We won't be caught up

The setting is planet Earth, the city of Chicago. _____________________________________________ A couple of days had passed since the party. The conglomerate's employees had returned to their daily routines. Flora was carefully reviewing the report on the planned scope of work, ensuring that she hadn't missed anything in the budget. She was standing near a stack of construction materials near one of the orphanages that needed repairs. The conglomerate's experts had inspected the building and created a list of planned tasks. Flora's task was to create an estimate for the construction materials. "We are so grateful to you," said a dark-haired woman, rather slender for her advanced age. The director of the orphanage. "I hope there won't be any problems with accommodating the children and vacating the rooms that need repairs," Flora said with a smile. "Don't worry, we'll make some room. But I have another request for you. If it's not too much trouble. We're desperately short on children's literature and educational materials. Unfortunately, our budget only covers the essentials," the principal said. "Make a list of what you need. I'll see what I can do," the girl replied. She looked at the playground where the children were playing. Walter's imposing figure was visible behind her. The man kept glancing around anxiously. "The city fathers are clearly in no hurry to part with their capital and allocate money for charity," Flora thought, remembering the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen at the mayor's reception. The girl looked around the shelter's grounds: a fruit orchard, a vegetable garden, a small park, and a playground. The fence, with large gaps, needed serious repairs. "I could end up in a place like this," she thought with a sigh. Suddenly, everyone was attracted by the roar of an engine, and the jeep, ramming the flimsy lattice gates, burst into the territory of the shelter. They were followed by several motorcyclists. There were masked people in the car. Walter immediately pushed Flora behind him. The guards took up defensive positions. One of the guards shot one of the bikes with a tire, and it tumbled straight into the playground. The teacher who was watching the children managed to remove the child who was in danger of being hit by the motorcycle. "Don't shoot!" Walter ordered. They stopped near the playground, almost running over the children. The fact that the attackers were armed did not surprise anyone. They pointed their weapons at the children, which made the adults even more tense. The headmistress slowly collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness. The girl remained frozen in place. "Okay, boys and girls, don't move, or these little brats will get a lot of pain," said a large, masked man, who appeared to be the leader, as he pulled one of the boys out of the sandbox and pointed a gun at him. The child started crying loudly. Some of the other children also started crying. Flora's mind was filled with painful memories. She was frantically trying to find a way out of this situation, but she realized that there was nothing she could do. All she could do was wait for the attackers to make their move. "Please don't touch the children," said the teacher sitting next to them. "Shut up and don't move," one of the bandits said, pointing his gun at her. The children huddled fearfully against her for protection. "What do you want? If you need money, just name a number... " said Flora. "I can easily remove it," Walter whispered, so that she could hear. "And then what? The others will open fire. We must prevent them from shooting at all costs," Flora retorted. "What do we want... what do we want? Well... we want to take you hostage instead of them... that's it. And no one is to move... and drop your weapons!" the big guy finally formed his thought. "I won't let you take that risk," Walter said. "I don't have a choice, and neither do you. Follow their demands," the girl said as she approached the bandits. Her heart sank at the sight of the weapons pointed at the children, making her extremely cautious. For some reason, she felt no fear for herself. "Weapons on the ground! Now!" The bully insisted. The bodyguards looked at Walter expectantly. He nodded in agreement and placed his gun on the ground. The others followed suit. "Just don't hurt anyone," Flora said as she approached the big man. "Of course," he said, fastening handcuffs on her wrists. Then he put a black, thick cloth bag over her head, saying: "That's to avoid spoiling the surprise." The girl was put in a jeep. "And don't anyone follow us. Otherwise, your princess will suffer," the leader warned, and they left the orphanage grounds. One of the guards quickly raised his gun and aimed at one of the bikes, but Walter stopped him in time. "Don't shoot!" he ordered. "What will happen now?" The regained headmistress said quietly. The roar of the engines was deafening. The girl felt that the vehicle she had been placed in was moving and that she was being taken somewhere. But she couldn't see where. "Wow, what a watch!" said the same man who had been sitting next to her in the jeep, taking off the gold-plated watch with the built-in tracking device in case something like this happened to her. She didn't bother to complain about the fact that Walter wouldn't be able to find her anymore. After all, the big guy wouldn't throw away such a valuable item, so she would be found eventually. From the open gates of the Last Chance garage, there was a steady metallic rattling, mixed with the loud rock music that the biker mice loved. This ain't a song for the broken-hearted No silent prayer for the faith-departed I ain't gonna be just a face in the crowd You're gonna hear my voice when I shout it out loud It's my life, it's now or never I ain't gonna live forever I just want to live while I'm alive (It's my life) My heart is like an open highway Like Frankie said, "I did it my way" I just wanna live while I'm alive It's my life. The biker mice were lounging around as usual, watching Charlie and Cross work. The wound on his arm had healed quite quickly. Charlie turned on the TV in a vain hope of hearing something. An excited, beautiful blonde appeared on the screen, talking about the latest news. Charlie had to turn off the radio, despite the guys' protests: "This morning, a daring attack was carried out on an orphanage that was scheduled for renovation. The bandits took the children hostage and agreed to release them in exchange for Flora Deloren. After capturing her, the bandits disappeared without a trace." The screen showed tearful children and teachers trying to calm them down. The principal was trying to compose herself and give clear answers to the reporters. Cross stared intently at the screen. "Something smells like rotten fish," Modo replied. "We need answers, and I know who to ask," Trottle said. Limburger's office door flew inward from a powerful blow from Modo's metal fist. "Now don't complain that we didn't knock," he said. Three biker mice rode into the Plutarchian's office. "What do you want? Who gave you permission to come here?" Limburger demanded. "Who's going to stop us?" Vincent replied. "Answer me, you fat pig! Where did you hide Flora Deloren, and you won't get into any trouble," Trottle asked, grabbing the businessman by the collar of his jacket. "There won't be almost anything," Vini corrected. "I don't understand what you're talking about," Limburger said, playing the innocent. Trottle heard gunshots and explosions. "Well, Carbine has already started searching the building. I wonder what will be left of it when she's done," Trottle said thoughtfully. "Damned biker mice! I have nothing to do with this," the Plutarkian insisted. "And something tells me you're lying," Modo replied. At this time, riding through the building on bicycles, Carbine and Rimfire examined each room, opening locked doors with shots from Martian blasters. The mercenaries encountered on her way opened fire in return, but were quickly forced to retreat. The further they went, the more convinced they became that the girl was not in the building. And it is unlikely that Limburger would take such a risk, hiding a captive in the main building of his company. But soon they came across Grease Pit. He didn't shoot for long. Eventually, when Carabine got close to him, she kicked the gun out of his hand, and he had no choice but to surrender. "Answer me! Where did you hide Flora?" Carbine asked sternly. "I don't know any Flora. I have no idea what you're talking about," the oaf bleated. "That's not the answer," she said, pointing her gun at him. The cold glint in her light brown eyes did not bode well. "I don't know anything...the boss didn't tell me," the big guy said stubbornly. "Are you so blindly loyal to your boss that you're willing to die for him?" Carbine continued. "To die... Probably not... It's unpleasant," Grease Pit mused aloud. "Answer me, you bastard! Where did you take the girl?" Carbine was clearly losing her patience as she pulled the trigger of her assault rifle. The thug's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, trembling with fear. From somewhere deep within his subconscious, he knew that this mouse was not playing games. The gunman kept a close eye on his commander, while also monitoring the corridors to ensure that they were not caught off guard. "You're accusing me of something I had nothing to do with." Limburger was stubborn. "As you know, according to eyewitnesses, a gang of bikers attacked the shelter, just like during the mayor's celebration. "You stinking skunk! What are you implying?" Mudo said angrily, walking over to him. "I'm not hinting at anything. I just want you to understand that I have nothing to do with this. I'm sorry that Miss Deloren has suffered such a tragedy, but I can't help you. You'll have to find your beauty on your own," Limburger said with a satisfied grin. "Don't worry, we'll find it. Then you'll really be in trouble, believe me," Trottle promised. "You threatened the kids, you damned Plutarkian!" Vinnie got angry, and if Modo hadn't held him back, Limburger would have had a hard time. "Are you deaf?" I have nothing to do with it! Lawrence insisted stubbornly. "I hope Limburger pays you enough to risk your own life for this fat ass," Carbine said, pointing her gun at the Grease Pig. "Mr. Limburger doesn't pay me at all. But...but I really don't know anything!" the Grease Pit wailed in fear. "Trottle! Trottle!" — Carbina's voice was heard in the speakers of his motorcycle helmet. "I'm listening," he replied. "She might be in Limburger's warehouse," the girl said. "Well, your dirty boy has broken down. So we'll be back to have a heart-to-heart talk," promised Trottle, and they hurried away. They returned to the garage with bad news. "How many warehouses does Limburger have in the city?" Carbine asked Charlie. "Several, as far as I know. But I doubt Limburger would keep her in a building that belongs to him. If the police find out about this, he'll have a hard time.The public will eat him up. Flora has already become almost a national hero for the people of Chicago," the girl replied. "We don't have much of a choice. We need to search every warehouse and factory that belongs to him," Trottle replied, realizing that this would not be an easy task. "Just refrain from blowing things up this time," Charlie said. "Why... " Vinnie said. "If you blow up every Limburger warehouse in the city, it will cause serious smoke pollution. Since fire departments may not be able to extinguish each fire in time, the fire could spread throughout the city. So, make your decision," Charlie explained. The guys had to admit she was right. Cross did not participate in the conversation, but it was worth looking at him, and it was immediately clear that he was worried about the girl. It's scary to imagine the horror she felt when she was abducted, and what she feels now, being in captivity. If, of course, she's still alive. I didn't want to think about it at all. Something told him that the girl was fine. "Maybe this is my chance. If I can find her, we can talk... I think," Cross mused. A hand on his shoulder interrupted his restless thoughts. He turned around. "Don't worry, we'll find her," the Rimfire assured him. "Of course we'll find her," Cross agreed, putting on his motorcycle helmet and getting on his bike. "Where are you going?" Modo asked sternly when he heard the engine roar. "We'll go to the locations we know. We can't waste time," Cross said confidently. Trottle handed him a map of the city in his motorcycle helmet, with the locations of Limburger's buildings and structures marked. "Well, you're right about that. The longer Miss Deloren is gone, the more likely it is that the rotten fish will do something," Modo agreed, jumping onto his bike. Soon, the bikers left the garage. As soon as he got on his tricycle and drove away from the main building of Limburger Industries, Grease Pit heard a loud bang, and his vehicle flew into the air with shot-out tires and an exploded gas tank. Grease Pit was lucky to be unharmed, as he was thrown into the nearby bushes. His head was spinning, and the objects around him were moving rapidly. However, he felt strong hands pulling him out of the bushes and putting him back on his feet, which were shaking. "Do you recognize me?" His voice was tinged with steel. "I don't remember being introduced to him," the big lug admitted honestly. "That's it. Then we'll do it another way. You'll answer my question honestly, and you won't get into any trouble," the same voice replied. "Is it a good or a bad thing if it doesn't happen? I don't know if what will happen is good or bad," replied Grease Pit, who was obviously still affected by his concussion. "You'd better not know that," the same man said confidently. The thug's vision finally returned to normal, and he recognized the tall, broad-shouldered bodyguard standing in front of him, who had been with Flora at the orphanage, and his dark gray eyes promised trouble if he didn't like something. "So, here's my question: Where is Flora Deloren?" asked Walter. "I don't know anything... why do you think I know anything?" Grease Pit began to deny. In response, a gold-plated women's wristwatch fell out of his pocket. "That's what," Walter replied, picking them up. The caveman was shaking like a leaf. "If a hair falls from her head, you'll regret being born," the bodyguard warned. "Spare...I didn't count her hair...It's not my fault...It's all the boss's fault!" Grease Pit wailed in fear. "We're going to have a long talk," Walter sighed heavily, watching the sad scene. The bodyguards pushed him into the car and took him away.