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Episode 139 |
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“Fry,
don’t be a hero! It’s not covered by the health plan!” Hermes Conrad, Futurama The three men in black trench coats walked down the
street. Alan was in front, his head held high as he
walked. The coat swayed at his knees,
his red shirt standing out against the rest of his attire. Behind him and just a few steps back, Alex
and Eliot walked to either side. Their
hands in their trench coat pockets, they both glanced about, their earpieces
occasionally catching the light of the mid-afternoon sun. Alan turned the corner of a shop, coming to a small
park. He glanced at Eliot and
smiled. “You guys are going to love
this.” The park was a giant square of
green, with a line of trees running along its perimeter, creating a thick
fence of green leaves. In the center,
two stone fountains with metal statues in the center paired off, with stone
walkways connecting each fountain to each other and the three nearest sides. Alan approached the closer of the two fountains, Eliot
and Alex unconsciously falling back. The
knight bounded up onto the lip of the fountain, mindless of the handful of
patrons in the park. He got a quick
stepping-jump and leapt onto the fountain itself, positioning himself on the
first of three layers. As the water
poured down around his feet, he began to rummage around on the second level. “What the hell’s he doing?” Eliot groaned. “I’ve got to think he’s got some kind of container
hidden in there,” Alex said quietly, keeping on eye on the surroundings. “Something magical that other people
wouldn’t be able to detected. That or
some air-tight container that water could never…” Alan held up an over-sized Gladlock bag. “Alex,” Eliot said. “Yeah,” Alex said, sharing Eliot’s astonished look. “I want you to shoot me.” Alex sighed.
“Then who would be around to shoot me?” Alan hopped off the fountain, carrying the bag with
him. Inside, a large hardback book the
size of a car’s hubcap stood out. Its
blue cover was reflected in the water that covered the bag. “Here you are, boys,” Alan said, undoing
the bag’s lock. “The Fourth book of
Alan Ivers.” “You hid it in a zip-lock bag, in a public fountain,”
Eliot said, staring at the book. “Glad-lock, not zip-lock,” Alan corrected. He held the bag towards Eliot. “Yellow plus blue makes green.” “Alex, I think I’m going to cry,” Eliot said, frozen. Alex turned the book over, staring at the back
cover. “This definitely looks
legit.” He looked up at Alan. “This is the real book?” he asked. “That’s the book I promised you,” Alan said simply. Alex sighed, turning the book back over. He looked up at Alan, but his eyes moved
past him to a man in black body armor rushing towards them, a machine gun
held ready. “Obtenez
vers le bas sur la terre!” the man yelled. Alex whirled around to see more
men closing in, a tight circle of special police operatives rushing at
them. Six men closed in, surrounding
the three. Screams and shouts echoed
through the park as the civilians ran, instantly leaving the nine men alone. “Obtenez vers le bas sur la
terre!” one of the men yelled, standing in a circle. “What’s he saying?” Alan asked
over the repeated shout. “He wants us to get on the
ground,” Alex said, his hands slowly rising away from him, Eliot doing the
same. Alan stood still, slowly taking
in the six men. “Obtenez vers le bas sur la
terre!” “Alan,” Alex warned as the men
held their guns ready. “Obtenez vers…!” In a flash, Alan punched one of
the men in the throat. The blow landed
between his protective jacket and his helmet, connecting to bare flesh. The telltale sound of cracking bones
instantly startled the other men.
There was a quiet pop and the operative directly behind Alex’s helmet
ruptured to the side. His body was
thrown to the ground by the force of the shot. Alex moved to the man to his
right, tackling him in the stomach and knocking him to the ground. Eliot turned and grabbed another
operative’s gun, shoving him off balance.
Alan grabbed the gun of the man on his left while kicking the man on
the right in the side of the knee. His
leg buckled and he fell, giving Alan time to chop the first man in the
throat, eliciting the same sound. Alex and the operative fell to the
ground. Alex rose up to punch him, but
the man’s head shattered inward as another pop rushed through the air. Next to him, the operative had shoved back
against Eliot and caught him in the side with the butt of his machine
gun. Alan chopped the kneeling
operative in the back of the neck, then grabbed his helmet as the man tried
to double over. With a fast yank, he
pulled him off his knees and shoved him backwards to the ground. The man collapsed, unconscious. As Alex turned to see Eliot, the
operative was moving to slam the butt of his gun into Eliot’s face. But as he did, Alan stepped in, kicking the
man’s gun in mid-thrust, then rebounding off the impact to kick the man in
the stomach. As he stumbled back, Alan
lunged in, kneeling forward in a stylized stance to punch the man in the
stomach underneath his armed vest. His
body collapsed as he gasped for breath. Eliot stumbled back from Alan, his
eyes wide with shock. But Alex bent
over, grabbing Eliot up by the shoulders.
“Come on,” he said quickly. He
glanced into the distance over the trees at the buildings on the far side of
the street, able to pick out Isaiah grabbing up his rifle. “We’ve got to go.” Alan saw them moving to run. “Shouldn’t we, like, get the guns or
something?” he asked, moving to run after them. “No!” Eliot and Alex yelled, both
breaking into a full sprint. The three ran for the tree line, skidding to a halt as
they saw police cars swarming down the street. “Damn it,” Alex cursed. He glanced around, seeing a sewer cap on
the street in front of them. “Come
on,” he said, slapping Eliot on the shoulder.
The two dropped down over the manhole cover, working their fingers
around inside it. They started to
lift, gaining no ground. Alan lowered
down with them and started to pull, the cover lifting up. They flipped it over as the first car skidded to a
halt. “Alan,” Alex yelled, handing him
the book. Alan stepped over the hole,
dropping down inside like he was diving into water. “Go!” he yelled to Eliot, the police
getting out. Eliot started to climb,
but Alex kicked his hand, causing him to fall. He landed on Alan and Alex dropped down as
the police lunged to catch him. The three fell back as several officers fired shots
down into the sewer. “Come on,” Alex
said quickly, panting. Bent over in
the narrow sewer tube, he started to shamble down the path, moving up-stream
from the manhole cover. The mildewed
walls were slick with poisonous water and unending mold. They quickly came to a junction and Alex looked
around. “I know where we are,” he
realized. He looked to the left, then
to the right. “Come on,” he said,
rushing further into the darkness.
Eliot stopped at the intersection with Alan, flipping on a tiny light
built into his earpiece. The subtle
illumination was profound in the dark crawl space as they went chasing after
Alex. Alex came to a sudden drop off the fell down into
darkness. He looked around the edge of
the tunnel, switching on his own light.
He reached into his pocket, producing a flashlight. He shined it around the area, finding a
metal ladder less than a foot across just to his right. In the distance, as Eliot and Alan joined him, they
could hear footsteps and shouts of French police over the constant motion of
water. “Alex,” Eliot said in a hushed
shout. “We’ve got to get out of
here. They’re going to catch us.” “No they won’t,” Alex said, swinging out onto the
ladder. “I’ve got a friend down here.” He began to climb down.
Eliot looked at Alan, then muttered to himself as he got out onto the
ladder as well. Alan looked down into
the darkness, swallowing hard. He
glanced at the slimy ladder, then got onto it. Two levels down, Alex swung into a giant opening. Half again his height, he stopped as the
ankle-deep sewage washed passed him. He moved as Eliot stepped inside, then
Alan. “We’re close,” he said. He reached out and banged on the concrete
tube, his flashlight’s influence disappearing quickly. Alex banged on the tube, then stopped,
listening. “What’s going on?” Eliot whispered. Alex waited for a moment, then drew out his
pistol. He flicked off his flashlight,
then his earpiece light and turned on the laser sight of his gun. It shown into the distance, its line
reflected in the filthy air, and disappeared into the darkness. “Light,” he whispered to Eliot. Grudgingly, Eliot turned off his earpiece
light. As soon as he did, the laser sight’s red dot was only a
few feet in front of Alex. Eliot and Alan both jumped back, but Alex held his
ground, the gun ready. “Nous sommes suivis,” he said quietly. “What’d he say?” Alan whispered to Eliot. “We’re being followed,” he translated. “<I need you to protect us,>” Alan said to the
form before him, “<and get us back to our above-water home.>” There was silence. The water flowing past the three was
disrupted by the figure standing in front of Alex. “You owe me,” Alex said in English. “<Come with me,>” came a sickly voice and the
sound of three feet followed by a tail splashing in the water. |
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