Starring:
Summary: Jack shows up in Heidi's hotel room, in an attempt to carry out his promise to Logan.
Date It Happened: 9 FEBRUARY 2008
Then Long Eternity Shall Greet our Bliss
Heidi's Hotel Room
It's raining.
The pavement is slick, too, the air is cold, the temperature hovering somewhere around freezing, but not enough so that the rain itself is icy. Just the gound underfoot, as Heidi runs from the convenience store, across the street, and back into the hotel. It's not much to look at, really… It's not in the best part of town, but it serves its purpose. Ten stories, a few dozen rooms on each floor… comfortable enough. It's a good place to hide.
As she enters the lobby, she throws back the hood on her sweatshirt. She's soaked, black hair hanging limp past her shoulders. It occurs to her that she could probably use a haircut, when there's time. Through the lobby, she heads past the indoor pool and to the elevators. There's a musty smell, like just being in the vicinity of the pool is enough to cause the carpets to grow mold. At least it's only on this floor that she has to wrinkle her nose against it… Once she's on the elevator, the stench fades, and when she gets to her room, it's gone all together. Opening the door with her card key, she slips inside and turns on the lights. Spica is there to greet her; Heidi picks up the cat, gives her a hug, then sets her down on the room's single bed. Opening the bag, she pulls out the bottle of aspirin and drops it next to the cat on the bed. Spica startles, then sniffs at it, and after she's satisfied that it won't hurt her, she lays on top of it. Heidi heads to the bathroom to change her clothes.
—-
Though Nathan hadn't been able to tell Jack exactly where to find Heidi in the hotel, he'd been able to give an address. For the Irishman, that was more than enough. Twelve hours spent prowling the streets, alleyways, and rooftops has left him with intimate knowledge of the surrounding area. Another six in the hotel under the guise of a labor inspector granted him access to reciepts, records, and all the other information he might need.
Everything is in place. The area has been prepared. Nathan is away in Vegas. Trina is safe and sound in her own hotel room. The time to act is now.
Jack shifts his weight, testing his balance on his narrow perch. He tugs his rope one last time to test it and then takes a deep, bracing breath. Then he leaps backward off the roof.
His rappel rope has been carefully measured. It snaps taut and swings him inward at the proper height, sending him crashing through the window. He lands on the carpet in a shower of broken glass. Immediately, he rolls to his feet and brings his pistol to bear. He's dressed for the occasion in a form-fitting black jumpsuit and a balaclava mask that conceals everything but his eyes.
Room clear. No Heidi. He knows that she just rode the elevator up, so she can't be far away. The hunt begins.
—-
In the bathroom, Heidi pulls a tank top over her head. That's about the time she hears the window shatter.
Spica jumps off the bed and then directly under it in two easy cat-like maneuvers. She's not going to have anything to do with this. No way! Probably for the best, considering humans are weird and unpredictable at the best of times.
A delicate hand reaches for the waistline of the jeans she's still wearing, fingers trailing over the revolver that Jack gave her not so long ago. It's loaded now; since earlier in the day when Peter took her to the firing range, she's kept it ready to fire if necessary. It makes her feel better having had a basic course on gun safety, and even though she probably could have figured out how to shoot it on her own, she now has a security blanket.
Unfortunately, she has no idea what she's doing. Her first reaction is panic. Wild blue eyes look toward the door of the bathroom. Open! Why would she close it if she's alone in here? Quickly, she slams it shut, hiding herself inside. Pressing herself against it, she finally draws the firearm. Okay, time to think for a minute, before she runs out into god knows what.
—-
Doorslam. Heidi's first mistake is letting Jack know exactly where in the apartment she is. Moving with quick, surgical precision, he draws a silencer from his utility belt and fits it to the end of his firearm. Then, from another pocket, he digs out a square of blueprint that shows an accurate representation of the room's layout, down to the last light fixture and faucet.
The pistol is aimed and carefully lined up. He doesn't move closer. For this, he hardly needs to. He squeezes off seven rounds in quick succession, each barely louder than a muffled cough. The all slam through drywall, tile, and find their way into the lavatory. When he's finished, he drops his empty clip, inserts a fresh one, and slams a round into the chamber. When he finally approaches, it's not from the doorway. Instead, he heads for the wall that seperates he and Heidi, keeping his body pressed close to it.
—-
Breaking point, boiling point, call it what you will. Heidi's starting to simmer, and instead of going crazy - which she could have very easily done, but, no, she's survived kids. It would take a nuclear bomb to offset that balance - she's suddenly possessed of a eerily quiet clairity that seems to dictate every move she makes next, in calm, rapid succession. Thankfully, she was already seated against the door, so as soon as bullets start to pierce through it, she flattens herself against the tile on her back, closing her eyes as the rain of tile and mirror and drywall fall on top of her. Reaching over with her foot, she kicks over her suitcase. Thud.
Perhaps Jack hit something. Perhaps he killed her.
Narrowing her eyes, she pulls the hammer back on the revolver, aiming it at the door. She knows now… She shouldn't have gone after Logan like she did. He's just getting revenge now. Always a quick study, Heidi files this information away for later - if there is a later, and waits.
—-
On the other side of the wall, Jack's doing anything but waiting. He's produced yet another toy from his utility belt. This one is a flat, metallic disc. His blueprint is consulted again, then he presses the self-adhering disc to the wall. A simple button-push starts a ten-second countdown.
4… 3… 2… Jack shields his eyes with one forearm when the breaching charge goes off, blowing a man-sized entryway between the two rooms. Before the dust has cleared, the self-styled commando rushes through the opening with his pistol at the ready. It's time to end this.
Then he sneezes, giving away his position. The combination of drywall, plaster, and powdered tile filtering in through his mask is too much for his already battered respiratory system.
—-
She's intent and focused now, though even Heidi has to be surprised when the charge explodes, and she feels little pieces of wall and other debris biting into her skin. Instinctively, she starts to roll so she can cover her head. She wants to live through this, but there's a moment of doubt when she wonders if maybe it's all over. In that case, Logan's won for sure, and Nathan will never—
…make it—
…back.
"No. No." she tells herself, turning toward the sound of the sneeze and re-aiming the pistol. She's much more conservative with her ammunition at this point, because she only has what's left in the round until - and if - she can get to the lock box where she keeps the rest of it. She fires twice - mostly blindly because of the dust. She's hoping that at this distance, she at least hits something.
—-
When Jack picked out a firearm for Heidi, he picked well. A compact, high-caliber revolver with anti-personnel ammunition.
Right now, he's regretting his careful decision.
One of the bullets sails by him harmlessly. The other tears through his hand and cracks into the grip of his pistol. He doesn't scream or cry out, his grey eyes just widen noticeably as his fingers spasm and he drops the weapon.
Pain. Rage. He can see his own blood. Growling wordlessly, he picks up a twisted shard of tile and launches himself through the opening. At close range, his size and bulk will serve as more of an advantage and less of a target. Mercilessly, he lashes out at Heidi with his improvised knife.
—-
She knows it's going to hurt just a moment before Jack reaches her. The tile digs through her shirt, across her chest, leaving a deep, bloody line behind. Heidi isn't able to hold back the scream of pain and anger that follows as her hand searches the floor for anything she can get her hand on. She dumped the suitcase over, so there must be something— Ah-ha.
She wails on Jack with her hair dryer.
It doesn't occur to her right away that she still has the revolver in her hand. That probably would have been a lot better to use as a blunt instrument; the hair dryer is made out of plastic. Still, that could be a blessing in disguise for Jack, because this means his skull isn't going to end up crushed. After all, she's aiming for his head.
—-
The impact is near-deafening, like the sound of wood being split by an axe. It's instinct that saves him in the end. Unable to avoid the blow, he turns his head into it, taking it on the top of his skull rather than his face or temple. "Oh God…" he groans as he sags backward. Two hefty injuries in ten seconds are quickly taking a toll. He's hurt, but he's not out. Listing to the side slightly, he keeps his bloodied, useless right hand clutched to his chest as he makes a final, desperate rush at Heidi. His mask has been torn away, but only partly. Just enough to expose the wide, freshly-bloodied bandage across the bridge of his nose.
There are no expensive weapons when he attacks. No tactics. No plan. Just simple, applied brute strength. He lashes out with fists, feet, elbows, knees, and every other implement he can come across.
—-
It's probably Jack's haphazard onslaught that really allows her to escape from it. Not completely - she takes a couple punches, and she's not exactly sure where, because her whole body hurts at the moment, and she's sure she can hear some of those half-healed ribs creaking under the strain. It certainly hurts enough for them to be re-broken.
She has another weapon at her disposal, though, something she hadn't even considered before, that's been on her the whole time. It's like an accessory - something she's grown quite used to in the past couple weeks, and as Heidi crawls away from Jack, she aims a punch at his shoulder - with her cast.
The voice sounds familiar, but she can't place where she's heard it before. She just knows that it's someone she knows. A little thought would lead her to the obvious - and correct - conclusion, but she's still hesitant to believe that he could be a killer. An addict, yes, but not a killer! For the moment, she puts Jack's name out of her mind.
—-
The vibrations that run down Jack's arm and into his wounded hand are enough to make him wince and cringe away from the blow. He scrambles back a few steps and reaches up to fix his balaclava back in place. Time to re-evaluate this situation.
He circles Heidi warily, like a wild wolf with a cornered fawn. There's a snarl on his face that's only visible in his eyes. "You," he mutters darkly, "are resilient prey."
It's time to level the playing field. Jack pulls a slim injector filled with thick, purple fluid from his belt and jabs it into his arm. There's an audible hiss as the pneumatic action forces chemicals into his bloodstream.
The effect is near-instantaneous. The injector is dropped carelessly to the floor and kicked aside as painkillers and stimulants flood Jack's system. Though the muscles and bones are still just as shattered as they were a moment ago, he flexes his bloodied hand and stoops to pick up another shard of tile. "If you lie still, it will hurt less," he promises. Then, once again, he tries to kill his best friend's wife.
—-
Yeah. Yeah, she knows who it is, and the look on her face is indescribably. Betrayed, cornered, distraught. There's not much room for the 'pissed off' expression, but that's all in her eyes as she stares up at Jack, as he injects… If there was any doubt before, she knows now that it's Nathan's best friend, and Logan's lapdog. It kills her to see him like this, and for a moment, there's a sense of peace - she doesn't want to destroy these people. She wants to set things right.
So she lets Jack hit her. Her arm raises in an almost futile attempt as self defense, but it seems to be too little and too late. Struck again in the chest with the tile, she only has a couple seconds to gasp before her back hits the wall—
God. Damn. That hurt.
There's a couple breaths that pass the time in a span of a few seconds. Her mind is racing, trying to come up with something she can do, but when her eyes turn upward to look at Jack, they abruptly grow dull and staring. The panicked rise and fall of her chest ceases.
Mission accomplished, Jack.
—-
In contrast to Heidi's still form, Jack is breathing heavily. He staggers to his feet and surveys his work from a distance. Done. Now, fueled only by his drugs, he makes his way back to the window. His escape route is a second rappel line fastened to the balcony railing. Though it's only a few stories down, it seems like a much greater distance in his condition.
As soon as he hits the street, he climbs into a waiting, running vehicle and drives off. Time to make a phone call.
Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace;
And glut thy self with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more then what is false and vain,
And meerly mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.
For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd,
And last of all, thy greedy self consum'd,
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss;
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,
When every thing that is sincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine
About the supreme Throne
Of him, t'whose happy-making sight alone,
When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall clime,
Then all this Earthy grosnes quit,
Attir'd with Stars, we shall for ever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.
On Time, by John Milton