Kind of Loony

It would be cut, but Mr. P apparently does not support this, so yes.

Here you go, Shelly.

Happy Valentines.

“DAMMIT.” Leslie slammed her head down on the desk in frustration, first making sure to shove the keyboard away. For a moment she sat there, motionless, until the other girls began to take interest in her vexed state. Jamie and Shelly rose and came over to examine the single word on the otherwise clean, untouched screen.
“Hm, dammit.” Jamie tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Kind of a depressing start, don't you think?”
Shelly straightened and folded her arms as she turned to her friend. “I don't know, it could be a really strong opening, because, if you think about it, when you start with an expletive, you've really nowhere to go but up, right?”
“Oh, I like it.” The girls smiled.
Leslie groaned. “Oh, please, will you just go away and let me alone in my misery? I've got no inspiration! The well has run dry! Tabula rasa! I'm screwed! DAMMIT!” with a half hearted wail, the would-be writer flopped her head over so that she could peer up at the pair through one lens of her glasses. They merely stared back in return. “I'll make myself somewhat more clear.”
“That would be lovely.”
“Go. Away.”
“Oh, Jamie, I get the drift that we may not be welcome here anymore! I'm hurt!”
“As am I! Let us go weep in a corner, that we may purge our souls of the injury done us by our former friend, Leslie, the writer who has damned herself to a solitary life of intentional depression!” Laughing, the two walked away and ignored the dark looks they were receiving.
“Blah blah blah we're so funny...” Leslie heaved herself into an upright sitting position and slumped at the computer. It had been winning all of the duels of late, and she was sure it was going to start taking a toll on her sanity...but in what way?
“...is mental illness contagious?” Asked a male voice.
Three young women froze and looked about, startled. Nicole continued typing away in silence, listening to some obscure German band an internet friend had introduced her to. Shelly squinted into the lengthening afternoon shadows, examining every corner of the room while Jamie pulled out a substantial knife and flicked it open, ready for anything. Leslie stared dumbly at the screen.
“Who was that?” Jamie ventured, still alert.
“It sounded like...Jack.”
“But he's, you know, on a mission thing.”
“Mission, quest, thing.”
“...is mental illness contagious?” came the voice again. This time the three girls located the source.
“Its on the computer?” the pair chorused.
“Oh, yeah. I changed all my sounds on the computer...huh. Forgot about that. I got an email. Well, actually two.” Subtle clicking followed and the other two began searching for some TV to watch.
“...actually, I lied. I didn't get an email. Judging from the background of this browser, I'd say a Sephiroth fan must have forgotten to log out last time she used my computer.” She paused. “Say, that's an awful lot of emails from the Doctor and Daniel. How's Seth feel about that?”
Blushing madly, Shelly dashed for the computer. “We're just discussing things in the field. Ooh, it's from Seth!” Allowing her friend to slide out of the seat she slipped in and hurriedly opened the email and scanned it. “DAMMIT.”
Nicole looked up curiously. “That word seems to be pretty popular today. What's up?”
“Seth isn't going to be here until next week, making the third time this month that he's moved our reservations at the restaurant! THREE TIMES. It is only the FIFTH OF MARCH.” She slammed her first down on the table, startling a small bundle of fur in Nicole's lap. It began yipping madly.
“Shelly—relax. I'm sure he'll make it at some point.” The littlest of the group began to soothe the tiny dog like creature with a belly rub and friendly whispers. “Besides, it isn't like this is still your Valentines dinner.”
Nothing was said. Shelly's lips thinned.
“...oh...”
“Yeah.”
“So! How about that random TV show of no real import or merit whatsoever?” Jamie clicked the TV on and raised the remote to press play.
There was a knock at the door.
“DAMMIT. Can't we do anything without being interrupted today?”
“Just relax, Jamers. We'll be good. I'm sure it's just Jehova's Witness or the Aging Monks of the Apocalypse collecting for bake sales again.” Leslie said. Broken away from the sapping nature of the digital writing world, she seemed to gain some of her life again. Stepping jauntily to her front door, she popped it open with a smile. She was going to get the first “Hullo, how are you today?” in as she liked to try and take visitors off guard, but she failed and had to gape a minute.
Before her stood a gentleman of indeterminate middle age with a thick brown mustache. On his feet were bright red chucks [Leslie supported this] that contrasted starkly with his leather bomber jacket, white scarf and Captain's cap. He grinned broadly and announced, “Greetings, privileged receiver of a message from a friend, acquaintance or loved one! I am Jack Dalton of Jack-Be-Quick Motorcycle Messenger Service, a subdivision of Dalton's Fly-By-Night Air Transport Service! I am currently searching for a young lady by the name of Shelly!”
Leslie stared, gaping, as the minute was not yet over. Jamie and Shelly were in similar states while Nicole was once again trying to hush the shaking mass of puppy-like yipping. Jack Dalton of Jack-Be-Quick Motorcycle Messenger Service leaned forward a little to get a better look around. “...am I interrupting something?”
“No, no. We just weren't expecting anyone.” Leslie managed while Shelly crossed to the door.
“I'm Shelly—you have a message for me?”
“And none other.” With a ridiculously complicated bow, the man passed off a tiny folded piece of paper before holding out a small black book. “If you would be so kind as to sign this for confirmation of delivery?”
“Sure.” she did so. “Have a good day, sir.”
Jack bobbed in return and dashed off to his motorcycle importantly. The girls watched momentarily before shutting the door. Jamie and Leslie stared at Shelly. Even Nicole looked up as their friend unfolded the paper and read—her face growing more confused with each line. “What is it, love?”
“It says that I've won some dinner at some restaurant that I've never heard of in a place I've never been with a loved one of my choosing. If I call before six o'clock they can have it set up as romantic, birthday or any other emphasis I would want. A limo will pick me and my date up at eight thirty.”
“...okay. That seems a little late.” Nicole frowned.
“Where's Seth?” an idea forming, Leslie smiled.
“Argentina.”
“...ooookay.” So much for that idea.
“Why don't we all go?” Jamie suggested.
“But it's a twofer deal, I think.”
“So? That means we can afford to pay for all four because we'll actually only be paying for two.” Jamie stood up and took charge. “Let's do it! Come on, we'll get dolled up and have a girl night!”
Shelly hemmed and hawed a brief nanosecond before perking up. “And we'll have a blast! That'll show him.”
“You guys have fun.” came a comfortably noncommittal voice from a face refocused on the laptop in front of it. Leslie had no intention of ever getting dolled up. Ever. Ever again, that was. Stupid formal occasions.
“Come on, Les.” Shelly screwed up her face into the best pout she could manage while Jamie rested her fists on her hips and pursed her lips, cocking one eyebrow expectantly. Nicole already knew the outcome and had disappeared to begin selecting an outfit with the little dog on her heels.
“I hate you all.”
At eight fifteen, all four girls were lined up on the sidewalk, dressed to the nines and eager to go, minus Leslie who felt like a moron and kept tugging at the seems of her dress. Shelly stepped forward first, quite striking in a little red number she had purchased specially for her Valentine dinner with Seth, and opened the limo door regally. “Ladies,” with a wave of her arm, she indicated for them to hop in and she followed, closing the door.
From the seat, a familiar mustache was visible in the rear view mirror. Nicole tilted her head curiously, “Jack Dalton?”
“One and the same.”
“I thought you were a messenger service.”
“I am. I also do limousines, taxi services and the occasional private flight!”
“A Jack of all trades, as it were?” Leslie offered with a grin.
The grin was returned. “Exactlay! Now, one steady trip to the restaurant! Hang on ladies, I'll get you through traffic and there on time.” Without further conversation or warning, the man accelerated haphazardly into traffic and sped into the darkness.

Not fifteen minutes later, they arrived in front of a nicely cared for bistro-style place with a few iron tables outside and a rich wine-toned decor. Thanking Jack for the ride, the friends climbed out and admired the place. It seemed a little quiet, with only four or five other tables occupied, but quite pleasant nonetheless.
Jack pulled up and idled in front of it, hopping out with an alacrity that was belied by his leisurely build. He yanked open the door unceremoniously and ushered the ladies out. “I'll be back to pick you up around ten o'clock but until then I have, shall we say, a previous engagements.”
“That I don't doubt,” Shelly laughed, adjusting the sleek black scarf around her arms. Nicole hopped up after her friend and made for the front door, holding it open for the other three. “Why thank you, my dear!” Leslie traveled at the rear, dubiously eyeballing the window and awning of the small cafe and making a subtle and cursory examination of the other patrons.
She didn't trust it.
Then again, she was wearing a dress and she didn't trust anything when she didn't feel comfortable. The odd thing in this trip is that Jamie moved with equal caution and alertness, smiling when she accidentally caught an eye or fixing her hair to excuse an expression. Their seats ended up being in a u-shaped booth in the back corner and Shelly and Nicole slid into the center while Jamie and Leslie protectively took the external seats.
Nicole smiled as a waiter approached in crisply ironed lack pants and an astonishingly white starched button down that contrasted with his dark complexion quite pleasantly. He offered a half nod/half bow in greeting before setting a tall, thin portfolio on the table and handing them each a trim sheet with fine cursive lining it. “The wine list and then the menu for the ladies. If it would so please you to examine both for the evening's selection, I will return momentarily with complimentary ice water for each of you.” And he disappeared.
Leslie snorted. “Complimentary water?”
Nicole shooshed her. “Stop that—we're here to enjoy the evening. See anything you like, Shelly?”
Shelly peered at the tiny script, frustrated. “I can't make heads nor tails of this wine list, I think it might be in Italian.”
“I'll check it out.” With a practiced ease, Jamie skimmed the list, selected a wine and then returned to scoping the place. “I would never have thought this were an Italian restaurant—everything is so...spartan.”
“So Leslie should like it.”
“Shut up Nicole.”
“It's true.”
With a brief eye-roll, Shelly just laughed. “Did you guys see that look Nicole gave the waiter? I think she approves, if you know what I me--” Her sentence ended abruptly as the seat she was sitting in flipped over through the wall and was replaced by another, identical, one. Nicole and Leslie stared, flabbergasted, at the empty space but were not given a chance to comment before their own seat did the exact same thing.

Eyes open, eyes closed, where the girls landed, the darkness was complete. Nicole had landed in an awkward position against a cold metal wall while Leslie was spread-eagle on her face and feeling around gingerly for her glasses which she prayed were not broken. Not far from them, Jamie and Shelly were rustling around quietly. Shelly spoke first.
“Nicole?”
“Leslie?”
With a soft groan, the smallest of the group replied in the affirmative. “We're here, guys, but where in the world is that?”
Leslie grumbled unintelligibly.
“I wouldn't say it's Mirkwood, but if so we can only hope that there aren't any fat old spiders waiting to spin us.” Shelly offered with a nervous laugh.
Leslie grumbled again
“I doubt it's the vasty nothingness of space, either.” Grumbled Jamie as she felt the walls around her, running fingers over cold bolts on the walls.
“Don't even suggest Dinotopia, dear.”
“Bah.” Leslie grunted, righting herself. “So, I don't think I'm really in support of this, guys. I'm officially never going out in a dress again. You can't carry a real weapon in a dress.”
“Says you...ummm...what is that?” cautiously, Shelly sniffed the air of the room. It had been, for some time, cool and air-conditioned feeling, but suddenly it felt heavier—as though there was a humidifier running nearby.
“That can't be good.”
Further discussion on the matter was made impossible, however, as they all passed out more or less at the same time.

“Okay,” Shelly began, holding her head and sitting up to lean against the wall of the box, now slightly lit by an external source through a seem along one edge of the top. The space was tight with the four of them together and it didn't help that there was still a bit of a fog over her brain as she let her head fall forward into her hands. “Okay,” she mumbled again.
“You already said that.” Leslie muttered unmoving, her eyes still closed where she lay, curled in a corner. Nearby Jamie and Nicole began to right themselves.
“What do you mean, Shelly? Getting kidnapped and randomly abused for no apparent reason?” Nicole asked, jamming her fists into her eyes and rubbing vigorously. “Has anyone seen my glasses?”
“Here you go.” Handing her friend the missing spectacles, Shelly stood up. “No, I mean these choppy cuts and blatant lack of segues—haven't you ever noticed how, whenever we try to do anything, everything just kind of goes crazy. It's like reading adventure novels.”
“Hey, I like those!”
“...I know you do, Leslie. But you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, epidermisphobia or summat.”
“Epistomophelia.”
“That one.”
With a raised eyebrow, Jamie looked at her friends. “Two things. First of all, is that even a real word? And then, shouldn't we be applying ourselves to some sort of escape?”
“Now that doesn't seem advisable, duckies.” came a strangely accented voice echoing through the metal box. “You're being kidnapped and we don't rightly take well to resistance.”
“Kidnapped?” Shelly asked the invisible offender.
“Duckies?” Nicole queried.
“Why are you kidnapping us?” Jamie demanded, shifting to one side to look up. She was eyeballing the seams for signs of weakness and periodically running her fingers along the cool metal. “If you're hoping for ransom.”
“I don't know, you know? I'm just the help, duckies.”
“Where are you from with that accent?” Leslie peered curiously in the direction from which she perceived the voice.
“I'm from Kent, man!”
In the pitch, Leslie and Nicole just kind of looked at each other and rolled their eyes.
“Oh, gotta go, the uppers are here.”
HWith a sigh, Shelly allowed her head to fall back and clunk against the wall. “Can't we ever just have a normal day?”
“That's asking just too much, love.” Nicole reached out and patted Shelly's shoulder. “But the nearest I can figure is that somebody wanted to kidnap you, because we weren't supposed to be here.”
“But why would someone want to kidnap me? I'm boring! I work a desk job! I've never even jaywalked! Well, maybe I jaywalked, but I haven't done anything against anyone.”
“Mares eat oats and does eat oats and I'll be home for Christmas.” Leslie muttered.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“That none of this makes sense. Why, if they wanted Shelly, didn't they just take Shelly? No offense love—I don't want you whisked away. Maybe they wanted someone else?”
“Seth!” exclaimed Jamie. “That's why it was a romantic date for two! They figured she would be more likely to accept such an invite and bring him along with.”
“Exactly, ladies. Exactly.” There was a new voice from the outside. This one lacked the silly accents and carefree whimsy of their previous captor. This one was deep and menacing with a hint of garlic powdery disdain. The girls could almost see the pin striping.
“Excuse me, Mr. Sinister Voice, but would you mind letting us the HELL out of here? It's cramped and uncomfortable and rather drab.”
“One moment, Miss Shelly. One moment, I need to arrange something with my associates before you can be released into, shall we say, a more comfortable atmosphere.”
“Just don't knock us out again, please.”
“Nothing so barbaric, please. I'm not as primitive as my hired help.” There was some shouting in, unsurprisingly, Italian, and the girls heard a large group of people come running toward their captor. They assembled them in a circle surrounding the metal carton as some jingling was heard, and some scraping as though someone having issues getting a key into a lock.
Leslie and Shelly laughed. Jamie snorted. Even Nicole cracked a smile as mild oaths were uttered. Suddenly, there was a loud click and almost the entire top of the box was hauled backwards allowing gross amounts of light to pour in. Taking advantage of their temporarily blinded captives, the goons reached in and pulled each of them out one at a time.
“God bless America!” Leslie shouted, kicking out, almost nailing Jamie in the side of the head.
“Holy Mackenzie!” yelped Jamie, reaching for her confiscated weapon
“Is this how you were raised?!” Shelly demanded of the fiends
Nicole merely scowled, much like her unpleasantly attitudinal bearded dragon, Spork.
They were lined up neatly in front of a stocky, short man with a horrible, though expensive, toupee and a vibrant green pin stripe suit. “Now, ladies, is that any way to treat your host? I'm not planning on keeping you forever. Merely until I have my actual quarry.”
“What do you want with Seth?!”
“He is strong, he is stealthy, he's classy as they come. What don't I want with Seth?”
Three of the four captives looked questioningly at the man and cast an awkward and knowing look back to each other. Pin Stripe watched and gasped, “What? No! No! This isn't a prison film—I want him to kill someone for me! Because of his reputation, he can get an audience or date with anyone, and I need him to do this thing for me. In return he gets you back, unharmed.” Jamie and Leslie were still snickering over the prison film comment. “I don't know about you two.”
“Oh, we're scared. Who tailored your suit, the Wizard of Oz?”
“No, that's no tailor job, that's off the Rack, Wannabe Leprechaun Bouncers Unlimited.”
“Don't you think we shouldn't, you know, annoy the man holding us hostage?”
Without missing a beat, Jamie and Leslie looked to Nicole and replied in unison. “It's what we do.”
“Yeah, yeah, we'll see what you do after some confinement. Unfortunately, do to some stringent cutbacks, you'll be occupying the same cell. Don't worry though. There's a toilet.”

There was, indeed, a toilet.
The girls, however, preferred to sit on the slightly less mangy cot across the room from the vile hole in the ground.
“Now what?” Shelly asked. “Seth's overseas. The Karl's off Dinotopia-ing, Boromir's visiting his dad and Jayne's, well, Jayne is only-god-knows-where.”
“I think he and Earl were going to go hunting in Alaska.”
“Oh. Thanks for the good news, Jame.”
“So we're rescuing ourselves?”
“Looks like it.”
“What do we have?”
Silence fell as they looked about themselves, looking on the floor and all around. “If we didn't have to wear fripping dresses...” Leslie muttered.
“Speaking of, Les, why in the world do you have a paper clip attached to one of the straps?” Jamie asked, tugging at the bent metal.
“I dunno.”
“I found a stick of gum under the cot.” Jamie offered.
“And there's a couple of those MacDonald straws on the shelf over by the toilet.” Nicole motioned to the item.
“A paper clip, some straws and a stick of gum. What good does that do us?” Tilting her head to one side, Shelly looked up. She opened her mouth to speak but paused in favor of climbing up onto the cot. With a quick glance out the small window [which was actually just a six-inch hole] in the door, she pushed at the drop-ceiling. “Hey guys, I have an idea.”
Moments later, Leslie and Shelly were winding straws about their fingers and Jamie was flicking them, creating loud pops that echoed down the hallway. A lanky guard, probably about eighteen, charged down the hallway with a frown. “You can't do that. Stoppit.”
“What, we can't entertain ourselves?” Jamie smirked.
“Uh, no? No. You can't. You might be up to something.”
“Might be up to something. Like what?”
“I don't know. Something.” The boy stepped back, hesitating. He nearly jumped out of his skin when is shoulder radio demanded why he could not be seen at his post. “I was just checking on the prisoners—they were up to something.” The radio voice shrugged and told the boy to return to his post and ignore them.
“In a moment, sir. I just want to check something.” He peered as well as he could through the hole. “Weren't there four of you?”
“Yup.” They chorused.
He squinted at them. “You're lying to me, aren't you?”
“Yup.” They replied. The girls giggled.
The guard blushed ever so slightly and growled at them, stalking away without another word.
“Excellent. Nicole, go for help.”
“It's dark and it's nasty up here.”
“Go for help outside of the ceiling.”
“I'm going, I'm going.” Jamie, Leslie and Shelly listened to their smallest friend crawl away.
“Now what?”
“We try to escape anyway?”
“Of course.”
“Awesome.”
“How?”
There was a moment of pause given here, followed by about twenty minutes of frustrated mumbling as they each stared around the room again. Eventually, Jamie shrugged. “Why don't we just try and get that kid over here again? He's a bit shrimpy—I bet we could take him.”
“But then the alarm would go up that something is going on when he doesn't reply to his little shoulder com.”
“Oo, we could—“ Leslie began to offer, but was cut off as the guard in question reappeared, poking his face into the hole in the door.
“What're you up to?”
Sighing, Shelly rolled here eyes at the guard.“Actually, we were trying to play heads-up-seven-up, but it seems we're a few shy. Want to join?” The guard flapped his mouth a couple of times trying to develop a sound retort.
“Or maybe even red rover red rover, you know that one?”Leslie offered with a suggestive eyebrow raise. His cheeks flushed slightly.
“We thought about having a pillow fight later.” Jamie said with a downright filthy smile. The guard blushed so abruptly that his face continued past beet red and rolled right into radish purple. He desperately tried to regain his imaginary control of the situation.
“Stop that! I'm the guard here, you're the prisoners! You're supposed to be all quiet and scared and just stop that!” he pulled from the window and stepped aside to unlock the door, muttering something about etiquette. “All right, you're supposed to come with me, so, come on.” He waved his pistol, safety on, as threateningly as he could manage, rather like a fluffy puppy trying to intimidate the house cat.
“Walk this way?” Leslie asked.
He nodded emphatically.
“This way.” Leslie sauntered off in a rather ridiculous fashion, her friends following in kind. The baby-guard was going to try and get them to serious up, but he gave up and slunk after them in defeat.

Up in the ducts and spaces above, Nicole was slowly crawling her way toward a light in the distance that promised to be an external vent. She had made slow progress, often having to stop and shift her weight mid-crawl as a decrepit tile would threaten to give way. She also continually ran into trouble with chords and wires that swooped dangerously across her path. And in the darkness, to one side, she could hear something move.

Shelly was getting annoyed with this weekend. She started out just hanging out at a friend's house to watch silly movies and shows and eat food that was bad for you and generally forget how pissed she was about Seth gallivanting off again, so when she arrived in a large warehouse-like room with her three friends to find herself surrounded by unpleasant looking men with guns, she was livid.
“What the hell is going on.” she demanded, fair shaking with rage. “I mean, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON. THIS IS RIDICULOUS.”
The pinstriped bastard adjusted his rings and cuffs comfortably. “I think we already covered this. I'm holding you hostage so that Seth agrees to do this job for me, and my intelligence has informed me that he was spotted reentering the country last night, so it makes sense that he received my message and is on his way.”
“But why keep them? They're not part of this.” She offered, hoping to at least get something right for the day. By now she was exhausted and on the brink of giving up hope. Her stagnant rage was subsiding into acceptance. “Just let them go.”
At this, the man stopped and examined his prisoners. “Weren't there four of you?” he asked, frowning. “Yes...what happened to the little one?”
“I KNEW IT.” hollered the youthful guard, pointing at the girls.
“Shut it, kid. Sheesh, you hire your sister's husband's nephew and look what it gets you? So much for nepotism, eh? Well, I suppose you're right, Miss Shelly. We don't need your friends, unless they have useful connexions too.” He eyeballed them. “Probably not. Drug them and throw them in the alleyway, by the time they wake up, this will be settled.” He did not add “if they woke up.” It seemed so painfully obvious that he did not have to.
There was no actual warning for what happened in that next moment. Some unknown, possibly telepathic signal, or just because they had been friends long enough for it to work, all three girls sprung into action. Leslie slammed her fist into the jaw of the closest person while Jamie spun around, delivering a severe kick to the groin on one man and grabbed for his gun. Shelly elbowed a man on her left in the kidneys and straightened her arm out into a solid punch that landed squarely on another man's nose. A half dozen men were down and squirming in pain before shots echoed above their heads and they froze.
Well, sort of froze.
All three paused and looked toward the remaining fifteen men and their obnoxious leader, but Jamie had to get one last punch and took it out on a man she had by the shirt collar. He slumped to the floor unhappily oozing blood out of one nostril.
“Enough already! You six, get those two out of here. And don't be stingy on the chloroform, I get it wholesale.” Said six grunts hustled over and forcefully separated Shelly and her friends. She watched as they struggled until a hefty door slammed between them. Furiously, her brain tried to come up with fittingly acidic snark, but the night's lack of sleep had left her a tad fuzzy, and she found herself being vaguely impressed by the fact that they had gotten that far. Pinstripe sauntered toward her, smiling as though he were a touch high on himself, which, of course, he was.
“Thought you could break free some how? I don't even care what your little friend is up to, the one that got out, that is. I've bought enough cops in this town that I don't have to worry about the proper authorities or their litigation. Miss Shelly, I am a shadow. And with Seth working for me, I will be the most powerful shadow in the world, soon enough.” He took her by the arm and aimed his automatic weapon at her stomach. “So why don't you just relax for a bit?”
Then the lights went out. “Oi, who did that? Joey?” Hollered the would-be kingpin.
Shelly herself was too stunned to try and take advantage of the sudden change of atmosphere and stood, peering into the darkness, trying to force her eyes to adjust. She could hear the familiar sounds of people falling to the ground with little more than quiet moans of pain as they were rendered unconscious. Pinstripe gave a bit of a gasp and released her arm, whimpering.
“I thought you were a shadow.” whispered a silky voice.
Shelly almost peed herself.
Only a few moments later, the lights came back on, revealing Seth who easily dropped the body of the offending gangster to the ground and dusted his hands off. None of the people were dead, she could tell, which felt a touch odd but was soon to be explained. Leslie, Jamie and Nicole [covered head to toe in cobwebs dust and with a black rat riding her shoulder happily] emerged from the side door and waved. They were followed by none other than the driver and messenger from the day before, Jack Dalton, and another man who looked vaguely like Colonel O'Neill but...not. He smiled and nodded to Seth.
“All alive, I hope?” the man asked.
“Unfortunately.” Seth replied.
“Thank you. I'm sure the police will appreciate their help on the roadway cleanup crew.” He noted how Shelly was staring at him oddly from where she stood, leaning against Seth and walked over to introduce himself, the rest of the gang following. “Hi, I'm MacGyver.”
“Just MacGyver?”
“Just MacGyver. Jack told me something odd was going down when he came back to the restaurant and it was no longer open, but rather 'closed for repairs.' After some quick research we found the ties between the building and our man Mr. Fratelli here.” Jamie and Leslie exchanged glances. Nicole stepped in.
“When I got outside, MacGyver and Jack were talking with Seth, trying to settle the plan. Then they went in and...here we are. And I found Beni here!” She held up the silky black rat that curled itself into a ball in her hands and fell asleep.
“Yay. A new pet.” Leslie sighed.
“Can we go home now?” Jamie asked.
MacGyver shrugged. “If you're sure you're all fine, Jack'll take you home now, but you might be hearing from the police soon for reports on the incident. The police will be arriving soon to clean up the mess.”
With the adrenaline rush fast failing and the sleep deprivation catching up, the four girls were shepherded into the car and then into the house where three went straight to sleep. Nicole showered and then curled up on the couch with her rat next to her head and the visiting pooch near her feet. The bearded dragons watched with vague snobbish disinterest.
Shelly awoke refreshed though with bruised knuckles after a long, deep sleep. Much to her pleased surprise, Seth was not gone the next day and picked her up at the police station to take her out to dinner. This time they went to a nice, expensive restaurant an hour away and sat in a nice, not rigged booth, and had a pleasant evening.
Leslie, Jamie and Nicole had pizza and wings in excess and regretted it in the morning.

Tags: fanfic, macgyver, shelly, writing

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