Fan Fiction

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Chance rolled over, away from the voice, mumbling, "Goway."

"Come on, kid." Bandit's voice called again. "Sid's gonna be here in about ten minutes."

"Sid?" Chance asked. He rolled back over to look at his brother. "Thought he left on vacation last night."

"Guess they told him to cancel." Bandit shrugged, "You know the game. Never count on a day off." He paused. "How you feeling?"

"Sore." Chance replied sitting up on the edge of the bed, "Bastard almost kicked my ass." He grinned at Bandit. "Next time somebody gets the jump on us, you get to do the fighting."

"Ha." Bandit replied walking out of the bedroom.

Chance got up and grabbed a pair of jeans out of the closet and went into the bathroom. He splashed some cold water over his face. He'd been working with Bandit for almost seven years now and he was used to the sudden asignments, but sometimes he wished he could get a least a little R&R after missions like the last one.

He went downstairs and poured himself a cup of coffee. He was just getting ready to go into the den when Sid walked in.

"Hey, boss." He greeted. "'Nother hold the phones crisis?"

"Not yet," Sid replied, "But I guess it could turn into one."

"Figures." Chance said, following Sid into the den.

Bandit was already in there with his own cup of coffee. He nodded to Sid as their boss took his customary place behind the desk. Chance sat down beside Bandit and waited for the briefing to start.

"Okay," Sid began. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. "Are either of you familiar with Thomas Reed Jr.?"

Chance frowned, drawing a blank, but Bandit spoke up, "Isn't he the son of that psycotic bastard that was blowing up rich people's houses and businesses back in the late sixties, early seventies?"

Sid nodded, "Thomas Reed Sr. He took the idea of steal from the rich and give to the poor to a whole new level. Kill the rich and let the poor people take over."

"So what happened to him?" Chance asked.

"Got killed in a shoot out when the Feds finally caught up with him." Bandit answered. "Along with about eight of his merry men."

Sid nodded. "Junior was about fifeteen when that happened. He had no mother. She left him with his Dad when he was ten and nobody ever heard or saw from her again. The state put him in foster care with psychiatric evaluation to figure out how bad his Dad had warped his mind. He promptly ran away. After about two years of scrounging on the streets he started his climb up the ladder of crime. He was hired by Ernie "The Hand" Corilotta as a henchman. From there he moved to bodyguard, to head bodyguard and right-hand man, and finally, when The Hand croaked, he stepped in and took over all of Corilotta's territories.

"Since then, he's diversified himself. He's got his hand into just about everything; drugs, prostituation, child slavery, gun-running, international terrorism. You name it, he does it. And he doesn't share his Dad's view on money. You take a dime from him and he'll cut your eyes out. Not to mention various other organs."

"Sounds like a real charmer." Chance said.

"Without a doubt. Now, the Feds have already lost one agent trying to get this guy for prosecution. Apparently, the last contact the agent had with his superiors was to inform them of a plot Junior was financing concerning some key international figures. They don't want to risk him carrying out this plot while they're trying to catch him for prosecution. They want him dead and you two have been selected to take him out. Afterwards, they want you to destory as much of his business as possible to keep anybody from stepping in."

"Is there somebody ready to take that step?" Bandit asked.

"The most probable candidate for that is Dwight Forrestor. He's been working as Junior's right-hand man for the past five years. Junior treats him like a brother."

"Maybe we need to take him out too." Chance ventured.

"That's your call." Sid replied. "At last report, Junior was in Miami, Florida. Apparently he was working on a pretty large drug deal. Specifics weren't available. Those are the cards. Play them like you want."

The brothers nodded and stood up.

"Good luck." Sid said as they left the den.

Chapter 1 :: Chapter 2 :: Chapter 3 :: Chapter 4