PAT2013 – 04 Mordred x Driver by Blackford
Pair-A-Thon 2013 Entry
The Ties That Bind
by ~Blackford
Ainsley Driver was sitting on her bed poring over an old family photo album. An effervescent smile curled over her face as she looked at several pictures showing her father Alistair playing with her when she was a little girl. Driver loved these memories. Her dad was one of her principal heroes, and he had given her such a fun childhood. The two of them had shared lots of great pastimes over the years—camping, fishing, traveling, throwing around the football, and so on. Alistair had even taught his daughter some of his famous assassin’s techniques. He was, after all, one of the most accomplished assassins in the world, and he was a respected member of the Garrott family’s stable of hired guns. Earning such a status was quite an honor in his line of work, and Driver was certainly proud of her dad.
Driver was giddy as she skimmed over the photos in the album, grinning as she examined a picture in which her father was teaching her how to swing a baseball bat when she was five years old. The picture directly next to it showed him actually tossing a baseball to her as she held her bat at the ready. Yay for wonderful childhood memories, she thought delightedly. Ain’t nothing can top good ol’ daddy-daughter activities.
And there she was in a canoe with her dad holding a fishing rod. And there they were bringing home a deer from a hunting trip. And there was the time that Alistair accidentally startled a skunk while the two of them were hiking through Yellowstone National Park. Driver laughed and laughed when she recalled her dad’s apoplectic expression during that particular incident. Took us forever to get rid o’ that skunk stench, she thought. We laugh about it now, but man! It wasn’t too fun at the time!
A few other photos showed Alistair demonstrating some of his assassin’s skills to Driver, such as the way he used his blades against his victims. Driver chuckled as she realized that she had had quite a unique childhood in that regard. How many other girls could boast that their fathers had shown them the finer points of knocking off an unsuspecting target?
Still, having this lineage could be somewhat intimidating as well. Driver’s respect for her father’s accomplishments was such that she doubted that she could ever measure up to them. Because of Alistair’s impressive record as an outlaw, Driver knew that she had large shoes to fill. Although Driver was proud to be where she was, she still felt uncomfortable knowing that her own record in the Garrott family business was hardly unique. She had never done anything big enough make her stand out in the outlaw culture of Arthur Garrott Sr.’s vast criminal empire. In fact, many of her early attempts at criminality had ended in laughable failure.
Driver sighed as she recalled the many times she and Mordred had failed at simple run-of-the-mill crimes such as robbing banks and holding up bookstores. The two of them hadn’t exactly distinguished themselves in villainy; in one way or another, she and Mordred simply didn’t seem to be cut out for a life of active evil. Mordred mostly just wanted to be left alone, and as for Driver herself…well, she was more interested in just having fun and enjoying life. There were plenty of things to do in life other than committing crimes and persecuting people, and Driver just couldn’t help wanting to focus on those things first. One of these things was romance, and Driver had always held up Mordred as the primary focus of all her amorous feelings. Ever since they started out as friends from childhood, Driver had gradually developed a keen infatuation with the black-sheep son of the Garrott household.
True, Mordred wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. His self-centeredness could be exasperating, and his manners were less than immaculate when he was in a bad mood. But Driver couldn’t help herself; she had grown to adore him, flaws and all. In many ways, she and Mordred were actually quite well-matched as companions. They both deviated somewhat from the norm in their respective families because of their eccentric personality traits. At the same time, they were both extremely accepting and tolerant of each other; neither one of them made excessive demands on the other, and the two of them took each other’s quirks for granted. The chemistry between the two lifelong friends allowed Driver and Mordred enjoy a very pleasant companionship even during moments when they were at odds.
Still, Driver frequently wished that Mordred would be a little more romantic. She was certainly drawn to him, but Mordred was ambivalent at best. You could never tell how he would react to affection; he had to be in a reasonably decent mood in order to accept it, and he would reject any signs of affection he considered too mushy or smothering. Driver had always tried to create a nice middle ground, but it was tricky. Mordred had a highly particular view of what he would and would not embrace.
Driver knew something else about Mordred, too. Like her, he desired to become something greater than he was, even though he rarely admitted it in so many words. Despite his apathetic nature, Mordred craved the feeling of being in control, and he expressed this desire in his declarations that he would someday rule the world. These boasts were, of course, mostly idle self-indulgence and harebrained fantasies, but Driver knew that Mordred simply wanted to gain respect—the kind of respect that his father and mother enjoyed as the heads of a powerful underworld empire. Driver understood this because she too wanted that kind of respect. Her father commanded such esteem, and she wanted it as well.
Even though Mordred usually would not openly concede his hidden desire to live up to his family’s name, Driver could tell that he felt this way anyhow. They both wanted to do something worthy of their families’ reputations. Driver decided it was time to bring it up with Mordred. At the same time, she could use the moment to get a little closer to him—something she would not mind in the least.
* * * *
Driver found Mordred reclining on the sofa engrossed in a romance novel. She planted herself next to him and snuggled close as he kept reading. Mordred barely reacted at first.
“Hey Chief, if you’re so into romance stories, how about experiencing the real thing for a change?” she said. “I think it’s kinda cozy with just the two of us here so close together.”
Driver gently rubbed her hands across Mordred’s shoulders as she spoke. Mordred didn’t pull away from her, but he did roll his eyes and let out a frustrated groan.
“All I can see is that you’re crowding me,” he muttered. “Can’t you respect a guy’s personal space and sit in another chair?”
“I ain’t crowdin’ ya, man,” Driver drawled with a hint of flirtation. “I’m just comin’ onto ya. There’s a difference. A girl can’t help what she does when there’s someone as cute as you in the room.”
“Oh, now you’re pushing your luck, Driver,” Mordred said. “Do you even know how ridiculous you sound?”
“Oh, don’t give me that, Chief,” Driver said. “You know you like the attention. You just don’t wanna feel like you owe me for it.”
“Well, maybe if you gave me the royal treatment, I’d discover my inner gratitude,” Mordred suggested. “How about you call me ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘Your Magnificence’ from now on? And you can wait on me hand and foot while you’re at it.”
“As charmin’ as that sounds, Chief, I’m gonna have to decline,” Driver replied. “You’ve gotta become a great man before you get treated like greatness. You and I both know that, remember?”
Mordred raised an eyebrow. “You’re referring to the family business, I assume?”
Driver nodded. “We both wanna be good enough to live up to our families’ name. We’ve just never been very successful at it. Maybe we should try changin’ that.”
“Nah, I’m too lazy today,” Mordred said. “Besides, what do I care what the family thinks of me? My parents are who they are, my siblings are who they are, and I’m…well, I’m fine just being me. I don’t have to reengineer myself just to please them.”
“Chief, I never said you should radically change,” Driver protested. “I ain’t never wanted that. I wouldn’t want you to be anyone except who you are, because who you are is who I love. I just think we should try harder to achieve our goals, that’s all.”
Mordred paused as if thinking to himself. “Well, I wouldn’t mind getting a little closer to being king of the world than I am now,” he conceded. “Currently, I’m not even a little bit close.”
“Right, we’re both fallin’ short of where we’d like to be,” Driver said. “But we could work together to fix that. And I’ll tell ya right now, I’d much rather be doin’ it as a team than by myself.” She again leaned close to Mordred and stroked his shoulder.
Despite himself, Mordred felt flattered, so he kept listening. “What did you have in mind?” he inquired.
“I got to thinking that we always failed at criminal acts before because we pushed ourselves too hard before we were ready,” Driver explained. “I’m thinking we should start small and work up. We should start by doing something that doesn’t necessarily require law-breaking but that at least gets our foot in the door. We can do something that builds up our street cred so that we can move on to bigger jobs later on.”
“That might be okay,” Mordred mused. “But what could we do?”
“I’ve got an idea,” Driver said. “There’s an employment agency nearby looking to recruit guards and watchmen. If we can get ourselves get ourselves hired out to some big shot in the criminal underworld, we can do simple stuff like guarding his illegal goods or something. That way, we’ll start to build our credentials. We won’t even have to commit any real crimes because we can always deny later on that we ever knew that our boss was a mobster.”
Mordred shrugged. “It might work. At least I don’t have anything to lose.”
“Alright then! Let’s go get ‘em!” Driver enthused as she dragged Mordred up off the sofa and toward the door. The two of them were headed downtown a minute later.
* * * *
It wasn’t long before Mordred and Driver had entered the employment agency building downtown to apply for guard positions. Unfortunately, it also wasn’t long before they found themselves being escorted back to the front door and shoved out of the building and onto the street. When they looked back, the door had been slammed in their faces.
“Chief, look what you’ve gone and done!” Driver raged. “You just blew our chance at a gig! Why’d you have to act so high and mighty to the recruiter? Calling him a ‘peasant’ and saying all that stuff about not wanting to be hired by anyone beneath yer station! What the hell were you thinking?!”
“Hey, don’t blame me!” Mordred shot back. “If anything, it’s your fault! You obviously scared everyone in the whole agency with that little scene in the lobby. I can’t believe you actually assaulted that clerk and physically beat him up when he mistook you for a guy!”
“Hey, what else was I supposed to do?!” Driver vehemently protested. “When some idiot makes a stupid comment like that, I’ve gotta protect my image! Tha’ varmint got jus’ what was comin’ to ‘im!”
Driver and Mordred paused and looked at each other for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, little by little, their angry expressions disappeared and their faces cracked up with hysterical laughter. They chortled uproariously as they thought about what had just happened, and they hugged each other to try to keep from falling over from all the laughing.
“It is extremely amusing when you think about it,” Mordred chuckled as he tried to control himself. “We were supposed to show that we were tough enough to handle the jobs they had for us, but we gave them a lot more than they requested!”
“Yeah, we really went overboard,” Driver laughed. “I guess they jus’ ain’t ready to handle the stuff we bring to the table!”
They continued hugging as they calmed down from their fit of laughter. Driver looked into Mordred’s eyes as she kept her arms around him.
“It was actually kinda cool to see ya stand yer ground like that,” she whispered. “You didn’t let no one in that place talk down to ya. You might make for a real neat king after all, Chief.”
Mordred smiled. “It is merely one of the prerogatives of a man of my superior breeding and intellect.”
“And don’t let nobody tell ya different,” Driver beamed. They maintained their embrace, and neither felt like letting go.
Finally, Mordred said, “Well, even if things didn’t work out this time, we can always try again. How about we get some lunch in the restaurant across the street and talk things over?”
Driver agreed, and the two of them headed out to lunch.
* * * *
POW!
A bedeviled man, badly bruised and bleeding, fell to the pavement of the alley as a huge, meaty fist struck him in the face for the third time. He then felt himself grabbed roughly by the shirt and held up again as the same fist came down upon him once more.
POW!
The hapless victim felt the cruel force against his cheek again as he plummeted back down to the alley’s floor. Hopelessly dazed, he lay on the ground and gazed up at his assailant, a big, brawny, heavyset man in a brown jacket and wearing a brown flat cap on his head. He had beady eyes and a sneering mouth resembling that of a schoolyard bully. Close behind him stood a dark-haired man wearing a gray jacket and a gray fedora.
The fallen man saw the big bruiser bending toward him again and cried out, “Lyle, stop! Don’t do it! I’ll do anything you want! Anything! Just stop it, please!”
“I dunno why I should, Dave,” the heavy man said. “You’ve been screwin’ with us. You should’ve made your payments on time. It ain’t smart to keep Mr. Moynihan waiting. You think you can hold out on us, huh?”
Lyle’s massive hands clutched Dave by the shirt and yanked him roughly. Dave’s face was as white as a sheet as he felt the grip of those burly fingers, for he had seen what Lyle had done to other unfortunate victims in the past.
“I’d just love to rip you apart limb from limb, Dave,” Lyle said as a sadistic smirk curled over his fleshy face. “And your jaw would make a nice snuff box.”
At that moment, the man in the fedora stepped forward and drew a revolver from his gray jacket. He pointed the weapon downward straight at Dave’s face. Dave found himself staring down the barrel of the gun as he remained on his knees, still trapped in Lyle’s fearsome grasp.
“We’ve been meaning to check up on you, Dave,” the man with the gun said. “Moynihan’s not happy with you.”
“Gerald, believe me, I don’t want to be any trouble to you!” Dave blubbered, sounding more desperate by the second. “I’m sorry I didn’t have the money I owe you guys, but times are tough! I have a furniture store to run, and it’s been hard enough to make ends meet. I just didn’t have enough to pay off Moynihan for the past two weeks.”
“Dave, pal, it’s all about priorities,” Gerald replied. “Your little furniture store is located in Moynihan’s territory. You’re on his terrain. So it’s only fair for you to pay him for the privilege of working in this nice little part of town. And he expects cooperation.”
Gerald then shoved his revolver directly into Dave’s face, and Dave recoiled as though he thought his life would be snuffed out at any second.
“Yeah,” Lyle concurred. “If we don’t see some improvement from you, buddy, there ain’t gonna be no store for you to work in no more. I know you don’t want that.”
“And don’t forget that we’ll make trouble for your wife and kids if we have to,” Gerald said.
“Right before we come back to get you,” Lyle finished with a nasty pull on Dave’s shirt.
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Dave yelped, his voice truly rising now. “You’ve made your point! Just let me go and I’ll never miss a payment again! I promise!”
Gerald turned to Lyle. “Let him go, Lyle. He got the message. We’ve gotta get going anyway. We have a meeting with the boss.”
Lyle smirked and roughly threw Dave to the ground.
“Remember, Dave, you need to pay Moynihan ten percent of your store’s weekly profits,” Gerald said. “That’s our deal. You miss one more payment and you’re dog meat.”
Dave nodded vigorously with a petrified expression on his face. Then he got to his feet and took off down the alley street as fast as he could. As soon as he was gone, Lyle Belknap and Gerald Burke got into their nearby parked car and drove out of the area.
* * * *
Lyle and Gerald eventually arrived at an upscale billiards parlor owned by their boss. They skirted past the pool tables of the outer hall and headed directly for the office area in the very back of the building, closing the door behind them and locking it. They walked into an elaborate office decorated with exotic lamps, paintings and statuettes. Sitting in a large leather chair behind a polished mahogany desk was Cyril Moynihan, underworld mob leader for a significant section of the city. He was a black-haired man with a sharp mustache and wearing a finely pressed navy blue suit.
“Hello, Lyle, Gerald,” he said as he leaned across the large desk. “I’m glad to see you’re prompt today. I trust that you delivered the message to our client in the usual manner?”
Gerald nodded. “He got the message alright.”
“Good,” Moynihan said. “Then I’d like to turn our attention to a special project I’ve been working on. I have been making plans to acquire more territory so that I can expand my empire, and I’ve got my eye set on a tempting prize. The vast criminal empire run by Arthur Garrott Sr. is a gold mine of valuable gambling establishments and entertainment centers used as his fronts to conceal various illegal activities. Basically, I’m going to cut myself a piece of Arthur Garrott’s pie. I intend to seize some of his assets.”
Lyle and Gerald both became visibly disturbed, glancing at each other with uncertain expressions and not quite knowing what to say. Finally, Lyle spoke up.
“But boss, musclin’ in on Garrott’s territory ain’t no picnic in the park,” Lyle said. “That guy’s got power. He could wipe us off the map if he wanted to!”
“Lyle’s right, Cyril,” Gerald chimed in. “It’s too dangerous. Garrott has influence and resources we can’t come close to matching. He’d strike us hard if we ever made him mad. And that entire family of his is a dangerous lot.”
Cyril Moynihan looked disappointed. “Boys, you just don’t have enough vision. You have to remember a key truth: Even the strongest chain can be broken if you find the weakest link. And that’s exactly what I’ve done. We’re going to apprehend the most vulnerable member of the Garrott family and ransom him for a share of the Garrott empire. Take a look, I have his picture right here.”
Cyril reached into a manila folder lying on his desk and pulled out a photograph, setting it down on the desk. It was a photograph of Mordred.
“This is Garrott’s younger son Mordred,” he said. “My spies have gathered a good deal of intelligence on him. Everything we know about this Mordred kid clearly shows that he’s the weakest link in the Garrott chain. He’s never accomplished anything significant, and he’s much too apathetic to pose any threat to us. We can seize him at any time, and his family will give us anything we want to see him come home safely.”
“This whole thing still makes me edgy, Cyril,” Gerald said warily.
“I don’t pay you two to get cold feet,” Moynihan snapped. “I pay you to get results. I want the two of you to track down this Mordred kid and bring him back here as soon as possible. Here, take this dossier on Mordred my spies compiled. It’ll tell you all the places you’re likely to find him. Just make certain he’s here in my office soon.”
Moynihan handed his subordinates the manila folder and then waved them away. Without another word, Gerald and Lyle left the office.
* * * *
Mordred and Driver sat in a restaurant chatting over lunch. They were still chuckling over how they had gotten themselves thrown out of the employment agency.
“Oh well, there’s always another time,” Mordred said smiling. “I don’t think they were good enough for us anyway. One of these days we’ll come across something better. There’s more than one way to make a name for ourselves.”
Driver moved her hand across the table and gently clasped Mordred’s hand. “Yeah, we’ll do somethin’ big and excitin’ someday. The hard part’s knowin’ where to look.”
“Maybe Lackey will find something for us someday,” Mordred mused. “He’s been all over the place. But if he does, it’ll have to be something non-evil, or he won’t even let us get started.”
“True,” Driver said. “Sugar’s good to have around sometimes, but it’s kinda awkward tryin’ to make your way in a community of villains when your roommate’s a genuine superhero.”
“But I have a feeling we’ll be glad he’s around when the time comes,” Mordred said. “No matter how annoying he gets, I must admit that Wiglaf certainly comes through on the important things.”
After lunch, Mordred and Driver exited the restaurant and strolled down the street arm-in-arm. They did not notice the following car in which Lyle Belknap and Gerald Burke were watching them.
“Aha! There he is,” Lyle said. “The boss was right about this area being a hangout for the kid.”
“Yeah, but I’m still not too keen on this whole scheme,” Gerald said. “Messing with the Garrott empire isn’t exactly what I’d call good for our health.”
“Well, we’ve got our orders,” Lyle said. “We’ve gotta go through with it. Just lemme get close enough and I’ll nab the little punk in no time.”
“The girl is still with him,” Gerald observed. “Looks like we’ll have to take her, too.”
As soon as Mordred and Driver walked around a corner, they were shocked when a strange car stopped right in front of them and cut off their route. The two men inside the car jumped out and charged straight at them.
“Get over here, you two!” Lyle hollered. “You’re comin’ with me!”
Driver couldn’t believe what was happening. Who were these jerks? What the hell did they want?
“Mordred, get back!” she shouted. Mordred obeyed, leaping to one side just as Lyle attempted to grab him with his huge hand. When Lyle realized he had missed his target, he found himself suddenly under assault by the Garrott kid’s female compatriot. Driver slammed her fists into Lyle’s gut, doubling him over. As Lyle winced in pain, he tried to grab hold of his attacker, but Driver kept dodging out of the way.
“Come on, big man!” she taunted. “You want us? Jus’ try an’ take us!”
At the same time, Gerald had gone straight for Mordred, planning to end this skirmish quickly by holding the boy at gunpoint. Unfortunately for him, Mordred proved more able to defend himself than most realized. Seeing his would-be attacker reaching into his jacket, Mordred correctly deduced that the guy was going for a gun, so he slammed his arm into Gerald’s chest, causing the revolver to fall from his jacket and skate across the ground.
However, when Mordred and Gerald both dove for the weapon, Gerald got there first and pointed the gun at Mordred. “Okay, kid, you come quietly and things don’t need to get any uglier,” he said.
“Who the hell are you guys?” Mordred snarled. “I should have you horsewhipped for daring to assault someone who is your better.”
“Our boss wants to see you, kid,” Gerald said. “Don’t worry, he’ll take good care of you.”
Lyle was having trouble with Driver, still trying to capture her but instead receiving an occasional punch or kick to the gut. Mordred turned anxiously in her direction to see if she was okay, but as soon as he turned around, Gerald slammed the butt of his revolver into the back of Mordred’s head, knocking him out cold. Mordred collapsed to the ground.
Driver saw this and screamed, “Chief!! No!”
Lyle took advantage of Driver’s distraction and brought his giant fist down hard on the back of her head. Driver fell to the pavement and did not stir.
“Get them in the car!” Gerald shouted. “Hurry up! Let’s get outta here!”
Lyle scooped up the unconscious pair and tossed them into the back of the car. Gerald quickly stepped on the gas, and the car sped away.
* * * *
When Mordred and Driver regained consciousness some time later, they found themselves each tied to a chair in the middle of a strange office room. They immediately recognized their two kidnappers standing nearby, and they also saw a third man—a smartly dressed fellow with a black mustache and smoking a cigarette.
“Well, I see that my guests are finally awake,” Cyril Moynihan said as he puffed on the cigarette. “I trust you’re not too uncomfortable? Good. The two of you will remain where you are while we go about our business.”
Cyril put the cigarette in an ash tray. “Lyle, keep an eye on them while Gerald and I start drafting the ransom note. We need to list all of our demands for Arthur Garrott in exchange for returning his son to him. We’ll be demanding money, properties, territory, etc.”
Now Mordred and Driver understood what was happening. For his part, Mordred appeared remarkably nonchalant, displaying his usual apathetic expression as he sat calmly in his chair. All he did was gaze wryly at the men in the room with a hint of boredom in his eyes.
Driver, on the other hand, looked like a volcano ready to erupt. She leaned forward in her chair with her teeth clenched and her hands clamped into fists. Mordred could hear her breathing hard with seething fury, with each breath resembling a soft growl. Finally, the dam burst.
“Ya dirty, stinkin’ yella-bellied scumbags!!” she shrieked, causing everyone in the room except Mordred to jump from being startled. “Ima gonna roast y’all over a barbecue pit an’ feed yer guts to the garden slugs! Ain’t nobody holdin’ my boyfriend fer ransom! When I get loose, Ima gonna rip out yer lungs an’ then shove ‘em right back down yer throats again!”
Across the room, Cyril Moynihan grew visibly displeased. “Lyle!” he called out. “Please keep our guests under control. We need to concentrate.”
Lyle grabbed Driver’s right shoulder and growled, “You’d better shut up, missy, if ya wanna keep breathin’ a little longer!”
“In yer dreams, deadhead,” Driver hissed.
“My, my, mister,” Mordred commented. “You certainly must have excelled immensely in charm school.”
“Shut yer mouth, kid,” the heavyset man snapped. “The only reason you’re still in one piece is ‘cause the boss wants to get stuff from yer old man.”
Driver turned toward Mordred and whispered, “What do we do now, Chief?”
Mordred smiled at her. “Relax, I’ve got it all figured out. Just watch.”
He looked again at Lyle, who was just standing nearby chewing tobacco and spitting it across the floor. Mordred then started to fidget in his chair.
“Oh, what am I going to do now?” he said in a sorrowful tone of voice, loud enough for Lyle to hear. “I’m stuck here and no one can save me! I might get murdered in this place! And I’m hurting all over!”
“If you don’t keep quiet, boy, I’ll hurt you even more,” Lyle said as he spat another wad of tobacco across the room.
“Mister, whatever you do, please don’t punch me in the chest,” Mordred pleaded. “I’m very sensitive in that area.”
“That so?” Lyle asked. “In that case, I’m gonna give you a belt to the chest right now, just to remind you who’s boss.”
“Oh, no! Don’t!” Mordred said as Lyle advanced on him. The big man drew his fist back and struck Mordred in the middle of the chest. Mordred flailed for a moment, and then he looked at Lyle with a cunning, gleeful grin.
“You just sealed your doom, chump,” Mordred said.
* * * *
Elsewhere in the city, Wiglaf had just rescued a family from a burning building. He was ready to return home when he heard a beeping sound inside his pocket. The beeping was coming from the miniaturized receiver he had recently acquired. The receiver was specially designed to pick up a homing signal from a homing device Mordred was wearing. Wiglaf had figured that with this special apparatus, it would be a lot easier to come to Mordred’s aid if he were to get into any trouble.
Uh oh, Wiglaf thought when he observed the signal from the receiver. Mordred must have walked into some trouble. Time to get him out of it.
A second later, he took off in a flash, following the tracer’s signal toward his destination.
* * * *
Lyle Belknap was confused. “Huh? What’s that beeping sound I hear?” he asked.
He reached into Mordred’s shirt and found a small electronic device beeping with a flashing light. Mordred was still smiling, and now Driver was exhibiting a toothy grin, too.
“What’s going on over here?” demanded Cyril Moynihan as he and Gerald Burke walked over to the other side of the office. “Lyle, what kind of toy is that?”
“I dunno,” said Lyle. “The kid had it on him, right under his shirt.”
“Wait,” Moynihan said as he stared at the device. “I see now! It’s some kind of miniaturized homing beacon. This device is signaling someone!”
“Signaling who?” Gerald frowned.
“Let’s just say you’re in for your worst nightmare,” Mordred smirked.
“Yeah,” Driver said happily. “An’ we’ve got front-row seats to see you scuzzballs take it on the chin.”
Moynihan was growing impatient and did not like the way this conversation was going. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said testily. “All I know is that I’m going to ransom you for a fortune no matter what.”
“Guess again, creep,” said a new voice.
The three crooks spun around in shock and beheld a blonde youth clad in chainmaille standing atop Moynihan’s mahogany desk.
“What?!” Moynihan sputtered, unable to comprehend how an intruder had gotten into the office unnoticed. “Where did you come from, boy?!”
“I just let myself in through a window when I found out that my buddy needed help,” Wiglaf said with a grin. “It’s just something we heroes do.”
Lyle scowled. “Hey, who’s the little creep in the chainmaille?” he asked.
Gerald was worried. “I knew this was a bad idea.”
“Get him!” Moynihan ordered his men. “Shoot him dead! Do something!”
Before any of the crooks could make a move, however, Wiglaf leapt from the desk and tackled Lyle, who was stunned by the sheer superhuman strength of the boy. Then Wiglaf picked Lyle up with both hands and hurled him at the other two criminals. Lyle’s huge body slammed into Cyril and Gerald, knocking them to the floor.
“Nice work, Lackey,” Mordred complimented. “Now how about setting us free?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Wiglaf said as he untied Mordred and Driver. As soon as she was free, Driver hugged Wiglaf in gratitude, and then embraced Mordred. “I ain’t never gonna forget how lucky I am bein’ ‘round you boys,” she said.
Then Driver turned her attention to their enemies. “Come on, boys, let’s settle the score,” she said. Driver charged the three mobsters and punched both Cyril and Gerald.
“That’s for tryin’ to hurt Mordred,” she snarled. “You shouldn’t never have messed with my man.”
Lyle came charging, attempting to grab Driver, but Mordred stepped forward, stuck his leg out, and tripped the heavy man as he came running. Lyle hurtled to the ground while Mordred pushed Driver safely out of the way. Driver then worked over brutish crook with punches and kicks, and all the while she was spouting out words that were decidedly unladylike.
“You ain’t never gonna hurt Mordred again, slime-sucker,” she said after she had beaten Lyle into the submission. “You bums screwed with the wrong people.”
While Driver was busy with Lyle, Wiglaf and Mordred beat up Cyril and Gerald, who had tried to come after them again. The two crooks had seized a couple of guns from Cyril’s desk and had tried to shoot Wiglaf, but Wiglaf had avoided their gunfire as if it were nothing to him. Then Wiglaf quickly disarmed the two mobsters, allowing Mordred to punch them both out cold. Now that all three crooks were subdued, the three friends were soon thanking each other for their aid and making sure each was not hurt badly. Driver was soon hugging Mordred again.
“Dang, Chief, you must’ve taken some hero lessons from Sugar here,” she grinned. “The way you helped take down these creeps was pretty neat.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to let scum like them hurt anyone,” Mordred said as he held Driver close. “Especially you and Lackey.” Then Mordred paused and quickly said, “But remember, I’m still an evil villain! I don’t want anyone to forget that!”
“Sure, sure, Mordred, we won’t forget,” Wiglaf said with a wry smile and an eye roll. “Now how about we all take these jerks over to the police? You can smile for the TV news cameras while we’re at it.”
“Hey!” Driver said. “That’s awesome! If we’re on the news, the whole dang world is gonna know that we helped take down a gang o’ ruthless criminals! And since these crooks wanted to muscle in on the Garrott family’s rackets, me an’ Chief will have somethin’ big to brag about in the Garrott family circles!”
Mordred looked intrigued. “You’re right, Driver! Taking down a bunch of goons who are rival villains to the Garrott family does look good for our reputations. I guess we finally found a way to make a name for ourselves after all.”
“Well, I’m glad to see our little adventure is going to pay off so well for you two,” Wiglaf said with a hint of amusement. “So, are you ready to send these guys to jail?”
Mordred and Driver were more than ready, and they joined Wiglaf in dragging the unconscious mobsters outside, all the while preparing for their moment in the spotlight.
* * * *
A short time later, Moynihan and his goons were in jail. At the same time, under the orders of Arthur Garrott Sr., the Garrott empire had taken decisive action to annihilate the rest of Moynihan’s criminal organization as a warning to anyone who would try to kidnap a member of the ruling family.
In the evening, Driver and Mordred were relaxing alone together at the Springland Apartments room, lounging comfortably on the sofa and sharing some red wine in celebration of their special victory. As they clinked their glasses together and snuggled affectionately, they turned on the TV news to see the coverage of the day’s big story.
“Today, the city witnessed the merciful end of the notorious Moynihan crime syndicate,” the newscaster announced. “Thanks to the famous hero Wiglaf, along with two courageous companions, underworld figure Cyril Moynihan and his top lieutenants are behind bars. The entire city is grateful tonight to be rid of the syndicate’s reign of terror.”
The news broadcast showed some footage of Driver, Mordred and Wiglaf dragging the three crooks to the police station. As the footage showed, the three friends had been unable to resist the temptation of waving to the cameras and making a few funny faces at the cameras.
Driver laughed heartily as she watched the footage and hugged Mordred tightly. “Ain’t life jus’ grand, Chief?” she grinned.
“I must admit that there are times when it comes out splendidly,” Mordred affirmed.
He and Driver leaned towards each other, brought their lips together, and spent the rest of the evening in contented bliss.
The End