Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from HB's JQ:TRA and I'm
not making any money off them.
*Note: this was my first fanfiction EVER.
Categories: V, A
Author: Michelle aka Bryne
Hot Date
“Hot date, Race?” Jonny asked of the white haired
man carefully fixing his tie in the downstairs mirror. With his piercing
blue eyes, broad shoulders, and military stance he was pretty impressive
in his tux.
“Just another woman, Jonny.” Race considered himself
in the mirror and, satisfied, turned and walked over to the closet. Carelessly
he removed the jacket.
“So, who is it this time?” the young blond asked
him curiously. With every move his live in bodyguard made, Jonny watched,
learning. One day he hoped to be just like his hero; cool, confident, self-assured,
and good with the ladies.
“Desiree Banks. I’m taking her out to dinner and
dancing over at the Blue Heron and after that, well, you can probably guess,”
Race said with a confident smile.
“Yeah, I can,” Jonny replied with a laugh. “Have
fun!” he called over his shoulder as Race confidently strolled out the
door to his pride and joy, a sleek black sports car.
In the shadows of the nearby stairs a figure crept
back and away, melding with the darkness. A smile twinged her lips in eager
anticipation of the near future.
****
“I can’t believe this,” Race exclaimed in
annoyance as his finely tuned car sputtered and, as he pulled to the side
of the road, died. He was on one of the back streets toward the boundary
in Rockport. The dark woods that sat to his right and the deserted street
to his left killed any hope of flagging down help. Stepping out of the
car he angrily approached the front and popped the hood. Smoke billowed
up from the engine and clouded his eyesight. Loudly he cursed the car’s
rotten timing. Little did he know, car problems were the least of his problems.
From out of the woods a silent figure slunk forward
and noiselessly snuck up behind him. Between his engine’s death cries and
his cursing, Race Bannon never heard the stranger until he was upon him,
and by then it was to late. With an effortless motion the being cracked
him on the back of his head, plunging the former covert agent into a darkness
as deep as that which engulfed the nearby woods.
****
Hours later he awoke, meticulously bound by
both his ankles and his wrists to a metal gate. He stood there in the middle
of a darkened warehouse, waiting to meet his captor. Race didn’t know how
long he stood, there nothing was available to keep track of the time. There
was nothing for him to do but sit back and wait. As the minutes dragged
by, Race’s short temper got shorter and shorter.
With no one around and nothing to do but stand
there as his bindings cut the circulation off in his hands and feet, he
began to curse. Quietly at first his words gained volume as his patience
wore away. In no time he was bellowing at the top of his lungs.
“That will be quite enough of that,” said
a calm, female voice from behind him. Race turned to get a look at his
captor but was brought up short by the restriction of the ropes. “It’s
been a long time,” she continued. “Too long.” Suddenly Race found himself
staring into a familiar pair of brown eyes, eyes he hadn’t seen since shortly
after his divorce.
“Ilea?” he said as surprise registered in his voice.
He had been on a mission visiting her country when he had met the young
Vietnamese scientist. A hard worker, she had somehow managed to find herself
entangled with the Communist party. His assignment had been to get close
to her in order to draw out several high placed officials. The plan had
backfired and instead he had fallen in love with her, or, as much as he
could with anyone woman. Things had gone from bad to worse when he was
exposed as a CIA agent. Ilea had been caught in the ensuing battle and,
taking her for dead, he was forced to leave. He hadn’t seen her since.
She leaned forward, solidly putting her mouth to
his and locking them in a kiss. It was several minutes before she released
him and when she did both were brought up panting. The kiss had been meant
to be show of power, to demonstrate to him that she could do what she wanted
with him, but instead only proved how much she still cared for him. “Oh,
Race,” she said, visibly upset. “How I’ve missed you,” she whispered as
she buried her face in his neck, breathing in his scent.
“I thought you said you could handle this,” came
a sultry voice. Startled, Ilea abruptly pushed away from Race and desperately
tried to regain her composure. From the same place Ilea had emerged she
came, the black strands of her hair caressing her face as she tightly pursed
her mouth in disapproval. “If there was time to play, I wouldn’t have let
you come alone,” she said as she glowered at the red faced brunette. Carelessly
dismissing the girl, she turned her attention to the attractive man who
stood before her, still bound to the gate. Passionately, she delivered
her own kiss. “Hello, handsome.”
“I leave the two of you alone for a second,” sounded
yet another female voice. This one was dripping with a Russian accent and
was as familiar as the other two. Unfortunately, this one was mad. “The
others aren’t going to like this,” she said, but the anger had mostly faded
from her voice. “You know Race, you look kind of cute all tied up like
this.”
Grasping his shirt, she pulled herself toward him
as she covered his mouth with her own. She pushed herself away and smiled
with genuine fondness. “Too bad we didn’t think of the ropes when we were
still together, eh?”
“Natasha? I haven’t seen you since…”
“Since your government needed to borrow one of our
spaceships to rescue your stranded crew from Ezekiel Rage,” she cut in,
the anger returning to her voice. Her face twisted in disgust and she turned
away, unable to look at him any longer. “Thank
you, Race. I believe you have reminded us all of what we are doing here.”
To the women she said, “Go alert the others and hook up the satellite link.”
“What’s going on? What are you doing,” he demanded.
“Taking what you owe us. You, Race Bannon, are here
for your punishment.” In the dim light of the room Race could make out
Jade and Ilea moving heavy looking equipment into the room.
“Punishment for what? Have I saved the world to
many times? Or maybe you’re all tired of me rescuing you?” he snapped but
even as he said it, he regretted it. He had no idea what was going on,
just that he was in big trouble. Natasha smiled again, but this time, it
was disconcerting.
“We, the many women of your life, have charged you
with crimes against our sex. Philandering, using, and debasing us as well
as raising young Jonny Quest and Hadji Sighn to follow in your footsteps.
For these things you must pay.” She stepped back to where a camera was
being set into place. Jade came forward and took her place explaining.
“About a month ago I got a call from a wonderful
young woman who was hysterical, crying over your latest antic. My heart
broke for her, not just because of the situation she was in, but because
I could relate. I made a few calls and, together with several of your other
exs, I decided enough was enough. We held a formal trial with witnesses,
defense and prosecution attorneys and a jury of your peers, several other
former CIA agents,” she smiled at the memory. “They weren’t particularly
willing, if I remember correctly. Of course, considering they were all
kidnapped….” She began to laugh and was quickly joined by the other two
women. Their laughter eventually faded, leaving Race with a feeling of
uneasiness. She shrugged and turned away from, helping the others finish
with the link up.
“So, what are you going to do?” Race said,
his concern growing by the minute. He didn’t think any of them would physically
hurt him, but they were three of the most creative women on the planet,
physical pain wasn’t necessarily needed for them to get their desired effect.
Ilea walked over to the side of the warehouse and picked up a silver briefcase
that he hadn’t noticed during his captivity. She brought it over to where
he stood, bound, and popped open the top. Seeing the contents, Race’s face
drained of color.
“Nnnooo!!” Race screamed the stark fear overtaking
his voice.
*****
From behind Race, a young woman smiled, enjoyment
lightening the sadness of her lonely world. She smiled again, more broadly
this time, as she monitored the Questworld system and checked on the VR
program she had installed.
All was going as planned. Race Bannon was thoroughly immersed in his
own private hell, a torture so complete, none save himself would see it
as such. She had spent months perfecting a system that would inhibit the
“player” from separating the real world from that of Questworld and now,
it was working perfectly.
Quietly, she chuckled to herself as he struggled
desperately against the binds that held him in the lighthouse chair. It
was to no avail, the bindings were perfectly tied, restraining all but
the slightest movements.
She was finally paying him back for all the wrongs
he had done her. This act was for all the times he had left her alone,
or ignored her. For every time he had spent the night with another woman,
never bothering to tell her where he was going or if he would be back.
For all the pain and loneliness he had caused in her life, she tortured
him. She went over and sadly stroked his face, now twisted in fear and
pain. She had never wanted to hurt him, only to get his attention and make
sure he never hurt her again. After years of brooding, she finally had
her revenge.
Jessica Bannon stepped back from her father’s
side and returned to the monitors to watch his progression into hell.
*****
Comments, questions, raven haired men? Send them all to curtin@fcc.net
