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Date Posted: 16:01:40 05/03/02 Fri
Author: Repost Fairy
Author Host/IP: 64.193.19.25
Subject: Part 51- suggestive, language
In reply to: Lila 's message, "The Beginning - Part 33 and Up" on 15:11:24 05/03/02 Fri

Part 51

Nikita remained quiet for the duration of the trip with Fanning, a small part of her almost glad that she and Michael had not managed to escape. Although it had seemed that this path had opened only a few weeks ago, she had lived her entire life surrounded by unanswered questions, mysteries, sadness, and she was finished with it. Perhaps by some miracle she would know who she was, or at least who her mother was by the time this was all over.

Her mother. Roberta. Nikita still hadn’t had time to digest the volumes of information she had learned from Walter in the last days. She had been so consumed with fear, and violence, and fighting herself she hadn’t thought about anything. “I was born in Thailand?” she said.

“I don’t know much about that,” Fanning responded, amused by the mumblings sputtering next to him.

“What?” she said, Fanning’s voice interrupting her thoughts.

“Daydreaming little girl?” he asked.

Nikita glared at him, her hands numb, her arms aching. “I thought you said ten minutes?” she asked angrily.

Fanning kept his eyes forward, lips pressed together in a smirk. “I did, didn’t I?” he said. “I guess you just learned your first lesson.”

“First lesson?” she asked, voice strong, insides flipping, his voice, intonation so like Marco’s.

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” he said, voice sing-songy. He turned to look at Nikita, eyes giving her the once over. “You’re bleeding,” he said, easing the car off the road, and pulling to a stop. Nikita watched him, said nothing.

Fanning held his gun up to Nikita’s face. “I’m gonna to take a look at your arms… hurting the merchandise was not part of the plan… promise you won’t try anything.” He focused all of his psychotic attention on her, his eyes sending loud messages. Nikita bit her lower lip and nodded. “I am going to come around to the other side of the car, and open your door slowly. Don’t forget blondie, my gun will be aimed at your head.”

Fanning got out of the car, walked around the other side, and slowly began to open the door. Nikita took her bound legs and kicked the door as hard as she could, slamming the door into his body. Fanning fell backward, firing his gun, a bullet hitting the roof of the car as Nikita struggled from the vehicle. She could hear laughter. She tried to hop, but her legs were so tightly bound together, she tumbled forward, face down.

He stood over her, gun pointed at her, still chuckling. “I should know better,” he said. “Marco said you were a quick study.” He put his foot on her lower back, trapping her on the ground. He leaned forward, taking a closer look at her arms. He whistled a low, wooo-hoooo. “You sure did a number on those arms,” he said, “And now you’ve gone and gottem all dirty.” He grabbed her twisted arms, pulling her upper body towards him.

“Ow,” she grimaced, “That hurts.”

“Aw, gee,” he said, “And so did having a door kicked at me.” Fanning examined her wounds, determined the bleeding had stopped, and released her. She collapsed back on the ground with a thud, his laughter filling her ears.

Nikita slowly rolled over, and sat up. Her face was covered with dirt, and she spat a few times, trying to clear her mouth of dust. “Stop laughing,” she said, memories of Marco’s deranged sense of humor flooding her.

Fanning had moved so he was leaning against the side of the car, looking down at her. “You want I should help you up?” he asked. Nikita pouted, wanting nothing better than to drive a stake through this man’s heart. “I can wait as long as you want,” he said, needling her.

“Fine,” she said, “If you’re not going to untie me, then help me up.”

David chuckled again. “I gotta say this, you don’t give up easily.” He walked behind her, grabbed her upper arm and gave her a hoist up. He opened the passenger door, keeping his hand tightly around her arm, pressing his fingers into her muscles. “I am going to pick you up and put you back in the car. OK?” he asked.

Nikita was so angry, she couldn’t respond. “NO!” she exploded. “Untie me, and let me go!” She twisted her legs madly, trying to loosen her restraints.

This outburst only made Fanning laugh harder. He waited for the pain of the twine wound around her legs to quiet her down. “Look,” he said, “You’re just going to hurt yourself, and though I could care if you’re in any kind of pain, it makes it harder for me. That’s when I care.”

Nikita gave up her struggle, cuts covering her legs adding to the pain she was feeling in her arms. “You are a despicable man,” she said as he lifted her back into the car.

“I know,” he said.

************

Paul and Madeline enjoyed the comfort of his private jet as it propelled them to the meeting place. He had poured them each a drink, and returned to the lush leather seat next to her.

“We have a lot to toast, Madeline,” he said, raising his glass to her.

“Such as?” she asked.

“Philippe’s network becomes ours. Good for Section,” he said, smiling to his good fortune.

“Philippe becomes dead,” she said, “Good for you.” She sipped from her glass, and smiled demurely at her boss. What a lovely mind. “And all of his money… good for you.”

Operations laughed. “Madeline,” he said, “Please, I have enough money, it’s not about money.” He turned his head from her, glancing around, as if searching for eavesdroppers. He leaned close to her ear and added, his lips nearly brushing the folds of her ear, “Money is also good for Section.”

“Go on,” she purred, interest in him increasing with every word. She cautiously rubbed her perfectly shod foot up and down his shin.

“Well,” he said, leaning away from her momentarily to place his drink on a nearby table, “Adrian’s power has been severely weakened.” Paul’s breath was warming her ear, her throat tingling as his lips brushed against it. “I know you tried to help her,” he said, teeth trapping and biting tiny pieces of skin beneath her chin.

Madeline leaned her head back against the seat, eyes closed, and said, “Only for Section.”

“Yes,” he said, moving from under her chin to her throat. “Adrian being weaker is good for Section,” he said, tiny bites moving on to larger, longer licks.

Paul was slowly working his way down Madeline’s neck when she asked, “Other benefits?”

He laughed into the delicious area between her breasts. “Oh yes,” he said, “First class recruits. All brilliant, all trained. Good for Section.” Paul’s mouth moved towards her nipples, leaving a trail of footprints.

“And your daughter?” she asked, “Good for you?”

As Madeline felt tendrils of ecstasy reaching throughout her body she heard him say, “Relatives. Good for Section.”

************

“I like your spunk,” David said to a bloody, dirty, angry Nikita. “I see why Marco dug you.”

Nikita had been staring out the window, trying to focus her energies on how she was going to kill David Fanning. She felt no remorse, no regret, no guilt… only determination that she extinguish his life. And she felt just fine, thank you. This wasn’t training, this wasn’t conditioning, this was pure plain retribution against a man who nearly destroyed Michael and was now tormenting her. She would celebrate his demise, once she made sure it happened. “Don’t mention his name to me again,” Nikita said, teeth clenched, anger boiling. Don’t let him see how angry you are. It puts you at a disadvantage.

David only giggled. “So,” he said, not being able to help it, voice reflecting pure fake shock, “He’s really dead?” Fanning looked at her angry face, noting the quick shift of her eyes to the floor as he caught a glimpse of the fuming blue jewels. “Are you sure it was him?” Fanning asked, voice sounding innocent. “You know,” he said, voice filled with guile, “Sometimes things aren’t what they seem in this business.”

“I saw him die,” she said, closing her eyes again to those images.

“That’s really good,” Fanning said, “You saw someone die and you thought it was him.” He nodded, “Oh yeah, that’s good.”

Stab, shoot, strangle, stomp… all of these possible options. She chortled, disgusted. “Oh he’s dead, all right.”

“Prince Charming?” he asked, knowing a response was not forthcoming. “How do you know it was real? Could have been a set-up, you know that’s how these people work.

Nikita did not respond to Fanning’s taunting. She saw Marco die, there was no mistake about it. She knew his body intimately, his personality, the way he smelled, laughed… that was the man Michael killed. A shudder ran through her body. Could that be possible? Marco alive? She stared out the window, one thought in mind. If he wasn’t dead she’d make sure he was.

*************

Something wasn’t right. They had only been about fifteen minutes behind, and yet the device in Michael’s lap indicated a much greater distance between them. He made some adjustments to their current coordinates, and the map showed at least a two-hour advantage for Fanning.

“What is it?” Walter asked, sensing greater tension, if that were possible.

“Do you know where they are going?” Michael asked, tired of the games.

“Have you tried adding the….”

“You said his compound was a fortress. You know where we are going.” Michael demanded, voice quiet, jaw muscles flexing, “Tell me.”

Walter sighed. He couldn’t win no matter what he did. “I wasn’t sure,” he said. “We’ll be there in two hours.” Walter felt the cool steel of the muzzle of Michael’s gun pressed against his neck. “No bullshit,” he added, waiting for the pressure on his neck to lessen. It didn’t. “Michael,” he said, “Killing me won’t solve anything.”

“I know,” Michael said, pressure still steady against Walter’s throat.

“Then what?” Walter asked, not afraid necessarily, but somewhat concerned.

“The war, the drugs, Adrian, Roberta, Section One…” Michael said, loathing his own stupidity. This was not as it seemed at all. “This isn’t about business,” he stated, increasing the gun’s pressure against Walter.

“No,” Walter whispered, “It isn’t.”

“Wolfe’s ego?” Michael asked, trigger finger ready.

“I’m afraid I can’t comment on that, friend,” Walter said, “But I can tell you he is a man to be reckoned with.” Walter continued driving, ignoring Michael’s weapon.

“Stop the car,” Michael said, gun firmly pressed against Walter’s throat, Walter’s concern growing almost to fear. Michael had almost killed him once already. “Stop…. The…. Car…” Michael repeated. Walter pulled the car over. “Keep your hands on the wheels.” Walter did as he was told. “I’ll ask one question, and if it’s a lie, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Understood, Kimo Sabe,” Walter said. “Fire away,” he said, followed by a groan. “I didn’t mean that. Ask your question.” Walter faced Michael, keenly aware of the gun pressed up beneath his chin. “Ask.”

Michael thoroughly scanned Walter’s face, noting the toughness, the kindness. He would tell the truth. “’k,” Michael said, “What the fuck is going on here?”

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