Kidnapped

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Rhodey stealthily crept along the hallway, back pressed tightly to the wall and assault rifle expertly held between his strong hands, his right forefinger hovering over the trigger and ready to open fire on the next thing that moved. He approached a corner, cautiously peeking over the edge and observing the empty hallway. Had he lost the men? No, it was probably a ruse, trying to provide a false sense of security for the teen so he would lower his guard, even if just the smallest bit.

The adrenaline pumping through his veins filled him with a sense of dread and paranoia, turning every suspicious shadow into a surreptitious thug trying to end him. Yet, the same thing that created such feelings of fear also pumped energy through him, the thrill of the pursuit making him tingle with anticipation. Was this the way his father felt every moment he was in the war?

A misplaced footstep by a pursuer was heard by the teen's sensitive ears and alerted him that the men were behind him. Whirling around, he crouched and began firing the massive gun, hitting one of the slower men in the shoulder. The few men chasing him must have called in backup, because now the three men pursuing him had multiplied into six.

"I'm honored that you think you need six men to take me down," Rhodey shouted as he crouched against the corner, out of their target range, "but I'm really getting sick of running." He waited a moment before jumping up and firing at them, taking down another man before they began firing back, advancing closer to him as he jumped back against the wall. Rhodey peeked around the edge of the wall and pointed the gun at them again, pulling the trigger, but a dull click was the only thing that resulted from the action. Rhodey's eyes widened as he knelt back out-of-sight and unlocked the ammo chamber, groaning when he saw it was empty. Now he was unarmed.

When the thugs rounded the corner, Rhodey dropped the useless gun and shot up, turning on his heel to escape, but one of the men, smirking as he realized his opponent was defenseless, pointed his gun slowly and deliberately at Rhodey's feet, pulling the trigger. With a blast of the gun, Rhodey collapsed, resisting the urge to howl in pain as he clutched his bloody ankle to his chest and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

Dragging him up by the collar of his jacket, one of the men, who had thick muscles that bulged underneath his thin black sleeved shirt, slammed his back against the wall and forced him to face them. Rhodey shifted his weight to his right ankle as he clutched at the wall behind him for leverage, the agonizing pain ripping through his calf making him grimace. The men stared at him like a bug under a microscope, analyzing his wounds and watching as he stubbornly set his jaw to keep from crying out from pain.

THWACK!

It took a moment to register the pain that came with the unexpected hit of the gun barrel against his face, but a moment later he gasping as he held his hand to his jaw, a steady stream of blood leaking from his mouth to his chin. Still he looked up at them, a glint of defiance in his hardened brown eyes, as if saying, That all you got?

In answer, one of the men clenched his fist, but refrained from punching him as the sound of a gunshot echoed down the hall, followed closely by a second. Along with the gunfire came the screams of a girl that made Rhodey's blood temperature drop to subzero.

"NO!" he cried, blind fear coursing through him as he realized what the gunshots meant. "No, Tony!" He tried to fling himself through the wall of thugs, trying to break the barrier they made with a half-formed idea of trying to reach his brother in his head. He was roughly pushed back, tripping over his own feet and hitting the ground as pain exploded up his injured leg.

Surely Tony was fine. No matter what situation he was in, he always managed to get out of it battered, but otherwise fine. Why would this be any different?