Dan was juggling several things, each critically important in their own right. The first was his phone call with Andros Bartholow, whose long rant was finally beginning to die down. The burner was still muted, but if Dan didn't show so signs of life soon the mad Genius might get suspicious. That would be very bad, given that Dan had just learned where the man was staying. He needed Bartholow to stay angry and immobile for as long as possible.
In his other hand, Dan held his own phone. He'd already texted the address to Gregoir, Ito, Connor and Freya, and just about every cop he had the number for in order to raise the alarm. Now he was frantically looking up the location online, and trying to find himself a picture of it. If he found a picture, he could teleport to it.
The address led to a cheap motel on the outskirts of downtown. There was absolutely nothing of note in the area, which was only a step above a slum. It wasn't even all that close to Burl yers' original apartnt, nor the storage units that Dan had been directed. It was, however, right down the street from the tro line, and along the feeder of a large freeway. That clocked with what Dan knew about Bartholow; he doubted the man had a car or a license, not that he would care about the latter.
"Are you even listening, Newman?" the mad scientist's exasperated voice sounded from the burner phone. There was an odd scraping noise, and a scream of pain that imdiately earned Dan's attention.
He quickly unmuted the phone, but Andros was still speaking and he didn't dare interrupt, "How about now? Do I have your attention, or shall I remove sothing important from your little friend?"
"I'm here," Dan said through gritted teeth. The night manager of the Pearson was neither his friend, nor particularly little, but the unhinged terrorist didn't seem to care about either fact. Dan was quickly running out of ti and options, and nobody he'd texted had—
Dan's phone buzzed with a call from Gregoir. Dan awkwardly juggled the two phones, answering his own, but speaking into the burner, "What do you want from , Bartholow?"
There was blessed silence on Gregoir's line as he imdiately caught on to what was happening. Dan put the burner on speaker as Andros spoke, "Well, if you're so eager to lose your freedom, I suppose I can move along to my demands."
"By all ans," Dan replied graciously. On his own phone, he minimized Gregoir's call, and pulled up the official website of the motel complex. There were pictures there, including the front desk. He zood in on the cheap linoleum flooring and peeling wallpaper, grinning as he locked the location into mory.
"It's quite simple really, even you can manage this," Bartholow said with thinly veiled hostility. "There's an old playground I want you to visit. It's quite abandoned, so no need to worry about witnesses or... collateral damage." The last two words erged as an amused taunt.
Bartholow then rattled off an address that had Dan scrambling for sothing to write on. The mad scientist didn't even pause for breath before issuing further orders, "I've left a syringe hidden inside the covered twisty-slide. You'll know it when you see it."
"A syringe," Dan repeated flatly.
"You'll take the syringe," Bartholow continued without breaking stride, "and inject yourself. It doesn't matter where. It contains a sedative that will keep you out long enough to be collected for study and testing. Building sothing capable of holding you will be a worthy challenge, but will take so ti. I'm afraid you'll remain in an artificial coma until then. My apologies."
He didn't sound even a little bit sorry.
"And if I don't?" Dan asked, mostly because he thought it'd be suspicious if he didn't.
"Then I'll keep abducting people and killing them in ever more creative ways. Maybe I'll make recordings, and email them to you, just so you know it's your fault." Andros Bartholow sounded downright cheery at the prospect.
"Okay fine, holy shit," Dan replied quickly. "Don't do that. It's fine, I'll go. Might take a bit to find this place, though. Just an address isn't enough."
Bartholow cackled nacingly. "Find a way, Daniel Newman. I'll be generous and give you five whole minutes to get your affairs in order and sedate yourself. I'll know when it's done. Good luck."
The call ended abruptly, and Dan was left staring at the quiet burner. With a thought, he sent it into hamrspace. He'd learned from Anastasia: soone could still be listening in.
Dan quickly put his own phone to his ear, and asked, "You get all that?"
Gregoir's answer was direct and to the point. There was no ti for pleasantries or explanations. "The park he is directing you to is nearly twenty minutes away from the address you've given as his location. How certain are you of your information? Your text was light on details."
"I'm standing beside Burl yers," Dan revealed. Burl straightened to attention at the ntion of his na. His eyes blinked at Dan, murky and dull. "Poor fellow is drugged to the gills. He was looking for at Bartholow's direction, and doing a very bad job of it. I asked him where they've been staying, and he gave that address."
"But is the hostage there as well?" Gregoir urged, all business.
Dan hesitated at the question. It was a very good one. He turned to Burl, chewing over how he might ask without raising what little suspicion remained in the man's head.
"Burl,' Dan said quickly, keenly aware that his window to act was shrinking by the second, "was there soone else staying with you and Andros?"
Burl nodded dumbly.
"Tallish white guy?" Dan clarified with an internal cringe. He was aware that he'd just described over a quarter of the city, but it was the best description of the night manager's appearance that he could summon up. He really, really didn't know the man very well. Dan still couldn't rember his na, and every ti he considered that fact he felt a stab of guilt.
Thankfully, Burl nodded again.
"I think so," Dan said into the phone. "Are you on the way?"
"Fast as I can," Gregoir said with steely determination. "I need to make additional calls. Daniel, you should get to a secure location and wait for my word that it's safe."
"You gonna get there before my..." Dan checked his watch. "My three minute window is up?"
There was a mont's hesitation before Gregoir answered, "Of course."
Gregoir was not good at lying.
"Then I'll et you there," Dan said simply, before ending the call. Gregoir wouldn't be calling back. He needed to rally the troops, and ti was short. He wouldn't make it in ti, Dan could hear it in his voice. Andros would realize sothing had gone wrong, kill his hostage, and flee. Soone needed to stop him, and Dan was conveniently available.
Dan had a really simple plan. He would teleport into the shady motel room where Bartholow was staying, and either capture the terrorist himself, or stall him until the authorities could arrive. Despite the relative dangers of the plan, Dan was feeling confident. He'd beaten Bartholow before, and that was fresh off of being drugged and knocked unconscious.
A small chunk of tal began to fall through t-space.
Dan focused on the location he'd just morized and blinked into motel lobby, ignoring the clerk's squawked surprise. He snatched up a nearby pamphlet, opening it up to reveal a map of the apartnt complex. His finger tracked down the laminated page until he found Bartholow's room number. He turned, still ignoring the clerk's increasingly loud questions, and blinked into the parking lot. He took a mont to orient himself, checking his map again, then appeared at the edge of the stairwell closest to Bartholow's room.
Dan waited there, checking his watch. Just over a minute before Bartholow's deadline. Dan sent out his veil, searching for traps. Bartholow might not know he's coming, but Dan wouldn't put it past the man to booby trap his own room. Dan's veil slipped through the concrete walkway and beneath the mad scientist's door. It skated along the floor and walls, up furniture and across the counters. He found nothing that seed off to his senses, but only a single inhabitant.
His veil crawled up the person's clothing, feeling out their fra. He was of average height and build, and sitting in a recliner seemingly of his own accord. He was barely moving, only the soft movent of his shirt and Dan's own veil revealing that he was alive at all. He could very easily be the night manager, sedated and immobile. Perhaps Bartholow was already en route to the park, eager to pick up Dan's sedated self. Or maybe it was Bartholow himself, and his hostage was kept elsewhere.
Dan swept his veil through the neighboring rooms, finding them empty of traps and people. The neighboring rooms below were likewise void of life. He spread his veil thinner and farther, now just searching for signs of life and finding nothing. This small section of the motel was eerily quiet; his instincts told him sothing was very wrong. It was... nothing real. But Dan felt a slowly budding fear in the back of his mind that threatened to seize control of him. There was no cause for it. It just was.
He instinctively sent his veil into the air around him, but couldn't get far. There was nothing overt that he could detect, but sothing was clearly affecting him. Bartholow had probably dosed this entire section of the complex with sothing to ward people away. This conclusion did nothing to fight the feeling, but Dan was used to being afraid. He pushed onward, walking quietly to the entrance of Bartholow's apartnt.
Two options lay within, the hostage or the terrorist. Dan was betting on the forr. Bartholow had probably left the mont he'd issued his ultimatum, relying entirely on his knowledge of Dan's general nature to ensure no foul play.
Or he had other ans of ensuring compliance...
The thought sent a shudder down Dan's spine. He realized, suddenly, just how many things could go wrong. What if the hostage had been implanted with sothing horrific, as Dan had, and could die at the press of a button? What if Dan had made the wrong choice, and another man would pay for it?
It was too late for regret. The deadline passed as he stood anxiously in front of the closed door, and Dan was forced to make his move. His veil whipped out, removing the lock, the bolt and the and knob. He gently swung it open, and stepped inside. He knew exactly where his target was standing, his veil told him the whole tale. He turned to the recliner, expecting to see one of two faces.
The man seated there was not one that Dan had ever t. He was gaunt, almost malnourished, but visible muscles stood out on his ravaged fra. His skin clung tight to clearly outlined bones, and there was a ravenous hunger in his gaze that sent cold pinpricks racing down Dan's spine. It took Dan a mont to place the man's features. He knew this man, though Dan had never seen him in the flesh. The man had lost a great deal of weight, and his features were sharply outlined by the lack of fat, but Dan could never forget the cold, dead gaze staring back at him.
Cannibal sat in the recliner, an intrigued smile carving its way across his face.
"Hello," he rasped with a voice like sandpaper against desert stone. "Why don't you co in? I was just thinking about dinner."
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