The Death of Rollie Tyler

Tony

Disclaimer: I make no profit from this story. All characters and other items related to F/X the Series are owned by Rysher Entertainment and affiliates.

Part 1:

It was the middle of winter. Snow filled the streets of New York, and the traffic became even more hectic to drive in. Children laughed as school let out, the last day, winter vacation was here. People left New York for vacation, people came to New York for vacation. The stores were open around the clock and thousands of people bustled to and fro, shopping.

In a small church on the corner, bells slowly tolled. Slowly, sadly, tolling. It was midday and people walked around the church, thinking in passing of whom they might have tolled for.

Outside the church, where a small cemetery stood in the back, a small crowd of people stood, waiting their turn in line. In the front, a casket lay, surrounded by wreaths. A young blonde woman walked past the casket, her face a mask of pain. Another woman walked next to her, holding her up, as she sobbed.

Angela Ramirez and Mira Sanchez walked past the casket, and Angie stopped to stare. It was open, and a tall, handsome man with long curly hair lay in it. He wore a simple black suit, his face seeming at peace, his arms crossed in front of him. Angela choked back a sob, wiping her eyes with an already damp handkerchief. They wore black, the color of mourning. Soft organ music played in the background as the procession of friends passed by.

The breeze blew through her hair, the cold biting their skin. Angie gently laid a single rose on Rollie Tyler's chest. Unable to control herself any longer, she broke into long, moaning sobs. Mira led her away. Next was Francis Gatti, his wife Sarah at his side. The man had dark circles under his eyes, and he stared sadly at his friend.

"Well goodbye old friend," he said softly, "Don't you and Leo have all the fun without me, you here?"

He too laid a single rose on Rollie's chest, and, taking his wife's arm, walked away. Another man was next, with some features who resembled the dead man's.

"My boy, my boy," Dingo Tyler said softly, "I wasn't supposed to outlive you, you know."

He laid a rose gently on his son's chest, and covered his mouth with his hand. Walking away, slowly, the Hunters and other friends walked past, each with a rose.

Angie walked slowly away, and looked up suddenly. Mangela stood next to a tree, watching the proceedings. She left Mira and slowly they walked toward each other. She looked up at him, and he took her chin in his hand.

"Don't worry, now, little girl," he said softly, "old Rollie's happy now. His songline touched all of ours, and we're grateful for it."

They embraced, and the cold winter wind whipped around them both.

A ways away, on the street, a man slowly put down his binoculars. Blond haired and handsome, with sharp, defined features, he turned and smiled at the shorter, black man next to him. They both wore trenchcoats and sunglasses.

"A beautiful sight," the blond man said, "isn't it Roger?"

"You're sick, man," Roger said, "You know that don't you, Kel?"

Kel Hawthorne smiled again.

"I like the watch the aftermath of my work," he said softly, "it's like my prize."

Roger Banks shook his head.

"If you say so," he said, "So you really popped this guy, huh?"

Kel nodded.

"Right in the back, point blank," Kel said, making his finger into a gun and pretending to shoot, "bang. Just like that."

"What did he do?" Roger asked.

"Got in my way," Kel said with a sneer, "I had to keep close, close surveillance on this guy for a while. I knew his every movement, every thought, every word he spoke. When he got too close, I had to do it."

"I can't believe he got that close," Roger said, "We have such tight security."

"He was good, I'll give him that," Kel said, "But not good enough."

"He must have been," Roger said, "to have spooked you so much."

"He did not spook me!" Kel yelled suddenly, his strikingly blue eyes full of fury, as he turned to Roger, "I had him under my heel the entire time, and he didn't even know it."

"Ok, ok," Roger said, holding up his hands, "I just heard-"

"Forget what you heard," Kel said, "My idiot men didn't have a clue. I had Tyler under a microscope. I knew everything about him. In fact, I can remember everything that happened before I killed him, everything that happened to him and myself. It was beautiful, really."

"You'd describe shooting him as beautiful?" Roger said, "Necessary, maybe, but-"

"Beautiful," Kel said firmly, "I know there are a lot of rumors that Tyler was getting the better of me. And I know you talk a lot, Banks. So why don't I clear this up with you, and you clear it up with everyone else."

Roger could tell from Kel's tone that he shouldn't protest.

"Now let's see," Kel said, leaning back in his chair, "I should probably begin about two weeks ago........"

* * *

Two weeks earlier.......................

Rollie Tyler walked out of Hunter Studios carefree and nonchalant. He had just finished signing on with Jay Hunter for another movie. Whistling, his hands in his pockets, he walked toward the F/X van he had parked in a local garage.

Rollie pressed the elevator button, and waited. The buttons said the elevator was currently on the basement level, several levels below him. Deciding to get some exercise, he opened the door to the stairwell, and began walking down the stairs toward the third level, where he was parked.

As he walked down the stairwell, he stopped when he heard arguing. He peered over the railing to see, ten feet below him, two men arguing with another.

"I didn't say a word!" one man was saying, "I swear!"

"You were with the cops," one of the other men said, "We saw you."

That man pulled a gun from his coat and pointed it at the lone man. He raised his hands in fright.

"Aw come on, Johnny, come on!" he said in a trembling voice, "You can trust me! I swear it! I swear it!"

"Yeah, well," Johnny said in a scraggly voice, "the boss doesn't think so."

"Hey!" Rollie yelled from above, "What are you doing?"

Johnny looked up, directly into Rollie's face, and pulled off a shot at him. The man being attacked grabbed Johnny, throwing his aim off. The bullet struck the railing in front of Rollie as he ducked. The two men took off down the stairwell and out onto one of the garage levels.

Rollie ran down to the other man.

"You all right pal?" Rollie asked the trembling man, who only stared at him.

The man didn't answer, so Rollie ran out to see if he could catch a glimpse of the escaping men's license plates. He ran into the garage and looked around. He couldn't see anyone, and then he heard a roar from behind him.

A large brown van, it's lights blinding him, was speeding directly at him. Rollie looked around frantically, and dove between two parked the cars. The van barreled down on him, and struck the two cars he was hiding behind, sending them both smashing into a cement pillar. Someone leaned out of the van's passenger window and shots smashed the doors and shattered the windows of the cars around Rollie. Rollie rolled under one car, and covered his head with his hands.

The van pealed out, and Rollie waited a moment. When he thought they had left, he slowly crawled out from behind the vehicles, scratching his head. He ran back into the stairwell, but the man there was gone. Rollie threw up his hands.

"Guess I'll have to go talk to Mira," he said with a sigh, "Again."

Rollie went the rest of the way to the van, and drove out onto the street.

"How do I always end up with that kind of stuff happening to me?" he said outloud.

As he pulled away, suddenly, he felt a large bump and the van jerked. Glancing in his mirror, he saw that same brown van behind him.

"Aw man!" Rollie said, veering his van away.

As Rollie sped up down the streets, the van continued to bump his rear, nearly causing him to lose control. Rollie swerved onto the highway, where he would have more room to maneuver, and he could head toward the police station.

The brown van dogged after him, and before he could get onto the highway, the van came up next to him, and swerved him off of the road. The two men jumped out and aimed their guns at Rollie, sitting in the van looking very frustrated.

Rollie slowly raised his hands. A shot rang out.

* * *

Part 2:

Jordan and Jay Jr. Hunter stood in the loft behind Angie. A giant screen hung from the ceiling as Angie worked her keyboard. Jay Jr. slowly walked around it.

"Dude," he said, "awesome."

The thing was half a centimeter thick, and ten feet tall. The paper thin material the screen was made from glistened like a thousand tiny diamonds.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Angie said, and hit one button hard.

The screen lit up, to show a giant movie projection. It was a spaceship, flying effortlessly through the vast void of space when an enemy craft came up behind it and began firing red bolts of energy.

"Amazing," Jordan breathed at the flawless resolution.

The colors were dazzling, and it seemed to have an almost three dimensional quality about it.

"The next wave in projection television," Angie said, "a combination of projection and holographic technology. Thousands of minute pieces of circuitry, reflecting light beams coming from that thin framing. The delay rate in the reflection makes it look absolutely wonderful, and watch this."

Angie hit another few keys and the space ships seemed to emerge from the screen, fully three dimensional now.

"You can adjust the delay rate and the angle of view," Angie said.

"All I see is some fuzzy reflections, babe," Jay Jr. said.

"You have to be standing right in front of it," Angie said, ignoring Jay Jr.'s 'babe' remark this time.

Jay Jr. walked around behind her again and grinned.

"Awesome!" he exclaimed.

"We'll be using this in your Dad's movie," Angie said, "it'll be quite a show."

"I'll say," Jordan replied with a soft smile, and he put his hand on Angie's shoulder.

"You really are a genius Ang, you know that don't you," Jordan said with a smile.

Angie smiled back up at him and patted his hand.

"Nah," she said, "I just keep good, overly flattering company."

Both of their grins widened as Jay Jr. rolled his eyes.

"Isn't R-man supposed to be back by now?" Jay Jr. asked, wiping his nose of the sleeve of his loud, multi colored shirt, accented by tight leather pants.

"Rollie should be back soon," Angie said glancing at her watch, "I wonder what's taking him."

* * *

The bullet traveled through the window and into the roof just above Rollie's head.

"Get out!" one of the men, brown haired, said.

Rollie carefully got out of the van, his hands above his head. The men quickly through him in the back of their van, as people driving past began staring. They took off, the other man, dark haired, held a gun on him.

"Hey, mates, listen," Rollie said, "I don't know what's going on but-"

"Shut up!" the brown haired man, driving, said.

The brown haired man turned to his dark haired partner.

"He's seen our face," he said, "we'll have to kill him."

"Uh, that's not really necessary," Rollie began.

"I said shut up!" the brown haired man yelled again, "or we take care of you here!"

Rollie shut his mouth with a snap. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he wasn't going to give them a chance to kill him. He would just have to wait for his chance. As they drove farther away from the city, Rollie's stress level rose higher and higher. He had finally been getting a break after all of the trouble they had been through. He had gotten another big contract from Hunter Studios, Jay Jr. was proving to be a valuable help, despite several times having to keep Angie from killing him.

It only made sense that, purely by accident, he'd find himself in hot water again. Some guy owed them money probably. Of course, rather than splitting like normal thugs they had to come after him. Rollie glanced around the van. It was almost empty, save for a few metal boxes lining the left wall. They were locked down tight.

As the dark haired man who was covering him looked back toward the road, Rollie slowly slid himself backwards towards the door. They had to have been doing at least sixty miles an hour, but he wasn't about to go where they wanted him to. Slowly he inched back, trying to not make a single noise.

The dark haired man had his gun lazily aimed in his general direction, but his trigger finger was relaxed. Rollie reached slowly up towards the door handle just as the brown haired man glanced in his rear view mirror.

"Hey!" he yelled.

But it was too late, and Rollie threw the door open, hanging onto it and swinging out himself. The dark haired man pressed his trigger from pure shock sending bullets flying past Rollie as he hung on with all of his might. The door swung fully open and Rollie gasped as the wind whipped around him. By purest chance, a police car was driving in the other direction as he did so. Rollie watched as the cop hit the brakes and did a turn onto their highway.

The brown haired man was yelling at the darker one to close the door. The man cautiously got to the back of van, and reached out to grab the door. As he reached, the brown haired man, staring back at him, glanced at the road and realized he was veering off of it. He swerved the van back onto the road, throwing his partner to one side. The police officer's siren was blaring as he caught and pulled up behind them. The force of the van swerving threw the door back towards the closed position and the dark haired man reached out and grabbed Rollie. With one free hand Rollie struggled with him. The brown haired man, however, had lost some control of the van and swerved a few more times, struggling to stay in one lane. The door flew open again, and Rollie released the man as he flew out of the back of the van.

"Mike!" the brown haired man yelled.

Rollie watched in shock as the darker one flew in the air, and landed with a sickening smack onto the windshield of the police car, cracking it. Not watching the road, the van hit the guard rail, and then somehow went overtop of it. They rolled to the right and the van tipped over. Rollie let go of the door and lept in mid air, still traveling at over sixty. The van hit the dirt, sliding along, tearing up hunks of turf, while Rollie flew through the air. He landed, finally, but awkwardly. As he hit his right leg took the full brunt of his fall and it twisted in a strange, unnatural way. He both felt and heard it crack, the pain lancing immediately through his body causing him to lose his breath. He hit the ground hard and tried to tuck into a roll despite his broken leg. He rolled several feet and finally struck a tree with a thud.

Barely conscious, Rollie's leg throbbed and he saw stars. Glancing over he saw the brown haired man climbing out of the overturned van and glancing around, blood seeping from a head wound. Gun in hand, he walked over to Rollie, his face twisted into a sneer. Rollie was helpless and he turned over from exhaustion, his back now to the man as he pointed the weapon at him.

* * *

"Whoa, ok, so was that you?" Roger asked, "You said you shot him in the back."

Kel's eyes sparkled as he glanced at Roger, and he smiled.

* * *

Part 3:

"No," Kel said, "that was John Riley, the police pulled up before he could shoot and he had to take off."

"And he told you about it," Roger said nodding, "ok, so how did Tyler end up being such a nuisance? I mean he saw their faces, I know-"

"Hang on," Kel said in a soft, contended voice as he watched the funeral attenders hug one another, "I'm just getting started."

* * *

Angie and the Hunters rushed over to the emergency room to be met by Detectives Mira Sanchez and Francis Gatti.

"Where's Rollie?" Angie asked, running up to Mira, "Is he ok? Is he hurt?"

"He's all right," Mira said, holding up her hands, "for the most part. The doctors haven't told us everything yet. He was in a pretty bad wreck though, he'll be banged up."

"As long as he's alive," Angie said, "Rollie's got a hard head. He's proven that before."

Francis nodded and smiled.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," he said with a smile.

A small woman with short auburn hair and large, sympathetic eyes walked up to them. She was dressed in a white coat and a stethoscope hung around her neck.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Langley," she said, holding out her hand to Angie.

"How's Rollie?" Angie asked immediately.

"Your, husband-"

Langley eyed Angie for a moment, question in her eyes. Angie shook her head.

"Good friend," she said softly.

"Well, he's very, very fortunate," she continued, "his injuries could have been far more severe, considering the situation."

"How bad is he?" Francis asked.

"His right leg and ankle was broken, and has some fractures in several places," Langley said, "he has three bruised ribs and a concussion. But, with a little time, he'll make a full recovery. Like I said before, it could have been far, far worse."

"Can we see him?" Angie asked.

"Certainly," Langley said, "but only a few at a time. And make it quick. We'll be keeping him overnight for observation then he can go home tomorrow."

Angie nodded and turned to the group.

"Go ahead guys," Jordan Hunter said, "Jay and I will stay here."

Angie smiled at him, and led the way to Rollie's room. Mira, Francis and Angie walked in, to find Rollie bandaged up, his leg in a complete cast. He turned his head slightly as they came in.

"Hey all," Rollie said with a smile, "looks like I've gotten into it again."

"Hey Rol," Francis said, "just can't stay out of trouble, eh?"

Rollie chuckled, and then moaned.

"Don't make me laugh," he said grimacing, "my head feels like a whole bloomin' lot of elephants are stampeding through it as is."

"What happened, Rollie?" Angie asked.

"Wrong place at the wrong time, as usual," Rollie said with a frown.

He briefly recounted his story.

"You didn't catch that guy did you?" Rollie asked.

Mira shook her head.

"The man driving got away," she said, "and the other is still in a coma. He had a pretty bad head injury, he may not make it."

Rollie shifted slightly with another grimace.

"You'll have to give a description of the driver," Francis said, "I'll come and get a report from you tomorrow when you get home."

"Yeah, sure," Rollie replied, "no problem."

"Any idea who they are?" Angie asked.

"The one in the coma was named Mike Angus," Mira said, "he had a rap sheet, but nothing major. Some petty theft, a DUI."

"Just a lackey," Rollie said, "wasn't too smart either."

* * *

"Hold on," Roger said, "how'd you know what was going on the hospital room?"

"It was bugged," Kel said, "along with his house, soon afterward."

"Already?" Roger said, his eyebrows raising in surprise, "How? Why?"

"I'll get there," Kel said, his tone a little firmer.

Roger nodded quickly.

* * *

Rollie lay in the hospital bed, staring out of the window. Angie had wanted to stay, but he had convinced her to go home. His head wasn't hurting anymore, but his ribs were still very sore and his leg itched like mad. A large male nurse came into the room.

"Mr. Tyler," the man said glancing at a notepad, "It's time for your sedative."

"Terrific," Rollie said, rolling his eyes and turning over, frowning at the less than perfectly warm air hitting his skin.

There was a mirror on the nightstand next to his bed and he watched the man take out a long syringe, prepping it. Then the man slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black object. Rollie's eyes widened as he realized it was a gun with a silencer. The man slowly aimed it at Rollie's back, and at the last second Rollie screamed and rolled off of the bed. The bullet struck the window, putting a hole through it, and the man took off.

In great pain, Rollie struggled to pull himself up and into his wheelchair. He furiously began wheeling himself out of his room and searched the halls with his eyes. He saw the man running down one corridor.

"Hey!" Rollie yelled, "Stop that man!"

Rollie took off after him at high speed. The man glanced behind him, and darted into a doorway. Rollie continued after him, brushing past surprised people walking down the darkened hallways. Rollie got to the door and struggled to push it open. Doing so he wheeled himself in, only to stop at the top of a flight of stairs.

"Oh great," Rollie mumbled, then he felt a jerk on his wheelchair.

He glanced behind him to see the man pushing the handlebars.

"Help!" Rollie yelled, but it was too late.

He felt a jolt as he hit the first stair, and then was suddenly free falling. The chair rolled raggedly down the first few stairs, then lost control. It tipped wildly throwing Rollie out, who flew through the air and landed hard ten steps below, fortuantely on his good ribs. Unfortunately the wheelchair continued falling and landed on his cast. Rollie's eyes crossed and he nearly fainted. When he looked up, his head throbbing again, and the world spinning, the man was gone and a nurse and two orderlies stared down at him.

"Are you all right, sir?" one asked wide eyed.

"Oh, just dandy," Rollie said weakly, "I'm having a bonzer of a time."

* * *

"You see I couldn't let Tyler live," Kel said, "the driver, John Riley, had been stupid enough to let himself be seen with me in public a while ago. If he was identified, he could be tied to me. And with me running for public office, well, you can understand why I couldn't let that happen. And there was more danger there, for you see, I did a check on Mr. Tyler and already has a reputation. He's worked with the police, and helped captured more than his share of criminals, or what they deem as criminals."

Roger nodded.

"But you didn't get him," Roger said.

Kel shook his head.

"Not yet anyway," he said, then gestured at the funeral, "but as you can see. I would."

* * *

Part 4:

"Tyler went home and his police friends got him some hefty protection," Kel continued, "but I had already bugged his loft, and had some men tailing his little assistant."

"But he was going to give the description of John," Roger said, "it was too late then. Why would you-"

"It's never too late," Kel said, his voice dropping an octave, "I still had time. He hadn't given a complete description to the sketch artist yet, or gone over any mug shots."

"But he had police protection," Roger said.

Kel snorted.

"Police," he said, "what a joke. Why do you think toughing up the police force is one of my campaign platforms? We council members, or soon to be anyway, need to work with the police, you know."

"So how'd you get in?" Roger asked.

"Patience," Kel said with a slight smile.

* * *

Rollie sat, his finger holding steadily on the T.V. remote control button. The channels flashed by at high speed.

"Enjoying yourself?" Angie asked, coming up behind him.

"Oh yeah," Rollie said, strumming his fingers on his cast, "just wonderful."

Angie had insisted on staying at the loft, despite the police protection. He had just come home that morning, Mira having stationed a squad car across the street from the loft. Francis was on his way over with a sketch artist and some mug shot photos for Rollie to go over. There was a knock on the door and Angie opened it. Jay Hunter Jr. stood at the door, a wide grin on his face, holding a large cardboard box. His hair was wildly spiked, and he wore a pair of Men in Black style sunglasses. He wore a simple, thick black sweatshirt, however it was adorned with multiple stickers. Upon closer inspection Angie could see that they were travel stickers, like ones stuck on passports or a suitcase while traveling around the world. Jay Jr. had stuck them all over his sweatshirt. He also wore a pair of enormously oversized jeans just barely being held up by a large piece of twine.

"Dudette!" Jay Jr. said with a grin, then brushed past her, "Where's the R-man?"

"Hey JJ," Rollie said from his seated position in front of the television.

"Heard about what happened," Jay Jr. said, walking over to him, "cops let me in. Checked the box first. Thought I was carrying a bomb or something."

"What are you carrying?" Rollie asked.

"Well I figured," Jay Jr. said, opening the box, "that you were probably going to be bored all cooped up like this. So I thought I'd help you pass the time!"

"Is that so?" Rollie asked, his brow furrowing.

"Dude, of course!" JJ said, smiling wildly, "so look what I brought!"

Jay Jr. began pulling smaller boxed from the larger one. He held up one.

"Connect Four!" he said beaming, "Checkers! Monopoly! Parcheesi! Jeopardy!"

He then pulled out a stack of magazines.

"Popular Science! Cosmo!" he said, grinning, "all assortments. Even some, special ones."

Jay Jr. winked at him and Rollie rolled his eyes.

"JJ-" Rollie began.

"And look!" Jay Jr. said, pulling out a folded up plastic square, which when unfolded became a huge playing board with multi colored circles, "Twister!"

"JJ!" Rollie said, "I've got a broken leg, and four bruised ribs, one just bruised yesterday so now both sides hurt! How am I supposed to play Twister!"

"You're not," Jay Jr. said, his grin spreading from ear to ear, "You get to watch me and Angie play."

"In your dreams surfer boy," Angie said as she walked past.

"Aw come on, babe!" Jay Jr. said, shrugging his shoulders, "it'll be fun!"

"JJ," Rollie said, "listen, this is very, eh, nice-"

Jay Jr. nodded his head furiously.

"No prob, boss," he said smiling, "anything for the R-man!"

"But, uh," Rollie said, "maybe you should get some work done. You know, uh, help Angie with the preliminary draw ups for some of the effects sequences."

Angie shot a look of fury at him from her station at the computer, but said nothing.

"Oh, well, yeah, I could do that to!" Jay Jr. said, spreading his arms, "Whatever you need!"

Rollie nodded, and settled back in his chair.

"Got any brews, dude?" Jay Jr. asked.

"In the fridge," Rollie mumbled, "Toss me one too, will you."

Jay Jr. rummaged in the fridge while Rollie flipped the channels.

"Here you go dude!" Jay Jr. said, following Rollie's instructions exactly.

The beer can flew through the air and before Rollie could duck it conked him on the forehead. The can popped open an the contents spewed out, shaken up from the throwing.

"Ow!" Rollie said, his hand jumping to his forehead, instantly sorry when his ribs disagreed with the sudden movement, "Ow! Aw man! JJ!"

"Oh, dude, sorry!" Jay Jr. said, running up to him, "You all right?"

Jay Jr. began wiping off the beer from Rollie's head.

"Just forget it!" Rollie said, batting Jay Jr.'s hand away while Angie surpressed a giggle.

Rollie slowly got up, grabbing his crutches.

"Lemme help you, dude," Jay Jr. said.

"No!" Rollie said, swinging his crutch at JJ, "I'll be fine! I'll go clean up."

Rollie headed for the stairs, and slowly began to hobble up them. Jay Jr. came up behind him, holding up his now sagging pants with one hand.

"You sure you don't need help, dude?" he asked.

"No JJ," Rollie said, "I'm fine. Really."

"Well let me clean up the beer," JJ said.

"No!" Rollie said turning around quickly, causing him to lose his balance.

"I've got you dude!" Jay Jr. yelled holding out his arms, causing his pants to drop to his ankles.

Rollie yelled and Angie gasped as he fell from the stairs, this time cushioned by Jay Jr. They landed with a thump, Rollie face down on top of Jay Jr., face up.

"Oh," Jay Jr. moaned, his breath smelling of beer and anchovies, "dude."

Angie ran over and began helping Rollie off of the smashed Jay Jr. when the doorbell rang. Angie went to the door, two officers stood waiting.

"Ms. Ramirez?" one said, "We need to talk to you for a moment. We have a message from Detective Gatti."

"Certainly," Angie said, letting them in.

The second officer raised his eyebrows as Jay Jr. pulled his pants up.

"What's the problem, officers?" Rollie asked.

"A message from Gatti, he won't be able to make it,  you see-" the officer began.

Jay Jr. leaned over to Rollie and whispered in his ear.

"Dude, he's got his badge on the wrong side," Jay Jr. said.

"What?" Rollie whispered back.

"His badge," Jay Jr. repeated, "It's on the wrong side."

Rollie eyed the first officer, and was surprised to see that Jay Jr. was correct. This man wasn't a real police officer.

"JJ," Rollie mumbled, "get to the computer counsol. Activate the security system."

"Security system?" JJ said, "You mean it'll call the cops."

"And more," Rollie said, "after the loft got bombed, I decided better measures were needed."

"Gotcha," JJ said, and began slowly sidling his way towards the computer.

The fake officer caught the movement and whipped out his gun.

"Ok, freeze!" he yelled, stopping JJ in his tracks.

The other officer pulled out his gun as well, training it on Angie and Rollie intermittently.

"What's going on?" Angie asked.

"Their not real officers," Rollie said, "look at their badges."

"Idiot," the second officer said.

"Shut up," the first one said, "let's just get this done."

"This isn't necessary," Rollie said, trying to distract the man, "who's doing this? Who's paying you? What did you do to the men on duty? If you give yourself up I'm sure-"

"Yeah, right," the first officer said, cocking his gun.

Just then the sound of a car pulling into the drive was heard.

"Who's that?" the first officer asked.

The second glanced at the screen.

"Cops!" he said, worry on his face.

"Great," the first one mumbled.

Francis knocked on the door, Mira and a sketch artist with him.

"What do we do?" the second officer asked.

The first one shrugged, then grabbed Angie.

"We've got hostages," he said with a growl, "we'll get out."

"Rollie!" Francis yelling banging on the door, "are Gregs and Micheals in there with you? They're not in their patrol car!"

Francis pulled out his gun.

"I've called for back up!" he yelled, "Open up!"

The fake officers looked truly worried now. Francis continued banging.

"I'm giving you ten seconds!" he yelled.

The second officer panicked and began shooting through the door.

"Francis duck!" Rollie yelled as slugs bored holes in the door and whizzed past Francis.

Francis lept to one side, Mira and the terrified sketch artist to another. Both had their guns out, and stood against the side wall.

"Give it up!" Mira yelled, "You'll be surrounded any second! Give up your hostages and-"

"Stuff it!" the second officer yelled.

The one holding Angie glared at Rollie.

"There another way out of here?" he asked, "Tell us or she dies."

He jabbed the barrel of the gun into Angie's temple for emphasis. Angie winced at it's cold touch.

"I've got a back way out," Rollie said, "but you take me, not her."

"He's our target anyway," the second one said.

"Fine," the first man said, tossing Angie aside and walking over to Rollie, "start walking, or limping, or whatever."

"I'll be fine Ang," Rollie said, hobbling on his crutches across the loft.

Meanwhile Jay Jr. had been inching his way towards the computer and was now a foot away. He knew he had to activate it before they got Rollie to the door.

* * *

"This is an awful lot of trouble," Roger said, "for one guy. For not a big reason."

"You don't understand who John Riley was," Kel said, "or that man that Tyler had seen them roughing up. The circumstances around this whole situation-"

"Looks like they're lowering Tyler," Roger said, interrupting him.

As they watched, a casket was slowly lowered into the ground, all watching in silence. A soft speaker played aborignal music, as Rollie had wanted. The song was mournful, and sad, echoing the atmosphere. Kel grinned, and saluted sarcastically.

"Alas, poor Tyler," he misquoted with a smile, "I knew him well."

"So," Roger said, "You'd finally captured Tyler."

"Not quite yet," Kel said, "I believe they were in the midst of capturing him."

"That still doesn't explain how you killed him," Roger said, "You shot him in the back after you captured him?"

"One thing at a time, Banks," Kel said, "one thing at a time. I'm trying to explain to you the trouble that Rollie Tyler put myself and my men through. It's so hard to find good help these days, it doesn't help when they're captured or put into comas. Now, where was I....."

* * *

Part 5:

The first man kept his gun to Rollie's back while he slowly hobbled across the loft.

"Hurry it up," the man grumbled.

"I'm going as fast as I can," Rollie shot back, "it was you guys who did this to me. Just who are you anyway?"

"Shut up and walk," the first man said.

"Pete, the cops got reinforcements!" the second man said, glancing at the surveillance feed.

The first man, Pete, scowled.

"Let's get out of here, Mark!" he yelled.

The second man, Mark, ran up behind Pete as they walked toward the back exit.

"This is the NYPD!" a voice boomed over a megaphone, "Release your hostages and we promise you will not be harmed!"

"Please," Pete said sarcastically.

"I repeat, release your hostages and you will not be harmed!" the voice boomed again.

"Hurt them and we blow your heads off, scumbags!" Mira's voice suddenly boomed.

There was a scrambling noise as if the megaphone was been jostled around and Angie smiled. Meanwhile JJ had gotten just a foot away from the computer, and he glanced at the screen. There was a small icon in the bottom right corner, a panic button much like the one Rollie and Angie had installed on their PDAs.

JJ took a deep breath and dove for the button, his finger slamming home. Immediately bluey began roaring like a lion and the lights in the loft began flashing. A red light began to flash and a loud siren went off, along with sounds of gunfire. Mark spun on his heel and got a shot off. JJ screamed, then echoed by Rollie and Angie as he fell to the ground unmoving, blood on his sweatshirt.

Mark spun back around to cover Angie as there was a sudden commotion outside. Pete began shoving Rollie toward the back of the loft. Angie ran across the room and hit the "unlock door" override button. The door burst open as a S.W.A.T. team came in in full gear. Mark began shooting, and the two officers in front simultaneously fired. Mark went down quickly, falling to the floor as Angie dove for cover. Pete threw Rollie in front of him and jammed his gun to his temple.

"Hold it!" he screamed as Rollie winced in pain.

Pete twisted around, using Rollie as a shield.

"Hold your fire!" Francis yelled as he came in.

There was five seconds of silence as the stalemate went on, both groups holding their ground, fingers on the triggers.

"Get out or he dies!" Pete yelled.

No one moved for a moment.

"I mean it!" he screamed, jamming the gun further into his temple.

"Do what he says!" Rollie said, eyeing Angie.

Angie nodded.

"Do it!" she yelled.

Francis nodded and the officers slowly lowered their guns.

"Put them on the ground, and back out!" he yelled, "Or this guy dies!"

They slowly placed their weapons on the ground and began backing out as Pete dragged Rollie to the back exit.

"Try anything and you die," Pete whispered savagely in Rollie's ear.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Rollie muttered.

Pete backed into the door to open it, and Angie winced. He screamed as a rush of pure electricity coursed through his body. Rollie did likewise, for Pete was, unfortunately, holding on to him. Enough wattage to momentarily paralyze their nervous systems, Pete and Rollie shook in unison for a full second, after which the current switched off sending them crashing to the floor, unconscious.

"I told Rollie that was a bit much," Angie muttered as the officers ran back in.

Several ran over to JJ and other to Rollie and Pete. Angie's hugged herself, unable to move as she surveyed the scene around her. She closed her eyes for a moment. Mira came up to her and put her arm around her as paramedics swarmed the place.

"We've got to do something Mira," Angie said slowly, "I'm tired of hiding out."

Mira nodded.

"It's time for action," Angie said through gritted teeth.

* * *

"So you failed again," Roger said with a smile, "kill that kid?"

"I didn't fail," Kel said through gritted teeth himself, "and that was just the tip of the iceberg. Icing on the cake."

"The assistant said action, eh?" Roger said, "What kind of action? The way I heard it-"

"The way you heard it was no doubt wrong," Kel said softly, "like I said, I had them under surveillance the entire time. They had become less of a hazard, and now more of a, say, personal grudge."

"So," Roger said, "what happened next?"

Kel watched as the funeral attenders slowly left, several in tears. The sunlight glinted in his eyes.

* * *

Part 6:

"Angie!" a familiar voice yelled, "Where's JJ? How is he?"

Angie turned to watch Jordan Hunter run up to the group in the hospital waiting room. Jay Hunter Sr. was already there, along with Rollie, and Mira. Rollie was all right, relatively, along with the man they had stopped. The other goon was killed by the police. Jay Jr. was in surgery, some internal bleeding problems, however, as the doctor said, fortunately the bullet had entered and exited the body cleanly. They had been working on him for a while.

"I don't believe this," Jay Sr. muttered to the ground, "I just can't believe this!"

The big man got up, and started pacing the room.

"We don't know yet," Angie said, putting her arm around Jordan's waist as she explained the situation.

"Who did this?" Jordan asked through gritted teeth.

Angie briefly recounted the whole escapade, as some unknown assailants tried to kill Rollie multiple times.

"Why?" Jordan asked, "Because you could ID a couple of goons? Look at all the guys we've captured! Who were those people that you saw? What were they doing? Who were they roughing up?"

Rollie shook his head.

"I don't know," Rollie said.

"We do," Francis said as he walked into the room, "at least one of them."

* * *

"Whoa, whoa," Roger said, "how'd you know what was going on in the waiting room? You didn't have any eyewitnesses or bugs this time."

"Ah but I did," Kel said with a smile, "I instructed both of my men to plant bugs on Tyler. When they were holding the guns to their heads, they placed minute microphones somewhere on them. I could hear everything, at least until they showered."

"I still don't understand," Roger said, "why they were so important."

"You will in a moment," Kel said.

* * *

"What've you got, Gatti?" Mira asked.

"John Riley," Francis said, holding up a few sheets of paper with a picture attached, "look familiar?"

Rollie stared at it.

"The man who kidnapped me," he said, "well the first man, the one from the van. He was one of the ones I saw in that parking garage."

"Right," Francis said, "Identified him from your description. He's got a rap sheet as long as the Nile River, and not all petty stuff. In fact-"

Francis paused.

"In fact he's a trained assassin," Jordan said.

"How'd you know that?" Francis asked.

"I recognized the picture," Jordan said, "He's got a lot of aliases, but I've seen that picture before, near the top of the FBI's most wanted list. He's an assassin for hire and doesn't care about his target, as long as he's paid."

"Wait a minute," Angie said, "Why would a trained assassin be doing grudge work?"

"We don't know what he was doing," Rollie said, "All I know is is that it looked like they were going to kill that man."

"No wonder he's went after you," Jordan said, "You could identify him as being in the city. He tries to keep a low profile, I assure you."

"So he's trying to kill Rollie?" Angie said.

"No, no," Jordan said shaking his head, "that's not his style. He does things personal. Face to face, even. He's a cold, calculating, extremely intelligent man, but his temper and ego are his weakness. That's why he's so easy to identify, he lets himself be seen. No masks, no disguises."

"So then who's trying to kill me!" Rollie yelled.

"Whoever he's working for," Mira said, "Riley would only be in the city if he was on a job. Someone's hired him."

"And that someone sees you as a potential threat," Francis continued, "this is serious."

"You're telling me!" Rollie said, wincing in pain, "they're killing me little by little here! Soon all that's left will be my head."

"Don't talk like that," Angie said, "you'll be fine. We just have to figure out who it is."

"That may be more troublesome than you think," Jordan said, "there are hundreds of possibilities. Our best hope is to either find Riley, find the man he was attacking-"

"Or that second man who was with Riley comes out of his coma," Angie said.

"Doesn't look like that's going to happen," Francis said, "his condition has worsened. They don't think he's going to make it through the night. He had a pretty hefty head injury."

"Great," Rollie mumbled, "so now what?"

"So now we need to protect you," Mira said, "a safe house, perhaps. Round the clock protection."

"Oh not that," Rollie said, "anything but that."

"Somewhere safe, huh?" Jordan said, "Well who knows who is after Rollie, even a police safehouse may be a danger. How about my place?"

Mira and Francis looked at him.

"That's a nice thought Hunter, but-" Mira started.

"Actually," Jordan said, "Now that we know who this guy is, this has just become an FBI matter. I could call in the full troops if I wanted, restrict you from interfering-"

"All right," Mira said in disgust, "No need to go whole hog. We'll work together on this."

"I'll protect him," Jordan said to Angie, "and no one will know where he is anyway."

A tall, African American doctor walked up them.

"How's my son?" Jay Sr. asked.

"Stable," the doctor replied, "he's a very fortunate young man. However he'll need to stay in the hospital for a while. He's being moved to recovery, the, um, family can see him now for a few minutes."

The doctor glanced around with a raised eyebrow at the crew of people.

"Let's go Dad," Jordan said, putting his arm around his father, then glanced back at Rollie, "Get to your loft and pack up some stuff, I'll meet you there."

Rollie nodded, and Francis helped him up.

* * *

Jordan picked up Rollie an hour later, and, after reassuring Angie once again, they headed off towards Jordan's uptown apartment.

"You know Rollie," Jordan said tentatively, "I'm kind of glad you're coming to stay. You see, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."

"What's that?" Rollie said distractedly as he stared out of the window.

"Well," Jordan started, "you know, Angie and I have been dating for a little while now, and she's great."

"Yeah," Rollie muttered.

"I mean really great!" Jordan said with a soft smile, "I feel like I've known her forever. She's smart, sassy, athletic, courageous, and beautiful, everything I've always wanted in a woman. Well, anyway, you're the closest thing she has to a father-"

Rollie shot Jordan a look.

"Well," Jordan stuttered, "an older brother anyway. I mean you've taken care of her for quite a while, right? Looked after her. Anyway, see, I've always been raised in some of the older ways, I mean I'm an old-fashioned kind of guy, and I know this will sound sort of weird, but, well, see-"

"What is it?" Rollie asked impatiently.

"I-" Jordan started, "I would really like your blessing to ask Angie to mar-"

"Look out!" Rollie yelled, pointing forward.

A large flatbed truck has been hauling some large metal cylinders, which looked like massive sewer piping, the rope had broken as it climbed a steep driveway off to their left, and four cylinders crashed, breaking up pavement and rolling in their path. Jordan's eyes opened wide and reflexively he jerked the car to the right. They skidded into the other lane, where oncoming traffic barreled toward them.

As a semi truck loomed in view, Jordan's jaw set hard and his eyes took a determined look. He jerked the wheel a few more times, regaining partial control of the car, and he pumped the brakes. Turning into their skid, he made a hairpin turn, sliding the car so they were horizontal, perpendicular to the road, and then hit the gas, skidding and tires spinning, flying into the lot of a gas station. He pumped the brakes again as the truck just missed them, it's horn blowing wildly, and he skidded to a stop just before the wall of the gas station's garage. They came to a halt with a wild jerk, in which Rollie slammed his head against the passenger window.

"Ow!" he yelled, putting his hand to his head and wincing at the small red welt already forming.

"You all right?" Jordan asked, breathing slowly in and out.

"Wonderful," Rollie muttered.

* * *

"You set that up didn't you," Roger said.

Kel shrugged.

"It was worth a try," he said.

* * *

They arrived at Jordan's high rise apartment and Jordan carried Rollie's bags inside. He unlocked the door to his apartment, after riding to the twenty seventh story on the elevator, and Rollie raised his eyebrows in surprise. Unlike most bachelor pads, and unlike his brother, Jordan Hunter was as neat as a pin. Well decorated, with soft, plush beige furniture, several colorful modern paintings hung on the wall. A large screen projection T.V. stood on one wall, a brick fireplace with family pictures above it on the other. Simple throw rugs were placed on top of a mixture of dark wood floors and soft, well padded carpeting. The view was spectacular.

"Nice place," Rollie muttered, slowly making his way in with the help of his crutches.

"I call it home," Jordan said with a smile, "your room is down the hall, second right. You've got your own bathroom as well."

"FBI must pay fairly well," Rollie said.

"Well," Jordan said sheepishly, "I do have a trust fund from Dad."

Rollie nodded and stared at one of the pictures on the wall. It was Jordan surrounded by a bunch of beaming children dressed in uniforms.

"What's this?" Rollie asked.

"Oh that," Jordan said with a smile, "I coached little league back in Cleveland. I love kids, I volunteered at the Y too."

Jordan stuck a Miles Davis CD into his towering entertainment center, and light jazz music came from several corners of the walls. Rollie noticed, for the first time, the multiple speakers adorning the room.

"I love music," Jordan said as he opened the refridgerator, "want something?"

"No thanks," Rollie said, "I think I'll get settled in."

"Ok," Jordan said, pulling out a bottle of Avian water and taking a swig.

As Rollie walked back to his room he glanced quickly into the three others. One was a work out room filled with weight equipment, and some equipment which seemed to be martial arts related. The other was a library and computer room, filled with the latest in home technology and a shelf full of Dickens. Jordan's bedroom was just as neat, if not neater, as his living room. Rollie shook his head and walked into his, just as nice, room. He closed the door and pulled off his clothes, heading for the bathroom. He stopped for a moment, and then leaned out of the door.

"Oh by the way, Jordan!" he yelled.

"Yeah?" Jordan called back.

"Thanks," Rollie said with a soft smile.

"No problem," Jordan said, raising his bottle to Rollie.

* * *

The bed was wonderful. Rollie had never felt anything so soft, and the lush pillows pulled him right off to sleep, almost forgetting his worries. That was until a hand clamped over his mouth. Rollie's eyes shot open and he came fully alert only to find his hands suddenly in handcuffs. A gag was stuffed in his mouth and he was lifted off the ground by a huge man.

As he was swung around he got a glimpse of another man, they were both dressed in dark black outfits. Rollie struggled, but his ribs hindered him as he tried to gasp for breath. He mumbled wildly as the men trotted out of his room and into the living room. They were almost to the door when Rollie heard a bone chilling scream.

He was swung around again, managing to catch a glimpse of Jordan, in silk pajamas, leaping off of his couch directly into the second man with a flying kick. The man flew across the room and hit the wall. Jordan had his gun out and aimed it at them.

"Let him go," Jordan said at the large man.

The large man, swung Rollie off of his shoulder, and Rollie caught a glimpse of the face mask his wore. A knife went to his throat.

"No," the man growled in a baritone so heavy it was almost impossible to hear, "put your gun down."

Jordan hesitated.

"Now!" the man roared, stiffining the knife.

Jordan slowly put his gun to the ground.

"Kick it over here," the other man, now on his feet said.

Jordan did as he was told and the other man slowly picked it up, then tossed it in the fireplace, pulling his own gun.

"What should we do with him?" the big man asked.

"We'll have to kill him," the small man said, and Rollie could almost hear the smile in his voice.

Rollie knew they wouldn't have many chances, and as the other man cocked his gun the big man relaxed his knife. Rollie brought his arm up and ran his elbow into the big man's adam's apple. He groaned and dropped Rollie to the ground. The smaller man was distraced and Jordan's foot was out instantly, smashing into the smaller man's gun hand. The gun flew off and struck the wall.

Another kick and the smaller man went flying back. The big man had quickly recovered, though, and picked Rollie up again. With a grunt he threw Rollie across the room and into Jordan. They both went flying back against the couch and the two men converged upon them.

"Hang on," Jordan whispered.

He lept up, Rollie over him, and threw Rollie across his shoulders. Rollie yelled as Jordan spun like a top smashing Rollie's legs, and his heavy cast, into the big man's head. The large man flew to one side, landing on, and destroying an end table. Another turn and the smaller man went flying the other way. Jordan put Rollie, dizzy, down as the big man got up slowly. With a leap Jordan's legs were locked around the big man's throats like scissors. The huge man spun around, Jordan holding on with his legs, spinning with him.

The smaller man got up, and Rollie, with perfect golf form, took a crutch to his head, sending him reeling back again. Jordan's scissor lock around the large man's throat was working, and they both crashed to the ground. Jordan lept up, sat on the man, and let go a huge punch that should have knocked the man out. Instead the man's beefy, leg sized arm came up throwing Jordan back.

He got up again, and, far faster than he should have been able to move, he rushed Jordan throwing him into the wall with such force that the the drywall collapsed leaving a large hole. While Jordan was dazed he picked him up over his head and threw him into the thick, giant sized window, cracking it. Jordan moaned and started to get up, his well toned body keeping him from being completely knocked out. Using his anger he focused all of his energy as he had been trained and lept to his feet. One leap onto the coffee table, another onto the easy chair, and he was in the air, his foot finding the large man's forehead.

The huge man's arms pinwheeled and he fell against the wall making another, larger, hole. This time he stopped moving. Jordan faced the smaller man, who had a large bruise on his forehead from Rollie's crutch. He squinted at Jordan through his mask, and then Rollie yelled a warning. The larger man was up again, somehow, and was coming at Jordan from the back. The large man roared and charged and at the last moment Jordan spun on his heel and grabbed the man by his belt strap.

Using the large man's own momentum, Jordan threw him into his accomplice. They both yelled, as, unable to stop, they both careened into, and through the already cracked window. A gust of window blew through the house as the large window shattered and the men's screams died out as they fell. Jordan looked at Rollie, and they stared at each other in disbelief.

"I think," Rollie said in a hoarse voice, "they found out where I was."

* * *

Part 7:

"Man, you're losing men left and right!" Roger said.

"Well," Kel said, leaning back in his seat, "they aren't exactly my men."

"Oh right," Roger said nodding, "the big man's. Tell me something, just between us, who really is he anyway?"

"'The Big Man'," Kel said, "as you call him prefers to remain anonymous. Let's just say he wanted someone on the city council who could help out, in pushing forward matters of his concern."

"Uh-huh," Roger said, "another thing. Where was this bug you planted on Tyler? He took a shower didn't he?"

"Oh that," Kel said with a laugh, "they were actually smart for once. They stuck it on his cast."

* * *

"Not much left of the little guy," a paramedic said as he passed, "the big one was on top of him when they landed."

Rollie stood with Jordan, along with Angie, Mira and Francis, outside of Jordan's building. A crowd had gathered after the two men landed on the concrete pavement. They were both, obviously, dead.

"How'd they know?" Jordan said walking up to Mira, his eyes smoldering.

"Don't look at me, Hunter," Mira said folding her arms, "I didn't say anything."

"But someone did," Rollie said, "and they tried again. It was only thanks to Jordan that they failed."

"Well my place is a little too open to the wind right now," Jordan said, "I'll have to go to a hotel."

"By the way Jordan," Angie said, "I checked a little while ago. They said JJ's doing much better, your Dad's been by his side this whole time, even stayed overnight at the hospital. He's going to pull through."

"Good," Jordan said giving a sigh.

"You going to go see him?" Angie asked.

Jordan walked away from the group slightly, his eyes to the sky.

"JJ," Jordan said, "has always gotten into trouble of one sort or another. And I've always been there to protect him. When we were kids, and someone beat him up, I'd go beat them up. That was the way it worked. Code of big brothers, and all."

Jordan turned to Angie.

"I'm no doctor," Jordan said firmly, "I can't help him by sitting by his bedside and crying. The only way I can help is by catching whoever these cretins are. And that's just what I'm going to do."

Angie recognized Jordan's set jaw as a sign, and said nothing further. She walked back over to Rollie.

"So where are you going to put him up?" Angie asked Mira.

Mira sighed.

"There's obviously a leak somewhere," Mira said, "and the Captain is really, really upset. I'm not sure anywhere is completely safe. But, we're going to put him in a safehouse with round the clock guards, like we should have done originally."

"You had guards at the loft and that didn't stop them," Angie said.

Mira nodded.

"I know," she said, "but it's the best we can do."

"Mira," Rollie said, "we don't even know who these people are. You can't do anything until you find that out."

"What do you have in mind, Tyler," Mira said, recognizing the glint in Rollie's eye.

"They've been coming after me," Rollie said, "like some sort of wolves on the hunt. Well, it's time I used that to my own advantage. After all, we know they'll take the bait. Only this time we'll be ready."

* * *

"So," Roger said, "Tyler decided to get tough."

"Yes," Kel said with a smile, "it's too bad we would hear every single part of their plan."

* * *

The group met at the police station, where they discussed what they wanted to do with Captain Van Duran. The plan was simple, really. It relied on the fact that if they could just capture one of the goons, rather than them dying, they would be able to get information from them. Usually those types would squeal to get some prison time taken off.

They would allow the whereabouts of Rollie to leak out, and leave security temptingly lax. Rollie's room would be outfitted with the best of surveillance equipment, provided by Tyler F/X, and a variety of motion and heat detectors. Stashed away in the house, would be a troop of officers who would descend the moment anything happened.

"It's dangerous," Rollie had said, "but it's a risk I'll have to take."

* * *

"More dangerous than he knew," Kel said.

"But how would you get around that?" Roger asked.

Kel tapped his head.

"I'm no fool you know," he said, "it would be simple, actually. All I'd have to do would be to get Tyler in transit."

* * *

Rollie was taken, in an unmarked car driven by Mira with Frank in the passenger seat, towards the safehouse.

"Don't worry, Rollie," Mira was saying, "you'll be fine."

Rollie nodded. Angie had wanted to come along, but Rollie had insisted that it was too dangerous. They drove slowly and carefully, Mira telling Frank to keep a careful watch out.

* * *

"Careful watch," Kel said with a snort, "that didn't help at all. We just waited for the right time, and then struck."

* * *

The truck came out of nowhere. A huge semi blocking the entire road. Mira slammed on her brakes and got out.

"Hey!" she yelled, "NYPD, what's going on here?"

"Sit tight Rollie," Frank said getting out of the car as well.

They walked up to two men working on the semi who shrugged. Rollie sat uncomfortably in the backseat waiting. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw another car come up behind them. Two men got out. He looked back at Mira and Frank and saw, too late, that three other men had come from behind the semi, guns drawn.

"Don't move!" one yelled as all three trained their guns on Mira and Frank.

Mira swore as the two men from the car opened Rollie's door and gestured for him to get out with their guns. Rollie, wincing, slid out of the car and balanced himself on his crutches.

"You're coming with us," one man said.

Mira and Frank were surrounded on all sides, their hands raised, and guns on the ground.

"What do we do with the cops?" one man asked.

"They can't be let to go back," another said, "take them with us. We'll see what the boss wants done."

* * *

"Kidnapping cops isn't a good idea," Roger said.

"The men were right to see what my wishes would be," Kel said, "they weren't able to do anything anyway."

* * *

Rollie was taken in one car, while Mira and Frank were taken in another. They rode blindfolded for thirty minutes until they came to a stop.

"You won't get away with this," Mira said, "we were expected. The Feds and the NYPD will be all over you. You'll be stuck in a hole so deep-"

"Shut up," one man growled waving his gun.

Their blindfolds were taken off and they found themselves in front of a large mansion, surrounded by woods.

"Where are we?" Mira said looking around.

"Move," one man said, pressing his gun into Mira's back and shoving her.

"You want to eat that gun?" Frank said with a dark frown.

The man sneered and shoved him as well. Mira and Frank walked, with Rollie slowly making his way, into the house. A massive brick home with huge, high windows, vaulted ceilings, and brass adornments filled their view. Once inside they were led upstairs into a large office with a massive desk and leather chair. They were thrown into seats and the chair swiveled around.

"Hello," I said, "I am Kel Hawthorne."

* * *

"You took them to your place?" Roger asked, "Wasn't that risky?"

"We'd been hearing every conversation they had," Kel said smiling, "they posed no threat."

* * *

"Mr. Tyler," I said, "good to meet you face to face at last."

"Wait a minute," Mira said squinting, "Kel Hawthorne. Aren't you running for city council?"

I nodded with a smile.

"And I intend to win," I said, "I have, after all, some very powerful backers."

"But not very legal, I'll bet," Frank said, "is this what this is all about? Your some mob puppet or something?"

I smiled again.

"I am no one's puppet," I said, "but I'll admit, I am working for some very powerful people who would like to see me representing their interests in the city council."

"You mean they'd like to have a council member on their payroll," Mira shot back.

They all had dark scowles on their faces, but I'm sure I saw fear in their eyes as I stood up.

"Either way," I said, "you have become a threat."

"Just what did Rollie see?" Mira asked, "What were those men doing? How was that assassin, John Riley, involved? And how have you known our every move?"

I threw my head back and laughed. I walked over to Tyler who tensed up at my approach. I asked him to pull up his pants leg. He did so and I reached into the lip of his cast. Deeply inserted was the small reciever.

"I've been listening," I said with a smile.

Tyler's eyes opened real wide and he gasped.

"How long has that been there?" he asked, aghast.

"Oh quite a while now," I said, "how do you think I've found you all these times? A pity you failed to be killed so many times. You are resilient, Mr. Tyler, I'll give you that."

"You won't get away with this," Mira said.

"Oh, but I already have," I said, "Sorry. If you want to use a cliche, then so will I."

"Who is this benefactor of yours, that you're representing?" Mira asked.

"Oh I can't tell you that," I said shaking my head, "vow of silence and all."

I sat back down and put my legs up on the desk, crossing them.

"I must admit though," I said, "with your reputation, Mr. Tyler, you were awfully easy to capture."

"But not easy to kill," Rollie said, leaning forward, "no thanks to you. Why have you been trying so hard? I didn't see all that much."

"Oh, but you did, Mr. Tyler, you did," I said, "you just didn't know it."

"What do you need the assassin for, Hawthorne?" Frank said.

"If I remember correctly, Gatti," Mira said, eyeing me furiously, "he's losing in the polls. What better way to win then to kill the competition?"

I shrugged.

"I have a rough political style, yes," I said, "but it works. An assassination can easily be blamed on other things."

"Making sure you get in office at whatver costs," Tyler said, "you are a sleeze."

"Sticks and stones," I said, shaking my finger, "well, Mr. Tyler, I believe the time has come to do away my little problem. Trust me, you won't get away this time."

I gestured to my guards.

"Take them away," I said.

They pulled the three of them to their feet and they all looked at me with hatred.

"You'll be sorry, Hawthorne," Mira said.

The power felt good, I tell you. I had them in the palm of my hand, like bugs. I could squish them or let them live, they had no choice in the matter. I chose, of course, to squish.

"Unlikely," I said, "Boys, you know what to do."

And with that they were led from the room.

* * *

"Hey," Roger said, "I thought you said you shot him."

"Patience," Kel said, "I did say that."

"So," Roger said, "how'd that happen?"

"A stroke of genius on my part," Kel said loftily, "and a stroke of misfortune for Mr. Tyler."

* * *

Part 8:

"Mr. Tyler, and Detectives Sanchez and Gatti were escorted out by some men," Kel said, leaning back in his chair again, "not sure of their names. I'm constantly switching bodyguards and hired help, most are sent by 'the big man' as you might call him."

"Ok, ok," Roger said, "so?"

"So," Kel said, "something most unfortunate happened. Something most unexpected."

"Ah-ha," Roger said, "now this is what I had heard about. Bad press over this-"

"But I got out of it, now didn't I?" Kel said, eyeing Roger coldly, "And I am certain you did not get the correct rendition."

Kel looked ahead again.

"I aim to clear that up right now," he said firmly.

* * *

Rollie, Mira and Francis eyed eachother nervously as they were led down the hallway, down two flights of stairs, and into the enormous cellar. The men flanked them on all sides, guns drawn, and they walked with their hands over their heads. They had no chance for escape. It was a wine cellar, to be precise, full of very old and very expensive wines of all types.

"Your going to just shoot us?" Mira asked, "Just like this? For what? A measly few dollars compared to what he's getting. You'll get life in prison or worse, the courts don't take kindly to cop killers."

"Shut up," one of the men said.

I had followed them down, for I wanted to ensure there was no mess left. Besides, I wanted to see this personally, out failing to shoot Mr. Tyler so far. I tell you he was cumbersome getting down the stairs all battered as he was. They were led to a far wall, and two men put up a large blue tarp lying on the ground. Once in place it covered the entire wall and they were made to stand in front of it.

"To keep blood stains from being on the wall," I said to them, "I really do hate messes."

The man with the silencer did a final check and nodded to me.

"All right then," I said, "any last words?"

The detective woman spat something in Spanish at me, I'm not sure what, but I'm sure it wasn't lady like at all.

"I'm telling you Hawthorne," Tyler said in a slightly louder voice, "you won't get away with it!"

I nodded.

"I'm getting tired of hearing that," I said, and waved for my men to fire.

At that moment I heard sirens coming from far in the distance. Police sirens. I ordered one of the men to check upstairs, and eyed the three, Tyler smiling slightly.

"Search him," I said, a thought coming to me.

A quick search revealed a small device hidden in his left shoe.

"A tracer," I said after examining it.

I through it to the ground and crushed it with the heel of my shoe.

"Stuck in in addition to the one I kept in my pocket," Tyler said, "I precaution I did without telling anyone. That's why you didn't hear that."

I swore and one of the men yelled down to me.

"It's the cops!" he yelled, "And they're coming fast!"

I had to get Tyler and his friends out of there, or at least out of site. This house had been built with a long series of rooms underneath the house, one of which had a trap door on the far wall, disguised in with the woodwork. Opening it, I started to usher them towards the room when Detective Sanchez lashed out at one of my men, while Gatti at the other.

Struggling with them, Tyler lept toward me off his good leg, and we fell in a heep. He got in a lucky punch and started hopping up the stairs. Sanchez and Gatti ran up behind him, while my men climbed off the floor.

"Get them!" I screamed, furious.

We ran up the stairs after them, the sounds of sirens getting louder with every second. They were helping Tyler towards the front door. I yelled for them to stop and pulled off a shot as they rounded a corner. Missing, we ran after them, determined not to let them get away. They were opening the door when we caught up to them.

"The police are here," Sanchez said, "It's over."

"Not yet," I said, determined to salvage the situation.

My mind was already coming up with options. I could hold them hostage, but that would most likely end in my capture. I would have to save face, somehow. The first thing that came to mind was convincing the police that I was a captive as well. But these officers wouldn't go along with that, at least not Sanchez. Gatti had a weak point, which I decided to envoke. I was certain that would work, but Tyler was still a problem. I doubted he could be bought or coerced.

The police came through the front gate and up my long driveway, a squadron of cars and a S.W.A.T. team van. I had my two men grab Sanchez and Gatti, then I grabbed Tyler.

"I hope you had a nice life," I growled at him.

I opened the door slightly, and pushed him out. He hobbled across the front porch toward the steps, stumbling. It looked to the police, still a ways away, as if he was escaping. Not letting myself be seen, I grabbed one of my men's guns and aimed it out the door. The bullet hit him straight in the middle of the back, blood spattering across his coat and splatting on the porch. He gasped, and fell forwards, down the porch steps.

"No!" Detective Gatti yelled, but he had a gun to his head, as well as Sanchez.

"Listen," I said, getting up directly into Gatti's face, "I have powerful friends. They are aware of my situation. I've done background checks on all of you. If you don't, both of you, comply precisely with my directions, your three daughters and your wife will be shot down as she picks them up from school. We know where they are, when she gets them. Do you understand?"

"You so much as touch one hair-" Gatti started with clenched teeth.

"You will say that I too was a prisoner," I said, "that the attempts on Tyler's life were related to a political event. That they were trying to kill me as well, but had decided to hold me for ransom, and brought you as well to deal with all at the same time. Tyler's tracking device, and then the police arriving scared them, and in our attempt at escape they just shot Tyler. Heroically, though-"

I grabbed one of my men and pushed him in front of the main window. I shot him quickly, in the stomach and then kicked him hard. He flew backwards through the window, glass shattering everything, he landed on the front porch just as the police arrived in full force.

"I managed to shoot one of their men," I said, "and you subdued the other."

I grabbed my other man's gun and held it towards Sanchez.

"If you do as I say," I said, "I can also guarantee one hundred thousand dollars to each of you. If not, your family dies. Immediately. As soon as I'm arrested."

* * *

"What did they decide?" Roger asked.

"Obviously," Kel said, "They choose to side with me. Sanchez took the gun and they told their story. The main person who was holding us escaped out of the back way, of course. They had no choice to go along with me, and they took their money fairly readily. I know people, Roger, especially police officers. They all can be bought. I bought them."

"And Tyler?" Roger asked.

Kel shrugged.

"Ms. Ramirez was there with the police," Kel said with a laugh, "I could hear her screaming all the way at the other end of my driveway."

Roger shivered.

"So you did it," he said, "and shot one of your own men as well."

"To survive," Kel said, "you would do well to remember that."

Roger nodded, his eyes lowering, and he looked straight ahead.

"So now you know," Kel said, "No problems. No worries. My worthy opponent is making a speech tonight, where he will be shot. Tyler is dead. I'm in the clear, and far richer once I'm in office."

Kel laughed again.

"I guess as Tyler would say," he said with an evil grin, "that's a rap."

Laughing harder again as Roger looked away he threw the car into gear and they drove off.

* * *

Part 9:

Kel dropped Roger off at an apartment building and headed home, tired but satisfied. Tonight the speech would be made, Richard Lambaugh would die, and he would take his place in a prominent position. His benefactor, Norman Griegs, would pay him well. Griegs was really putting a lot of trust and money into Kel, as well as man power. He wasn't about to disappoint him. Now with two of the NYPD in his hip pocket, and Rollie Tyler dead, all would be well.

He went home to his mansion and spent the rest of the day preparing his acceptance speech, including his "horror over the tragic death of my esteemed colleague, Ricard Laumbaugh. My heart goes out to his family. May all of our prayers be with them."

Kel laughed as he set the final print out down and stretched in his overstuffed leather chair. He took a shower, changed into his pajamas, and went into his lush bedroom. The security men assured him all was secure for the night. He drew the curtains down over the large windows and settled into his king sized canopy bed, settling in for his first good night's rest in a long while. He lay there for fifteen minutes or so, his mind whiring with possibilities to come, until finally sleep began to take him. His eyes slowly closed...

"Kel."

The voice was soft. A whisper. More like the wind blowing in the leaves, but Kel Hawthorne's eyes opened again anyway. He listened for a moment. It must have been his imagination. He closed his eyes again.

"Kel."

The voice was still soft, coming from somewhere in the house, but it was unmistakable this time. Someone had called his name.

"Hello?" Kel said, sitting up slightly in bed, "Who's there?"

There was no reply so Kel got up out of bed, slipped on his blue robe and slippers and went to the intercom.

"Security," he said.

There was no reply.

"Security!" he said louder.

He only recieved a soft hum of static, and his heart began to beat slightly faster. Tying his robe, he grabbed his gun from the night stand, opened the door slowly and peaked out into the long carpeted hallway. He slipped out, gun in hand, and slowly walked down the hallway.

"Security!" he yelled.

There was no reply. His voice merely echoed around the hallway, the house as silent as a stone.

"Kel."

A shiver went down Kel Hawthorne's spine. The voice was louder now, whispered, but echoing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up, and he made his way slowly to the spiral staircase.

"I said who's there!" Kel yelled, "I have a gun! Show yourself!"

There was no reply, and slowly Kel descended the stairs. Shifting left and right, spinning every so often, gun aimed, he made his way down the stairs. Noiselessly he hit the bottom stair and walked onto the wooden floors of the downstairs foyer.

"Hello?" Kel said softly, "I called for security, where are you?"

"Kel."

The voice was coming from the main living room, to his left. Kel steeled himself and slowly made his way there. The entire house was dark and he reached for the light switches on the side of the wall. He flipped them up and down several times, but nothing happened. His heart beating even faster, Kel held his gun upright and bounded into the room.

"Freeze!" he yelled.

The room was pitch black, and he could see nothing. He walked slowly around into the middle of the room, but he could make out nothing. That was when a soft fog began to appear at the far corner of the room. Kel squinted at it, slowly walking toward it. The fog crept up the wall towards the ceiling, and then a soft light began to emanate revealing the ceiling itself. Kel gasped and his face paled. His hands began to tremble as he looked at the figure there.

Bathed in an eerie white light, clothed in black, his hair wild and the fog twisting it's way around his body, Rollie Tyler floated in mid air, his arms and legs extended.

Kel's mouth dropped open and his mouth dried instantly. Slowly Tyler's mouth opened.

"Kel Hawthorne," the thing said in a heavy voice sounding like it was in an auditorium, "Kel Hawthorne."

Kel's whole body shook now.

"Wh-what kind of a trick is this!" Kel screamed wildly.

Tyler's arms extended towards Kel and an accusing finger pointed at him.

"You killed me," it said, it's voice now booming, the sound of thunder behind it, "and now you must pay."

"No!" Kel yelled.

Kel aimed his gun and let loose a volley of shots at Tyler, to no avail. He was completely unaffected. The thing smiled, revealing dark, rotted teeth.

"You've killed me once, Hawthorne," it said, "you can't do it again."

Kel heard footsteps behind him and he spun to see one of his security bounding into the room, gun drawn.

"Mr. Hawthorne!" the man said, then stopped when he saw Tyler.

Tyler's extended finger pointed suddenly at the man and a bolt of lightening sizzled from his fingertips to the unprepared security guard. The man screamed as tendrils of energy seemed to coarse through his body, arching around him. Tyler's hideous laugh echoed endlessly and Kel screamed, fleeing into the only safe haven, his study, directly adjacent to the living room.

Kel ran inside and slammed the door shut, locking it. He put his back to the door and tried to catch his breath, sweat pouring off of his head. He tossed the empty gun down, and tried to turn on the lights, again nothing happening. Kel ran to the phone on his desk and picked it up, he had to get help. The line was dead.

"Hello?" Kel said, jingling the receiver, "Come on!"

Kel slammed the phone down and then stopped and stared. At the corner of this room, near the ceiling, a cloud, a red cloud of fire slowly turned, small tongues of fire lashing out towards him. Kel began to shake again, as the cloud of fire began to shift and change shape. Slowly it morphed into a head, a human head, a skull. Then the skull began to grow muscle and then skin, until it became the head of Rollie Tyler. Half the size of the wall, the head stared at Kel, fire flashing in it's eyes.

Kel ran to the window but it was bolted tight, he couldn't budge it.

"You cannot escape," it boomed.

"What do you want from me?" Kel screamed.

"Revenge!" the head screamed, and a roll of thunder shook the room, Kel feeling it's reverberations in his stomach.

"No," Kel whispered, "No please!"

"Do not beg," Tyler's head said in disgust, "For I am not the one who will kill you."

"You aren't?" Kel said weakly.

"Your benefactor will," the head said, "he has been planning to do so."

"No!" Kel said, "Norman would never, he needs me!"

"On a first name basis are we?" the head said chuckling, "He will kill you for your stupidity. That is what he is planning to do."

"Mr. Griegs would never do that!" Kel screamed, trembling with fury and fear, "Never! Go away! Leave me alone! I'm sorry! I had to kill you! I had no choice!"

"No choice?" the voice screamed, a lions roar accenting it this time, "No choice? I had no choice! You choose for me, whether I should live or die! And so I now I would have chosen for you. But Greigs is going to do so, at the same place where he will assassinate your opponent."

"At the college?" Kel said, "Tonight?"

"Yes," Tyler said, "He plans to kill your opponent, then you."

"No!" Kel said, "He is killing Lambaugh so I can take office! Riley's shooting him from the catwalk above the stage!"

"Wrong," Tyler said, "He is killing you because you can't be trusted. You're a threat. He has no choice!"

Tyler's head leaned back and laughed.

"But perhaps I should save him the trouble!" the head yelled.

Tyler's mouth slowly opened to reveal a set of four fangs, glistening in his mouth. A roar came from the head and slowly it grew larger, moving towards Kel.

"No!" Kel said, beating on the wall as he ran along it, "No! Please! No! God, no! Help me! Someone please help me!"

Kel ran to the far corner of the room but the head seemed to grow larger and larger, Tyler's laugh filling the room and the fangs looming closer. Kel shrank into one corner, curling up into a fetal position and whimpering, begging for his life.

"No, no, no," he kept repeating, as he covered his head with his arms.

All at once the sounds of fire and thunder stopped. Kel lay shaking still, muttering for help. The lights in his study came back on. Kel slowly took his hands from over his face, and glanced around the room. The head was gone, in it's place a strange rectangular object, ten feet long which looked some sort of glistening window set in a picture frame. Kel slowly stood up and glanced around. He walked slowly towards the thing, and reached his hand out toward it unsteadily.

He touched it and jumped back. Nothing happening, he reached and touched it again. It was solid, nothing unworldly about it. He jumped as there was a knock at the study door. Slowly Kel unlocked it and peaked out. Detective Mira Sanchez stood in front of him.

"Kel Hawthorne," she said, holding up a piece of paper, "I have a warrant for your arrest."

"What?" Kel said, still trembling.

Mira pushed the door open and clapped him on the arm.

"I said," she said pulling him out, "I have a warrant for your arrest."

Kel's eyes bugged out as he surveyed the scene around him. Several of his security men buzzed around along with several police officers. Angela Ramirez walked from around the corner towards, towards Rollie Tyler. Tyler was standing against the wall, his body in some sort of harness, in front of him some sort of strange video camera. A machine, with fog still belching from it, was turned off, and soft flood lights were unplugged.

"You ok, Rol?" Angie was saying.

"Yeah, yeah," Rollie said with a smile, "Went off without a hitch for once."

"Speak for yourself," another man, the security guard who had been hit with lightening said.

His shirt was black, covered with some sort of dusty substance.

"Sorry Lou," Rollie said with a smile, as he was led to a chair to sit down.

"Wh-wh-wh-" Kel stammered.

Rollie saw Hawthorne and smiled at him.

"Hello, Kel!" he said with a grin.

"What's going on here?" Kel said, "How-"

"In the words of a friend of mine," Mira said, "You've been Tylered. Don't worry. You're not the first."

Mira began to read him his rights.

"Wait!" Kel said, becoming angry, "On what charges?"

"Oh lots," Mira said, "Conspiracy to murder, attempted murder, bribing government officials, lots of stuff."

Detective Francis Gatti walked up next to Kel.

"You've just been involved in one of the largest and most complex sting operations ever," he said with a smile, "You see that man that Rollie saw being threatened by John Riley, Mark Hayes, he came to us immediately afterward. Told us all about your plans, how he had worked for you before you turned, and how you threatened to kill him if you told. but he didn't know your benefactor's name. That was what we needed. We knew you would be bugging Tyler's place after he escaped, so we let you hear what we wanted you to hear."

"We were surprised, somewhat, by the attacks," Mira said, "When you tried to kidnap Rollie. Poor JJ got hurt, but he'll be fine. When you slapped a bug on Rollie that complicated things."

"We had the whole plan worked out before then, though," Angie said walking up, "and so we decided to let you kidnap Rollie, Mira and Francis. It was a risk-"

"But it was worth it," Rollie called from his seat.

"You died!" Kel screamed, "I saw you die! I kil-"

Kel stopped suddenly when he realized what he was saying.

"We infiltrated your security team," Mira said, "Arrested a couple of your men and replaced them with our own. It turns out Griegs isn't keeping too close of an eye on you, seems he trusts you. Stupid of him."

"We replaced any guns in the house with fake ones," Francis said, "and set up the security men and Rollie with some little packs in likely areas of their bodies so it would look as if they had