FAKE Ficlet: Nine Lives
Title: Nine Lives
Fandom: FAKE
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Dee, mentions Ryo and Bikky.
Rating: PG
Setting: Vol 4, Act 11.
Summary: There’s only so much Dee can do to save himself. If he survives this, it’ll be a miracle.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Challenge 213: Blast at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters.
Dee held his breath as he picked a wire and snipped through it, knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance he’d picked the wrong one. Training and instincts only got a guy so far; the rest was down to luck, and the hope that the bomber hadn’t thought it necessary to add any booby traps to his simple devices.
The only thing that happened when the wire was cut, however, was that the timer stopped with less than thirty seconds to go.
“Okay.” The breath went out of Dee in a long sigh as he slumped back against the wall, dropping the scissors, his hands going to his leg, quickly loosening and re-tightening the makeshift tourniquet, in reality part of the shirt he’d been wearing. “Not out of the woods yet though.”
There were still another fourteen bombs scattered around the school campus, all on the same timer as the first, with maybe twenty seconds left. Even if he hadn’t had a bullet hole through his left thigh, he still wouldn’t have had time to locate and disarm them all. Now would probably be a good time to pray, but instead Dee closed his eyes, focussed on calming his breathing, and counted down the last few seconds. He’d done all he could, Bikky was safe, and his own life was in the Lord’s hands. At least he’d been able to talk to Ryo, not a goodbye, just a warning to keep the hell out of the building.
“Be safe, babe. If I don’t make it, well, it’s been a blast knowin’ ya. And speakin’ of blasts… Five…Four…Three…Tw…”
Apparently his counting was a little off; the multiple explosions produced a deafening cacophony of sound, and Dee clamped his hands over his ears, feeling the whole building quake from the shockwaves. Plaster cracked, and a nearby window shattered, shards of glass thankfully being propelled outwards. Nevertheless, Dee ducked his head, shielding himself as best he could with both arms.
He fully expected the walls to collapse and the ceiling to fall on him, leaving him buried beneath several tons of rubble. Just because he’d dealt with the nearest bomb didn’t mean the others wouldn’t have enough power to level the entire school. He’d been right there when the two-seven’s erstwhile station house had been blown up, had seen it completely flattened in the blast; professional demolition experts couldn’t have done a better job. But as the roar faded away and he cautiously opened his eyes…
There was an impressive hole in the wall between the music room and whatever was next door, but the ceiling was still where it was supposed to be, and what rubble there was hadn’t come anywhere near him. He turned his gaze heavenwards.
“Thanks, God, I owe ya. I’ll be in church next Sunday, that’s a promise. Well, assumin’ I’m outta the hospital by then. The Sunday after for sure, even if I gotta hop along on crutches.”
Closing his eyes, Dee waited for Ryo to find him.
The End
Fandom: FAKE
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Dee, mentions Ryo and Bikky.
Rating: PG
Setting: Vol 4, Act 11.
Summary: There’s only so much Dee can do to save himself. If he survives this, it’ll be a miracle.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Challenge 213: Blast at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters.
Dee held his breath as he picked a wire and snipped through it, knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance he’d picked the wrong one. Training and instincts only got a guy so far; the rest was down to luck, and the hope that the bomber hadn’t thought it necessary to add any booby traps to his simple devices.
The only thing that happened when the wire was cut, however, was that the timer stopped with less than thirty seconds to go.
“Okay.” The breath went out of Dee in a long sigh as he slumped back against the wall, dropping the scissors, his hands going to his leg, quickly loosening and re-tightening the makeshift tourniquet, in reality part of the shirt he’d been wearing. “Not out of the woods yet though.”
There were still another fourteen bombs scattered around the school campus, all on the same timer as the first, with maybe twenty seconds left. Even if he hadn’t had a bullet hole through his left thigh, he still wouldn’t have had time to locate and disarm them all. Now would probably be a good time to pray, but instead Dee closed his eyes, focussed on calming his breathing, and counted down the last few seconds. He’d done all he could, Bikky was safe, and his own life was in the Lord’s hands. At least he’d been able to talk to Ryo, not a goodbye, just a warning to keep the hell out of the building.
“Be safe, babe. If I don’t make it, well, it’s been a blast knowin’ ya. And speakin’ of blasts… Five…Four…Three…Tw…”
Apparently his counting was a little off; the multiple explosions produced a deafening cacophony of sound, and Dee clamped his hands over his ears, feeling the whole building quake from the shockwaves. Plaster cracked, and a nearby window shattered, shards of glass thankfully being propelled outwards. Nevertheless, Dee ducked his head, shielding himself as best he could with both arms.
He fully expected the walls to collapse and the ceiling to fall on him, leaving him buried beneath several tons of rubble. Just because he’d dealt with the nearest bomb didn’t mean the others wouldn’t have enough power to level the entire school. He’d been right there when the two-seven’s erstwhile station house had been blown up, had seen it completely flattened in the blast; professional demolition experts couldn’t have done a better job. But as the roar faded away and he cautiously opened his eyes…
There was an impressive hole in the wall between the music room and whatever was next door, but the ceiling was still where it was supposed to be, and what rubble there was hadn’t come anywhere near him. He turned his gaze heavenwards.
“Thanks, God, I owe ya. I’ll be in church next Sunday, that’s a promise. Well, assumin’ I’m outta the hospital by then. The Sunday after for sure, even if I gotta hop along on crutches.”
Closing his eyes, Dee waited for Ryo to find him.
The End