On Every Street: Chapter 10: Heavy Fuel

I had this one more or less done last night, but added a note to “ADD MORE OGHREN” because Heavy Fuel is basically Oghren’s theme song. I’ve been told Dire Straits wrote it for their roadie, but look how well it works for this lunatic. So: enjoy The Oghren Chapter, now with 50% more Oghren.

Chapter 9: Fade to Black

 

Chapter 10: Heavy Fuel

Last time I was sober, man I felt bad
Worst hangover that I ever had
It took six hamburgers and scotch all night
Nicotine for breakfast just to put me right
’cause if you wanna run cool
If you wanna run cool
If you wanna run cool, you got to run
On heavy, heavy fuel
Heavy, heavy fuel
Heavy, heavy fuel

My life makes perfect sense
Lust and food and violence
Sex and money are the major kicks
Get me in a fight I like dirty tricks
’cause if you wanna run cool
Yes if you wanna run cool, you got to run
On heavy, heavy fuel
Heavy, heavy fuel
Heavy, heavy fuel

My chick loves a man who’s strong
The things she’ll do to turn me on
I love the babes, don’t get me wrong
Hey, that’s why I wrote this song

I don’t care if my liver is hanging by a thread
Don’t care if my doctor says I ought to be dead
When my ugly big car won’t climb this hill
I’ll write a suicide note on a hundred dollar bill
’cause if you wanna run cool
If you wanna run cool
Yes if you wanna run cool, you got to run
On heavy, heavy fuel
Heavy, heavy fuel
Heavy, heavy fuel

She awoke, head aching with hangover and a goose egg on the back of her skull. She tried to move and couldn’t, tied to a wooden chair with her arms behind her. It was excessively uncomfortable, and so was the bright light shining in her bleary eyes.
How long had she been out? Quite a long time, from the feel and look of things. She shouldn’t have been out so long, unless… the incapacitation had helped her fall asleep? She didn’t feel like she’d been drugged…
Now, who was it who had captured her? And could she keep her muddled wits about her enough to escape? The one thing she absolutely had to stick to was to tell them nothing.
“What did you do with the documents?” came a growling voice out of the shadows. He was attempting to sound menacing, and he might have succeeded, if she hadn’t recognized that nasal drone.
“Rendon Howe,” she mumbled, her head swaying as she squinted against the light. Voices echoed strangely here, like she was in a very large space.
“You transparent little fool. I should have known something was up the moment I saw you and heard your ridiculous story. You distracted Nathaniel while your cohort broke into my safe, didn’t you? I know what you did. You can hide nothing from me.”
So Nathaniel hadn’t cracked. Good. She still wasn’t going to tell him anything.
She wasn’t prepared for the riding crop that slashed across her cheek, and she cried out.
“You didn’t have a warrant, did you? You had nothing to go on other than a lucky guess, so you came to steal it like a common thief, disguised as a tart. I wouldn’t have thought someone of your parentage and breeding could fall so far, but you were always pretending to be just like the rabble. Your parents should be ashamed of you. They will be ashamed of you, when they learn what you have done. And an officer of the law, no less.”
Elizabeth grunted noncommittally, but inside her anxiety was growing. Not that Howe would force some kind of confession from her, no, or publicly humiliate her, and while his words stung, she kept them on the outside, away from her heart. But that he wouldn’t need a confession. He was rich and powerful, after all, not as powerful as Mrs. Theirin or Mac Tyr or even her father, but still powerful enough that he could slander her with truth or lies and no one would go against him.
Another slap against her other cheek, snapping her head back around the other way. “You will tell me what you did with the documents.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elizabeth mumbled.
A sigh from beyond the light. “So you wish to make this difficult. I would have spared you more physical discomfort if you had only cooperated. But… have it as you will.”
She was only barely prepared for a thug to step out beside her and grab her by her long braided brown hair, yanking her head back uncomfortably far. She heard the ‘snick’ of a switchblade and for a moment she panicked, worried about her exposed throat, then realized that wasn’t what they wanted.
“You’re fond of your hair, aren’t you?”
“Oh no, my hair,” she said flatly, sarcastically. She was not often sarcastic, and it was probably not the best course of action, but really? That was their first method of torture? A slight tug, and the braid from the right side of her head fell to the floor, and the hair around the right side of her head sprang free.
“Leave the other side,” Howe ordered. Yes, looking ridiculous in an interrogation was the most of her concerns. This small embarrassment would gain them nothing.
Sarcasm left her when the thug punched her in the stomach, then in the face. As she reeled back to an upright position, she checked her teeth with her tongue. They were all still there… for now.
But truth was worth a few missing teeth.
Was the truth worth her life?
Her lip had been split and blood was beginning to trickle down her chin. The man punched her again, in the ribs and face, harder and harder as she resisted the reflex to cry out.
“Tell me what you did with my documents!”
“Go to hell!” Elizabeth screamed through her bleeding mouth, bleeding nose. Her hangover was throbbing and her left eye was beginning to swell. Her sides ached with a sharp pang when she breathed, and she was breathing fast and hard now through clenched teeth.
“I can’t release you until you tell me, Elizabeth.”
“Even if I did know something, and told you, or made something up just to make the beating stop, even if you found these mysterious documents without me, you’d never let me go,” Elizabeth growled back. “You’d kill me first. And you wouldn’t be sneaky about it like you were with Theirin.”
For the first time, Howe stepped into the light, tall and arrogant and sneering at her. “You’re right. I would just have Barton and Clements shoot you and dump your body in a ditch, another victim of the high-risk law-enforcement life. Exactly why a woman should never have gotten involved in policework.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes as well as she could. She’d had a stellar record up until this case and it wasn’t because of or in spite of her gender.
How shrugged. “This is a lose-lose situation for you, my dear. Either you give me the location of the document and I give you a swift and painless end, or you will stay locked away forever. You will never see anyone you love ever again. Even if somehow I am convicted of poor Cailan’s murder, no one will ever find you. You’ll be forgotten, lost, cold, and alone, forever.” With every adjective, he came a step closer, until her was right in her face.
“How dramatic,” she muttered. Even if she’d been crooked enough to bend her principals, he wasn’t giving her much incentive to confess.
“That Cousland spirit still giving you defiance, I see. You’ll be cured of that soon enough.” He stepped back out of the light, and the other man stepped forward again.
And stopped and turned, staring slackjawed into the darkness, as the ‘ratatatatatat’ of a Thompson submachine gun peppered the air in the distance. And another. And a shotgun. And a gutteral roar from a man, probably a dwarf. What was going on?
And now the sounds of screaming. She heard Howe turn and run. From the way the sound was echoing… was she in a warehouse? She still couldn’t see outside the circle of light, certainly not with her eye as it was… The man standing over her flinched and turned to run as well – and was shot in the head, falling without a sound at her feet.
She didn’t scream. She’d seen worse. But the accuracy of that shot…
Familiar figures appeared in the light from around a dark corner, running towards her. The shortest, Oghren Kondrat by the looks of it, spun round, firing wildly behind them at things she couldn’t see, still roaring incoherently. The tallest figure, Sten Hildreth, ran past her with his shotgun, peering into the darkness for more targets.
And the other two… “Alistair! Z-Zevran…”
“Elizabeth!” Alistair yelled, running up to her. “We’ll get you out in just a second, sit tight. Oh, they hurt you bad, I’m sorry we didn’t get here sooner!”
“I’m just glad you arrived when you did.” Zevran’s knife was making quick work of her bonds, and Alistair pulled her to her feet, breathlessly hugging her.
Why was Zevran here? She wanted to hug him too, but… “Time to move!” Zevran called to the other two, laughing, and they half-escorted, half-dragged her through stacks of crates, past broken bodies in pools of blood, and to a door to the outside.

They reconvened at Hildreth’s place, which was fairly swank due to his former job, but spartan in furnishing. Elizabeth was certain she had broken ribs, as she’d been in a great deal of pain on the way to this place, and now sat very straight and still, breathing as slowly as she could with a towelful of ice pressed against them. And she probably couldn’t smoke until they were healed. Damn.
Meanwhile, Sten was slumped in a lounge chair across the living room, watching them impassively. Oghren walked around the apartment, caressing his Tommy gun. He reeked of alcohol and she wondered how he’d hit anything back there, and thanked the Maker that Hildreth had been the getaway driver.
Alistair was sitting as close to her as was humanly possible and glaring at Zevran, who was dabbing at her face with a wet cloth, unperturbed by Alistair’s disapproval. She was sure there was plenty of blood and dirt on her face, not to mention the fresh bruising. And her hair was still a metre longer on one side of her head. She must look an awful sight. At least her hangover was going down, aided by water and strong painkillers. But that was secondary. She was about to asked about her primary concern when Oghren finished his inspection of the apartment and walked up to her, carrying a flask. He offered it to her and she raised a hand in negative. His drinks were always too strong for her taste. “Hoo boy, Eliza, glad we could save your chips this time.”
“I’m very grateful, Oghren,” she said, trying not to flinch from the alcohol fumes. “I’m grateful that all of you came to rescue me.”
Oghren puffed up his chest and snickered. “That was the most fun I’ve had in ages! You get in trouble again, I’m your man, Eliza. Don’t bother with these skinny little popgun-slingers.”
“Hey!” Alistair said, while Zevran grinned.
“What? You are! You need a real gun, Theirin.” He patted his submachine gun. “Something that can actually fire multiple times.”
Alistair pulled out his pistol and looked at it. “As far as I can tell, this fires multiple times,” he said dryly.
“Nah, six, seven bullets and you’re done. I’ve got like 70 in here.”
“And you use them all at once and then you’re done!”
“Nah. Got more in my coat. I’m no fool, Theirin. Don’t blow my load in the first minute. Well, sometimes I do, but I can go allllll night. That’s why the ladies love me, see?”
“Because you cause carnage and destruction whenever you get that gun out? I’m just glad we haven’t had to pull you in for wonton chaos yet.” Zevran was grinning from ear to ear, and even Elizabeth was about ready to facepalm at Alistair’s denseness.
“Yeah, genital destruction,” Oghren said, and giggled.
Alistair blinked, frowned in horror, and turned bright red. “That’s disgusting. I think I preferred you as a morose drunk.”
“I’m still a morose drunk, Theirin.”
“If I may interject,” Elizabeth put in, “is it still safe?”
“Unless Howe launched a bank robbery since yesterday, and I’d think the entire force would be turned out for that,” Alistair said.
“Unless he was being clever,” Zevran said impishly. “But I think his cleverness has run out. He’s desperate. He’s not even trying anymore.”
“How did you find me?” she asked quietly.
“Oh, Mrs. Theirin called!” Alistair said, perking up like a puppy.
“She called HQ!?” Why hadn’t Duncan responded and not a pick-up band of mercenaries?
“No, no, she called me personally.”
“Then why are you still in your uniform!? You’re going to get suspended for – for unlawful entry, shooting all those people, in Warden uniform while off duty…”
“For the record, I only shot one person, and he was shooting at us,” Alistair said, pouting. “The others did the rest. And is it unlawful entry when you got unlawfully kidnapped and tortured!? Who cares what I’m wearing?”
He had a bit of a point there, so she shut up. Zevran was chuckling again, but there was a slight frown between his brows that said he agreed with Alistair and then some. “It’s not murder if it’s a rescue, no? Don’t you police love your breach-and-clear routines? Saving hostages?”
“That’s more the military,” she said, and Zevran shrugged.
“Anyway, as I was saying,” Alistair went on, recovering his cheer, “she called me like the moment I got home, and told me that you’d been kidnapped, and I of course asked how she knew that, and it turns out she hasn’t been too trustful of Howe or her father recently either, not that I blame her. So she had people watching his people, and when they came for you, she was ready. I was going to go save you myself, but she suggested that I go get Hildreth, offer it as a chance to regain his honour.”
“Which I am grateful for,” Hildreth rumbled. “I will no longer spend my days as a useless drunkard but in service to Anora Theirin. If she has need of me.”
“And Oghren was of course also at the Gnawed Noble and needed to come along, and I wasn’t going to say no.”
“Cause I’d have shot you if you did,” Oghren said, and cackled. He… probably didn’t mean it.
“And how did you know?” she asked Zevran, who had finished his ministrations to her face and was sitting back on his heels.
“Ah, I was with Mrs. Theirin at the time. I joined up with the rest of your boys along the way. But I don’t think your partner likes me very much, Liz dear.”
“Don’t call me Liz,” she said automatically, and he smirked.
“May I do something about your hair?”
“What? What are you going to do to my hair?”
“It’s the tiniest bit uneven right now.” He smiled at her, even white teeth shining in his tanned face, and Alistair snerked to himself. At least someone appreciated Arainai’s humour.
“Fine,” she sighed. “You can’t make me look worse.”
“You wound me, mi amor. Officer Theirin, if you’d back away slightly from our precious Liz, you’re blocking the light.”
This wasn’t the time for a heart-to-heart. To tell him she’d been so afraid she’d never see him again, either from being dead, or from him being dead, or from Taliesin’s charms winning him over completely. She wanted to put her arms around him and feel him hold her safe and warm.
She was losing it. She’d only kissed him twice. “What’s the plan?”
But that didn’t mean she was crazy. She felt his fingers brush the back of her neck as he cut her other braid, then begin evening the ends, and shivered. And she knew he felt it. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t show in his voice. “We rest tonight, and go tomorrow to give the evidence you found to your boss. Although I think it’s hardly needed now. After that… it should not be too long until a trial, yes?”
“But what can be proven of tonight’s insanity?” she asked. “Even if all of you are witnesses, Howe is sure to denounce you as liars making things up to protect me. If he’s the least bit smart, he’ll have the warehouse cleaned tonight, everything from bullet holes to bloodstains to the hair I left there. Mrs. Theirin’s witnesses will back us up, hopefully, but…”
“But just look at you!” Alistair said. “You’re going to have a black eye and a broken nose and a cut lip and whip marks, not to mention the ribs.”
“I didn’t have to acquire those injuries at the hands of his thugs. No, the only concrete, irrefutable evidence we have is that contract. And to present that, I need Nathaniel Howe to cooperate… and I don’t know if he will, officer-in-training or no, because he still looks up to his father.”
“Leave that to me,” Oghren suggested, hefting his gun.
“No, Oghren, please,” she said, raising a hand. “You’ve helped me immensely, and I’m grateful – to all of you,” she added. “But I think you’d scare him off first.”
“Aww.”
“Just tell the court what you witnessed tonight,” she told him sweetly.
“And hope they believe him,” Alistair muttered.
She looked up at Zevran. “What will the Crows do now? What happened to Taliesin?”
His expression only flickered a little. “Dead. And the Crows will not do anything right now. Rendon Howe hired them, and between him and me, we’ve done a great deal to get them noticed a bit too much for their liking. Him, they will be displeased with, but they will probably not touch, especially if he ends up in jail. Me…” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I will probably have to leave the country, even if you succeed in your efforts to grant me a protected status.”
“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice.
“Don’t be.” And he sounded so matter of fact, she had to believe him. “I thought it might go this way, if I even survived this long. It will still be freedom, just not in Ferelden.” Then he smirked and winked. “Though freedom will be far less enjoyable without your sexy detectiving in it.”
“Zevran Arainai!”
“Yeah, that was uncalled for!” Alistair said.
Zevran threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Ahahaha! I am glad you are alive to get mad at me.”
Unexpectedly, she laughed too. “Me too. I owe you. Don’t get killed before the trial, all right?”
“You, too.”

 

Chapter 11: Iron Hand

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