terrorist infrastructure.' The Leader knew better. The image of the explosion was forever etched into his memory, as was the image of the aftermath the next morning. And now, he'd be returning the favor, with interest.
He inhaled deeply, drawing himelf upright. He had to project the image of confidence, of a victor dictating terms to the vanquished, or they wouldn't be taken seriously. Staring straight into the camera, he continued his speech, savoring it. He'd waited long enough...
"Before you go back to your comfortable existences, to your news analyses and commentaries of how we are barbarians, of how evil we are, I ask the American people to look at themselves and remember one thing! I once had a family, children, dreams of a bright future... but AMERICANS took that from me! From my comrade-in-arms! You Americans! With you Nike shoes, your $5,000 tropical vacations... your SUPREME ARROGANCE! Your Tomahawk missiles, your Desert Storms! And you call US TERRORISTS?!?!"
He felt such satisfaction after delivering that line... why shouldn't it? It was the punchline, afterall... And one more to close the performance.
"'You Reap What You Sow,' America! You will learn this lesson again if you do not meet our demands!"
The signal was killed after that.
* * *
Sousuke watched with rapt attention to the broadcast, but less the rhetoric than the speaker's body language and other indicators. A detached portion of his mind focused on the closing remarks made. Privately, he had to admit he agreed with the man... if this were another life. In that life, he would still be a slave to the sick, twisted ideology that believed in an eye for and eye, a tooth for a tooth. That if a man or a nation killed your family, you would continue to seek revenge, even if it took a thousand years.
In this life, he only saw a group of men nursing their hatreds and acting out on tissue-thin facades, twisted egos... and most importantly, on the innocent. On children too young to know -- or even care -- about what circumstances had placed them in the line of fire. In this life, he had a reason to live, to survive, friends to protect, comrades who cared about him...
Unforgivable he thought. Death is the only sentence. There would be no negotiations. Period. They'd never agree to negotiate, and neither would he.
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"Uh... yeah, sure Bonta-kun. I can get you to the guy in charge here. Why..."
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"O...okay, I won't ask. I'll just do! Okay! This way..."
"Fumo."
* * *
"Chief? That crazy tech Corwin wants to see you."
"WHAT?! I thought I told him I want him AND that side-show if his OUT OF HERE!!"
"Well, sir..."
Sterns stormed past, ready to rip Corwin's head off again. SWAT was needed, but NOT the damned... whatever they were! They never worked, the program was behind schedule, SWAT didn't even had a licenced AS pilot on staff. What possible use was he?! "That damned geek! I want him out of here..." He froze in his tracks when he got a look at what was standing outside.
"Wha...Wha...Wha...!" He was looking at an 8 foot tall walking...
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"Uh... You are the one in charge here?" Corwin asked weakly. He felt like such a fool, but he had a job to do.
"CORWIN!! I TOLD YOU TO GET YOUR ASS OUT OF HERE NOW!"
"But, Chief..."
"CORWIN!!"
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"AND WHAT'S WITH THIS DAMNED MOUSE!! I DON'T TALK MOUSE!!"
"Fumo fumo. Fumo. Fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"Uh... he says he's not a mouse. His name is Bonta-kun and he's here to help... he knows the situation..."
"CORWIN!! SHUT THE fudgie UP!! AS FOR YOU...!!" Sterns ran over to Bonta-kun, ready to tear the stupid thing limb from limb. He was in charge of a hostage situation here, not some three-ring circus.
He suddenly found himself on the ground, the damned mouse standing over him speaking gibberish again.
"Fumo fumo fumo. Fumo fumo. Fumo!"
Corwin was shocked! Bonta-kun COULD'NT'VE said that, could he? "Uh... Now is not the time to show your pride. Lives are on the line. I offer my help. Refuse and people will die!"
"WHY YOU..!!" He positioned his stance for another attack.
"CHIEF! The guy's on the phone, he wants to talk, ASAP!"
Sterns stared Corwin and the mouse down, unsure whether they or the terrorists holed up in the school were a bigger threat right now.
* * *
The Leader patiently waited for whoever was on the other end to pick up. He could wait, for he knew time was on his side.
"Yes?" Defiance and pride in this one. It made his next course of action easier to decide.
"To whom am I speaking to?"
"Police Chief Sterns, NYPD. Who is this?"
"Have I not made myself abundantly clear, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD? Who we are is not important, our demands, however, are! Unless you consider the lives of those in this building worthless..."
"Before I can negotiate, I must know who I am speaking to!" He listened to the rage held back in the man's voice. He'd be fun to play with Leader thought. So we shall play!
"The demands are non-negotiable. I will not repeat myself, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD. We've been most generous to you. If you will not reciprocate, then someone will suffer for your impertenence." He let his anger build like water behind a dam. Soon it'd be released, which made it that much more satisfying. Soon now, so very soon...
"I must refer this to a higher authority... I need time!"
"Time? Time, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD, is not on your side. You seem to be unable to understand that. I know your Ops manual calls for waiting us out. I know it very well, for I have studied it intently beforehand. I must say, I have no intention of following your so-called Standard Operating Procedure. Either you give in to our demands, or those in the building will suffer! And if you seek proof of our conviction... you shall have it!"
* * *
"No, wait, damn you! I can get..."
"Get what? You have nothing I want. Good day, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD. Oh, you may want to tell those newsmen to focus on the front door. There will be quite a show for them in five minutes." The line went dead.
"Clear the front door! Now!"
Shunya was growing increasingly agitated. He'd hoped... he'd so hoped he could negotiate, but the interchange between the Chief and the terrorists...
"Chief Sterns?"
"I'm sorry, Commissioner, but you'll have to excuse me. CORWIN! GET THE fudgie OUT OF HERE NOW! That INCLUDES your little stuffed doll, in case you can't figure that out!!"
"Fumo fumo. Fumo."
"I cannot leave. Lives are at stake."
"SHUT UP!"
* * *
Ayume cowered with the rest of her schoolmates, pondering for the thousandth time the universal question, "Why?" The last thing she consciously remembered was it was the last period of the day. She'd be going home soon. Her father had promised to pick her up after an important meeting -- being the preceptive child she was, she'd made him promise he wouldn't be late -- and they'd go out for dinner together.
The next she knew, the principal told everyone to calmly and quietly walk to the gymnasium, as some "nice people want you to do it, do not ask why." They all learned very quickly why they shouldn't ask when they got there. Inside the gym, a plethora of men held guns to them all, yelling at them in a language she didn't recognize. The fiercesome sight of the guns alone, frantically pointing at them, then to the floor told them to sit down quickly and behave, lest any of them got an itchy trigger finger.
Ayume had little time to feel afraid, feeling more disgusted at those guns the men carried. Her father had said enough he didn't understand why anyone needed any of those things. All they were good for was bringing pain and suffering to everyone.
Her homeroom teacher, Miss Wright, did her best to keep everyone in the class calm, but she could tell she was even more rattled inside. "Shh, be quiet class, and this will all be over soon."
"Are you sure, Miss Wright?"
"Yes, please be quiet..." Others in the class might've bought that outright lie, but Ayume didn't. She knew better than that.
The eldest of the men -- the leader of them all, she guessed -- was talking rapidly in that language again. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but it sounded like something important and very controversial. Some men were wildly pointing in various directions. The Leader finally closed all discussion and looked in the direction Ayume's class was seated. She felt her blood get very cold.
"Miss Wright, he's... he's..."
"Yes, I see. Keep quiet, and they'll let us go soon."
Miss Wright, you're lying again Ayume wanted to say, but she was now too scared to say it, much less do anything, for the Leader and two of his men were standing next to her class.
"May I have your name, Miss?"
"Darlene Wright. Why do you ask?"
The Leader pondered that name a moment, rolling it around in his mouth as if he were tasting it. "Ah, never mind. It is not important. Tell me, Miss Wright. Do you believe in God?"
"I goto church on Sundays..."
"But do you believe in him?"
"Why...?"
The Leader turned away and spoke to the two men. They immediately grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. Some of the class tried vainly to keep her seated, but it was a losing battle. Screams of the desperately frightened sounded, but in the end it was all for naught. Miss Wright was pulled to her feet, her face full of tears.
"No! I CAN'T go! Please! What have I done to you?!"
"Nothing, Miss Wright. Please, walk with me some. I want to know, 'Do you believe in God?' Answer me that, and I will let you be with your class again."
"Class, stay seated, alright? I'll be back soon." She tried to put some conviction in her voice, which only served to anger him more. It didn't matter, her fate was long ago decided.
Give them hope, take it away. Give them alittle less hope, take that away. He repeated it to himself over and over, for it was a lesson the Americans had taught the world, and he'd learned it well. It was how they'd gained dominance over the Middle East, wasn't it? No more!, he thought to himself. Tonight, the Americans would, as their idiom went, 'get a taste of their own medicine.'
* * *
"Sniper Teams Four and Six, check in!"
"Four, roger."
"Six, in position."
"Stay sharp! Be ready for anything!"
"Four here. ROE?"
Sniper Team Four wanted to know the Rules of Engagement. Prudent, considering the situation they were in. Sterns paused a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, thinking how he'd answer that.
"ROE: if it's enemy, take it out ONLY if you have a clear shot... I don't want any friendly casualties!"
"Crystal. Out."
Sterns wiped his forehead again. Damnit! What the hell did he mean by that? he wondered. They weren't playing by any set of rules ever set down in a police manual. Why? They wouldn't go that far, would they? The Commissioner was with him, which was good in case things escalated. A career diplomat in his hand wasn't too bad, in case these guys wanted to negotiate, which was what he was banking on right now. However, Corwin and that damned mouse were with him as well, and that mouse kept making some prophesy about how he should 'expect the unexpected, most likely a killing.' I don't need anyone telling me how to run this show. I'm in control here!
* * *
"I've told you, I've been going to Church since I was a child! I still do!"
The Leader felt some pity for the woman, totally oblivious that she was being led to her death. No matter, he was simply paying the Americans back in kind, and in their own coin. "But you have not answered my question. Do you believe in God? Going to church is one thing, any person can do that..."
No matter, it was a pointless discussion, of which she could continue in the other life, if she made it there. "Ah, we are here."
Here was the school's main door.
"Where...? I... I CAN'T go! My class...!"
"They are not your concern, Miss Wright. Do not take my generousity lightly. Go."
She stood there, mute and confused.
"Oh, before you go, would you put on this bullet-proof vest? You never know, but American law enforcement officials tend to have such itchy trigger fingers." She naively complied. Fool!
One of his subordinates spoke in Arabic. Five minutes, Leader.
Excellent. It's time.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing important. He was just making a comment about how well it fit you. Be careful, Miss Wright!" He watched her go, every last shred of pity for her gone. If she truly cared about her class as she claimed, she'd've not accepted the vest and instead insisted on returning immediately. Not that it mattered, she would die anyways... his question forever haunting her. Infidel! Unbeliever!
His hand made for his pocket as his two subordinates opened the door, giving her a glimpse of fleeting freedom.
* * *
"Sniper Teams, target is friendly! Hold fire!"
"Roger."
Sterns adjusted the focus on his binoculars, trying to get a clearer view. "Target is female, say mid- to late- thirties. Non-valid target, repeat, non-valid target! No hostiles in sight."
"Fumo fumo fumo fumo fumo."
"There's three behind the door, out of sight of your snipers." Corwin translated, his voice low, barely above a whisper.
Sterns didn't justify that with a response. "I want EMS on standby, she may be injured...!"
* * *
Miss Wright looked out into a cool New York night. The lights of the police cars and ambulances dancing around in the fading sunlight, creating an eerie feeling. Part of her felt ashamed for taking the man's offer of freedom. I should be with my class! If they're not released, I shouldn't be released! All the training in life didn't have a section on what to do in a hostage situation, but she figured she'd handled it well. She'd kept her class calm and alive, that was the key, wasn't it? The man sounded sincere enough, and if the police did things right, they'd all get to go home, wouldn't they?
She idly wondered why the man was so insistent on asking whether she believed in God? I guess he's just the religious type... she figured. That was the last conscious thought she had as she took her first step towards safety.
* * *
"HOLY SHIT!!"
"JESUS!!"
Various other colorful invectives flooded the radio as the shockwave subsided, but not before knocking over everyone in a 300 meter radius, and shattering every glass window for about a block. The blast was powerful enough to set off a few car alarms in the immediate vicinity.
Subconciously he knew what had happened, but the rational part of his mind couldn't grasp it. The bastards! The cold-blooded bastards!
Lifting the binoculars to his eyes, he surveyed was remained of the school's front portion. Doors were intact, but a large crater maybe ten feet deep was all that remained of the stone stairs leading to the door. He prayed somehow the woman had survived, but deep down he knew...
A ringing caught his attention. "Yes?!"
"Did you have the cameras rolling for that one, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD?"
"YOU BASTARD!!"
"You doubted our sincerity. Surely there is no more doubt now, yes?"
Sterns didn't have a response for that.
"I'll take your silence as a yes. We have many more vests, Police Chief Sterns, NYPD, and many more... 'candidates.' If you do not want the schoolyard to become filled with craters -- each one marking the grave of your indecision -- you will fulfill our demands now!" The line clicked off.
"Fumo?"
"Chief Sterns?"
"Okay, whoever you are! You've just succeeded in PISSING ME OFF!" With that, Sterns stalked off towards the command center. The gloves come off right now!
But first, he had a private matter to attend to.
* * *
"I'm Katie Williams, of NY Evening News. To repeat what's just happened: earlier this day a group of armed men have taken over this school, and have threatened to kill all the hostages unless their demands are met..."
Not everyone in his group spoke english, so he translated the broadcast for their benefit.
"Just now a large explosion occurred on the school's front steps. Police are refusing to comment..."
How appropriate. There was someone who'd had their cameras pointed in the front steps at the right time. Though it was only for an instant, they could all see Miss Wright standing there, just about to walk to her freedom, the next...
His men cheered at the sight, and again as the sequence was repeated again at slower speed. Some took their guns and aimed at the roof, letting off a stream of celebratory bullets. The occupants of the gym screamed, little good that it'd do them. He had a right to celebrate as did his men, every one of them remembering the Americans publically celebrating after every victory they or their Zionist allies 'won' in the Middle East.
In your own coin, America! You will pay the full price!
* * *
