PART I
Ariadne
Its icy presence invaded his mind with its silvery tentacles, drawing out his anger and aggression and making him feel like he’d explode into shards of red fury. A perfect shimmering iceberg shape, that was it. In his mind’s eye, he saw it flash wickedly with a trance-like rhythm.
He paced back and forth in his tiny room, picking up objects and throwing them full-force at the walls. No one else was nearby to hear the regular crashes and tortured cries of a human voice on the edge of madness. Almost nothing was left intact. Ceramic drinking mugs lay broken in half, a painting was ripped into shreds. He lifted his guitar repeatedly, and his biceps bulged with the efforts of the rough chopping motions that splintered his favorite possession into unrecognizable fragments. When there was nothing left to destroy, he cried out and grabbed his head, the pain and violent urges becoming progressively hotter and nearly unbearable. His eyes grew dazed and panicked as he slowly realized that only the sacrifice of a human being would satisfy this ravenous desire that was eating him alive.
~*~*~*~
The narrowed, murderous eyes followed her steps and memorized everything about her – the inflection of her voice, the toss of her braids, the shape of her eyes and the motion of her lips.
"I don’t want to talk about it!" Gia Campbell’s voice rose in anger and frustration as she made a swift, dismissive motion of her hand to emphasize her point. "You’ll never accept me for who I am. You want to make me into your own creation, the perfect daughter. Well, she doesn’t exist!"
Gia’s mother Flo stepped forward to hug her daughter. "Gia, you know that’s not true. I love you. That’s why I’m so concerned about your behavior. You’ve become so obsessed with this modeling opportunity. And what have you done to Elizabeth Webber? I saw her face as you threatened her over there. What did you say? She looked like she was close to tears and ran off. Baby, you’re better than this. Come home with me, tonight."
"Get your hands off of me!" Gia yelled as she backed up, her voice rising higher and higher with a hint of hysteria. "I’m going back to Deception so I can review my latest photo shots. Carly Corinthos wants me – she wants me for who I am, not what you or anybody else wants to make me out to be." Gia’s breaths came quicker in gasps of air as the tears built up and began flowing down her cheeks. She walked over to the elevators and rapidly pushed on the down arrow, stamping her foot in impatience.
Flo looked over at Gia with sad eyes. "Where’s my baby girl that I knew and loved? Where has she gone? Her thoughts would haunt her in the days to come. But now, she turned and walked down the hall to her office to return a few more phone calls before she ended her twelve-hour day.
The rage built within the chest of the person until it felt like a forest fire of wrath and vengeance with a twist of cruelty. When Gia finally boarded the elevator, the person opened up the door to the stairs and ran down two steps at a time in an attempt to keep up with Gia – and follow her all the way to Deception.
~*~*~*~
Angelolyte
His mind filled with his intent, he kept Gia in his sights as she walked angrily towards Deception. Her shoulders shook for a reason he didn’t understand or care. He knew where she was going, so he kept his distance, careful not to be seen, though in his present state of mind, he didn’t really care. So determined was he to keep up with her that he didn’t notice Luke Spencer walking towards him. He lost sight of Gia as Luke came to a halt in front of him, blocking his path.
"What the? Get the hell out of my way!" Lucky Spencer yelled at his father. Luke, surprised by his son’s vehement order, stood his ground.
"Where are you going, Cowboy? What’s got you in such a dander?" Luke wondered. The sounds of the docks around them made Lucky jumpy – the clang of the buoys, the people walking back and forth, a fog horn resonating in the distance. Lucky’s face tightened with anger, and he looked away from Luke.
"I’ve got places to go. Got a problem with that?"
"No, I guess I don’t. I don’t like to see you so upset though. Why don’t you come over to Kelly’s with me? You need to settle down."
"I don’t need anything from you, Luke! I’m not your Cowboy. Get out of my way!" Lucky pulled a knife from his pocket. Luke stepped backwards, putting his hands up in the air.
"Hey, Cowboy!"
"Stop calling me that!" Lucky cried.
"Okay, okay. Give me the knife, Lucky. You don’t need that. Not with me. Not with the old man, right?"
"What would you know about it, Luke? You’re not above chloroforming Nikolas are you? Damn, I’m going to lose valuable time." Luke lunged at Lucky as he spoke nonsensically, knocking the knife out of Lucky’s hand. Lucky forcefully shoved Luke, throwing him down on a bunch of empty crates. Stunned, Luke lay where he fell, while Lucky ran off into the night. Luke tried to get up, but found he had twisted his back a little. He was still trying to get up when Felicia found him.
"Luke!" Felicia cried. "Are you all right?" Felicia bent over. Gently she helped her friend to stand. Her heart beat in pure fear as Luke stood. Luke wanted nothing more than to run after Lucky, but his kid was gone, and Luke had no clue as to his destination.
"Damn," He swore under his breath.
"What is it?" Felicia demanded. "You look like you got run over by a truck." She led him over to a nearby bench. Sitting down, Luke rubbed his lower back.
"Just my kid acting out," Luke told her.
"What?" Felicia asked in confusion.
"Lucky. Helena’s got him all whacked out on me. I don’t know what to do."
"You mean Lucky pushed you?" Felicia returned incredulously. "Surely not."
"Surely, yes,’ Luke returned with his wry sense of humor. "He’s losing it, I’m telling ya, and the old bat is behind it for sure."
"Well, we have to stop him!" Felicia cried anxiously. Luke sat back, his face a mask of uncertain emotion, fear for his son, and bemusement at Felicia as she stood up, looking around distractedly.
"And just where do you want us to start?" he inquired matter-of-factly. "With the old Bat or Lucky?"
~*~*~*~
Gia strode purposefully towards Deception. It
was late, but Laura would probably be there. She would show her mother. Tears glistening
in the girl’s eyes as she shook her head back and forth, her braids swinging out like
deadly weapons. Flo would know that Gia was talented in her own right, not as the perfect
daughter, but as Gia herself. Standing inside the moving elevator, Gia took some deep
breaths on her way up to the sixth floor. Brushing away her tears, she collected herself.
She didn’t want Laura to see her upset. That would never do. Gia became cool, calm,
emotionless. The elevator door opened. To her surprise and irritation, Gia ran full into
Lucky Spencer who blocked her path, only feet from Elton’s desk. Gia’s anger
rose, but it definitely wasn’t nearly as boiling hot as Lucky’s.
“Spencer, what is your problem?” she asked with an exasperated voice. Her mind
was occupied with visions of her mother exhorting her to be perfect, to be her
mother’s perfect daughter.
“What are you doing here, Gia?” Lucky asked, hiding the storm within himself.
Even if Gia had known him better, she wouldn’t have recognized the wild unfocused
look in his blue eyes.
“None of your business, Spencer. Now get out of my way, or I’ll be forced to use
violence.”
She tried to brush past him, but Lucky stood firm. His eyes assessed her slender body
clothed in extremely tight fitting jeans, a light yellow top, and black leather boots. She
was hot. Lucky’s fingers itched with the fire in his soul. The fire had to be put
out, the murderous emotions that threatened to destroy him. His chest heaved with his deep
breaths as Gia walked to one side and then the other, but he kept up with her and she
stopped totally frustrated at his refusal to let her pass.
“I asked you, Gia, what are you doing here?” Lucky finally screamed, his rage
exploding at this ridiculous dance they were doing. His face was red with fury, his eyes
crazed, filled with murderous intent. Too late, Gia realized how much danger she was in.
She backed up towards the elevator, putting her hands up in the air in self-defense. Her
eyes frantically sought any kind of movement in the office beyond Lucky’s menacing
form. She needed help. He was crazy!
“Get away from me, Lucky,” She screamed with a tone meant to draw attention.
“Get away now!”
~*~*~*~
Ariadne
"For starters, Luke, why don’t we head back to your apartment so we can think things through, review the situation? Maybe we can come up with a plan to help Lucky. It’s scary. He’s never been violent with you before, has he?" Felicia tilted her head, and the light from the street made her blond hair shine and her green eyes twinkle.
"No, Felicia," Luke answered unhappily. His mind traveled to the past, to all of the times that he and Cowboy had tangled. Theirs was a fiery relationship born of love and sometimes pain, but never violence. Luke had never laid a hand on Lucky in his whole life, even for a well-deserved spanking. But, Lucky had definitely laid hands on his father tonight, and Luke was unsure of how far this would go. Those eyes, those wild, tormented eyes. Luke had no doubt that his son would have killed him had he not disarmed him. It was like his son was possessed! But the question was, by whom or by what?
Luke tried to hide his fears from his newest best friend and leaned into her as he grabbed her lightly around the waist. "You know, I have a hard time thinking when you’re this close to me, Orphey!" He sighed raggedly and rubbed his lower back. "Man’s getting’ old when his son kicks the crap out of him," he stated with resignation.
"I can fix you some herbal tea and give you a back rub," Felicia offered perkily.
Luke made a face at the prospect of the herbal tea, but said jovially, "Okay, you win." Luke’s eyes glinted with steely purpose and determination. "But I am going to figure out how to fix Helena and help my boy – once and for all!"
Luke and Felicia walked several steps, but the evil shine of a wicked steel blade lying on the deserted docks caught in Luke’s peripheral vision. He carefully bent to retrieve Lucky’s chosen weapon. Luke turned it back and forth in his right hand and shuddered at the thought of Lucky wielding the dangerous blade and viciously stabbing him over and over again. Was it possible? Had his Cowboy gone mad?
~*~*~*~
"You bitch!" Lucky screamed incoherently as he brutally shoved Gia into the waiting elevator. She almost lost her balance as her back crashed into the back of the elevator car with a loud thud and her boots skidded across the floor. "Aaaahhh!" she cried out in pain and fear. Lucky’s hands wrapped around her neck as if it were a twig that he wanted to break and use for kindling. His fingers dug into her slender neck and began squeezing while his knee separated her legs, and his breath came hot and heavy on her quivering face. Gia tried desperately to think, to rationalize, but that part of her brain had shut down from the rush of pure adrenaline racing through her veins.
"First I’m gonna rape you, then I’m gonna kill you," he gritted out in a low, dangerous tone of voice before a giggle of relief released from his lips. His face grimaced with bared teeth, and he was almost unrecognizable. He dragged his tongue over her cheek and on her lips as he growled and grabbed at her skimpy yellow top, yanking so hard that it almost tore in half, ripping the seam out of the left side of the garment.
Gia shrieked and began pleading. "No, you don’t want to do this, Lucky please! Please, no." Her shoulders shook with the force and intensity of her crying, but the only thing on Lucky’s mind was rage, pain and the desire to inflict that on Gia.
As Gia felt the very life being choked out of her, an urgent voice warned in her head. It was her brother, Marcus. "Kick him in the groin," it said. "If a man wants to hurt you, you gotta fight back. That’s where he’s most vulnerable. Kick up and kick hard."
Gia let out an unnaturally loud scream of survival and aimed her right knee directly towards Lucky’s groin. It seemed to her that the knee moved in slow motion, muscles flexing, lifting her leg into the air with the wrath of a woman bent on self-protection. She used her hands to shove Lucky as hard as she could, and felt her hard knee connect with his vulnerable softness.
Lucky flew onto his back with an enraged scream and began rocking back and forth on the floor, moaning in agony. Gia stood half in and out of the elevator, shaking and breathing in with harsh, raspy gasps. After watching a vanquished Lucky for a few seconds, her brain kicked in and she stepped over him to make her escape.
Lucky’s hand reached out and grabbed Gia’s ankle tightly. She cried out and shook it as hard as she could to dislodge his grip. "Let me go!" she yelled. Lucky responded by uttering a growl and lifting his other hand to encircle her leg. Gia’s heart pounded in shock as she felt the sharp indentations of Lucky’s teeth sinking into her lower calf. Pure survival instincts took over and she began stomping him with her other foot, the boot connecting solidly to his head, face, chest and stomach. Over and over she kicked and stomped while Lucky continued to wrestle with her and grip her leg.
"I’m gonna kick your sorry @ss so hard you’re gonna die, you %&$* pig!" she screamed, the spittle flying from her enraged lips. Lucky’s grip loosened as his eyes closed, and he began making strangled gurgling noises.
~*~*~*~
Elton couldn’t sleep, he just couldn’t. Tomorrow was going to be such a big day, and perfectionist that he was, those pesky details haunted him until he stood up from his bed with hands on his silk pajamaed hips and announced to his black cat, Elvira. "Enough! I must go and do my duty!" Elvira gave him a haughty superior look and closed her evil yellow eyes in disdain.
Elton reached for his keys while he rode the elevator. That’s funny, but it looked like the other elevator was still on the sixth floor. Was someone else burning the midnight oil at Deception? Who could it be? No one else was as devoted as he. Elton gripped his daytimer with a tense hand. It was his lifeblood and ought to be insured by Lloyd’s of London. In fact, he planned to suggest that to Miss Laura Spencer in the morning. Elton sniffed and raised his hand to inspect the gorgeous onyx ring that he had just bought himself in celebration of his second month’s anniversary with Deception.
Elton jangled his keys that opened the front door of the Deception offices and stepped off of the elevator. He turned to his left and got the shock of his tumultuous life. There they were. Two bodies lying on the floor. They looked dead.
Elton screamed long and hard in a very high pitched tone as he backed away in fright. He ran into a wall and wilted down to the floor in a puddled heap. His large blue eyes bugged out as they couldn’t remove themselves from the gruesome scene. It’s just like Bonnie and Clyde, he thought. Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway, why weren’t they simply divine in that movie.
Elton reached into the pocket of his Brooks Brother trench coat and retrieved his cell phone. "Oh my," he said out loud. "Oh my, my, MY!" Elton’s tremulous fingers dialed 911. "OH HELP! SAVE ME!" he pleaded. "There’s two dead bodies, and they’re scaring me to DEATH!"
His curiosity got the better of him, and Elton tiptoed over to the elevator. He bent down for a closer look and gasped audibly with a quick hand fluttering to his mouth. Why it was Gia Campbell. The new Face of Deception. Elton looked down at her face, always beautiful, but now still and dead. His nose crinkled. Her face looked permanently surprised with wide, open eyes, parted lips and a swollen tongue protruding from them. But her braids were wound around her neck several times until they were tied into a huge knot that ended in a neat bow. Elton looked over at the young man who was covered with blood from head to toe. He creased his brow in confusion as a tiny sound emitted from the prone body. Elton’s mouth made a surprised ‘O’ shape.
~*~*~*~
Angeloltye
Elton was frantically pacing back and forth between his desk and the elevators after calling 911. He wrung his manicured hands together, sitting down at his desk for a fleeting second, then popping up to go and stare at the two bodies, returning to his desk and repeating the process again.
"Where are they?" he asked himself out loud. "Surely they must come soon. This is life and DEATH! I can’t deal with this indefinitely. Certainly not. It’s not in my job description." He stopped and stood stock still as a moan elicited from the dying young man. He lay on his back, his face, his shirt, even his jeans one bloody mess. His face was barely recognizable. Elton leaned closer. The eyes flickered, then popped open. Those blue eyes were unmistakable! As quickly as they opened, the eyes closed as blood seeped out of his mouth onto the tile floor. The victim sickly gurgled as if choking on the blood.
"Oh my God, oh my God," Elton whispered as the realization dawned on him. His blue eyes frantically darted around the room with rapidly fluttering eyelashes. This was Lucky Spencer, Miss Spencer’s son. He couldn’t let the young lad die!
Elton shook his shoulders and pulled his back ramrod straight. "I can do this," Elton told himself. "I can do this." Hesitantly, his shaking hand reached out. Remembering the first aid he’d been taught in Boy Scouts, he tentatively touched Lucky’s head. Revolted by the touch, he pulled back for a second with a cry of fear, and then knelt closer to turn Lucky’s head with both his hands so the blood would drain out of the mouth, instead of lying in the throat where it would build up eventually choking the young man to death. Just as he moved Lucky’s head, the paramedics arrived and raced out of the elevator complete with a folded down stretcher and their equipment on the conveyance. Elton jumped up and backward with the fluid motion of a dancer, breathing in a deep sigh of relief.
"This young man! He’s Lucky Spencer. You have to HELP him!" came the arched, high-pitched cry. "He’s dying. Do something!"
"We will if you’ll just shut up for a minute," Frank Scanlon snapped as he hurried over to Lucky. His partner checked Gia for signs of life, though that was obviously a futile task. He touched her neck, but nothing else. Silence greeted his fingers as they felt for a palpable pulse. He shook his head, averting his eyes from that beautiful face, from the eyes that seemed to beg him to help her. He wished he could shut them. Instead he turned his attention back to Frank and Lucky.
"She’s dead," the partner reported
"And he will be, too, if we don’t move it," Frank retorted quickly. "Let’s get him on a stretcher. We need to scoop and run." Frank quickly examined Lucky, his gloved hands still trying to avoid the blood, but not successfully. There was just too much of it. He could determine some of the injuries just by looking at the origin of the blood. Someone had hit or kicked Lucky, opening the skin on his chest, abdomen, and neck. Blood spurted from a cut vein in his neck. Several smaller wounds had already clotted off beneath the torn shirt on his abdomen. Even a wound on his head was bleeding, to say nothing of the blood from his mouth, which indicated internal injuries. The kid had been beaten to a pulp. If he lived it would be a miracle.
While he examined the boy, Frank’s partner put a pressure bandage on the vein on the neck. When Frank finished, the two men carefully moved Lucky completely on his side. They were rewarded with a cry of pain from their patient who quickly went silent again. They carefully laid Lucky on the stretcher. Mercifully, the gurgling stopped, though the blood continued to drool down Lucky’s chin continuously. Frank sighed. At least the kid would be able to breathe while in transport. He would suction Lucky in the ambulance to help clear his airway.
"What’s going on here?" Garcia cried coming out of the elevator that the paramedics had vacated a short while before. He took in the scene that greeted him. Seeing Gia, he gave out a low whistle. He looked from Lucky to Frank.
"This is Lucky Spencer. We have to get him to the hospital - now," Frank reported. "No time for explanations." He and his partner lifted the gurney to waist level and entered the waiting elevator.
"Is he going to make it?" Elton demanded, still wringing his hands. "What shall I tell Miss Spencer? She’s going to want to know."
"Tell her that her son has been viciously attacked, and she should get down to General Hospital," Frank snorted in reply, smugly letting the elevator door shut in the agitated faces of both Elton and Garcia. Frank was glad he was the paramedic and not Garcia. He didn’t relish anyone telling Marcus Taggert that his sister was dead. Give him the physical injuries - he was glad to be out of the emotional fallout that would surely come.
~*~*~*~
Luke Spencer was relishing the feel of "Orphey’s" hands rubbing lotion on his lower back. She applied just the right amount of pressure to relieve the pain from his fall. He felt the endorphins in his body responding to the delicious touch. He was lying on the sofa, his head lying on the arm of the furniture piece, while Felicia straddled his legs, clad in her silk Teddy, sitting comfortably while she worked, her own emotions rising as she pushed her hands back and forth on Luke’s broad back.
"Talk to me, Luke," she encouraged finally. "What are you thinking about?"
"Besides the obvious?" Luke moaned under his breath. He was rewarded with a light swat from Felicia. "What was that for?" he yelped.
"You’re supposed to be thinking of a way to help Lucky, aren’t you? Get your head out of the gutter for now, Luke," Felicia ordered, though her own mind wasn’t far from Luke’s.
"You’re right," Luke agreed. He thought again of the knife. He could almost see Lucky sticking that knife into his old man, actually enjoying killing his father. He would never have thought that was possible, until tonight, until he saw the furious sparks in Lucky’s eyes, those sparks that could burst into deadly flames at any minute.
"Helena’s behind this. I know she is," Luke muttered. "If we can stop her, we can save, Lucky."
"How do you know, Luke?" Felicia demanded, stopping to take more lotion out of the bottle on the coffee table. She rubbed it into her hands to warm it up, then started to rub Luke’s back again. He sighed with pleasure.
"She’s said as much. She brainwashed him, didn’t she?"
"Yes. But, Luke, you’ve confronted her once before. You almost killed Nikolas. Thank God you didn’t, but if threatening Nikolas didn’t work, how do you expect to stop her?" Felicia pushed her fingers pointedly down on Luke’s spine. The snap of each movement was carefully placed so that Luke couldn’t help but feel the delight. He spun over in what would normally have been a quick movement, but instead was a little slow and painful. As Felicia fell back, laughing, he reached out to grab her hands.
"Are you having fun?" he demanded, grinning from ear to ear, his mind yearning to help Lucky, but his emotions craving more of Felicia’s warm body next to his.
"I’m trying to help you relax," Felicia explained, pouting. "Did it work?"
"Yes, it worked. Too well." Luke sat up. Felicia sat on the sofa with him, waiting. Luke took her hand, turning the palm over so it faced him. He fingered it, then smiled.
"There’s only one way to reach Helena," He surmised out loud. "One way."
"What’s that?" Felicia asked, screwing up her forehead in puzzlement. To her surprise, she saw a Luke she’d never seen before as his face turned hard. His eyes narrowed in deadly determination. He licked his lips in anticipation of the war to come. His eyes met Felicia’s as he kissed her hand, then drew her to him, letting her head rest on his bare chest. She could hear his heart beating fast, and feel his chest rise and fall in rapid breaths. Felicia didn’t know why, but suddenly she was frightened. Luke’s words did not comfort her.
"Prince Nik and I will meet her on her own terms, and then we will take her down. If it means Lucky’s life or hers, I know what Nikolas will do. I only hope and pray he has the guts."
~*~*~*~
The insistent sirens of the ambulance broke through the doldrums of the ER at General Hospital. One broken arm, an elderly lady in congestive heart failure, and a hemorrhoid patient who just couldn’t take the burning anymore were the only casualties the team had treated that night. Now as the clock neared eleven, the staff hurried to assist the patient they had been warned about via radio from the ambulance staff. Frank Scanlon and his partner came rushing in as the pneumatic doors to the ER screeched open.
"Eighteen year old, Lucky Spencer, severely beaten," Frank reported in a hurried monologue as Dr. Ian Thornhart and Dr. Eve Lambert rushed along with him and the nursing staff to ER 1. The sight of the young man they all knew as Nurse Bobbie Jones’ nephew was distressing. They could all see he was terribly injured. Frank continued his report, barely taking breaths between sentences.
"BP is 88/42 and dropping. Pulse is tachy and slightly irregular at 134. Respirations are shallow at twelve. He’s desaturating. Pulse ox was 89 with oxygen at 100% via mask. Lung sounds are severely diminished bilaterally. I suctioned a large amount of blood from his throat. It was bright red. He’s responsive to painful stimuli, but not verbally."
"Damn," Ian swore. "Get a respirator down here. The kid’s going into respiratory arrest. Get a surgeon down here, and a portable x-ray. We need to look for internal injuries."
Frank finished his report. "Abdomen is rigid and tender. Ribs are also tender. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got some busted ones. We’ll let you guys take it from here." Ian nodded as the staff carefully transferred Lucky from the gurney to the examining table. This time, Lucky barely moved. He opened his mouth as if to cry out, but no sound came. As he was laid down on his back, he took a deep breath, then reflexively sat up, throwing up copious amounts of blood. The blood quickly covered the table, and stuck to the scrubs of the staff. A few splatters hit the floor. A collective "ahhh" went up from the staff as they instinctively drew backwards, all except Eve. Without blinking an eye, Eve ripped off his shirt, then helped the almost unconscious patient to lay back down. Lucky’s face was white as a sheet, and his eyes closed tightly as he made an extreme effort to breathe. His lips were blue from lack of oxygen. He wasn’t breathing enough to get air into his system, nor did he have enough blood left inside him to circulate the red blood cells that would oxygenate his system in the first place. Eve’s heart went out to Lucky as he struggled on the table and fought to live. Ian continued to bark out orders.
"Get an endotracheal tube. We’ll put the tube down and bag him till the respirator gets here. I want 5mg of Versed stat. Get me a CBC, Sed rate, Trauma panel, and UA. Get an 18-gauge needle in him. We’ll need at least two units of O Neg. blood. Type and cross match for four more units. Move it!" Within a minute, an IV had been started. The Versed had been given to Ian who injected it into the IV quickly. Eve grabbed the Endotracheal tube from another nurse. She tore it open as Lucky’s mind and body mercifully went completely unconscious. Versed was a drug that literally put patients to sleep, and that was what Lucky needed. He didn’t need to feel the Endotracheal tube going down as Eve worked to get the tube into Lucky so she could bag him. It wasn’t easy. She had to order Lucky suctioned again before she could put the tube in. The blood was coagulating in his throat, which made placement of the tube almost impossible. Finally he was being bagged. The staff was gratified to see the color come back to Lucky’s face. They continued to work intensely as a team to save the boy. Eve looked worriedly at Ian as the blood arrived and radiology Tech with a portable x-ray machine in tow hurried into the room.
"Think he’ll make it?" Eve asked carefully.
Ian sighed. "One can only hope." He stepped back as the staff prepared to take films of Lucky to see how much damage had been done to him. Ian wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The kid was a bloody mess, and for once that was not a figure of speech.
END OF PART ONE