Jack Hardy The Legacy Returns

009 Midnight Madness

Jack owned a vintage black Triumph motorcycle. He rode it for twenty minutes until he spotted a small, old-fashioned joint that remained open all day.

He walked in and found an elderly woman serving homemade food. The drink at the Forbes mansion had left a bitter aftertaste. The young man needed something real.

After a heavy meal, Jack pulled out a thick roll of cash from his pocket and gave the elderly woman two five-hundred-dollar bills. Her eyes widened at the currency.

"Son, that's too much. The whole thing is barely thirty bucks."

"Keep it. I was missing my mother's cooking."

Jack's bike roared again as he cruised towards the edge of town, his eyes scanning for a cheap motel. He spotted one with a blinking vacancy sign.

The young man grabbed a room key and headed down the dimly lit walkway. He was about to unlock the door when his sharp senses picked up something.

It was a muffled scream coming from the room two doors down from his room. His body tensed instantly, and he strained his ears, confirming the sounds. Someone was in trouble.

Jack circled around the back of the motel quietly until he reached the window of the suspicious room. The curtains were half-drawn, giving him a clear view inside.

A very pretty young girl lay tied to the bed, her wrists and ankles bound with thick ropes. A cloth gag was stuffed in her mouth, and she struggled helplessly.

She couldn't have been more than twenty-two, with long, wavy brown hair spread across the pillow. She wore a tight glittering dress that told Jack she had been attending a concert.

Inside, two middle-aged men in dirty jackets paced about. One smoked a cigarette while the other anxiously checked his phone. The taller one, named Dale, chuckled nervously.

"Kidnapping the girl was easy. Her security was tight, but the tip we got from the boss was reliable. Daddy's little princess never saw it coming."

The shorter one with a beer belly, named Cole, rubbed his hands together. "How much are we getting as her ransom? Probably a million?"

Dale grinned wider, ogling at her. "Why should we stop at ransom? She's young and sexy. We could sell her through the trafficking ring. Two million would come too easily, maybe more if we dress her in a slutty dress."

Cole nodded eagerly. "Boss hasn't called yet. While we wait, why not have some fun? We could strip her down and inspect the goods we are about to sell."

They both nodded and guffawed, approaching the bed, salivating. Their hands reached for the hem of the girl's dress. She wriggled wildly, her screams turning into desperate, muffled noises against the gag.

Bam! The door exploded inwards with a deafening crack as Jack kicked it clean off its hinges. He stepped inside casually, with his hands in his pockets, with an expression that said he had wandered into the wrong room by mistake.

The two punks spun around, their knives flashing out instantly. "Who the hell are you?" Dale snarled, his blade pointed straight at Jack's neck.

Jack shrugged casually, scratching the back of his head. "I was just looking for the bathroom to piss. Did I disturb you guys? Anyway, show me the way to the whizz palace."

The punks exchanged confused glances, realizing that the stranger had already seen the girl tied to the bed. He was a liability. Then charged at him with a roar.

Jack, who had been expecting such a reaction, moved rather lazily, as if he were playing with kids.

His right hand flicked out in a casual slap that connected with Dale's jaw. The force shattered his face. The thug blasted away and slammed him into the wall, creating a spider-crack in the plaster.

Cole swung at Jack next, but the latter's left hand met him with a backhand that sent him flying across the room, crashing into the dresser with a sickening crunch. Both men lay still, out cold, and probably dead.

Jack walked over to the bed where the attractive girl stared up at him, her eyes huge with fresh terror. He gently pulled the gag from her mouth and ripped the synthetic binding cords with his bare hands like they were paper.

"What do you want?" she demanded. "You rotten madman!"