Disclaimer-: I own none of the buffyverse characters or the storyline of Die Hard. I just mixed the two together and voila!
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Spike sat on the bottom steps next to Tony’s lifeless, and now shoeless, body, attempting to tie up Tony’s shoes on his own feet. He stood up and tested out the shoes, but winced in pain because the shoes were too small, so he gave up, sat back down and started to remove the shoes, muttering to himself,
“A million terrorists in the world and I kill the one with feet smaller than my sister.”
He pulled the shoes off and threw them in a nearby trash can. ‘Now what to do with the body?’ He thought to himself and grabbed Tony under the arms dragging him to a secretary’s chair and placing him upon it. Looking up Spike saw a desk and an idea formulated in his head. He scrawled a note on a piece of paper, and took a wooden ruler from the desk tidy, sliding it into his back pocket. His eyes glanced up and around, surveying the area, making sure he was till alone, not wanting to take any chances that one of the terrorists could creep up on him. As he quickly scanned the surrounding floor, his gaze fell on some Christmas decorations and a smile formed on his lips as an even better plan invaded his mind.
After grabbing the necessary equipment and placing it strategically, he pushed Tony’s body on the swivel chair into the elevator and pushed the buttons for the thirty first and thirtieth floors. The doors closed behind him and the elevator started his descent, but after only half a floor, Spike forced the doors open with his fingers and the safety features kicked in. ‘Typical’ Spike thought to himself. ‘The bloody lift will stop if the doors are opened when they aren’t supposed to, but when the building is taken over by terrorists there’s’ no fuckin’ security measures in sight.’
Spike whipped the ruler out from his back pocket and used it to hold the doors open. He placed his hands equally apart and pulled himself up and out of the elevator, out onto the thirty first floor. Once he was out, Spike reached in and removed the ruler, closing the inside doors and setting the elevator in motion again.
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Down on the floor where Adam was holding the hostages, Willow stirred uncomfortably. Buffy inched closer to her friend and soothed her. Willow wasn’t just Buffy’s secretary, but one of her best friends. She had been maid of honour at Buffy and Spike’s wedding, and was their children’s godmother. Willow’s husband Oz was their godfather, and just remembering the happier times gave Buffy a slight more courage faith that they would get out of this. Things had been so tough on Buffy and Spike’s relationship, both of them states apart, and barely getting enough chance to see each other. But now at the thought of never seeing him again, Buffy vowed she would do anything and everything possible to ensure that she and Spike would be the happy couple they once were.
Adam stood in front of the frightened hostages like a harsh camp counsellor in front of the military trainees.
“I wanted this to be professional, efficient, adult, cooperative. Not a lot to ask. Alas, your Mr. Takagi did not see it that way...” a cruel smile formed on his lips
“So he won't be joining us for the rest of his life.”
He paused letting the news of the death of the employees authority figure sink in.
“We are prepared to go any way you make us. When we have achieved our aims you can walk out of here... or be carried out. Decide now, each of you. But remember that we have planned everything to the last detail. We are completely in change.”
As if perfectly timed a ‘ding’ attracted his attention. He turned towards the noise. Fritz whirled around to the elevator, gun at the ready. As the doors opened, his jaw dropped at the sight he saw. Tony’s still and dead body, flopped in a swivel chair, a red Santa hat gaily placed on his head. Adam started walking towards the elevator and yelled
“Get them over there. Schnell!”
The guards quickly hustled the hostages away as Adam crossed to the elevator.
Before being man handled across the room, Buffy caught a glimpse of what was causing so much commotion between the terrorists. The dead body with a Santa hat on his head. A small smile formed on her lips, unseen by anyone else. She knew her husbands capabilities and part of her wanted to laugh out loud at her husband’s twisted sense of humour, but another part wanted to slap him for trying to play the hero. She knew he could handle himself and the look she had seen in his eyes as she had been dragged out with the other hostages told her that he wasn’t just going to sit back and wait until the authorities turned up.
As Fritz stood there confused, Adam came to the elevator with Franco 87-D
Who lifted Tony’s chin and could tell that his neck had been snapped. Seeing a piece of paper folded up in Tony’s collar, he pulled it out and opened it. The note read…
"Now I have a machine gun. HO-HO-HO."
Fritz offered a suggestion,
“Perhaps a security guard we overlooked...?”
Adam lifted Tony's chin again, letting the head flop over and replied thoughtfully,
“Security guard? They're usually tired and burned out old policemen growing fat on a pension...This is... something else.”
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On the roof of the elevator, Spike crouched, staring through a tiny crack at the scene below. He added more information to that he had already written down on the paper.
The first notation was
‘number of hostages: Buffy + 30 odd.’
Then
‘number of terrorists?’
Spike added…
‘3? 1 in Lobby (?) and 2+ with hostages?? Plus ones on roof.’
Below he could hear Fritz slightly spooked voice,
“We have to do something, Adam.”
Adam was clearly not pleased. ‘Ha, serves him right stupid son of a bitch trying to hold my wife hostage’.
“Yes...we have to tell Karl his brother is dead. Tell him to come down.” Adam told Fritz.
Spike wrote more information on his note pad…
‘Adam = leader, Karl = brother. Use this?"
As Fritz called Karl on his CB, Adam looked at Franco. “Franco, you and Fritz take the body upstairs and out of sight. I don't want the hostages to think too much.
Franco and Fritz stepped into the elevator and pressed a floor button. As the elevator accelerated Spike grabbed onto the heavy,
grease-coated cables to keep his balance. His face, feet, arms and hair were darkened from the dirt, oil and sweat. The elevator sped up the shaft, passing the elevator bringing Karl down to the hostage floor and stopped at the machine floor. The doors opened and Spike heard them roll the chair with the body out of the elevator.
Looking up he could see a metal catwalk that ran around the inside of the elevator shaft. Spike pulled himself up onto it and moved around the catwalk looking for a way out, passing an unmarked metal door. Opening it he peered in, total darkness greeting him.
Spike searched through his pockets and took out a quarter, then stopped and switched it to a nickel. He threw it into the void and it was at least a full four seconds before he heard it ‘ching’ and bounce on the concrete far below. He didn’t have to be a mathematics whiz to know it was a long drop. “Fuck that.” He muttered to himself. Spike moved cautiously around a corner and we saw a metal ladder leading up to a door marked PUMP ROOM. Opening the door he stepped into damp room full of pipes and crossed, through to another door. He cracked open the door and peered out seeing the lower level of the roof, open and deserted, a heliport slightly higher above him.
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Down an the thirtieth floor, in Buffy’s office a filing cabinet was flung across the floor, followed by a lamp being flung across the room. Karl was having a major hissy fit over the death of his brother and punched a hole in the plaster wall. Adam went over to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“I know what you are feeling. But this is not productive…”
Karl interrupted him shouting at the top of his voice,
“He was my only brother...my only family! I want blood for my blood. We search...now.”
He started to move but Adam stopped him.
“No. Heinrich's team must finish planting the detonators...and Theo needs time on the vault. After the police come they'll waste hours trying to negotiate...that's when we search for this man. Until then...we do not alter the plan.”
“And if he alters it...?” Karl stated quietly. For once, Adam didn’t have an answer. *
Around the corner, the hostages heard the alarm and could sense the agitation among their captors. Parker slid over to Buffy.
“What's happening?” He asked her.
“They don't look happy...something's gone wrong.”
“The police...?” Parker offered.
Buffy shook her head.
“Spike.”
“Spike? Christ, he could fuck this whole thing up...what does he think he's doing?” Parker spat.
Buffy felt an overwhelming need to slap Parker, more than usual.
“How about his job?” She retorted.
“His 'job' is 3000 miles away. Without him, they might let us go...at least we have a chance...”
But Buffy interrupted him quietly
“Tell that to Mr. Takagi.”
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Up on the roof, Spike climbed up to the heliport and leant against the leeward side of a wall surrounding it. Shielded from wind, he pulled out the CB, and turned it to channel nine, and started broadcasting.
“Mayday, Mayday! Anyone! Terrorists have seized and Nakatomi building and are holding 30 or more hostages! I say again…”
In Buffy’s office, the broadcast was picked up over Adam’s radio.
“…unknown number of terrorists, six or more, armed with automatic weapons at Nakatomi, Century City... Somebody answer me, Goddamnit!”
Karl looked almost satisfied.
“The roof. It's the best place to transmit.” Adam told them as they dispatched towards the roof. Spike was unaware that within a matter of minutes he would not be alone, and it wouldn’t be the cavalry joining him.
In an L.A dipatch centre a supervisor weaved her way back from a break towards a dispatcher who was monitoring the call.
“It's the same address as that fire signal” The dispatcher informed her.
The supervisor took over the situation,
“…the false alarm? I'll handle it.”
She plugged in her headset.
“Attention, whoever you are. This channel is reserved for emergency calls only…”
Spike’s voice interrupted her over the radio.
“No fucking shit, lady! Do I sound like I'm ordering a pizza?”
In the service elevator back at the Nakatomi building Franco, Fritz and Karl arrived at the roof.
“No one kills him but me.” Karl informed the others
It was an order and the look he gave the other two backed it up. Karl checked his magazine, slapped it into his rifle as the elevator opened up onto the roof.
Spike moved around the roof, circling the helipad, making sure he had a good enough view to avoid being ambushed. He couldn’t see in all directions at once but he was doing the best he could.
“They've already killed one hostage, and they're fortifying their positions while we're bloody fuckin’ around! Now, send police backup ASAP!”
The condescending, arrogant tone of the supervisor came over the radio. “Sir, I've already told you, this is a reserved channel. If this is an emergency call, dial 911 on your telephone. Otherwise I will report you to the police…”
Spike couldn’t believe this. Why wouldn’t they believe him?
“Fine! Report me! Hey, come down here and fucking arrest me! Send the police. NOW!” He yelled into the radio.
Suddenly machine gun shells ripped into the concrete wall in front of him. The noise was deadening and both the Supervisor and Dispatcher reached for their headsets in pain from the intense sound.
Up on the roof Spike ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Tracer bullets ripped into the wall behind him. He reached the corner and saw the other two terrorists moving toward him. Before they saw him, he leapt down to the next level out of range of Karl.
At the emergency dispatch centre the Dispatcher looked critically at the Supervisor in the sudden silence.
“Ad...have a black-and-white do a drive-by.” The supervisor told her.
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At a convenience store down town a young police man picked up a handful of Twinkies. He was in his early twenties with black wavy hair. He placed the bag on the counter as the clerk smiled.
“Thought you guys just ate donuts.”
“They're for my wife. She's pregnant. If I knew she was gonna eat a dozen at a shot, I woulda bought stock in the company.
The Clerk nodded rang the items up on the till. As the officer paid his belt radio suddenly crackled into life.
“Dispatch to One Adam Ten, over.”
He grabbed the radio, and spoke into it.
“One Adam Ten, go ahead.”
“Investigate a code two at Nakatomi Plaza, Century City.”
“Nakatomi Plaza?” He spoke to himself, trying to place it. As he stepped out of the convenience store he looked up and saw the Nakatomi building on the horizon, in all its glory.
“One Adam Ten, do you copy?”
The officer moved towards his patrol car and spoke into the radio again.
“Roger, dispatch. I'm on the way.”
And he sped away from the store towards the building.
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Up on the roof, Spike ran for his life from Fritz and Franco, unaware that he was being herded around the building toward Karl. Suddenly Spike turned a corner and saw Karl who fired a burst. Spike ducked back before stopping at the exterior door to the pump room he used before. He tried to open it but found it locked from the inside, He aimed his machine gun at the lock and after a burst of bullets he kicked the door open and slipped into the darkness of the room.
Coming quickly out of the pump room, Spike picked his way over the same ground as a few minutes before and opened the door to the elevator shaft. The dimly lit shaft yawned before him as he started back down the ladder to the catwalk, moving along it he stopped dead. The catwalk ended and the elevator was gone.
Karl crossed to open the door to the elevator shaft when suddenly their radio crackled with Adam’s voice “Karl? Franco? Did you catch him?”
“No, but he's in the elevator shaft.” Franco replied.
“Perfect. The elevators are locked off. He can't escape. Just shut him in and return to base.” Adam told him.
Karl yelled angrily into the radio.
“Adam, he killed by brother…”
Adam spoke sternly into his radio,
“Karl, I know you want him, but the police are probably on their way. Maybe we can convince them it was all a mistake, but not if they hear gunshots! If you lock him in he'll be neutralized… now do it! Karl? Karl!”
Karl turned off his radio and Franco and Fritz other terrorists looked at him in stunned disbelief. Karl may have been acting on grief, but it was suicide to ignore Adam. He had made that perfectly clear in the beginning, killing several fellow terrorists to prove his point. Karl did not car and opened the door to the elevator shaft.
Spike overheard enough of this to realise he was in deep shit He backtracked to the air shaft door and pulled out his lighter to get a better look at his surroundings.
On the opposite side of the elevator shaft Karl stepped off the ladder to the catwalk, his own gun held ready.
Spike heard Karl's approach and knowing he had to think fast, looked down at his narrow confines, and then at his gun and its canvas gunsling and metal strap slides.
Quickly, he let out all the slack in the sling. Then he braced the weapon across the outside opening of the air shaft door and lowered himself into the air shaft holding onto the canvas sling with his elbows bent over it like a kid doing a half-asses skin-the-cat on a swing set.
His feet slowly moved down the smooth aluminum walls until they reached the top of the air duct, then dangled in the open space.
He straightened his arms to give him length enough to touch the bottom edge of the duct.
Suddenly he felt something give above him and looked up. The gun was designed to carry a gun on a man, not vice versa. The few inches of extra canvas were sliding through the clips. When they were gone...he would be too.
Karl moved quietly closer to the corner and Spike, now only inches from the bottom edge, arms fully extended, heard Karl on the metal catwalk. Spike’s muscles strained and quivered as one end of the canvas sling slipped through the clip and Spike fell.
He grabbed the ledge of the air duct as he fell and his body slammed into the aluminium wall with an echoing boom. Above him on the catwalk the rifle rattles on the metal outside the door.
Around the corner, Karl froze, unsure of what had made the sound. Spike held onto the ledge by his hands and tried with every ounce of strength in his body to pull himself up into the horizontal duct, clawing for a hold.
Karl rounded the corner and saw Spike’s machine gun lying beneath the doorway. He moved to the small door, shining his light and aimed his rifle down into the air shaft ready to fire… but from what he could see, the shaft was deserted. Moving his light around he saw the air duct. Without hesitation he turned and backtracked to the pump room door.
In the air duct Spike lay exhausted and motionless in the narrow crawl space. He awkwardly fished out the lighter from his shirt pocket and thumbed it on.
The flickering glow showed him this wasn’t no place for claustrophobics. It was a long, long, long dark and narrow corridor full of weird shadows. The far end if there was an end, was black. “Whew...for a moment there I was worried.” Spike muttered to himself ‘So much for the light at the end of the tunnel’ added mentally. He turned out his lighter, and started crawling.
The three terrorists rushed down from the roof in hot pursuit, Karl leading the way through the door. Karl pointed quickly to the left and right where there were a series of rooms. The others checked them while Karl wandered forwards, trigger finger itching. Almost immediately, the others returned.
“Nothing” Franco whispered.
Karl looked puzzled then mentally retraced Spike’s few options. His eyes scanned the architecture, and then suddenly looked up. The ceiling was criss-crossed with air ducts.
He fired a shot into the air duct and Spike froze. Three holes, inches from his face showed how close Karl came to nailing him. Sweat covered Spike’s face, dripping silently onto the aluminium.
Karl listened patiently for sound. Just then the two other terrorists returned.
“Nothing.” Franco informed him.
Karl hesitated for a moment, fighting his instincts before finally turning to go. Suddenly the duct Spike was in groaned slightly under his weight. Karl stopped and looked up at the matrix of aluminum duct work, trying to single out the source of the sound. He stepped back into the room and raised his rifle. Holding it upright he pressed the barrel up into the belly of Spike’s air duct, feeling for the weight of a body.
Inside the air duct Spike saw the indention of the barrel pressing into the aluminum fifteen feet away. There was a pause and another three feet closer. He could hear Karl's footsteps on the concrete, moving slowly below the duct. Silently he moved his hand,slowly drawing his Beretta. The next indention pressed up six feet away. Spike pointed his gun downward and waited for the inevitable.
Karl stopped directly below him. The barrel started upwards and just touched the duct under Spike when Franco returned to the door.
“Karl! Police! Come on.”
Karl hesitated then lowered his gun and left.
Spike heard the door close and lowered his gun and head. ‘That was too close.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Down in the safe room, Theo worked on the barricades that blocked his way to the prize inside. After punching in a few more numbers the screen in front of him read DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED? Theo placed his goggles on his eyes, holding out his hands towards Kristoff like a doctor requesting a scalpel, but instead of a scalpel Kristoff passed him a giant drill.
“You bet your ass I'm gonna proceed.” Theo smiled, turning on the drill.
Outside the Nakatomi building, the street was empty and quiet. A lone police black-and-white pulled out of the shadows of a side street and began a slow cruise toward the Nakatomi building.
Driving alone the police officer stared up at the tower. It seemed calm, its glowing lights matching the warmth of the holiday decorations on the streets. He slowed to a stop and scanned the premises. In the lobby Eddie was sitting, behind the desk. The officer spoke into his radio,
“Guard inside. No signs of disturbance...I'm going up for a closer look.”
He pulled up and exited the car, heading for the main entrance.
Inside, Spike punched out a ceiling vent and dropped down into the machine room. For a moment he stood, still, silent, listening for sounds of movement. The floor was quiet and he crossed to the stairwell.
On the roof, a terrorist walked along the wall and looked over at the police car, one tiny push or a misplaced step would have sent him tumbling over the edge to meet the ground below.
On the third floor, the elevator doors open on Karl, Franco and Fritz. They stepped out onto the darkened floor and moved quickly toward the windows on the Avenue of the Stars side where a terrorist, with a bar rifle had set up a machine gun nest under a half-opened window. Directly below him was the police car. He panned the police car with his weapon, finger on the trigger, clearly hungry for action.
On the thirtieth floor Adam watched from above. He raised his CB, speaking with his usual calm.
“Eddie?”
In the lobby, Eddie picked up his CB, watching the officer coming up the stairs.
“Had a feeling you'd be calling...” He spoke into the radio
Over the radio came Adam’s voice,
“Let him in.”
Eddie was a little startled, but moved quickly.
The trigger happy terrorist on the third floor also heard this, and his eager expression faded. But orders were orders.
The officer tried the doors but found them locked. Eddie came hustling across and unlocked the door with a magnetic card.
“Evening, officer. What's up?”
The officer stepped inside as bland, holiday music filled the room. *
“We got an emergency call that there was a problem here.” He told Eddie
On the thirty fourth floor Spike made his way to the Avenue of the Stars side of the building, entering the board room where Takagi was shot. He went to the windows and looked down at the street and saw the police car.
“All right!” He whispered
He waited, expectant. Five seconds. Ten seconds. But no commotion, no shouting. Frowning he voiced his thoughts,
“Where's the fucking cavalry?”
The officer walked casually across the slick floor, eyes panning the area. Eddie sat casually watching a game on one of his monitor screens.
“We already had that false alarm, you ask me, the Goddamn computers sent you out on another wild goose chase. They been chasing bugs in that system since they installed it.” Eddie lied, then for effect added…
“Oh, shit, come on, I got fifty bucks on you assholes…!”
The officer started to think his time was being wasted.
The silent tension was driving Spike crazy.
“Come on, come on...who's in that car, bloody Stevie Wonder?”
Making up his mind to do something while he could, he lifted one of the big chairs and swung it at the window. The tempered glass only whitening on the first blow.
Up on the roof, the terrorist saw the glass whiten below him and shouted into his mike. Heinrich heard the radio and shouted to Marco who grabbed his machine gun and ran.
Eddie watched confidently as the officer moved through the lobby looking for signs of trouble. Around the corner Uli was there, gun held ready. *
Up in the board room Spike drew the chair back for the final hit when Marco appeared at the door. Spike whipped round but Marco already had his gun up and fired a round at Spike. The bullets ripped into the table top and the chair, and Spike dove down behind the table.
Marco smiled to himself and moved around to the other side of the table, but found no one there. He looked around frantically than squat down beneath the table and Spike lying prone, his pistol trained on him.
“Drop it or you're a rugstain.”
Just then Heinrich stepped into the doorway, and seeing the situation Marco was in yelled…
“Marco, duck!”
Marco dove sideways, but Heinrich still wasn’t quick enough. Spike fired twice and Heinrich dropped dead sprawling in the hallway, his machine gun firing blindly until he hit the floor.
Down on the hostage floor they all faintly heard the gunshots above them and Buffy’s insides lurched. The colour draining from her face. She had no way of knowing whether Spike was alive or dead. She couldn’t react openly otherwise they would figure there was a link between her and the man they all wanted to kill and that would be bad news. All Buffy wanted to do was run from the room and find Spike and take solace in his embrace. But all she could do was sit letting her insides rip apart in silence.
In the lobby, all the officer could hear was "LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW." He stopped just a yard from seeing the armed terrorist, but turned back muttering “Screw this.”
In the board room Marco sprang on top of the huge table as Spike rolled on his back so he could cover either angle but was clear that Marco was in the more enviable position. On the table top Marco slammed in a fresh magazine and smiled.
“Next time… don't hesitate.”
Spike heard the clip being replaced and aimed directly above him, firing twice into the underside of the table. The bullets ripped through the table and Marco dropped down dead onto the floor next to Spike .
“Thanks for the advice.” Spike told the corpse.
In the lobby, the officer moved to leave as Eddie followed him to lock up.
“Sorry to water your time. Merry Christmas.” The officer smiled, and left the building.
Spike rolled out from under the table, crossed to the windows, and looked down in time to see the officer heading for the car.
“Oh, man, please, no…”
Desperate, Spike leant on the glass...which cracked again, on the verge of going. Spike looked over his shoulder at the body of Marco.
In the car, the officer checked in on his radio, unconsciously beginning to hum the music he heard in the lobby.
“One Adam Ten to 6421. We had a wild goose chase on that 436. Everything's okay here. Over.” Waiting for a reply he tunefully murmured “Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the...the uh, dum, de dum's delightful...”
Over the radio came a dispatchers voice “Roger, One Adam Ten. We thought it was a crank call anyway. Clear to code eight.”
“Roger.” He replied into the radio, then put the radio back on the receiver, and the car into gear he begain singing again.
“...let is snow, let it snow, let it snow…”
Suddenly Marco's body crashed onto the hood of his car. The officer yelled terrified.
“Jesus H. Christ!”
He grabbed his radio and cried into it…
“6421, this is One Adam Ten!”
Suddenly a barrage of machine gun fire from the terrorist on the third floor drowned out his call. He ducked and flattened against the seat as bullets blew out the front window covering him in glass.
“Roger, One Adam Ten, please repeat.” Came the dispatchers voice. But the officer accelerated in reverse away from the building, keeping his head low, praying he wouldn’t hit anything as the bullets followed him, digging into asphalt. A half block away his car ran off the pavement and down a slope, finally bouncing to a jarring halt in a parking lot. He sat up and clutched the mike.
“One Adam Ten, under automatic rifle fire at Nakatomi! Requesting immediate backup and SWAT assistance...”
Up in the board room the wind blew into the room and Spike stood framed against the light, his gun held firmly against his body. He looked down at the police car and grinned.
“Welcome to the party, pal.”
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