Chapter Eleven
November 12th, 9:17 PM
"Grigory," Hammerson growled in his deep, flat voice. "What the fuck is this?"
Erin had turned away from Todorov to look at the new intruder, who of course she recognized. At this point, she and Hammerson had a long history. They had met a few times during her father's events... And then they had met again when she was tied up in that hillbilly shack. They had gone on a strange "date" at her apartment just weeks ago... And then he had tried to blow her and Margot up in that factory. The two of them were practically inseparable, these days. Star-crossed lovers who were constantly trying to kill each other.
"Hammerson," she said, trying not to cough. "I figured I'd see you here."
She watched as Hammerson stopped and grinned. He looked at Erin, then down at Margot, and then back at Todorov, who was lying almost unconscious in a heap behind Erin. He lifted his gun in the air, and seemed to be trying to decide who best to aim it at.
"Blue Lynx," Hammerson said. "Not dead yet, I see."
Erin coughed. "No." She had found the doctor's syringe and was holding it in her gloved fingers. "And it looks like I found a cure."
Hammerson stepped further into the shed, so that he was now just inches away from the soles of Margot's bare feet. He seemed to eye Margot intently, lingering on her bare white flesh shining in the harsh fluorescent light. He licked his lips.
"Hammerson!" Erin cried out. "Look at me!"
But Hammerson now seemed completely engaged in Margot, and pointed the pistol at her head with a shaky hand.
"You look at me, Blue Lynx," he sneered, lowering the gun even closer to Margot's forehead. "You surrender now, or I put a bullet in your partner's brain."
Erin couldn't believe it. This situation again? Wasn't she here less than a month ago? A goon pointing a pistol at her friend's head. It was so easy, so obvious, so uncreative. What could she do, though... The pain still coursing through her body prevented any thought other than...
"Fine," Erin muttered, raising her hands in the air. "Come on and tie me up."
Hammerson laughed. "It doesn't take much, does it?" he said, stepping over Margot's prone body and waving the gun in Erin's direction. "Todorov, tie her up."
Erin turned her head around to look at Todorov. He wasn't moving. His flight through the shed had apparently done him in.
"Fuck, Todorov," Hammerson stammered.
"Looks like you'll have to tie me up yourself," Erin said, slightly twisting her hips. She didn't know what she was going to do. But she knew that as long as Hammerson's gun was off of Margot, that things would turn out alright. She could deal with whatever this creep had to throw at her. What she couldn't deal with was the thought of Margot being hurt.
Hammerson sighed. "Well then," he said, stepping around Margot, seeming to forget that her arms and legs were no longer tied. "I guess I will--"
Margot's fist shot up into Hammerson's groin, and Hammerson crumpled immediately, falling to the floor with a dramatic, high-pitched wheeze.
"Blue Lynx, get him!" Margot yelled, clambering to her feet. She was reaching toward Hammerson's gun, pushing his elbows out of the way. Erin moved over to the the pair of grapplers as fast as she could, which still wasn't nearly as fast as she wanted: every step still required complete concentration. She arrived near Hammerson and began to wind up a punch. But as she brought down her fist toward Hammerson's face, her rival's gun hand stretched out and clocked her in the cheek, sending her spinning around into the shed's long side table.
"Blue Lynx!" Margot screamed, and then she too was off her feet, pushed by Hammerson into the opposite wall, where she collided with hanging farm implements before dropping to the ground.
Erin brushed at her cheek, wincing and moaning. She placed her elbow on the side table and attempted to pull herself to her feet. But just as she found solid ground she felt Hammerson's hand around her throat, and felt her back being pushed against the table. Hammerson forced Erin's head down toward the table, pushing her spine back in an uncomfortable arc and lifting her kicking boots from the floor.
"This plan was too good for you to ruin, Blue Lynx," Hammerson sneered, his face inches away from Erin's. "You were supposed to die."
Erin wriggled in Hammerson's grasp, desperately kicking her feet. She felt Hammerson's fingers tighten around her throat. Her coughs became short and sporadic. Her face began to turn blue.
"I suppose I can kill you yet," Hammerson grinned. "But before that, I have to know who you really are."
Hammerson placed his palm on Erin's mouth, stifling her breathing for a second. He seemed to delight in this moment, watching the Blue Lynx suffocate, but eventually moved on, sliding his hand up Erin's face and flitting his fingers around her mask.
"Finally," Hammerson said, resting his other hand on Erin's spandex-clad stomach. "Finally I'll know."
He brought his thumb underneath the Blue Lynx mask, and Erin gasped.
And, instantly, Hammerson gasped too. He released Erin's throat and stumbled away from the table, his frantic hands pawing at his upper back. As he turned around, Erin saw Hammerson's problem: there was a screwdriver sticking out of him, a blotch of dark red blood already puddling underneath his grey suit.
"Bastard," Margot said, wiping her hands together, watching Hammerson yowl.
Erin coughed, wheezed, held her stomach in pain, but finally pushed herself up from the table. She watched Hammerson, waiting for him to dance her way, and then met his face with an uppercut that sent him to the floor. The screwdriver flew from his back, clattering against the ground in the corner of the shed. Hammerson screeched as Erin had never heard a man screech before.
"GOD," he said, reaching his hands around his back, kicking his legs around, shaking. "GOD. GODDDD. GOD."
Erin moved her poisoned, battle-worn body toward Hammerson's prone figure. She leaned down and looked him in the face. His eyes were shut, still deep in the realm of pain. Erin could relate. But she couldn't sympathize.
"We've got to go now, you slimy bitch," she said, giving him a final kick in the side for good measure.
She put her arm around Margot's waist and the two friends walked toward the door of the shed. Margot spotted something on the corner of the table and picked it up. "My costume!" she cried out.
"Can't forget that," Erin coughed. The girls walked through the shed door and closed the door behind them. They could hear the faint sounds of Todorov whining, of Hammerson screeching. Erin looked at Margot, still dressed in just her flesh-colored bra and panties, and smiled.
"You want to put you clothes back on?" she asked.
"Oh, yeah," Margot said. "But first, Erin, you need to give yourself the antidote."
"I know," Erin said, staring at the syringe in her hand. She gulped. "Do you think it will work?"
"Just try it," Margot said. "We can wait. If it doesn't work, we can always go back and rough up Todorov some more."
Erin laughed, and then coughed. "You're talking like a superheroine."
Margot blushed. "I'm not a superheroine."
Erin looked up into the starry sky, and then around at Todorov's backyard, and then finally back into Margot's eyes.
"Yes you are, Margot," she said, in her best superheroine voice. "Yes you are."
END OF PART THREE
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Hope you put an alternative ending in this thread.
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