Here's the long-awaited next installment!
Be forewarned about some violence, again (just in case).
After Deborah Part Six
Rated: PG
A sharp, searing pain on the back of his head greeted MacGyver when he awoke. Before opening his eyes fully, he gently touched the sore, throbbing spot. It felt tender, and he noticed the sticky texture of dried blood. Groaning, he slowly slid his eyes open, trying to focus on his surroundings. They spun wildly around him and were blurred, forcing him to slam his eyes shut again and take deep breaths to regain his balance and reduce the dizziness. His moment of recovery didn’t last much longer. While he was still disoriented and groggy, several of Li’s massive henchmen grabbed him, yanking him up off the ground. Everything spun again, and nausea hit MacGyver in waves. He tried to stifle his vomit, because he knew if he suddenly lost the contents of his stomach on these guy’s shoes they wouldn’t be too thrilled about it.
“Get up,” one of them growled.
All MacGyver could do was moan in response as he was dragged down a series of long corridors. As he began to see more clearly, he noticed the details of the complex. The corridors were narrow, white, and sterile looking. There were several rooms filled with laboratory equipment. MacGyver didn’t know where exactly he was, but he had seen enough research facilities to know what kind of building it was. It looked like a makeshift lab, but it was designed to be a lab nonetheless. The men dragging him carried him into one of the rooms. Li was standing there, an amused grin on his thin lips, his blue eyes pale and expressionless. His men pushed MacGyver to the floor, holding him down with brute force and a policeman’s night stick. They indulged in a few whacks to his back, and he grunted, doing his best to keep himself from crying out, because he knew that’s what sick men like Li wanted to hear.
“All right, that’s enough,” Li said. One of his men jammed his boot into MacGyver’s side for one last satisfying blow, causing him to cough. Li grinned. “Well MacGyver, it sounds like you’re in the final stages of my manufactured cold.”
“What do you want, Li?” MacGyver asked, his voice hoarse.
Li laughed, and then his face contorted into a sinister grimace. He knelt down and grabbed a fistful of MacGyver’s hair, yanking his head up to face him. One of his men wrapped an arm around his neck and another jabbed a gun at the base of his already sore skull to keep him from struggling. MacGyver gasped against the strong grip of the arm coiled around his neck.
“You’re here to help me,” Li said, his voice barely a whisper. He nodded at his men, and the one with his arm around MacGyver’s neck released him. The gun was still pointed firmly at his head, however. “You see, I could’ve killed you many times over since our last encounter, but I realize your potential. You’re worth something to me, unlike Anna.”
“You didn’t have to kill her,” MacGyver said, remembering how she fell to the floor of the cabin, lifeless. She had tried to help him. She had finally told him the truth. Now, she was dead. He tried to think of how he could have helped her, how he could have saved her.
Li shrugged. “Killing her meant nothing to me,” he said.
“Of course not, and you want to know why? Because you’re a sick man, Li. You’re a sociopath.”
One of Li’s men smacked him again with the night stick. Li held up his hand. “Enough,” he said. “I need him functioning and coherent.” He looked at MacGyver, bloodied and beaten. He had no doubt severe bruises were already forming on his body, thanks to the handiwork of his men. “The truth is, you’ve been chosen for a specific task, MacGyver. A task I know you’re more than qualified to handle, considering your background.” He motioned toward a table of wiring, hard cases, batteries, timing devices, and explosives. “You see this? You’re going to help me build a bomb.”
“Why don’t you just build one yourself?”
One of the men threatened to hit him again, but Li shook his head. “Because, MacGyver, no one has the expertise and skill in this area that you do. I could build a bomb, but you can build me the ultimate bomb. I don’t like getting my hands dirty in this area. I used to have a bomb expert, but sadly he disappointed me. He’s in about the same place Anna is now.”
“Sounds like you have an efficient way of firing people,” MacGyver said in disgust.
“Well, I have no time to waste. This bomb needs to be built immediately.”
“What for?”
Li smiled, baring his teeth. “Rogue governments, terrorists…just about anyone who needs a problem to be eliminated. I have many interested buyers internationally,” he said.
“I’ll bet you do,” MacGyver said sarcastically. “So, why do you need me, Li? Anyone could build you a basic bomb.”
“Oh, but these devices aren’t basic, MacGyver,” Li said, picking up pieces of the equipment and studying them. “They’re the most advanced and most efficient bombs I’ve ever designed. What gives them their kick is an added dose of radiation, just enough to pollute and seriously harm anyone within miles of the explosion.”
MacGyver had heard about the threat of suitcase nukes before, but he never actually thought they were as close as they were to becoming a reality. He stared at Li, trying to gauge whether he was bluffing or not. “You actually have a supply of nuclear material?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Who is your supplier?”
Li smiled calmly. “Anyone who gives me the best price,” he said. “In return, I offer the bombs to the highest bidder.”
“You’re selling death.”
Li shrugged. “MacGyver, I’m not a politician. I’m a businessman. This is how I’ve always operated, even as an assassin. What do I care who gets hurt or what country is involved, as long as I get my payment,” he said.
MacGyver looked at the parts of Li’s death machines. “I won’t build these bombs for you, Li,” he said. “You can do what you want to me, but I won’t participate in your campaign of death and destruction.”
“I don’t believe you understand, MacGyver,” Li said. “You’re my slave now. You’ll do what I tell you, whether it’s part of your precious principles or not. You have little choice in the matter.”
MacGyver remained firm, even though he was lying prostrate on the floor with several huge men holding him down with a gun pointed at the back of his head. “No Li,” he said. “I won’t do it.”
Li chuckled. “Fine,” he said. “Suit yourself.”
He snapped his fingers, and his men forced MacGyver up off the floor. They dragged him over to a saw and clamped his hands down with metal cuffs, his fingers directly in the path of the sharp, spiked blade. MacGyver’s eyes widened when he saw what was about to happen. He struggled and tried to kick the men, but they held his legs. Li nodded, sending a signal to his men.
“Turn it on,” he said.
One of the men grinned and turned the saw on, watching in sick fascination along with Li as the blade began rotating rapidly, making a chilling cutting sound. Li walked over to the saw and grabbed a piece of wood. He put it in the path of the blade and watched as it cut with precision, quickly snapping off a part of it. MacGyver watched in horror as it fell to the floor with a thud. Li looked at him and grinned.
“Your mind is a powerful tool, MacGyver,” he said, “but without the use of your fingers, you would be nothing. I suppose I could kill you if you don’t do what I ask, but sawing off your fingers would render you just as useless. Plus, you get to suffer more. So, I will ask you one more time, MacGyver. Will you build these bombs for me, or not?”
MacGyver stared at the blade. “Not,” he said, wincing, waiting for the blade to move closer. He knew the consequences of what would follow and the excruciating pain that was about to come, but he simply couldn’t involve himself in building weapons that, once unleashed, would kill millions of innocent people around the world.
“So be it,” Li said. “You’re a brilliant man, MacGyver, but you’re still a stubborn, stupid patriot. That lowers you in my estimation.”
“Well, sorry I can’t live up to your idol status,” MacGyver shot back.
Li laughed. “Let’s see how amusing you are after you’re missing a few of your fingers,” he said.
MacGyver watched as the blade moved closer. He tried to struggle again, but he was held tightly. He tried to think of some way out, but the blade came closer. He could feel it lightly brushing against his pinky, and he knew in just a second more, it would start tearing mercilessly into his flesh. Still, he refused to do what Li wanted him to. It wasn’t a matter of pride or strength for him—it was a matter of national and international security. The blade began cutting into him, and he released a cry in pain. Li smiled, satisfied with what was about to unfold.
“Stop! A buyer is here!” Another one of Li’s men shouted, running over to him.
Li nodded at the man who had started the saw, and the man turned it off, looking disappointed. MacGyver looked at what damage had been caused. Fortunately, he still had his finger, but a deep gash was cut into it, exposing the bone. His blood was all over the saw. Li looked at him, happy to see what a pathetic mess MacGyver was in. He was pale and trembling in shock.
“Put MacGyver in that empty room, so he won’t have anything available to him to escape,” Li said. “Guard the door. If he tries anything, shoot him. I’ll deal with him later.”
His men released MacGyver from the steel clamps and roughly dragged him away, blood from his wound dripping as they went. Li turned and looked at the man who had announced the arrival of a buyer.
“Send him in,” he said.
“It’s a woman, sir,” the man said.
“A woman? How interesting,” Li said, smiling lasciviously, already imagining her as an object to fulfill his pleasures in bed. His sexual fantasies slowly faded along with his smile when he considered MacGyver and his refusal to build the devices. “Let’s just hope I have something to sell her,” he said.
The woman entered, and Li turned to look at her. She was attractive, with long dark hair and even longer legs. She was dressed in black and wore sunglasses. She ignored Li’s suggestive leer and approached him in a professional manner.
“Mr. Li,” she said in a thick Italian accent. “I am interested in your product.”
If MacGyver hadn’t been removed to another room, he would have known who the woman was, despite her disguise and her accent. It was Nikki.
To be continued…
"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer."
--Henry David Thoreau
brains+brawn+beauty+personality=MacGyver
