Disclaimer: FX: The Series does not belong to me, and I'm in no way profiting financially from this story. The screenplay for Red Storm was written by Mary Crawford and Alan Templeton, and the episode was directed by J. Miles Dale. I have adapted the story to written form hopefully remaining true to both the writer and director’s original creative intentions. It is written purely for my own entertainment and for the entertainment of others. FX is a Fireworks Entertainment Inc. and Winterset Productions Inc. production also produced in association with Rysher Entertainment and Hallmark Entertainment. The show is also based on the movie FX, an Orion Picture Corporation movie.

CHAPTER 2

Rollie Tyler lay flat on his back on a table in a grimy dark basement. Luckily he was dressed warmly in dark pants, a snug roll neck sweater and his black leather jacket. Coincidently (or not) a duplication of the clothes Victor Loubar was wearing when he left Rollie’s home earlier that morning. Rollie had several days worth of stubble on his chin and was helplessly unaware as a pair of hands pushed his head to the side and emptied a syringe of dark liquid into his exposed neck. That same pair of hands took off their watch and placed it on Rollie’s left wrist.

Angela Ramirez had the look of someone whose whole world had come tumbling down around her as she walked up the street. She had her hands rammed in her pockets, and was wrapped up well against the cold. She had managed to pull herself together enough to get dressed in blue jeans, a dark sweater and her brown suede jacket. She’d even managed to push herself out the door without stopping for the shower her soul demanded, to scrub every inch of her body until the hot water ran out in the vain hope of washing away the memories of the night before. These thoughts crossed her mind as her bruised cheek and lip throbbed in the cold. She paused in front of a door. She took a breath, steeled herself, sighed in frustration at the turmoil in her own mind and pulled the door open to enter. The door of the “Neighbourhood Health Clinic” swung closed behind her.

Victor Loubar felt very satisfied with himself as looked around the small room he had incarcerated Rollie Tyler in. The walls and floor were filthy and garbage littered the floor as well. The table he had used to lay the FX artist out on was in the middle of the room. Another small table sat at Rollie’s feet holding a television and VCR. Loubar watched Rollie Tyler begin to wake up. He walked to the television and flicked the switch on a small black box on top. A laser light appeared, cutting the air the length of Rollie’s body about a foot above him.

The first thing Rollie heard as he woke was the sound of a door closing. He blinked, groaning as he propped himself up, but closed his eyes as a red beam shone into them, increasing the intensity of the headache he just realised he had. The television at his feet blinked on and the voice it emitted sharpened his mind quicker than an electric shock. He focussed on the screen as Loubar began speaking. “You have been here for 3 days while I have enjoyed your life.”

Rollie sat up further, the some of the fog clearing in his head and his attention fixed on the screen. Loubar continued “You have so much to lose don’t you... and you will. When you’re alone, hunted as a murderer, you will think of me often.”

The Aussie’s attention wandered momentarily as the throbbing of his head drew the fog back in again. Loubar’s next words refocused him. “You got in my way twice Tyler. And no one has ever done that before.” Rollie blinked in chagrin. “Oh yes, when you see Angela, give her my regards.” His gut clenched into a knot at the mention of Angie’s name, and Loubar’s smug satisfied smile only served to tighten the knot uncomfortably.

Rollie had heard enough and pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled towards the door, the pounding in his head increasing with every movement. Daylight blinded him as he pushed open the door. He leaned heavily on it letting the effects of the light on his headache subside before stumbling further forward. He looked up the street and noted he was in Chinatown before the headache mastered him again and he closed his eyes fighting the pain.

Detective Mira Sanchez knocked on the door of the health clinic examination room. She heard a monotone female voice giving her permission to enter, and with a start realised it was Angie’s voice, it sounded so different from the normally vivacious young woman. Mira entered, surveying the room quickly noting the used examination robe and an opened rape kit on a tray by the exam table. She looked at Angie, who was about to pull on her sweater, dressing after her exam. Mira noted the bruises on her face, and cupped Angie’s chin in her hands, stared her in the eyes and asked “Who did this to you?”

Angie’s eyes were swollen from crying and her cheek and lip looked as bad as ever. It pained her to reply “Victor Loubar.”

The name was only vaguely familiar to the cop, “Loubar?” She dropped her hands, but her attention remained tightly focussed on her friend, not fully understanding that this was no random attack.

Angie didn’t notice Mira’s confusion, her mind too focussed on her own concerns, “Rollie is in big trouble. You gotta find him.”

“What do you mean?”

The young woman pushed away her discomfort, her need to find her best friend was far more important. “I mean that last night at the wrap party Loubar was Rollie. I mean it was a mask but... Mira you should have seen it. It was perfect, you could touch it.” Despite her misery she couldn’t help but admire the effects workmanships involved in the deception.

“What are you saying, that he?” Mira was still struggling to put it all together.

“Yeah” admitted Angie reluctantly.

“My god” replied Mira in realisation who exactly Loubar was, that Loubar had pretended to be Rollie, and had been intimate with Angie all at the same time.

Angie pulled her sweater over her head, and slapped her leg in frustration as she sat on the chair in the examination room. “Yeah, and then... then he took it off. He wanted to hurt Rollie and I was the way.”

Mira’s stomach turned over in disgust at what had happened to her friend. She approached her supportively, couching down in front of her, “Oh Ange...”

“That’s how I know Rollie’s still alive, right?” fear spiked in Angie’s voice. She began thinking through Loubar’s possible motives, “That’s what Loubar wants. He wants Rollie to know.” She glanced at the examination table momentarily. “That’s what he’s counting on.” Angie got serious; she wanted to keep the knowledge from Rollie, she knew that to tell him would be playing into Loubar’s hands. She looked her friend in the eye, “Mira, you can never tell him. You promise me. Rollie can never know.”