Guilty Until Proven Innocent

[Rhovan]

Hank Meyers

Hank was looking the other way, so he was surprised when he felt her take ahold of his hand. He didn't know what to do, so he locked his arm muscles and pulled, bringing her up to her feet. He looked at her for a moment, as the motion had turned him slightly. He hadn't picked the best placement, because once she got her feet under her and was standing, they were very, very close to the front of one another, their chests brushing slightly. Well, perhaps he did pick a good spot, if he was trying to get close to her.

Then she was pushing past him, causing him to take a half step to remain standing. He turned and followed her, fixing his jacket to make sure it covered his gun. He followed her right out of the club, his gaze moving from his own feet to keep him standing, then to her legs, which looked very well toned, back to his feet, and even once his eyes went to her ass. Of course he told himself he was checking to make sure nobody could see her gun, but he was kidding himself. He nearly bumped into her when she paused to turn around. He stopped just shy of knocking her off balance and quickly took a step backward, then another one.

"Okay, I'll follow you to his address. I have it but it will be much faster if you lead the way. If he is still in town we don't need to waste any more time and give him the opportunity to escape."

"Alright...it's not to far...only about ten minutes or so." He looked up from the ground and saw her moving away from him, her gun drawn.

"Shit!"

He looked confused for a moment, and then started to follow her, trotting along but leaving his gun in his belt, as she had threatened him to many times for him to just draw the weapon. He wasn't sure what was going on, so he was following at a cautious distance. Then he really started to hear her tirade.

"Goddamn! Son of a bitch took my smokes! No one messes with my smokes! Asshole is asking to be hung out to dry!"

Hank looked around as he walked towards her, not yet having seen the car, he didn't know what to expect. Then he stepped on something, and looking down he saw it was a carton of smokes. Which he quickly kicked under a nearby car as he didn't want Tanya mad at him. He came around the next car to finally see her car, window smashed, trunk and hood open with Tanya's front half stuffed into the trunk.

Then she pulled herself out of the trunk and brought a shot gun with her. "Fuck...don't wave that around Tanya," he said as he looked at it, and threw it back into the trunk. She hit her car as she began to talk, "Fuck! Who the hell would have..." He listened to her, but she didn't pick up where she left off. She was looking around the parking lot and suddenly, she looked as if something had dawned on her.

"Smythe, You have just upped the stakes on your worthless hide, you bastard."

He could hear her anger, as she hit her car again, so he approached carefully and touched her shoulder, turning her away from the car. "Tanya...come on...we should leave...you said yourself he has a gun, and now he must know who we are...lets get somewhere safe and quiet so we can think about this...what do ya say? I've still got my car," He said as he pointed to his car, three spaces over. His right hand was pointing, and his left hand was still resting on her shoulder, gripping just tight enough so she could feel it resting there.

 

[BlueEyedLady]

Tanya

Tanya forcefully calmed herself down. She couldn't let the bastard get to her. She couldn't let him get her to the point where she shot wildly at him when she found him. She wouldn't give him that much control. But he was fucking taunting her! Ohhh, he would pay dearly for this!

She felt Hank's hand on her shoulder and didn't try to shrug it away which surprised even her. Nodding, she took a deep breath and went back to the stuff scattered on the ground, picking through it to get anything she might need to track Smythe down, including a nylon gym bag which she put everything else in. Opening up her car door, she did the same there and finally felt ready and calm enough to look for him without murder in her eyes.

Shouldering her bag she looked to Hank and said, "Yeah, your right. But mark my words, he is going to learn why they call me the Man Hunter and it will be a sorry lesson indeed."

Walking with him to his car she opened the back door, once he had unlocked it, and tossed her bag inside before sitting in the passanger seat. She grimaced at the feel of not being the one behind the wheel and, when he slid in she looked over at him and gave him a dubious smile.

"You might have noticed I tend to be a control freak. And I have to tell you I hate not being the driver. Drives me nuts. I just hope you know how to steer this thing if we get into some real trouble and have to cut some close corners."

Sitting back, she let her head lean back on the head rest. "Okay, lets drive, you pick the spot."

 

[Rhovan]

Hank Meyers

It was scary to behold Tanya in all of her rage. But at the same time, Hank found it exciting. He didn't want to, because he knew she would just hit him with her pistol or something, but he did like it. He was surpised especially to feel a stiring in his pants. He was also surprised that she didn't throw his arm forcefully off of her shoulder, but instead nodded, took a deep breath and started gathering her scattered belongings.

So Hank did the only thing he could think of. He helped. They quickly got everything she needed into the bag, and everything else into the car. It didn't take long, but Hank had a thought boring into his mind about the car.

"Yeah, your right. But mark my words, he is going to learn why they call me the Man Hunter and it will be a sorry lesson indeed."

Hank looked from Tanya, and back to the car. "Don't you think people will...you know...steal all your stuff, if not the car itself? Your window is already broken...and this club wont be open all night...shouldn't we...tow it or something?"

They walked together to his car, where he quickly stepped ahead of her to unlock the back door, and the passenger door, pulling them open for her. Once she got into the car, he shut the door and ran around to the otherside, unlocking his door for himself and climbing in.

"You might have noticed I tend to be a control freak. And I have to tell you I hate not being the driver. Drives me nuts. I just hope you know how to steer this thing if we get into some real trouble and have to cut some close corners. Okay, lets drive, you pick the spot."

He laughed as he started the car, and Tanya let her head rest against the head rest. "You, a control freak? Never. I know how to steer a car, and while I might not be able to hand break around a corner or put the car into a flat spin, I do drive faster than one normally should, so I can control it all up until things get really, really hairy."

He put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, immediatly turning south to head to Brandon's apartment, so they could see what they could see.

 

[Rhovan]

Brandon Smythe

Brandon watched to pair exchange words, and saw the woman slowly calming down. Then they quickly gathered up her strewn about items and got into Hank's car. Brandon got a shot of his license plate as they left, just for good measure.

Brandon climbed out from under the car he was hiding under and stretched himself out. His arms, his back, his neck and his legs. Placing his camera carefully in his pocket, he started east, to find himself an all night internet cafe.

Twenty three minutes later.

Brandon walked into the cafe, and looked at all the computers strewn about the room, with coffee drinkers chatting and computing their little computer hearts out. Brandon found an open computer, and brought up a search engine.

A few minutes later, Brandon was in the DMV database, looking for titles -- public information. Brandon pulled out his camera and scrolled through his pictures. Once he had the picture of her license plate up, he ran the number in the database.

"Wonder who your car is registered to mystery woman...I wonder who you are to have a gun...and such rage!" he thought to himself as he typed away. Eventually a waitress type woman walked by, and Brandon got himself a drink, and payed for an hour on his computer. Now he had, for all the money he would have for some time, $68.23.

Brandon thought to himself as he worked the database, "Wonder how I can get some more cash...without robbing a liquor store."

 

[BlueEyedLady]

Tanya

Tanya looked over to him as he laughed and noticed that he was pretty damn handsome when the lines of sorrow and worry weren't lining his face.

"You know," She said, quietly,"That looks good on you, you should try it more often." Which was an unusual statement for her because she usually observed people without saying a thing, internalizing what she saw and using it to her advantage. Come to think of it, she had been doing a whole hell of a lot of things outside the norm. She wondered what it was about Hank Meyers that got to her. Any other Joe would have been sent packing the minute they tried to butt into her investigation. Maybe it was his persistence or his determination that made it past her brick wall attitude. She just hoped it didn't get him dead.

"Okay," She said looking out the window and trying to list the things they knew already. "Smythe knows we're here. He knows I/m here or your car would have been trashed too. And don't worry about the car, I'll call a friend to take care of it. He was using it as a delay tactic and we can't let him succeed in that."

"If he is trying to delay us that means he is probaby thinking of sticking around here for something. What we have to do is find out exactly what he is planning on sticking around for. He's armed and he's after something. He now has a gun and a knife and he might be going after the family of the girl he murdered." She looked over to him, wondering how he would take that bit of news. "It's not for certain but I think we need to notify the police and your parents and give them the heads up just in case. In any case the police will want to know he's still in the city, they'll be keeping an eye out for him and it might make it easier to find him."

Suiting actions with words, she took out her cell phone and dialed a number of a contact. "Ger? Yeah, it's me. Listen, I've got my car down at Jerry's place. I need you to pick up what is left of it and have it towed. No, it's minor damage, some wires and battery. See to it for me will ya? And cut out the 'I told you about that place' crap, when I need a mother I'll dial yours."

The next call was to the police and, in a few minutes, she had run down the details of Smythe's new look, what he was carrying for weapons and the possiblity that he was staying in the city for a reason and the possible reason that she had come up with. She also had a promise of security for the Meyers until he was either caught or it was a certainty that he had left the city altogether.

Closing her phone, she looked over at Hank. "The next call is to your parents. You want me to make it or would you rather tell them?"

 

[Rhovan]

Hank Meyers

"You know, that looks good on you, you should try it more often."

Hank looked confused for a moment, then relized what she was talking about and blushed. He didn't expect her to ever say anything nice, let alone a straight up compliment.

"Okay, Smythe knows we're here. He knows I'm here or your car would have been trashed too. And don't worry about the car, I'll call a friend to take care of it. He was using it as a delay tactic and we can't let him succeed in that."

Hank nodded along, using her list to agument his own mental list.

"If he is trying to delay us that means he is probaby thinking of sticking around here for something. What we have to do is find out exactly what he is planning on sticking around for. He's armed and he's after something. He now has a gun and a knife and he might be going after the family of the girl he murdered."

Hank nodded and then spoke, his voice thick with anguish all over again. "Look," he coughed, clearing a sudden lump in his throat. "Look...Brandon isn't dumb...if he wanted us dead...I think...I think we would be dead. He knew what he was doing when he hit your car....it makes sense when I think about it...he disabled your gun in the trunk, but since you can't disable a knife -- he took it."

He knuckled at his eyes as Tanya went on. "It's not for certain but I think we need to notify the police and your parents and give them the heads up just in case. In any case the police will want to know he's still in the city, they'll be keeping an eye out for him and it might make it easier to find him."

"I get this feeling that we are playing into his hands...don't ask me why, it just feels that way to me." He continued driving, as they headed for Brandon's home. A small one bedroom apartment in a massive complex of similar abodes.

Hank listened to Tanya's converstation quietly, not wanting to interupt, but as soon as she ended it, he tossed out. "Do you know someone for like everything? Vinny had info, Ger? seems to be able to handle vehicals...what happens if you kill a man, who do you call then?" He was trying to convence himself he wasn't nervious. Hank had a feeling that Brandon would be home...and locked and loaded too.

He listened to her converstation with the police, wondering exactly what would happen when they caught Brandon. In this city, the cops had their heads entirely to far up their own asses to help an average joe..so Hank had no doubt it'd be him and Tanya that found Brandon.

He jerked in surprise when she suddenly addressed him directly. "The next call is to your parents. You want me to make it or would you rather tell them?"

He looked down at the wheel, as possible humor gone from not only his face, but his frame, and the very air around him. "You'd better make it...I'd just make everyone mad. But hurry, we are nearly there." He turned off the freeway, heading in towards the residental district.

 

[BlueEyedLady]

The call only took a moment and she tried to put her suspicions to them so that his parents would be warned but not panic needlessly. They were also assured that Hank was fine and then the call ended.

As Tanya tucked her cell into one of her many pockets, she said answered his earlier question. "In this line of work if you don't know someone for everything you end up either failing or dead."

There was silence for a minute and then said,"More things you might want to know about me if we are going to be in this together. I tend to monopolize a conversation, I hate being told I'm wrong and I hate it even worse when I end up being wrong, I have too much pride for my own good as well as a cocky attitude, and I can be a prized bitch when I feel like it."

Another pause and then,"So, what were you telling me before? About feeling like we're playing into Smythe's hands? Never ignore your instincts. Sometimes thats the only thing you can trust."

 

[Rhovan]

Hank Meyers

"In this line of work if you don't know someone for everything you end up either failing or dead."

"So why...why did you pick this line of work Tanya? I'm here out of some stupid sense of duty...why would you put yourself on the line all the time?" He was geniunely curious, but he managed to hide the concern from his voice.

"More things you might want to know about me if we are going to be in this together. I tend to monopolize a conversation, I hate being told I'm wrong and I hate it even worse when I end up being wrong, I have too much pride for my own good as well as a cocky attitude, and I can be a prized bitch when I feel like it."

"And I am an ass. I chase off all the people I care about so they can't hurt me. I tend to provoke fights, and I tend to argue. If you think we can work together, great. If you think we can't...well we are still gona, so we'd better work it out."

"So, what were you telling me before? About feeling like we're playing into Smythe's hands? Never ignore your instincts. Sometimes thats the only thing you can trust."

He cleared his throat as they entered the parking lot of Brandon's building. He turned off the car and leaned back, looking over at Tanya.

"I get the feeling that Brandon is going to be home...and since he has a gun...this just feels entirely to dangerous to me. Maybe we should just call the cops and get them to go in...I don't want anyone to get killed..." He looked down at his hands in his lap, and then he was slightly confused. His hands were trembling...and he wasn't entirely sure why. "Sorry...I..." He sighed and leaned his head back, his eyes closed.

 

[BlueEyedLady]

Tanya

The moment they pulled up in the parking lot, Tanya had one of her weapons out and was checking for ammunition. She had ignored his question earlier about why she was in this line of work. That was too personal and too close to answer.

But when she was ready to go, he stopped her when he talked about his fear of Smythe and wanting the cops to take care of the situation. Taking her hand from the door, she rolled down a window and lit a cigarette instead.

She could see what he was going through, his rage at his sister's death and determination to get revenge on her killer had come up against the hard fact that he might, at any minute, get that chance and he wasn't sure what he would do when that time came.

She let him compose himself before speaking. "Hank," She said in a voice gentler than anyone had ever heard her speak before,"This is my job, I do it so that cops don't have to go into situations like this and possibly be killed. I do it because there are innocent people out there who could suffer if a jumper stays out too long. The cops can't spend the man hours to track down all the hard cases and people get hurt because things fall through the cracks due to overworked, underpaid cops."

She drew on her cigarette and watched the smoke circle in the air. She was either getting soft or seriously needed more sleep. In a situation like this, she would usually tell the person to stay put if they couldn't get their pussy ass in gear and she would handle the hard stuff. Instead she was going to do something she had not done since she was a girl in a psychiatrist's office.

"When I was fourteen a stranger came to the ranch where I lived at with my family. My dad was always helping strangers out so he offered the man, who seemed down on his luck, a job. The man took it and spent a few days working for us. Then one night I was waken from my sleep by a knife at my throat and the stranger telling me to come with him as he dragged me out of bed, in my nightgown, and into the living room where the rest of my family was tied up. My mother, father and older sister. He told us that he what he was going to do to the women and then he was going to kill us, take our money and leave. He had been staying at our place til he got to know our habits, if we had visitors and how often, things like that."

"He took my sister first, she was eighteen. We could hear her screams coming from the bedroom he had dragged her into. I was scared to death but I wasn't going to give up or give in to the bastard and while my sister was screaming and begging for her life, I was working my wrists raw to get out of the ropes." Tanya bared her wrists to him to show the faded scars from that day long ago.

"I managed to do it and got out the door and ran to my father's workshop where he kept an extra phone for business. The man had already bragged that the phone lines in the house had been cut and Dad never let anyone in his workshop so he missed the fact that he hadn't gotten them all. I called the police, gave them directions and turned to see that man standing over me with his knife. He had gotten done with my sister and had come back to find me gone. He had tracked me down and was going to kill me. Lets say he did a damn fine job trying to." Tanya pulled back her jacket and lifted the bottom of her halter top where a huge scar ran from the middle of her ribcage diagonally up to under her left breast. "He just missed my heart. I wasn't about to go down without a fight. I guess he would have killed me fight or no if the cops hadn't arrived just as I was passing out from loss of blood."

Tanya took another long drag on her cigarette. "When I woke up in the hospital I learned that my family was dead. The man had killed my sister and, when the cops came they were ment by a man looking wild eyed carrying a gun and shouting at them. Some rookie took it that he was going to shoot and fired before orders were given. That shot set off a volley from other officers who assumed that the order had been given and bullets entered the house. In the end my father and mother were dead, curtesy of the police. You see, my father had gotten loose as well and grabbed his gun running out after the man, knowing he was going to kill me. My mother was still tied to a chair and couldn't dodge the stray bullets. The man who attacked us never had a gun, just a knife. They killed the wrong man."

"I also learned, much later, that the man had been a suspect in a murder and rape case and that they had arrested the wrong man instead and so he went free. Like I said...overworked and underpaid cops mean mistakes. Innocents get hurt, and things fall through the cracks that might otherwise pin the guy before he can hurt someone else."

Tanya threw the butt out of the window. "Thats why I do this job. Thats why I am so set on no one else getting hurt. Why I insist on shooting only as a last resort and why I always as questions before I take a man down. Thats also why I am going into that apartment right now, because if Smythe is there it's better to take him out early than let him run around and possibly hurt someone else."

Opening the door, she gave him another look and said,"Stay here until I let you know it's safe. It's not bad to be afraid of losing your life. Thats what keeps you from making stupid mistakes that will cause you to lose your life."

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Jill Meyers

Time meant nothing to Jill as she hung from the cruel shackles.
Holding onto the image of Brandon, she closed her eyes letting her mind break free of her pain filled body…

The touch on her cheek hardly roused her. It seemed a mere extension of her imaginings. But the touch continued, accompanied now by a quiet voice.

"Time to come back to the real world, my little starlet…"

Jill felt her heart jolt as remembrance began to flood back.
Pulling her eyes open she focused beyond the man who stood by her and blinked as she saw a man setting up photography equipment.
Trying desperately to make sense of Taylor’s words, Jill struggled to move her face to his, sure that she heard Brandon’s name on his lips.

” … but, I assure you, that as many, if not more, people will view you than all those that gawk at models in a magazine."

What was he talking about?
He was going to photograph her?
Her eyes widened in horrified comprehension.

"Now, our photographer is setting his equipment up and now we have to make sure the woman of the hour is ready as well. What say we get you a little bit more comfortable so that you can be at your best for the shoot?"

Jill grimaced.
… comfortable … ?
Her arms ached painfully, although the agony that she experienced as Taylor uncuffed her, the blood rushing briefly along her veins before he pulled her arms roughly to secure them once more, behind her back this time.

Jill groaned, a softly pitiful sound that seemed to amuse him.

"There. Much better, don't you think?"

Jill raised her head slowly to look up at him as he towered above her.
Her brain would barely function correctly now.
Her dazed expression indicated just how disorientated she had become.
And yet she was alert enough to quiver as Taylor’s lustful gaze swept the length of her body.

"Well, it's better but I think we can improve on it,"

His tone was matter-of-fact, his calm confidence clearly communicating his control of her.
As if hypnotised, Jill turned her face in his direction as he sat beside her on the bed.
She barely reacted as he cupped her breasts and began squeezing them.
Blinking, Jill looked down to see her own milky globes imprisoned by his strong hands.
She watched, as if in fascination as she saw her own nipples peak and harden beneath his teasing.

"See, Jill. It doesn't all have to be pain. There can be some pleasure too.
In fact, if you cooperate, there can be a lot of pleasure for you."

Pleasure, he had said.
But … how could that be?
Despite her natural reaction to his touch, Jill felt nothing.
Even when he lowered his head and began to use his tongue on her, Jill sat passively watching detached as Taylor sucked and licked at her.

"A lot of pleasure, Jill,"

His eyes held hers, delving into her consciousness.
As if waking with a jolt, Jill shuddered at the predatory look he gave her.
She moaned involuntarily now, rocked by the feeling of his fingers roughly torturing her now stiff nipples, deeply humiliated by her reaction.

"All you have to do it tell me where the information you took from me is and I will get rid of the photographer and show you just how much pleasure you can enjoy."

Jill tried to ease her body free of his questing mouth.
She tried to ignore the increasingly rough pressure of his fingers as they pinched and pulled at her breasts.
But all the time the way he had cuffed her made it impossible to do any less than present her breasts for Taylor to torture.

”Noooo… “

She managed finally to gasp as Taylor lost himself feasting on her.
Abruptly he drew back and yanked her head upwards.
Jill cried out in pain.
The gash on her head, though mostly hidden by her hair throbbed painfully.
She flinched as Taylor’s fingers traced the bruise his earlier slap had left.
His jaw was set, his eyes steely and hard.
Jill felt a spasm of fear rock through her.
In that moment, she knew that Taylor was capable of anything.

 

[Rhovan]

Brandon Smythe

Brandon sat, typing away at the computer. The DMVV records showed that the car was registered to a Tanya, but a follow up search on the name didn't show anything special.

"Tanya huh? Why do you need yourself a gun Tanya? Well...time to make a phone call."

Brandon walked outside to the pay phone and dialed 911. Waiting a couple seconds, he heard the operator ask him about his emergency.

"Yes...I need to report my car stolen," he said. She gave him another number to call to get an officer to take his statement, so he hung up and called that number.

"Yes officer...my name is Hank Taylor, and I've had my car stolen by my no good bitch of a girl friend Tanya and her friend Brandon Smythe....no officer, we got into a fight and she ran off with my car, telling me she was going to Mexico...well I'm really worried because she took a gun with her...no I don't know what kind...one of those small ones for one hand...yes, a pistol...yeah, my car is a red toyota carolla...1994...license plate number xt1-98u...Thank you officer."

Brandon hung up the phone and turned towards the alley where he disappeared for nearly twenty minutes. When he came back out of the alley, he was a mess. Using the hunting knife, he had cut most of his hair off, turning his head into a mess of close shaved hair, nicks, bald spots and patches of longer hair. He had found a fist full of mud(he hoped it was mud) to cake his face, neck and hands with. His old clothing was gone, and it was replaced by hobo rags. Filthy, hole ridden, and put on in entirely to many layers.

He wandered out of the alley, meandering up and down as if crazy, his gun, knife and camera concealed in the many folds of his clothing as he headed slowly towards his business, murder on his mind.

 

[BlueEyedLady]

*bump*

 

[Evil Attorney]

Hank watched her go and thought about what she said.

He now knew her reasons for doing this fucked up kind of work. Hunting people. Good God, what a way to earn a living.

Hank prefered working with his hands, creating things, not destroying them.

Hank had ample experience destroying things. People too...

After high school, when his family thought he was a drifter and fucking around who-knows-were, Hank had actualy ended up in a biker gang.

It was a fucked up time for him, drugs, punk metal and the stupidity of youth which he rose every morning thanking the L0rd he grew out of it, more to the point, left it before he got arrested.

That didn't mean he forgot the things he learned in his five years running with them. He closed his eyes for a moment and say an ocean of blood.

All the fights, the drug deals gone bad, the double-crosses...

For a moment he was back in the mexican desert at midnight. The smell of cordite in the air, the bodies of the Mexicans who thought they were smarter than the Gringos.
Only he lived through that hellish night. His crew all lay dead among the spent brass and the burend out cars.

Tears were running down his cheeks, because he thought he left that life behind forever.

Most people think of bikers as uncivilised, unskilled barbarians, but thats far from the truth.

The gangs who made money were the ones who knew how to act inteligently, to evaluate, to judge situations, to track without being seen, to show only what they wanted to show before disapearing or striking without mercy.

Hank learned well, and he wasn't hurting for money...

Hank's face rose from his cupped hands, and whiped his cheeks.

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let it out.

He believed he had Tanya thinking he was a well meaning fool. If he could get her to kill Brandon, that would simplify things. If she brought him in, that was ok too, because prison was a dangerous place.

If not, well, he would see to things himself. If Tanya got in the way or didn't approve, well, he didn't want to think about that.

Hank liked her, and he didn't want anything to happen to her, from Brandon or himself.

Besides, she was fast, experienced and had more trigger time than he did recently. Hank knew he was good and at his prime, the odds would have been even, but that was then and this was now.

He looked at his SigSaur 220, dropped the magazine and checked how much ammo he had left. A full 8 rounds, and he had 4 more magazines in his pockets.

He popped out a round to see what Tanya had given him.

.45 ACP Golden Saber.

"Nasty Nasty" He whispered as he put the round in the magazine again.

He said to the gun distastefuly "One last time, then I hope I never see your kind again."

Checking to see that Tanya had entered the building, Hank exited the car, closed the door quietly and walked around to the back of the building to see if their was a fire escape.

If he was home, he would either fight it out with Tanya and be taken or killed, or run out the back to the fire escape, and then the street or the roof and hop to another building.

He didn't think Brandon would try the building hopping thing. Thats for the movies.

"No," he thought, "out to Man Hunter or out to the street, and into my gunsights..."

Hank's face was grim as he leaned against a wall hidden by shadow.

It was close to the time for killing.

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Brandon Smythe:

As Brandon shuffled along, now looking like one of the 'invisible people', the homeless who no one really sees unless accosted by one for a handout, he mulled over what had occured so far and figured that in some way as yet unknown to him his boss or one of his partner's cronies in the escort business may have information he could use.

It made no sense that Jill had been the victim of a random attack. If that had been the case she'd just have been robbed, perhaps raped and maybe killed. However, she'd been set on fire. The only reason to do that is destroy evidence or muddy identification, unless of course the it was a serial killer type and Jill's has been the only one so that's unlikely.

Now Brandon need to access the computer data base at the magazie to see what, if any, other information he could scrape together.

 

[BlueEyedLady]

OOC: Sorry guys, bad, bad week for me. Out job hunting and it totally sucks. Going to take this from where Brandon has called the police on them to get the thread to flow evenly.

IC: It was four hours later when Tanya stepped out of the police station. With a growl, she took out the pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket...crushed...the police had been none too gentle with any of her things. Searching around in the mess within she managed to salvage one smoke, took it out and lit it, throwing the rest of the pack into the trash.

First Item on To Do List: Stop by and replace cigarettes.

Second Item on To Do List: Find that bastard Brandon Smythe and kick his ass from here to the other side of the world before dragging him into the police.

She had no false illusions that it was not her intended prey that had been responsible for her ending up in this situation. It was the only logical conclusion. She was hunting him and he was doing everything he could to set up road blocks in her way. He was intelligent, very intelligent. But he would slip up sometime and she would be there to catch him when he did. And he would regret fucking with her more than he regretted anything in his whole life. She would guarentee it.

As she stood there waiting for Hank to gather his things and come out, she went over the day that had gone so badly. First the attack on her car and personal items, then, when they had been in his apartment, finding nothing in it but signs that he had not been there for days, the cops pull on the scene. No warning siren, just appear in the door. She cursed herself for being so inattentive that she didn't sense the cops there but she hadn't thought much of it. She was a Bounty Hunter on the job. The cops may look at her as an interference at best and a vigilante at worse but they admitted, grudgingly, that her job was necessary especially since budget didn't allow for all the man hours it took to hunt criminals down.

When they arrived she figured they were responding to a break in and greeted them, expecting a lecture on breaking and entering and even some attitude but what she hadn't expected was to be arrested for Grand Theft Auto and carrying a concealed weapon. Actually that last one hadn't stuck since she had a license to carry her guns, concealed or not. But Hank...damn him!...had decided not to wait in the car but to take the gun she had lent him and go in back of the building to wait for an appearance from Smythe. She would address THAT when he came out!

She had told Hank at one time that connections were necessary in this line of work. It had been those connections that had seen that she got out of jail asap though not soon enough to please her. Finally the cops had to admit that the car was Hank's and not the prank caller's and that he had the papers to prove it. They dropped the concealed weapon charge on Hank when the lawyer friend Tanya called had hinted at a False Arrest Charge because the cops had not even listened to them or checked the papers in the car before dragging them off to jail. Prejudice for her job showing at it's finest.

When Hank finally came out, Tanya took the last drag from her cigarette and flicked the butt up and out, crossing her arms in front of her and saying in a hard, controlled tone.

"This is why I don't let rookies ride along. What about the statement 'Stay in the car' did you not get? And what about my earlier statement that if you fucked this up and got in the way I would not hesitate to knock your ass our, tie you up and leave you at your parents with specific instructions not to untie you until I had Smythe in custody did you not freakin' get?!"

Turning on him, she glared hard at him. She had grabbed her stuff and stalked out without saying a word once they were released except to thank James for his services.

"Now get this...Smythe is dangerous. I don't know if you know what that means but I won't have you getting yourself killed by acting on impulse. What did you intend to do if he was in that apartment and came out with guns blazing? He is a desperate man...and desperation makes for bad decisions. So far he has kept out of sight and in control but it's early in the game. As time goes by he is going to get antsy knowing I am on his back and I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire when that happens. Got it?!"

Turning away and stalking off to the car, she slid in the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. Cigarettes and coffee first (she still hadn't gotten all the sleep she needed) then she would regroup and figure out exactly where Smythe was. He couldn't get away for long. He would slip up sometime.

She tried to push away the fact that her anger stemmed more out of the fact that she was concerned that Hank could very well have gotten hurt or killed. She didn't like that thought. It meant that she cared about it and she didn't like caring about things like that. At least not about a certain person. She hadn't done it in a long time. It's how she survived. Both on the job and in her personal life. It's how it had to be.

So how come she felt a cold chill whenever she pictured Smythe gunning him down? No, she wouldn't think about it. Lack of sleep had her not thinking straight. That was all it was. And it had better damn well stay that way.

 

[Evil Attorney]

Hank looked at Tanya.

She was steamed.

He offered one her the pack he carried and a book of matches. Hank rarely smoked, but they were good for conversation starters.

He didn't want to loose her.

At one level, she was an asset. A hunter which he had at his disposal to bring down his prey. A stalking horse...someone to do his dirty work for him...

Working with her, talking to her, that was changing. He was thinking more about HER than what she could do FOR him.

Oh, he wanted Brandon. Like he never wanted anyone dead, he wanted Brandon cold.

Tanya though...he just didn't want to loose her. Not through his own stupidity or his actions, and definately not through Brandon's bullets.

Hank shuffeled his feet for a moment, looked down on himself and said,

"I'm sorry for getting out of the car. I should have listened to you, but I didn't want you to loose him if he went out the back.

What if he was out of the window on the fire escape and you had to come into the room he just left? He would be hiding behind a wall...a brick wall. I mean...he would be able to fire at you without risk to himself while you have to charge into his bullets...

I just didn't want you to have to face that alone..."

He started again, stopped for a moment, then continued,

"Please, make some use of me.

I haven't shot in over 10 years. Ok, I haven't even looked at a gun for 10 years, but I used to be pretty good. I even attended Thunder Ranch, the shooting school in Texas. I did all the classes they offered from 1989 to 1994. Pistol, carbine, shotgun and rifle.

Urban movement, gunfighting in structures, hogans alley, shoot-no shoot training...it was a long time ago, but I did it will come back to me.

I know I am not in your league, but please, please..."

Hank stopped here. He wasn't bullshitting. He was on the verge of tears.

"Jill is dead because of this guy. Don't make me sit in the car like a little boy while you bring in the guy who killed my sister.

I'll follow your orders, just let me be part of this."

Hank had to stop. This was difficult for him.

Difficult not only because he saw the body the police showed him in his mind, but because he knew if she said yes, he was likely giving up on killing Brandon himself.

Prison was ok. Its a dangerous place, and he still knew people who knew people who knew people. Hank had cash stashed away in safety deposit boxes. He knew that enough money in the right hands and Brandon's little ass would, well, not be little anymore...

It was also difficult because he knew he had lost the edge he used to have. In 1994, hank would not have needed Tanya. It was coming back, but 10 years...

Hank did judo 3 days a week, ran and did weights, but thats nothing to what Tanya had in her corner.

She was at the top of her game regarding extreme close quarters gunfights inside of structures, litteraly, as deadly as a tiger in her prime...and Hank....wasn't.

He thought "the sword is rusty, but its still sharp"

That knife edge of reflexes were just not as good as hers right now. They would be again though...but dam it all, they just weren't their NOW.

Hank wiped his face and took a few deep breaths.

"Look, we are both kinda wrung out. Lets go back to the appartment and get a straight eight hours of sleep.

Rest is a weapon. Brandon is probably getting his, so lets use it too.

Their is an indoor range downtown. Tomorow let me at least show you I can shoot straight?"

 

[Evil Attorney]

double post

 

[BlueEyedLady]

Tanya bit her lip. Damn it, but he was getting to her. She could feel his grief almost as much as she had felt her own on that day when her family died. Her father, a retired cop, killed by his own. A mistake but knowing it was a mistake didn't make it any eaisier. Her mother and sister dead, one at the hands of a rapist/murderer and the other doing nothing but getting in the line of fire. In the line of fire. God! How she didn't want that to happen to anyone again. That's why she worked solo, thats why she didn't get close to anyone. Damn it! What the hell was she to do now?

Taking the cigarette, she lit it and drew in deeply, taking the opportunity to think. He was right, her edge was not there. She needed sleep and she needed it now. Smythe would still be there in a few hours, she was sure of it. She didn't know what he was doing but she could feel that he was on the hunt just as much as she was. What are you after, Smythe? She wondered What the hell is holding you here when you shouuld be trying to get as far away as possible? Why are you trying to delay me and not just going on the run?

"Cigarettes first," She said finally, buckling herelf into the seat,"Then rest. Then we talk. If you are going on this I need to know everything straight up about you. I need to know what strengths I can count on when we finally find Smythe. And, if I don't think I am getting straight answers, you have just bought a one way ticket out of this and to your parent's house. Understood?"

Well, at least she hadn't said he had to leave now. She should have and God only knows why she hadn't.

Your getting soft She told herself Let's hope it doesn't get you both killed

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Brandon Smythe:

Finally the ‘invisible person' known as Brandon Smythe reached the building housing the offices of the magazine. The offices occupied two of the top floors, but not the top one. It's mainframe computer was located in the basement, connected to all of the terminals via fiber optic cables and it was the basement with it's maintainance terminals Brandon wanted to get to.

He slipped through the loading dock/service entrance after watching boxes being loaded onto a dolly and then pushed deeper into the building, either to be delivered to one or more of the businesses or to be put in storage.

It only took a short time to make his way to the basement via the firestairs and once there he was lucky to find the climate controlled room housing the mainframe empty. On a hunch he swiped the card lock with his card, although if anyone checked they'd be sure to find out he'd not only been there, but the exact date and time too.

Once in Brandon moved to and sat down at a terminal not visible through the small window in the firedoor and began looking through the files for anything that hinted at why all of this was taking place and looking for any stories relating to a serial killer who burned his victims.

The sound of the electric lock was all the warning he had that someone was at the door.

He stabbed the off button on the monitor and had just managed to scramble behind the desk when the door opened and Ed, the computer maintaince guy, came in and sat down at his desk, put on a headset and nodding in time to whatever he was listening to fired up his terminal and started working.

'Fuck, Brandon thought, 'just what I don't need, but at least he hasn't noticed that this one's on.'

Brandon crawled on his belly, as he's done in so many hot war zones when getting where he needed to be to "get the picture", behind the mainframe's housing and curled up to wait for Ed to leave again.

He kept going over everything in his head and just couldn't figure out why Jill had been killed or by who. He lay curled up and eventually fell asleep there, just to exhausted to stay awake any longer.

 

[poohlive]

Taylor stared at her a moment, trying to see if she really wanted to resist, if she was really capable of this? Was she? Could she find strength she never had before? He didn't know, but she wasn't the first woman to resist, nor was she the toughest.
He had cracked harder eggs, and they had turned into eager sluts so fast, it was enough to do a double take.
"Jill, I want you to meet some friends of mine," Tony, a big latino man came in, with a wifebeater covering his ripped body, several friends behind him, nameless, faceless, hidden by shadows of rape and death.
"They are pain... think of them as nothing else. They will rape you, they will fuck you... all of you. Your mouth, your cunt, your ass. When they leave, every inch of your body will be covered in cum, and fucking gaping wide open, you catch me? And in case you pass out during it all? Which, most of the women usually do, we've got it all on tape, and when you come to, you can watch it over and over again."
Taylor came up behind Jill, letting her feel his cock rubbing against her, his lips on her neck, kissing and nibbling at the tendons of her flesh.
"I am pleasure, nothing more, nothing less. I will make love to you, like I've always wanted to. If you don't want to, fine, consider it rape, but it'll be the nicest, gentlest rape you've ever had, I promise you. I'll take you with kindness."
Taylor left her there to hang, walking away towards the camera man, who was already taping. Taylor loved this, seeing her there, so alone and helpless, he could feel himself strain in his pants, needing her that very moment.
He would have her soon enough.
"Tell me where the files are, all of them. You do that, and I'll give you pleasure. You stall any longer, I'll give you pain. It's that simple, you get to choose how this goes, and how you want it to go. Tell me where the files are.... Pleasure."
He nodded down to himself, smiling sweetly.
"Or pain."
The boy chuckled, some of them already speaking in spanish, wondering just how many she could take at once.
Taylor waited patiently. After all, he was a patient man.

 

[BlueEyedLady]

Jill

OOC: Glad to see you made it, Pooh. And thanks, everyone, for such great posts.

IC: Jill recoiled as far as her shackles would allow. She bit her lip as her shoulders were pulled into a painful position, her eyes were open wide as she staed at the men Taylor had summoned in to look at her and a small moan of dispair escaped despite her best efforts.

He couldn't mean this, he didn't mean this...who was she trying to kid? She had seen the photos of the other girls, she had seen what he had done to them. Why should she be any different. He was a monster, a cold hearted monster and she had been captured by him.

Brandon! Her mind screamed Where are you?


When he came up behind her, she flinched from his touch, she felt cold as his erection pressed into her and a shiver of revulsion as his lips and hands caressed her. She tried to move away but she couldn't, she would have to move closer to the men that he had brought in and her befuddled mind could not decide which would be worse.

As he walked away, spouting nonsense about 'gentle rape' she could feel a cold wash through her and she forced herself not to cry. She wouldn't show any weakness to him. She wouldn't! She wouldn't let him know how scared she was and she wouldn't let him know how much she just wished this was all over with.

Turning her head to look at him, standing there, so smug and all-knowing, so much in control, Jill felt her hatred of him flare. Her blue eyes glared at him through the messy fall of blonde hair (OOC: Couldn't find a descript of Jill so I am just going with the flow).


"You can't. You wont." She said in a voice above a whisper. "If you do, if you let any of them touch me, I swear to God that you will never, ever see the information. It's a good threat but if you carry it out you have nothing to scare me with...nothing! I have what you want and as long as I have that you aren't totally in control. Make them go away. Make them go away right now and...and we'll talk. If you do anything to harm me, I have made sure that it goes straight to the police. If I don't show up soon than it goes right to the people you don't want to have it."

Trying hard to control her shaking, Jill watched Taylor's reaction. If she never learned anything while being with Brandon, she had learned how to bluff.

 

[Evil Attorney]

At the appartment that night, Hank and Tanya sat at the kitchen table with a bottle of scotch and glasses.

Hank sipped his scotch and swirled the ice in the glass.

"I never went over this with anyone before. You wanted to know who I am..so I will tell you.

In 1987, I was a little shit. A punk, destined for an early grave from drugs, a gangbanger's bullet or the cops shooting me. I had just graduated high school with a D- average, but I knew it all.

Some friends of mine and I lived togther in an appartment, and as things would have it, one guy started dealing out of the appartment. It was small time, and we weren't affiliated with anyone, just dealing to people we knew. Other fuckups, ya know.

One day, Benny, he decided to start to get bigger in the trade. He moved from grass to coke, and for a little while, buisness was good. I did a little running for him, deliveries.

I just toked a little, never got into the heavy shit.

I was always an aware person. One day, I start seeing the same faces outside on the street. Faces that weren't their before. They weren't homeless, and they weren't cops.

Not too often, but at different times and different locations.

Sometimes watching the building, sometimes watching me.

Benny and the others told me to have another hit and shut my paranoid ass up.

I started crashing at a chick's house instead of sleeping at the appartment when this shit happened. I didn't see anything off for a week or so, then a guy showed up outside my girlfriend's door after she left for school one morning.

He wanted to talk. I told him to fuck off, but suddenly their was a voice behind me and a razor at my throat from the other guy. He told me he slipped in from the back door and if I moved, I was dead.

The guy at the door wanted to talk. He wanted to know how I knew they were around, what I saw and what I thought. He said I could talk to them now, or never talk again.

I really scared of these men, so I told them what they wanted to know. I mean, I though they were going to kill me.

When I was done, he offered me a job. He said that for a greenhorn, I had a pretty good eye for spotting setups, even though I missed a lot of their actions.

The crew didn't have a name and wasn't affiliated with anyone, but we knew who all the player around were. They were bike riders, but unlike most of them.

These guys were ex-military, Army and Marines, and weren't in it for thrills. They were in it for cash. Cash rip-offs of dealers and gun-running into Mexico and other points south.

I ran with those guys for five years. Were we went, what we did...no, sorry, I'm not going into that. If those guys taught me anything, it was how to keep shit secret.

The five years I ran with them, they had me going to Thunder Ranch almost bi-monthly. They wanted me up to snuff on weapons, and that was the best place to get it outside the Marines. They taught me other things. They went with me, and I later figured out that they did that to check if they had records, because Thunder Ranch background checks who they train.

Nothing ever popped up.

Everything they needed me to know, they taught me. They were really good to me too. They cut me in right from the begining, even though they were really babysitting me for a while, but I eventualy proved myself to them. "

Hank took a long pull off his glass, refilled it and drank again.

"That...that was a really bad time of my life looking back. It was the early 1990's and the drug violence was outrageous. Nobody ever suspected their was a quiet, highly skilled crew ripping off dealers of their cash and weapon stashes.

Drugs, we took them, but either burned them or flushed them. Drugs meant dealing with fucking junkies or dealers, and neither knows how to keep their mouth shut.

The weapons, we kept some, the rest went down to South America. Handguns, the good ones mostly. Things that were too expensive for ordinary people down their, like glocks, sigs and beretta.

Terrorists, drug cartels and revolutionaries weren't getting them, that much I know. Terrorists and revolutionaries used russian shit, and cartels could afford to buy in bulk from the factory.

Their was money in it, but I like to think that some dumb shit down in peru is alive today because of a 9mm pistol I took out of a crack house and sent into his pants.
The people who ran the guns, they were Pros...I think they knew my crew from their army time, but I was kept out of that kind of thing. Opperational Security, ya know?"

Hank stopped, then went on.
"A...a lot of people died during that time.

Any yes, Tanya. I killed some of them. At the time, it was my job."

Hank took a sip and went on.

"Some 21 yr old kids are in college fucking their girlfriends in a dorm room...I was sitting in a dumpster watchin a heroin dealer from 2300 to 0500 with a nightvision.

My friends, the guys I lived with before this were just practice tracking for these guys. Same with a bunch of smaller dealers. Never hit them, but just watched them to see how close we could get.

Oh, we survailed our marks well, we made sure that their would be no collateral damage. We weren't being nice only, we were being smart because killing people who aren't part of it attracted attention and we desperately wanted to avoid that.

We knew who we hit, their habits, their cashflow, everything.
Everyone we hit had at least a quarter million in cash on hand. Nobody who wasn't selling missery ever got hit.

One night in 94, the first time I was involved in a gun-run, we ran into trouble. Their were 6 of us delivering a semi-trailer load of quality handguns. H&K's, Glocks, Sigs and Smiths. "

Hank's voice started to tremble a bit.

"I think a Cartel got wind of it, how I duno, but we got stopped by 30 mexicans who tried to jack us.

5 to 1 odds...and we weren't carrying heavy weapons, only pistols and compact shotguns. We mostly relied on stealth for protection, but we had to fight. They had AK-47's...

When it was all over, I was the only one who was standing...."

Hank stopped, took a breath and a sip, then continued.

"I had to blow up the truck and my the bodies of people I lived with, fought beside and talked to for 5 years...

Since that night, I never touched a gun till Jill went missing. I don't like them, but they have their place. I just never though I would have to use one again.

You know I work for GMC...I like working with my hands. I like creating things rather than destroying."

Hank, knocked back another scotch and said,
"And now you know. I am not happy with who I was and what I was doing then. I was a cold person back then, and have spent a lot of time dealing with that, but now at 35 I find myself slipping into that because I have to.

Leaving the car was wrong tonight.

I know how to follow orders, and I should have done that, or comunicated what I was going to do to you so you could plan accordingly. It won't happen again if you still want me with you."



Saddness gripped him, because of his guilt over thing long since done that he dredged up, and because he may have just lost Tanya's help in getting Brandon.

He felt he should have lied, told her some story, but she would have seen through that.

Dammed if you do, dammed if you didn't, dammed because of the past either way...what choice.

Hank slumped in the chair drained from baring his soul.

He told truth, and now waited for Tanya's reaction.

 

[BlueEyedLady]

Tanya

Tanya listened to Hank without saying a word, simply staring at him with her hazel eyes in a frank look that spoke nothing of what she was feeling or thinking. Every once in awhile, she would sip at her drink but her eyes never left her face.

When he was done speaking, there was a long moment of silence as she digested the new information. If she would have pegged anyone with a past like that it would not have been him. And she was sure he was telling the truth, in her job she had to know who was and wasn't as a matter of survival. A wrong guess and she would be dead.

She also saw something else. Sorrow. This man had had his fair share of sorrow and grief. It seemed that those two intities liked to zone in on a few and never let go while others who deserved it led a carefree life.

Finally, she ran her hand through her wet hair...she had just gotten out of the shower and changed clothes before they talked...and drained her glass of scotch. Setting it down on the table, she spoke.

"Some people live their whole lives only knowing the black and white of this world. Some live in the black and some live in the white. Both of these types of people are blind to any other way of life."

"I can't say that those who know the grey areas, who have lived in them and deal with them on a daily basis are any luckier than those poor saps but I do know this...once you see the grey, once you experienc it, once you have lived with it, you never have the same outlook on life again. And you can never go back."

"I also know one more thing...you can't live in the past. And you can't let it rule your life. Sometimes it's hell to accept that things have happened and you never have to be happy with it...but you have to learn to go on. You don't do yourself or anyone else any oood by letting the past color your present and future. And it can very well sap away any joy you find in this life."

"Bad things happen to good people. And some of the guys I hunt down and bring in are good people. They just make bad decisions. You might think this is warped...maybe it is...but I find alot of pleasure in bringing those people in. Because they have a chance to change their lives, to use the past as a learning experience...if they choose to. Someone who can live through hell and come out a whole person...or get back to being a whole person given time...is a special kind of person. And that is one of the only rewards I get in this job."

"And, from my experience, it is easier to deal with the past and work through it if you do something about the future. Maybe not as drastic as I have chosen to...but something that symoblizes doing good to ease the bad."

Standing up and pushing her chair away from the table, she grabbed her jacket from the back of it and walked over to the couch.

"Something like...oh, learning to find enjoyment in building things instead of destroying them..." She said over her shoulder.

Laying down on the couch, she closed her eyes. "Use the bed and get some sleep. We need to get to the shooting range early in the morning. I'm interested to see just how good you really are. But we can't spend the whole day there...we still have a fugitive to catch."

 

[PhoenixPrime01]

Brandon Smythe:

Ed shutting the door awakens Brandon with a start. He lays still listening and when nothing is heard for several minutes peeks around the mainframe to find the room empty.

He sits back with a sigh and, before returning to the computer terminal again, decides he'd better check the pistol he'd bought and the ammo.

From familiarity he'd chosen a vintage Walther PPK, ala James Bond in 9mm kurtz, or .380 caliber. It was what he always had managed to aquire when in any dangerous area as his personal firearm.

The bullet was a bit underpowered unless in the +P load, but the pistol was very easy to conceal and as his old shooting coach had taught him years and years ago and he'd learned in the school of hard knocks, "Gun control means hitting the target every time the gun's fired."

Brandon knew that with this pistol he was still capable of making head shots out to 20-25 yards and he never figured in the city he'd never need to worry about his accuracy beyond that, but body shots to 40-50 yards were still doable, if the sights were accurate.

He found the clip in the grip was filled by alternating +P aluminum hollow points and copper hardball rounds. He opened both boxes he'd bought, the +P's and also the Glaser frangible Safety Slugs he'd chosen and staggered them in the spare clip.

That done and sufficient time passed he returned to the terminal, turned on the monitor and got back to work looking, searching backward by date through the files.

 

[poohlive]

Taylor gave a lazy sneer, Jill's defiance wearing him thin. He had thought he could bull rush the information out of her. She had been taken from her element, manipulated and tortured, threatened, and now she was trying to call the shots.
Well, that was fine with him. Taylor could play this game for a little while. At the moment, the information was more important than the fun they were going to have.
"Boys, get out of her, go have fun with Candy. I'll call you when I need you."
After he sent them away, he turned back to Jill, walking towards her, sitting down in front of her, his eyes trying to judge the content in her eye, and every now and then moving down to the perfect figure of her body.
"Ok, Jill... we're alone," He gave a nod, and the camera turned toward the opposite wall, "Let's talk. Where is the information?"