Fan Fiction

by S. Stiles (Elliander at aol dot com)

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

Chance finished packing his bag and glanced around the bedroom. He wished Julia was here so he could say good-bye, but she wasn't do back from her father's for another four days. She had taken Ronny back to Verona to celebrate Mark's fiftieth birthday. Chance had wanted to go. Mark had been the closest thing to a father he had ever had, but duty called. It was one of the few times that he wished he had a normal job so he could be involved in some of those family type things.

He left the bedroom and went downstairs, setting his bag by the door. Bandit was just coming back in from telling their flyboy Steve what was going on.

"He's got the chopper warming up now." Bandit said as he shut the door.

Chance nodded. "I got a bad feeling about this one, Bandit."

Bandit paused on his way up to his own bedroom. "Why? This is one of our simpler assignments."

Chance shrugged. "I don't know. I just do."

"We'll be careful." Bandit said as he disappeared upstairs.

Chance snorted to himself. They were always careful. You didn't play these kind of games for a living and not exercise caution. But things happened. Just like winding up in that last fight.

He walked into the den where they stored all of their electronics and began to pack what they would need. If everything went off like it was supposed to they wouldn't need much. But his gut was talking and over the years he had learned to trust his gut.

He finished packing the electronics and dropped them off by the door. His next stop was back in his bedroom where he slipped into his shoulder holster. His gun of choice was a .45 Magnum that Bandit had overhauled for him when he'd first arrived here at Safe Haven. It was retrofitted with a built-in silencer, flash suppresor, and anti-climb. A smaller .38 went into an ankle holster.

Bandit met him at the door and they walked down to the helipad together. When they were settled in, Steve lifted off. It was a twenty-five minute ride to the airport where they kept the Safe Haven jet. The jet was registered to Steve, as was the helicopter, but it was the funds from Safe Haven that had purchased them.

Once they were in the quieter confines of the jet they began to plan their attack.

"First thing we need to do," Bandit said, "is scope out this address." His finger tapped a page in the file Sid had given him. "We need to make sure he's really in Miami."

Chance nodded. "Once we have that confirmation we can make a game plan. We've got a little bit of information here on the locations of some of his uhm, investments, but not many."

"He's got to have more information somewhere." Bandit said, "Unless he's got the mind of a computer there's too many aspects of his business not to have some kind of information stored."

"He's got a total of eleven houses." Chance reminded him. "One in South America and two in Europe."

"I know. The hardest part of this whole thing is going to be the clean up detail."

Chance let his head fall back on his seat, "If he's really putting together some big deal down there in Miami we may be taking out more than just Junior and Forrestor."

Bandit nodded. "That's a very good possibility."

"Wake me when we get there."

"You got it, kid."

Bandit watched his brother drift off to sleep and studied him a moment. They hadn't been raised together. In fact, Chance hadn't even known he had a brother until he was twenty-three. Bandit had known he had one, but all leads as to who he was or where he was had been dead-ends. He thought about their first meeting and the events that led up to him finding out Chance was, in fact, his brother.

The special ops unit he had been involved with in Vietnam had been sent out on a scouting mission to find the infamous prison camp Hell on Earth towards the end of US involvement in Vietnam. They hadn't located the camp, but they did find Chance.

Bandit tremembered his first look at Chance as clear as if it had been yesterday. The kid had been nothing more than a human skeleton and he had been wounded severely. He had been working his way along the jungle floor by pulling himself along in slow, agonizing drags with one arm. When his eyes looked up and registered Bandit's presence, the terror that had filled them was almost heart-wrenching.

Bandit had immediately regrouped his unit and their mission had abruptly changed from locating the camp to keeping the kid they'd stumbled across alive. The rest was history. Chance had survived and Bandit had discovered he was the lost brother. A miracle perhaps, but truth is stranger than fiction.

Smiling to himself, Bandit closed his eyes for a quick nap of his own.

by S. Stiles (Elliander at aol dot com)

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