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Disclaimer: I do not own The Pretender or anything/anyone affiliated with it. I'm simply using the characters for my own sick and sadistic purposes. They'll be returned a little worse for wear, but nothing too bad. . . Just kidding. I promise I won't hurt them, Steve and Craig, NBC, and TNT. :) No profit is being made. Please don't sue me, I'm but a poor little girl with a lot of spare time.
Note: Response to Cascade's Good-Bye Lyle Challenge.
Timeline: Third season.
Author's Note: I’m not entirely sure if I have the facts from the episode "Agent of the Year Zero" correct. Please e-mail me if I’m wrong. (E-mail at the bottom.) :) This isn't beta'd, unfortunately.
Summary: "‘What goes around, comes around.’ No other words were uttered, for there was nothing left to say."
Reversal
by: chopsticks
p g - 1 3
-----
11:36 PM Mountain Time
Denver, Colorado
Alley off of St. Georges Street
Mr. Lyle blinked in shock and looked down at his chest. A circular hole had been made in his black Armani suit. The brunt of the hole had been born by his metallic blue tie, which now was missing an arc along the right edge. The edges of the said hole were now tinged with a dark red, and it was slowly spreading outwardly, like ripples in a pond. He could feel the moisture against his skin underneath the starch-white dress shirt.
He slowly raised his right hand and gently touched two fingers to the hole, wincing as a rivulet of pain shot through his chest. He gingerly pulled the pale fingers away, both darkened on the tips with blood. He cocked his head in slight confusion of what was on his fingers, his mind having slowed from the loss of blood.
He looked up from his hands and down the dark alley, where she was framed in harsh yellow light from the streetlamps, the gun still aimed at him. Even then, he thought she still looked like an angel. The silencer had worked wonders; not a peep had been emitted from the gun when it was fired. He stared questioningly at her for a moment, perhaps two. Then, his eyes were drawn to the twitch of her index finger on her gun hand, and he watched, as if in slow motion, her finger tense and then pull back slightly, producing an audible click as the gun was fired.
Another bullet slammed into his chest, and this one sent him sprawling backwards to the cold, harsh pavement. He blinked again, pain burning in his chest. His pain receptors were firing in overtime, he thought idly, suddenly remembering information from a college course he had taken on the human body. His gaze was turned upward, and he could faintly see the stars through the smog of the city.
He could hear her heels clicking as she approached him, and in his peripheral vision he saw her legs, covered with the fabric of her dark pantsuit.
"It seems, Mr. Lyle, that the roles have been reversed this time," she said, a trace of amusement tingeing her breathy voice. His eyes rolled to her form, taking in the sight of her. Her flowing raven hair was let loose, cascading over her shoulders. Her olive-tinted skin was still apparent, even in the faint light, and her almond eyes bore down on him, two pools of darkness.
She had replaced the gun in its proper holster at the small of her back, and had pulled out something else from her suit pocket. She nimbly pressed a button and a silver blade popped out, the light of the streetlamps reflecting off of it in the semi-darkness they were cloaked in. He immediately knew what she was going to do to him, though he certainly hoped it would be post mortem. She smiled cruelly down at him, and he immediately knew she was going to start right away, regardless of whether or not he was dead.
Karma can be such a bitch, he thought bitterly.
-----
3 hours earlier
Denver, Colorado
Sunny Skies Apartment Complex
Jarod's Former Apartment
Miss Parker walked into the apartment, having given up a long time ago at having her gun out in the hopes Jarod might still be there. Broots, Sydney, and her contemptuous brother followed her in, all looking around but not expecting anything to be there but a few cryptic clues.
They were not disappointed. After a quick sweep of the modest apartment, it was revealed that there was no one currently living there. A few scraps of paper were left on the table for Miss Parker to ponder over, and Lyle quickly became bored.
"I'm going to get something to eat. Call me if anything changes," he said sharply to his sister, turning on his heel and exiting the apartment as quickly as possible. He hated being around her all the time. She always had this egotistical air about her, and he could only handle that in small doses. If he were honest with himself, he would say it was probably that which attracted him to her and caused many sleepless nights for him. But, he couldn't be honest with himself about that after he found out they were twins. It was just too morally wrong, even in his morally-devoid mind.
He quickly went to one of his favorite Asian spots in the lonely city of Denver, glad that, even if he could not bring Jarod in today, he could at least enjoy some of his favorite cuisine. The atmosphere of the restaurant suited him; it was dark and lit only by paper lanterns with small, tea light candles contained within their gaping maws. The conversation of the other customers accounted for the low murmur that saturated the walls of the expansive room. Whimsical artwork from the Far East adorned the simple wooden walls, heightening the effect. It was like being in a dream world, Lyle thought idly to himself.
His sake arrived and he gingerly sipped at it, not willing to give in to the buzz that would ultimately be created by the drink. He needed to stay sober tonight, if only because he did not wish to embarrass himself in front of his sister in the morning by being hung over. She, undoubtedly, would be either hung over or still drunk, but she always managed to seem entirely professional in spite of it. How she ever did that, he had no idea, though he was slightly envious of her for it.
His thoughts continued to flit from one subject to another, never quite remaining on one long enough for deeper thoughts to take over. Just the way he liked it. His food soon arrived after the sake, and with it came an unexpected surprise.
She set the plate down in front of him, and he did not afford the woman he assumed to be his waitress a glance, for he knew that if he did, an insatiable hunger would be lit like a fire in his mind, and this was not the time for such whimsies. It was only when she sat down across from him and took a hit off of the sake that he even looked at her. She grinned impishly at him from across the table, obviously relishing the element of surprise.
"Song Lu," he said, only the slightest note of shock tingeing his smooth voice.
"Lyle," she replied in kind, still grinning.
"What are you doing here?" he inquired, ignoring the food that was sitting in front of him in favor of talking to his "old friend."
"I could ask the same of you," she replied, her grin widening into a smile. Lyle did not fail to notice the flirtatious response, and smiled slightly.
"Work, as is typical of me these days."
"You do not get a chance to travel as much these days?"
"No, unfortunately. Now, you never answered my question. Last I knew, you were still in China."
Song Lu frowned slightly at this, but quickly extinguished the expression. "Yes, well, the winds of change came to my door, and here I am." She spread her hands out around her, grinning broadly.
He grinned in return, his eyes never leaving hers. The last time he had seen her, she had been prone on her bed, bleeding slightly from the force of his lust, and he was creeping away, trying not to wake her. That was before Thon and his introduction to the fine art of human cuisine.
"Are you going to eat that?" she inquired, her eyes flitting down to where his plate of steaming food lay untouched.
"Possibly," he replied, his eyes tracing the curve of her neck to her bare shoulders. The thin, gauzy tank top became her, he decided.
She smiled softly and reached across the table with her own pair of chopsticks that she had produced from some unknown location, and gingerly lifted a piece of chicken off of the plate. His eyes followed her sinewy arm along the table, and they eventually came to rest where her chest was pressed against the edge of the table, where only the slightest hint of breasts, shuddering with each breath, peeked out.
She held the chicken up to his lips, inviting him. He locked his eyes with hers, which had become noticeably darker, even in the faint light of the restaurant, and opened his mouth, using his tongue to guide the chicken in. She removed the chopsticks, her eyes hungrily watching as he slowly chewed the delicacy. He imagined that the same look was reflected in his own eyes.
This trip just might be salvageable after all.
-----
11:41 PM Mountain Time
Denver, Colorado
Alley off of St. Georges Street
Lyle gasped harshly, his lungs trying to bring in air but failing. Two holes were in his chest, one in each lung. She was nothing if not a perfectionist. The knife glinted in the streetlight, capturing his waning attention. Everything was beginning to become fuzzy as the combination of lack of oxygen and blood loss began to affect his mind.
"You know," she said quietly, crouching down next to him, running the flat of the blade along her palm, "I consider myself to be very lucky. I was one of your last victims that actually survived the entire ordeal."
He gasped and felt the darkness begin to close in around him. The edges of his vision had become black, and everything was blurry and hard to discern.
"When I heard about what had happened in Laos and the kind of person you had become, I felt. . .angry. Sorrowful. Guilty. For some reason, I was spared from your wrath. Allowed to live to serve some higher purpose.
"I believe I have found my purpose."
He continued to stare at her, his eyes becoming more unseeing as the seconds ticked by. He did not understand what she was saying anymore, all of it becoming a jumble of noises in his mind. The only thing he registered was the pain. The sheer strength of the fire coursing throughout his veins startled him. He had not expected death to feel this way, so full of heat and passion.
"Goodbye, Mr. Lyle," she whispered against his ear. In his fading eyesight, he saw something bright and silver come streaking down toward him. Then he felt it, the all-encompassing pain as his flesh was torn into and slowly ripped away.
His eyes rolled back into his head and he finally lost consciousness, the black consuming him.
-----
5:19 AM Mountain Time
Denver, Colorado
County Morgue
"My God," Miss Parker whispered, her eyes taking in the scarred body of her brother. She could hear Broots run to the nearest garbage can, the retching noises echoing throughout the room. Sydney stood a distance away, trying to look anywhere but at the body. A hand covered his mouth slightly, for even though he had seen more than his share of violent deaths in his life, he had yet to get used to them. She, too, covered her mouth with a shaking hand and closed her eyes. The violence of it was enough to rattle even her.
When she dared to open her eyes again, she noticed the obvious lack of several organs, most notably the liver. She shook her head against the unreality of it, not quite believing what had been done to her twin.
She glanced across the room, where the body of his purported killer lay. According to the coroner's report, she had died of massive blood loss instigated by the slits in her wrists. Put plainly, she had killed herself a few hours after murdering Lyle.
"This is so fucking twisted," Broots mumbled from his sitting position next to the garbage can. It was the first and last time either Miss Parker or Sydney heard Broots swear.
"It would seem," Miss Parker commented, her voice shaking slightly, "that he got exactly what he deserved."
"Yes, it would," Sydney echoed, for once at a loss of anything profound to say.
"What goes around, comes around," Broots noted quietly.
No other words were uttered, for there was nothing left to say.
-----
the end.
feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com.
Note: Response to Cascade's Good-Bye Lyle Challenge.
Timeline: Third season.
Author's Note: I’m not entirely sure if I have the facts from the episode "Agent of the Year Zero" correct. Please e-mail me if I’m wrong. (E-mail at the bottom.) :) This isn't beta'd, unfortunately.
Summary: "‘What goes around, comes around.’ No other words were uttered, for there was nothing left to say."
by: chopsticks
p g - 1 3
-----
11:36 PM Mountain Time
Denver, Colorado
Alley off of St. Georges Street
Mr. Lyle blinked in shock and looked down at his chest. A circular hole had been made in his black Armani suit. The brunt of the hole had been born by his metallic blue tie, which now was missing an arc along the right edge. The edges of the said hole were now tinged with a dark red, and it was slowly spreading outwardly, like ripples in a pond. He could feel the moisture against his skin underneath the starch-white dress shirt.
He slowly raised his right hand and gently touched two fingers to the hole, wincing as a rivulet of pain shot through his chest. He gingerly pulled the pale fingers away, both darkened on the tips with blood. He cocked his head in slight confusion of what was on his fingers, his mind having slowed from the loss of blood.
He looked up from his hands and down the dark alley, where she was framed in harsh yellow light from the streetlamps, the gun still aimed at him. Even then, he thought she still looked like an angel. The silencer had worked wonders; not a peep had been emitted from the gun when it was fired. He stared questioningly at her for a moment, perhaps two. Then, his eyes were drawn to the twitch of her index finger on her gun hand, and he watched, as if in slow motion, her finger tense and then pull back slightly, producing an audible click as the gun was fired.
Another bullet slammed into his chest, and this one sent him sprawling backwards to the cold, harsh pavement. He blinked again, pain burning in his chest. His pain receptors were firing in overtime, he thought idly, suddenly remembering information from a college course he had taken on the human body. His gaze was turned upward, and he could faintly see the stars through the smog of the city.
He could hear her heels clicking as she approached him, and in his peripheral vision he saw her legs, covered with the fabric of her dark pantsuit.
"It seems, Mr. Lyle, that the roles have been reversed this time," she said, a trace of amusement tingeing her breathy voice. His eyes rolled to her form, taking in the sight of her. Her flowing raven hair was let loose, cascading over her shoulders. Her olive-tinted skin was still apparent, even in the faint light, and her almond eyes bore down on him, two pools of darkness.
She had replaced the gun in its proper holster at the small of her back, and had pulled out something else from her suit pocket. She nimbly pressed a button and a silver blade popped out, the light of the streetlamps reflecting off of it in the semi-darkness they were cloaked in. He immediately knew what she was going to do to him, though he certainly hoped it would be post mortem. She smiled cruelly down at him, and he immediately knew she was going to start right away, regardless of whether or not he was dead.
Karma can be such a bitch, he thought bitterly.
3 hours earlier
Denver, Colorado
Sunny Skies Apartment Complex
Jarod's Former Apartment
Miss Parker walked into the apartment, having given up a long time ago at having her gun out in the hopes Jarod might still be there. Broots, Sydney, and her contemptuous brother followed her in, all looking around but not expecting anything to be there but a few cryptic clues.
They were not disappointed. After a quick sweep of the modest apartment, it was revealed that there was no one currently living there. A few scraps of paper were left on the table for Miss Parker to ponder over, and Lyle quickly became bored.
"I'm going to get something to eat. Call me if anything changes," he said sharply to his sister, turning on his heel and exiting the apartment as quickly as possible. He hated being around her all the time. She always had this egotistical air about her, and he could only handle that in small doses. If he were honest with himself, he would say it was probably that which attracted him to her and caused many sleepless nights for him. But, he couldn't be honest with himself about that after he found out they were twins. It was just too morally wrong, even in his morally-devoid mind.
He quickly went to one of his favorite Asian spots in the lonely city of Denver, glad that, even if he could not bring Jarod in today, he could at least enjoy some of his favorite cuisine. The atmosphere of the restaurant suited him; it was dark and lit only by paper lanterns with small, tea light candles contained within their gaping maws. The conversation of the other customers accounted for the low murmur that saturated the walls of the expansive room. Whimsical artwork from the Far East adorned the simple wooden walls, heightening the effect. It was like being in a dream world, Lyle thought idly to himself.
His sake arrived and he gingerly sipped at it, not willing to give in to the buzz that would ultimately be created by the drink. He needed to stay sober tonight, if only because he did not wish to embarrass himself in front of his sister in the morning by being hung over. She, undoubtedly, would be either hung over or still drunk, but she always managed to seem entirely professional in spite of it. How she ever did that, he had no idea, though he was slightly envious of her for it.
His thoughts continued to flit from one subject to another, never quite remaining on one long enough for deeper thoughts to take over. Just the way he liked it. His food soon arrived after the sake, and with it came an unexpected surprise.
She set the plate down in front of him, and he did not afford the woman he assumed to be his waitress a glance, for he knew that if he did, an insatiable hunger would be lit like a fire in his mind, and this was not the time for such whimsies. It was only when she sat down across from him and took a hit off of the sake that he even looked at her. She grinned impishly at him from across the table, obviously relishing the element of surprise.
"Song Lu," he said, only the slightest note of shock tingeing his smooth voice.
"Lyle," she replied in kind, still grinning.
"What are you doing here?" he inquired, ignoring the food that was sitting in front of him in favor of talking to his "old friend."
"I could ask the same of you," she replied, her grin widening into a smile. Lyle did not fail to notice the flirtatious response, and smiled slightly.
"Work, as is typical of me these days."
"You do not get a chance to travel as much these days?"
"No, unfortunately. Now, you never answered my question. Last I knew, you were still in China."
Song Lu frowned slightly at this, but quickly extinguished the expression. "Yes, well, the winds of change came to my door, and here I am." She spread her hands out around her, grinning broadly.
He grinned in return, his eyes never leaving hers. The last time he had seen her, she had been prone on her bed, bleeding slightly from the force of his lust, and he was creeping away, trying not to wake her. That was before Thon and his introduction to the fine art of human cuisine.
"Are you going to eat that?" she inquired, her eyes flitting down to where his plate of steaming food lay untouched.
"Possibly," he replied, his eyes tracing the curve of her neck to her bare shoulders. The thin, gauzy tank top became her, he decided.
She smiled softly and reached across the table with her own pair of chopsticks that she had produced from some unknown location, and gingerly lifted a piece of chicken off of the plate. His eyes followed her sinewy arm along the table, and they eventually came to rest where her chest was pressed against the edge of the table, where only the slightest hint of breasts, shuddering with each breath, peeked out.
She held the chicken up to his lips, inviting him. He locked his eyes with hers, which had become noticeably darker, even in the faint light of the restaurant, and opened his mouth, using his tongue to guide the chicken in. She removed the chopsticks, her eyes hungrily watching as he slowly chewed the delicacy. He imagined that the same look was reflected in his own eyes.
This trip just might be salvageable after all.
11:41 PM Mountain Time
Denver, Colorado
Alley off of St. Georges Street
Lyle gasped harshly, his lungs trying to bring in air but failing. Two holes were in his chest, one in each lung. She was nothing if not a perfectionist. The knife glinted in the streetlight, capturing his waning attention. Everything was beginning to become fuzzy as the combination of lack of oxygen and blood loss began to affect his mind.
"You know," she said quietly, crouching down next to him, running the flat of the blade along her palm, "I consider myself to be very lucky. I was one of your last victims that actually survived the entire ordeal."
He gasped and felt the darkness begin to close in around him. The edges of his vision had become black, and everything was blurry and hard to discern.
"When I heard about what had happened in Laos and the kind of person you had become, I felt. . .angry. Sorrowful. Guilty. For some reason, I was spared from your wrath. Allowed to live to serve some higher purpose.
"I believe I have found my purpose."
He continued to stare at her, his eyes becoming more unseeing as the seconds ticked by. He did not understand what she was saying anymore, all of it becoming a jumble of noises in his mind. The only thing he registered was the pain. The sheer strength of the fire coursing throughout his veins startled him. He had not expected death to feel this way, so full of heat and passion.
"Goodbye, Mr. Lyle," she whispered against his ear. In his fading eyesight, he saw something bright and silver come streaking down toward him. Then he felt it, the all-encompassing pain as his flesh was torn into and slowly ripped away.
His eyes rolled back into his head and he finally lost consciousness, the black consuming him.
5:19 AM Mountain Time
Denver, Colorado
County Morgue
"My God," Miss Parker whispered, her eyes taking in the scarred body of her brother. She could hear Broots run to the nearest garbage can, the retching noises echoing throughout the room. Sydney stood a distance away, trying to look anywhere but at the body. A hand covered his mouth slightly, for even though he had seen more than his share of violent deaths in his life, he had yet to get used to them. She, too, covered her mouth with a shaking hand and closed her eyes. The violence of it was enough to rattle even her.
When she dared to open her eyes again, she noticed the obvious lack of several organs, most notably the liver. She shook her head against the unreality of it, not quite believing what had been done to her twin.
She glanced across the room, where the body of his purported killer lay. According to the coroner's report, she had died of massive blood loss instigated by the slits in her wrists. Put plainly, she had killed herself a few hours after murdering Lyle.
"This is so fucking twisted," Broots mumbled from his sitting position next to the garbage can. It was the first and last time either Miss Parker or Sydney heard Broots swear.
"It would seem," Miss Parker commented, her voice shaking slightly, "that he got exactly what he deserved."
"Yes, it would," Sydney echoed, for once at a loss of anything profound to say.
"What goes around, comes around," Broots noted quietly.
No other words were uttered, for there was nothing left to say.
the end.
feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com.
