Epilogue

Frank had been searched and led through so many doors that he knew he'd never be able to find his way out unaccompanied if left to his own devices. But here he was and in front of the thick Perspex window in a hard plastic chair, waiting, his arms folded across his chest protectively. He looked down and realised how his body language appeared, so he dropped his hands into a more relaxed posture in his lap and uncrossed his legs.

He'd lied again to his family about where he was going…well…not entirely. He was going to Seattle and for the reason he'd said, but not for another couple of days. Instead, he'd taken a slight detour to Washington; he needed to see someone and it had taken quite some negotiating to get it agreed. He'd eventually sunk to the level of reminding Arthur Gray: "You owe me and you owe my family…big time, pal"! Frank was here to face up to the monster who'd caused all this mess, to put his nightmares to rest – he'd come to see the leader of the Pandora Posse.

A door opened and a man was led through, flanked by guards, a man Frank recognised, especially his eyes. They'd almost been his final vision before his heart had been shocked into stopping and he'd 'died'. The image of those blue orbs seared into his psyche as surely any of his family's – a memory tattoo.

The man's arms were cuffed at his waist, a chain then leading to his ankles, which were also shackled, giving him a stumbling gait as he moved. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit and anonymous black boots, his hair closely cropped. Any individuality had been effectively shaved and stripped away. His appearance was a great leveller.

When the man saw Frank, he pulled up for a moment and his eyebrows sank – obviously no one had told him who'd come to visit. Resettling his face into an arrogant smile, he allowed the guards to propel him forward into the chair opposite.

The guards retreated back to the door.

Frank and the man gazed at one another for some time before either spoke.

"So, Frank Hardy has deemed it necessary to come and see me? I thought I'd seen the last of you – but of course, I thought I'd seen the last of you back on that roof, but you fooled us, didn't you?" His voice had a mechanical quality to it, due to the amplifier that enabled him to speak through the window and out through two speakers.

Frank didn't react.

"You broke our little agreement Mr Hardy, and that's a real problem for you, your family and Miss Drew. Have you come to beg for their lives?"

"Who does this guy think he is?" He was trying so hard to be threatening, to make up mileage, but it was clear he was more intimidated by Frank than Frank was of him. His whole carefully rehearsed speech, which should have been so menacing, sounded trite and tired. His conceit was wasted; he'd given himself away with his micro expression as he'd entered the room and the way he'd pulled back for an instant against the guards holding him.

It was time to redress the balance, to play him at his own game, and play it better.

Frank dropped his gaze for a beat and sensed the creeping darkness, he didn't fight it this time, he welcomed it in. When he raised his eyes again, there was no spark, just an emotionless and icy coldness that trapped the man's stare as tightly as any shackles, ensnaring him in his chair. Frank leaned forward and started to speak, clearly, so the man wouldn't have to strain to hear:

"You cuffed my hands behind my back and yet I knocked you to the ground, and then I knocked the next guy on his ass, then the third. In fact, the only way you were able to bring me down in the end was to use a car, and that was only through dumb luck. You tried to beat me into submission, electrocute me to death, emotionally break me down…but I survived, came back. Frank tipped his head. "After all that, do you seriously believe your words hold any power? If they did, do you think I'd even be here?"

The man's pupils were pinpricks, trying to block out the light, trying to lessen the impact of those eyes, trying to release himself, but unable to look away. They were hypnotic, magnetic, unblinking, burning an image into his brain just as surely as his own were in Frank's.

Frank continued: "If you ever do get out of here, which I seriously doubt, feel free to look me up. But I wouldn't advise it, because if I ever set eyes on you again, if you ever cross my path, I'll kill you. Not your family, nor your friends, or your girl…just you."

There was a drawn-out silence, which did nothing to clear the heavy air and Frank leaned in even closer, peering at the man as though he was checking out an exhibit in a zoo. "Don't feed the animal!"

The man's Adam's apple bobbed and he started to draw back as Frank's face loomed closer. Then Frank snapped his fist out and rapped the Perspex, hard, causing the man to physically jump, so high, so violently, that his chair tipped back and he had to throw himself forward to prevent himself losing his balance entirely. The visual lock finally broken, he looked over his shoulder at the guards, wordlessly begging them to take him back to his room.

The guards smirked.

Frank blinked, the spark returned, and he kinked his mouth up into its new half smile. He thought of how ridiculous he'd allowed things to become. Why had become so tied up in knots over the pathetic creature seated in front of him? A someone who was obviously floundering without his team and his case of torture toys – he could barely even stay in a chair! To coin an all too commonly used term: he just wasn't worth the effort.

Raising himself, Frank went to the door and rapped with his stick to be let out. It was time to deal with the important issues in his life and leave the lesser ones far behind. His dad was dead right – this thing was going to make him all the stronger. And Joe was right about something else – a little bit of crazy never did anyone any harm.

Man! He was suddenly hungry, he seriously fancied a massive burger. Could just demolish one…with cheese…and bacon…and a whole heap of fries!

Acknowledgements

First and foremost: to Alaina (Red) for being a champ BETA reader and really going to task on all my English-isms. Her direct, straight talking was very VERY much appreciated from this particular writer. This story is dedicated to her.

Secondly, thank you to Mat for giving each and every chapter a read through and then being so honest in his opinions – and especially with making sure poor Frank and Joe were man enough in Boosting. He ensured the boys didn't sink into Wussland.

Thirdly, back to Alaina again for allowing me to carve her dog, Rebel into a nearly deaf, loyal companion for Con Riley, who, as a supporting character in the books, is practically one-dimensional. I like Rebel and Con and that's not the last you'll read of of them!

Fourthly, thank you to Susan and Paul (my niece and nephew) for having the patience to sit and answer every stupid question I threw at them about motorbikes (or motorcycles are you American's call them). Thank goodness I have some real bikers in the family, because I don't have a clue how you operate one!

Last, but by no means least…to all you good readers who were kind enough to write such interesting, entertaining and sometimes downright hilarious feedback, which was definitely heart and brain food for me. You always have the power to amaze me with your powers of observation.

The next story, Flashpoint, is being written.

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