God, I'm either evil or got nothing better to do with my poor excuse of a life. I apologize before hand for doing this. I hope nobody gets angry with me, most of all you, dear True. Is just a horrible obsession I got with written forms.
Suggestion:Chapter 1: Brilliant From the Heat If working at the Phoenix Foundation has taught me one thing, it’s that its best that your enemies don’t know your name. More times than I can count I’ve left the villain screaming my name as I ran off to safety or victory. But the less the bad guys know the less you can get hurt. It’s one thing if you are exposed to the enemy, but if your friends and colleagues are too, then it is going to end very badly. For everyone. This is just about what happened on a particular job in Morocco… Deep in the convoluted maze of warehouses, MacGyver crouched on a mountain of crates. He peered out over the boxes onto the situation unfolding below. Three pristinely-attired men conversed with a fourth figure obscured in the shadows. Mac listened in.
“Do you have the disc?” inquired the shadowy man.
“Yes we do,” another man answered as he tossed a floppy disk to the silhouette.
“Do you have the money?” one other man demanded.
“Oh, I think I have payment,” the shadow answered as he leveled a submachine gun.
The three men all made a break for the door as the gunshots echoed through the structure. They all collapsed in unison. The man’s face moved forward but was covered by the haze of the smoking gun.
Mac could almost make him out. He looked familiar. Then he laughed the stereotypical villainous cackle and Mac felt a chill run down his spine. He knew him.
He is so familiar, he thought.
Mac pulled out his Swiss Army Knife and turned to the crate beneath him. Pulling out the wedge tool he slid it into the groove surrounding the lid. He pressed it down and the top cracked off. He quietly removed the rest of the wooden square and looked inside.
Golden straw concealed the contents. He ravenously flew through it and found a small, vinyl canister. He knew what it was. Sticking his hand inside the crate, he withdrew a small black box with a red switch. He turned and sprinted along the boxes until he could look directly at the mysterious figure. He placed the cylinder between the nearest crate and the metal wall.
He kept the control and ran back to the opened crate. Mac glanced down the aisle below and readied himself. He suddenly slid off the wall and landed on the concrete floor. The shadow stared at him, gun at the ready.
Mac broke the ice.
“Oh I must be in the wrong warehouse. I’ll just get out of your way…” He almost finished speaking as a bullet sank into a crate to his left.
Wood splinters showered him.
“I think you’ve found the right place, MacGyver,” a smooth but sinister voice spoke.
Mac gave a face of uncertainty as he triggered the red button. A gust of air releasing sounded as the man looked around. All of a sudden, the crate on the nearby wall was pushed off the row. The man cried in terror as the container smashed apart on top of him.
MacGyver saw the bright orange inflatable raft blow up to full size. It floated gently to the ground on the mess of villain and planks. MacGyver sprinted toward the wreck and pulled the disk out of the man’s black-gloved hand. He jumped onto the raft and over to the other side. He pulled up the slatted gate and stepped outside. Two men dressed like the victims patrolled the alleyway.
MacGyver doubled back inside and closed the door. He scanned the building for an escape route. He approached a forklift. Using its lift bed as a boost, he leapt back onto the crates. He looked at the ceiling, specifically a hatch. He hoisted it open and hefted himself onto the flat roof of the warehouse. Mac stood up and gingerly stepped toward the edge.
The guards still paced, anxiously checking their watches. Mac backed up and psyched himself up. Feeling ready he dashed forward and dove across the alley to the adjacent structure. A metal clang reverberated in the morning air. Then all was silent. Mac listened for any rustling.
Nothing happened.
He stuck his head out over the walkway below only to lock eyes with one of the suits. Mac smiled nervously. The man smiled in accomplishment. Mac’s grin evaporated as the man aimed his rifle. MacGyver lunged backward onto the roof, avoiding the barrage of gunfire.
He looked up to see a subdued brick building rise up across another alley. A fire escape led to the roof. Mac pushed himself up to his feet and ran toward the wall. He flung his body onto the steel ladder, the clatter of metal announcing his arrival. He didn’t hesitate to clamber to the roof and searched for his jeep. It was one building over, parked on a side street.
Jack Dalton sat, whistling merrily, in the passenger’s seat of the jeep he was in, barely sparing a worried thought toward MacGyver. They've been friends for years now and Jack knew that his friend could get himself out of any situation he got into.
Mac grunted as he realized his only plan of action. The men were already ascending the fire escape. Mac kicked off the side ladder and faced the building ahead. He backed up and breathed in and out a few times. He licked his lips in anticipation and sprinted forward. He leapt into the open air and felt the air whipping his leather jacket.
Bullets filled the azure sky as he plunged onto the roof ahead. He fell hard and rolled to a stop on the uneven roof. He drew near to the side of the building and looked down.
Jack didn’t even see him. Mac jumped off the edge and crashed into the bed of the jeep. He felt the dust jump in surprise. Jack flinched and jumped into the driver’s seat. He turned the key and floored the accelerator. Mac rolled back against the metal gate and groaned. He crawled to Jack and tapped his shoulder. Jack changed seats again but still steered. MacGyver hopped into the seat and took control. He pulled out onto a marked road and headed toward the airport. Jack glanced at MacGyver, grinning widely.
“The two amigos together again!” he said all too happily.
Mac gave him a questioning glance. Jack still smiled as he chuckled. Mac rested his elbow on the window sill and let the wind whisk his hair.
Another job well done he thought, proud of himself.
Chapter 2: A Well Deserved Nap MacGyver pulled his reliable jeep into the marina parking lot. It was pretty much empty as usual. Picking the nearest spot, he cut the wheel and coasted to a stop. He slid out of the seat and shoved the cold door closed.
He hooked his duffle bag strap in his arm and lugged it down the way. He turned onto the long rickety dock path. At the far end floated a shack. Mac saw it catch the light of the sunrise and glisten in the warm air.
He grinned and said, “Home Sweet Home!”
Fiddling in his pocket for the keys he found them and jammed a silver one into the lock. It clicked and he stepped inside. His happiness disappeared as the clouds of smoke billowed past him. He dropped his baggage and followed the trail. It leaked out from the kitchen.
Mac buried his mouth and nose in his flannel shirt and peered inside the smoke stack. A chipper young woman greeted him.
“MACGYVER!” she chirped.
“Penny! Uh, what …” Mac tried to ask.
“I made you breakfast! I hope you like eggs ‘cause I made a ton! Your orange juice was sour so I squeezed some out of those oranges. Your bread tasted funny so I tossed it out,” she spurted this all in one gigantic sentence.
“Penny!”
“There was no bacon or ham or any meats. Do you ever eat meat at all? I always thought that was funny! Is it a lifestyle or just a choice? I’ve been thinking if I should do that too. What do you think I should do? I shouldn’t? Okay, thanks for the opinion! How was your trip? Did you have fun?” she continued, seemingly oblivious to the potent clouds of smoke around her.
“PENNY!!!!!!” Mac cried out and the room went silent.
Mac walked past her and grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall. He kicked the oven and the door fell open. Without a beat he filled the compartment with foamy white cream. As the smoke filtered outside, Mac set the metal bottle on the counter and turned to Penny.
“I don’t have any eggs. I don’t remember having oranges. The bread is wheat. I don’t eat meats and it is my choice. The trip was exhausting and you nearly set my house on fire. So what did you make me for breakfast?”
Penny smiled and motioned him to the small table. Mac debated whether he should partake in the unknown meal. But he approached the mystery food and sat down. He viewed the plate.
“Are these the eggs?” he asked as he pointed to a bright orange lump of jiggling matter.
“No, silly! That’s the oatmeal!”
Mac winced and continued on this horrifying display. A black square represented the toast. The eggs (he thought) were okay at first but Mac still wondered what they were made of. He poked the pile with his fork only to see it ooze a green slime. He finally found the ‘orange juice.’ The pulp was taller than the juice. He swished the glass only to see the mass stay still.
He licked his lips and cautiously took a sip. The liquid filled his mouth. Nothing happened. But soon the juice made his taste buds burn. He spit out the juice like a sprinkler. Penny was saddened. Mac wiped the tingling substance off his lips and smiled at Penny.
“This was a great notion. Really! I appreciate it. But please warn me before you make me breakfast! I want to be able to eat a lot!” Mac lied.
Penny smiled. Mac stood up and reached past Penny. He pulled his trusty box of Corn Flakes off a shelf. In the same motion he pulled open the refrigerator and retrieved his milk. He set the food down and found a clean bowl. He was about to pour the crispy bits into the bowl when Penny interrupted.
“What are you making? A bomb? A secret code? A laser alarm system?” she inquired.
“Breakfast?” Mac replied.
He continued the process and dug into the golden mound. He ate hungrily and tossed the bowl into the sink. He swallowed the remaining flakes and kissed Penny on the cheek.
“Thank you for an exciting morning. Now I could use some sleep, so if you could come back later?” he asked nicely.
She nodded and ran out the door. Mac sighed and dove over the back of his couch and slammed into the cushions. He almost fell asleep instantly. But as he closed his eyes a subtle click sounded from inside the couch. His eyes opened and he sat up. He faced a scarred, grinning man leaning on his coffee table.
“Murdoc! What do you want now!?!?!”
“Nothing much my dear foe. Just a small disk. I believe you have it. If you could just hand it over?” Murdoc said in a sinister voice.
“Oh I’ll hand it over!” Mac said as he readied himself to lunge at him.
But Murdoc pulled out a control switch. Mac stopped and eyed the button and Murdoc.
“Alright! I give! What does it do?”
“I’m glad you asked! I think this is my crowning achievement. The pressure sensor has been activated. If you move off that couch, the explosive device will detonate. But if you don’t cooperate, I can always manually activate it,” he said matter-of-factly.
Murdoc approached Mac and fished into his pocket. He pulled out the black square and grinned.
“Thank you! I’ve always enjoyed our run-ins. Too bad I had to win!” he said as he laughed maniacally.
He turned and stepped outside. Mac grumbled in frustration. He surveyed his surroundings. He notice the open door to the makeshift patio. The ocean bobbed beyond the wooden fence.
This just might work! he thought.
He grabbed both arm rests of the couch and shifted his weight toward the door. The sofa groaned a few inches. He nodded in self-assurance. He repeated this several times. Many screeches later, he found the end of the couch against the railing. Mac turned and slammed his feet into the wood planks, splintering apart.
He looked ahead. The cement parking lot was within jumping distance. He scooted some more until the empty half of the sofa was over the water. MacGyver prepared himself and sprang off the cushion. He covered his head as he crashed through the fence. A clack sounded and a loud splash. Mac stopped and looked back. Instantly a huge geyser sprayed from the spot where it fell in.
Mac still stared as he was showered by the water. He breathed heavily and fell on his back. This is gonna be a long week he thought as a waterlogged seat cushion splashed down next to him. Couch fibers floated down to the concrete.
~~~~~
I suggest to double space when separating a section of the story from other - like when you introduced Jack. Since he wasn't with Mac and was doing something else I prefered to distinguish that he was somewhere else with the double space.
I used italic to better identify when Mac is voiceing-over. Just personal preference I guess.
again, I apologize if I insulted you. It's never the intention. I just can't help myself. Perhaps I was a beta reader in my previous life
"Home. Enough is enough. I will not, under any circumstances, for any reason whatsoever answer the phone... probably... again." - MacGyver (S1-10: Target MacGyver)
. But one particular assignment was never published. It doesn't exist in records or documents, only in the memories of those involved. The reason it was concealed for so long was that it endangered the entire staff of the Phoenix Foundation, the country, and the entire world. The incident was started in 1988, when Mac failed to retrieve a simple floppy disk. But the data stored within was more important than Mac had ever thought. He took the assignment personal and set forth on the emotionally and physically testing challenge. The actual outcome is unknown, but only MacGyver can reveal this epic tale that intertwines familar faces with deadly new ones. 
But so far I like it. 
