Jan 1, 2013
Presenting the bill - 24 FanFic - all audiences
This is another of the "comedy" stories, even though it's not a very funny one in the purest sense of the word.
I'm sure you'll understand if you know 24.
Enjoy the read!
Presenting the bill.
The bullets whizzed over his head, slamming into the wall behind him while others were aimed lower and slammed into the metal crate he was using for cover.
The bust was going extremely wrong.
Three of his men had been gunned down already and there was one agent left standing beside him. They had been separated and were both taking heavy fire which made it hardly possible to hold their ground. It would be a matter of time before the situation took a turn for even worse.
His radio had been shot to pieces and blood trickled from the wound the bullet had left. It had chewed straight through the radio and punctured his skin beyond it, chewing into his hip. He had tried calling CTU, but he had no reception on his phone. He was completely on his own.
And so was the other agent.
They couldn’t help each other.
They could hardly help themselves.
“Cease fire.” he heard suddenly.
“Hey coppers!” the same voice called out, “I’m giving you one chance to give up. Drop your weapon and step out with your hands in the air and you won’t get killed.”
For a moment nothing happened, but then Jack heard that same voice again.
He peeked his head out from behind the crate and saw the agent stepping out into view. The idiot was giving up.
Jack cursed quietly and used the moment of respite to look around the place.
He had no escape.
The only thing he could do was try to dig in and hold until back-up arrived.
If it arrived.
He could only hope CTU had a few teams en route since they had lost communications in the middle of this thing.
He hurried across an open space to the next crate, picking up an assault rifle as he ran by the body of one of the agents. It gave him a little more ammo. If he could get a spare clip, he would be able to hold them off even longer. He moved along behind a set of crates, listening for any sign of hostile activity nearby and came up to another casualty. He grabbed the guy’s leg and pulled him back enough to be able to reach the spare clips in one of the large pockets on his pants. He stuck them in his bag and slung the rifle over his shoulder, shifting it across his back so it wouldn’t get in his way. Next he jumped up and grabbed the top of the crate, pulling himself up and out of immediate danger.
Staying as low as he could, Jack moved across the top of the crates to a balcony and climbed up.
A bullet struck inches away and he threw himself over the railing, rolling away, wincing in pain as he rolled onto the rifle, but drawing his weapon as he went and scanning the area to determine where the danger was coming from.
“Give yourself up, buddy.” the same guy called out, “You can’t get out. If you give up now, you won’t get hurt.”
Jack didn’t have a clear aim at anyone and preferred to save his ammo, so he pushed up and backed up to the door he had spotted.
It opened without a problem and once he was inside, he barricaded it with a filing cabinet. It would keep them out. He overturned the desk and huddled behind it, checking his weapons. He holstered his sidearm and took the assault rifle, setting it to semi-automatic. Pulling the trigger would fire a short burst of three shots. It didn’t waste too much ammo if his aim was off.
For now, all he could do was wait.
Wait for the cavalry to arrive.
Wait and pray for them to get there in time.
If they came in guns blazing, he stood no chance.
Then again, they couldn’t come in guns blazing.
They could try to come through the window, but it wasn’t an easy entry, or they could try to push the filing cabinet away, which gave Jack plenty of time to open fire and keep them from getting it out of the way. Even if they had someone at the window providing them with cover, he could still stick the barrel of the rifle over the desk and squeeze the trigger. He was almost sure to hit something.
Minutes later, there was a loud knock on the window.
“Agent Bauer,” the man called, “give up now and you won’t get hurt.”
It surprised Jack to find out the man knew his name, but when he peeked over the edge of the desk, he saw the agent with them.
His bloodied face and painful grimace said enough.
“I’ll give you one minute to make up your mind.”
Jack pulled away, putting his back against the desk behind which he hid, pressing the base of his hand against his forehead.
What would happen if he surrendered?
What would happen if he didn’t?
“Let the agent go.” he called out, “I’ll give up if you let him go.”
“I have another deal for you,” the man called back, “give up now or he dies.”
‘Dammit!’ Jack cursed.
Why did these things always end up like that?
“How about it? I’ll give you to the count of five, then I’ll put a bullet through his skull.”
He had no choice.
‘Dammit, dammit, dammit.’
He couldn’t do this.
Couldn’t sacrifice the agent.
“Okay, hold your fire.” Jack called loudly.
He pushed up, holding his right hand up and lowering the assault rifle with his left.
“Come on out.” the man called, putting a gun to the agent’s head.
“Okay, alright.” Jack called quickly, “Don’t hurt him.”
He came around the desk and pulled the filing cabinet out of the way.
As soon as it moved, they pushed the door open and he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
“Hands on your head.”
He did as he was told and they pulled his gun out of his holster, then used his own handcuffs to tie him up with and pulled on his arm, moving him out of the room.
“That’s a smart guy.” the leader of the gang said, smiling at him.
“We don’t need this one anymore, now do we.”
“NO!” Jack yelled as the man pulled the trigger.
He took the butt of a rifle in the face for trying to pull free and was knocked back into the grip of the men.
Dazed and shocked, Jack eyed the man who had just shot the agent.
It became obvious he wouldn’t walk away from this either.
Suddenly an explosion rattled the building and Jack used the moment of chaos to pull free, shoving one of the men hard enough to cause him to topple over the railing and tumble to his death. He made it back into the office and dove behind the filing cabinet as bullets ripped through the air and nipped at his clothes. He made it to the relative safety behind the cabinet and proceeded to push it back into place, trying to secure his position as much as he could.
He heard angry shouts and cries of pain above the gunfire, but then another explosion muffled all of it.
Debris fell into the room Jack was in and seconds later, he saw three men repel down through the gaping hole in the roof.
The flying dust made it impossible to tell for sure, but two were dressed in full battle gear, the third wore goggles to protect his eyes and a flak jacket … over a business suit.
Jack strained to see but the dust stung in his eyes and he had to close them.
“Jack, are you okay?”
The next moment, he felt hands on him.
“It’s okay, Jack, you’re safe now.”
He looked up into the smiling face of the suit-wearing bat out of hell.
“Bill?” Jack asked, baffled.
“Did you think you’re the only one who likes to kick a good piece of ass, Jack?” Bill smiled, “Let’s go clean up.”
He reached down and untied the handcuffs, handing the discarded assault rifle to Jack.
“I think you’re familiar with this.”
“Should I demonstrate?” Jack asked, smirking.
“That way.” Bill replied, pointing to the door, “After you.”
“Oh no, after you, Bill, by all means.” Jack said, “This is your rescue mission, I’m the one being rescued here.”
Bill slapped him on the shoulder and tossed his goggles away, then he stepped out onto the balcony, leveling his assault rifle and gunning down a hostile without hesitation, changing his aim the moment the man went down and firing at another, taking him out for the count as well. Jack came up behind him, covering his back and he was amazed at Bill’s accuracy and speed. He could carry his own weight in a situation. It wasn’t something one would expect. The business suit was hilarious but still, the man kicked ass for real.
Even in hand to hand combat.
A thug jumped him from behind a crate and before anybody could react, Bill threw the guy off and followed in with a quick jab with the butt of his assault rifle. It forced his opponent back two steps and he dropped the rifle, swinging it onto his back, and advanced on the man again. Bill landed a right hook and followed through with a left one to the gut, causing the man to double over, but the guy wouldn’t go down yet and he tried to tackle Bill. Bill slammed his elbow down on the man’s neck and drove him to his knees, then kicked his knee into his face, sending him sprawling, gasping for air and sputtering in disbelief at getting his ass whipped by a guy with white hair.
Jack was just as stunned as the thug, but he snapped out of it the moment Bill turned to look at him.
“I guess I’d better start playing by your rules.” he said with a smirk, “I wouldn’t want to end up on your bad side.”
“Nothing like a good pounding to knock some sense into people,” Bill grinned back, “sometimes you don’t even have to smack the one you want to teach.”
They quickly ‘cleaned up’ the building, killing or apprehending every hostile on site and Bill offered Jack a ride back to CTU.
He took it without arguing. It sounded more like an order anyway.
“Okay, I’m impressed.” Jack said after a long silence.
“I thought you were nothing more than a paper shoveling desk-jockey,” Jack admitted, “I guess I was wrong.”
“I guess.” Bill agreed, taking a quick look at Jack.
The admiration dripped off him, there was no hiding it.
“I may be of an older generation, Jack,” Bill explained, “but when I was younger, Special Forces already existed.”
“You were in Special Forces?” Jack exclaimed.
Bill simply nodded.
“Wait a minute … that’s it!” Jack gasped.
“I’ve always had a feeling I knew you from someplace. Now I remember.”
“Survival training in the Everglades.” Bill replied, “You did really great.”
“Yeah, I got my ass butchered.” Jack chuckled, “I’ll be damned.”
“No ,Jack, you’re not damned. If you were, I wouldn’t have been here in time to save your ass today.”
Jack turned in his seat, holding out his hand.
Bill took it and gave it a hearty squeeze.
They spoke the same language.