“So,” Wazza perked as Gina worked at re-bandaging her ankle. “Wanna tell me why you were kidnapped and running through the bush with a busted leg?”

“Not really,” Gina said. Apart from a bit of yelling, they hadn’t had any problems with Amy and her goons, and she could only hope that they wouldn’t be able to find her and Wazza in his pleasantly secluded home.

He pulled out another chair across from her and gestured for her to put her injured foot up. She did so, and he gingerly placed an impromptu ice pack on her badly swollen ankle. She hissed through her teeth at the cold and the pressure of the ice against her injury. Wazza sat himself in a chair across the table from her and shrugged. In all honesty he deserved to know something about the situation she was in, since he’d essentially rescued her and offered her a bit of solace in his home. Gina sighed. “The ankle’s from when my car was pushed down an embankment on my way up the Snowies a couple days ago. I was running because all the kidnappers I’ve run into are idiots and let us get away.”

“You mean this has happened before?” he gasped.

“If I tried to count how many times I’ve been kidnapped or helped rescue someone who’d been kidnapped, we could be up all night.” She smiled sardonically.

“What’d you do to deserve all that?”

“Oh, you know, the usual, screwing over drug lords, sleeping with the wrong people, got sucked into the mafia, a little bit of involvement in illegal gambling, drug pushing, prostitution, not that we wanted to. Oh, and one of my friends may have killed one of Europe’s finest crime bosses. Don’t know which one did it, but he’s dead, so people aren’t happy with us.”

“You sound like you could do with a drink,” Wazza chuckled.

Gina smiled. “No thanks, I think what I actually need is maybe a phone so I can get hold of my friends, let ‘em know what’s happened, make sure they’re ok, that sort of thing. Actually a glass of water would be good.”

“Sure. Where’s your friends?” He pushed back his chair and headed into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

“They were all headed to England last I heard,” she sighed.

“England? What’re they doing there?”

“Either rescuing one of the other three who have been kidnapped, or getting kidnapped themselves. It’s hard to tell really.”

Wazza returned from the kitchen and handed her a glass of water and brought over the phone. “Is that why you lost your job?” he asked.

“No, lost my job because all my friends are fuck ups,” she said with a smile. “It’s not so bad, really.” Gina took a gulp from her glass, thankful that it washed away some of the awful taste in her mouth. “So Waz, what do you do?” she asked in an attempt to change the subject away from how truly demented her life was.

“Oh, well I—”

Gina jumped at the sounds of a gunshot, windows breaking and a pained scream from Wazza all in rapid succession. Wazza slumped in his chair and slid to the floor, leaving a trail of blood as he went, and Gina jumped up, the ice pack forgotten, and debated between trying to help the poor man and trying to run away before the same happened to her. She didn’t have much time to think, however, and was quickly tackled to the ground from behind. One of the heavies was sitting on her back, another tying her legs together, and in spite of herself she let out a cry of pain as the knot was pulled tight against her abused ankle.

She would have sworn at them, mocked them, done any of the usual things to let make their job a bit more unpleasant, but she couldn’t help but gape at the hole in the back of Wazza’s shirt, the blood oozing steadily from his wound. He could be dead, maybe dying, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d stumbled across her, he would still be out doing, well, whatever it was he’d been doing, and not bleeding on his kitchen floor.

She dropped her forehead to the ground, suddenly feeling very guilty and very tired. But the feeling didn’t last very long as she was flipped over harshly onto her back, and the vile cloth was back against her face and even as she struggled against the arms holding her down, she fell unconscious.

“Would you stop rubbing your ass like that,” Greg hissed. “People are staring at us in a way I’m not entirely comfortable with.”

“I’m sorry, but that steward doesn’t know the proper method of pinching someone’s butt in a flirtatious manner. I think he broke a blood vessel.” Danny resumed the rubbing of his rear as they watched the bags spin round the baggage carousel.

“You get used to it,” Greg shrugged, and Danny glared at him sideways. “Besides, that’s what you get for leading him on like that.”

With an annoyed grumble to himself, Danny marched off to chase down what he thought was Gina’s bag, pushing through a group of French tourists as he went. Smiling to himself, Greg went the other direction to grab his own bag as it came down the belt. He met Danny on the other side and gave him a friendly pat on the rear. Danny decided not to dignify the teasing with a response and slung his bag over his shoulder. “We should probably try to get hold of Paul, tell him the bad news.”

“Yeah,” Greg sighed. “We should call Fen, see if they’ve landed yet.”

Danny nodded. “I could use a stiff drink first.”

“You and me both, pal,” Greg chuckled. “Paul’s hard enough to deal with when he thinks you’re endangering his mongoose and that stupid gnome, I really don’t want to think about what he’s gonna do when we tell him we lost the love of his life, and I’m certainly not in the mood to find out sober. I know there’s a bar around somewhere…”

The second Fenny was off the airplane she grabbed her phone and checked it for messages or missed calls, and was immediately disheartened upon finding no sign from Brad. “Nothing,” she declared miserably.

“They probably know that you were on a plane and couldn’t use your phone so didn’t bother,” Paul shrugged, trying to be helpful. “Maybe you should try calling them again?” She nodded but didn’t seem convinced. “Wait for me a minute, I need a piss.”

Fenny nodded and he headed for the restroom they’d just passed on their way out to find a taxi to take them anywhere. “No, wait, come back,” she snapped.

“What?” he grumbled, bouncing up and down a bit anxiously, looking very much like a six-year-old boy.

“You’re not taking the mongoose in with you, it’s wrong on just so many levels.”

Paul regarded Troy and shrugged. “Probably a good idea.” He handed him over to Fenny and dashed inside, leaving Fenny to lean against a pay phone, her head against the wall. After taking a deep breath, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed. As expected, she was informed that the customer she was attempting to reach had just been hacked into tiny pieces and thrown into some random body of water. Or something, she hadn’t actually bothered to listen to the mechanized voice and just turned it off and went back to sulking against the wall.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and she shrieked, spinning around and preparing to kick a heavy between the legs. Luckily she stopped just short and saw Stuart staring at her, wide-eyed and obviously startled. “Sorry,” she gasped. “I’m just, I’m not good at being snuck up on.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just wanted to, y’know, say, I don’t know what actually.”

Fenny smiled at him sweetly, briefly considering kissing him again just so he wouldn’t have to struggle for words.

“Where’s your friend?” Stuart finally managed.

“Bathroom,” she said, gesturing.

“Right. Well I just wanted to give you this.” He handed her a folded up slip of paper and she looked at him in surprise but feeling slightly proud of herself for seemingly having snagged herself a phone number. Her phone rang before she could say anything, and with a gesture at Stuart to hang on a minute, she answered.

“Hello?”

“Fen?”

“Hey Greg,” she chirped, thankful to hear that someone was still alive at least. “What’s going on?”

“We just landed in England.”

Paul dashed out of the bathroom still doing up his fly, and upon finding Fenny, looked slightly annoyed to see her chatting on her phone with Stuart the Steward watching her doe-eyed. “What’s with the screaming, I thought you’d been killed,” he snapped.

“Did you wash your hands?” Fenny asked him. He scowled at her and marched back into the bathroom. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked Greg.

“We just landed in London.”

“Really? So did me and Paul.”

“We’re still at Heathrow.”

“So are we.”

“Where are you?”

“Outside the men’s room by one of the exits waiting for Paul to achieve the proper level of hygiene. Where are you?”

“I don’t know, we got lost when we left the Qantas terminal.”

“You got lost,” she repeated. “How’d you pull that one off?”

“Leave us alone, we’ve had a very rough day,” Greg grumbled.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Fenny mused.

“Heard anything from the others yet?”

“Um, well, sort of.”

“What do you mean sort of?” Greg grumbled.

“Hang on, there’s an echo, I think something’s gone weird with one of the phones.” Stuart looked at her coyly and pointed behind her. Curious, she turned and was so surprised to come face to face with Greg Proops that she squealed again and dropped her phone. “Shit,” she hissed as she scrambled to retrieve it from under the payphone.

“I see you’ve replaced Paul with a taller, more attractive flight attendant,” Greg mused as he turned off the phone and handed it back to Danny. Stuart snapped his attention from Fenny, who was on her hands and knees on the floor, to Greg.

“No, this is Stuart, we, um, we met on the plane.” Fenny blushed as she stood up, pulling her hair away from her face. “I see you’ve replaced Gina with someone who isn’t actually here?”

“Um, yeah, about Gina,” Greg started.

“Can we leave before Paul comes back?” Danny asked.

“Why, what have you done?” Fenny asked, suddenly very nervous.

“Hey fellas,” Paul chirped as he came out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his pants. His face promptly fell. “Where’s Genie?”

“Oh,” Danny peeped.

“About that,” Greg breathed.

“What?” Paul demanded.

“We kind of, um…” Greg said, shrugging.

“Lost her,” Danny blurted.

Paul glared at him, then turned to Greg. “What the fuck do you mean you lost her?”

“Well lost isn’t really the proper word,” Greg winced.

Fenny’s eyes went wide, her stomach sunk, and she grabbed Stuart by the arm to drag him away. “Look, it was nice meeting you, thanks for everything, I really hope we run into each other again,” she babbled, and he nodded blankly.

“You bastards!” Paul shrieked from a few yards away, “How could you get on the fucking plane without my wife?! I mean I knew you were dickheads, but this is just ridiculous!”

“But as you can kinda see we’ve sorta got things to do, stuff like that,” Fenny said, wincing at him.

“Yeah, thanks,” Stuart breathed, “and good luck with everything?”

Paul’s tirade continued, “And with that madwoman Amy still stalking around looking for us! Jesus!”

“Thanks.” Fenny smiled briefly, gave a curt little goodbye wave, and hurried back to the others.

“I’d kill you myself and save the bitch some time!” It looked like Paul was getting ready to either punch one of them or run out of the airport to do something rash. As she reached his side, Fenny thrust Troy into Paul’s chest and grabbed hold of his other arm.

“Maybe you should calm down?” she suggested meekly.

“Calm down?” he gasped incredulously. “Calm down?! What the hell do you know about calming down?!”

“Look buddy, we know where Amy’s gonna take her,” Greg pressed, looking decidedly nervous but trying to be hopeful.

“There’s a place called Gina in South Australia,” Danny nodded enthusiastically, “and we figure since—”

“South Australia?!” Paul yelled. “You were just in Australia, that’s halfway across the fucking planet! You let her get kidnapped and just thought you’d come on up to England for fun?”

“We didn’t realize until we were in the air,” Danny said.

“Well you could’ve checked before the thing took off, couldn’t you?!”

“She’s more than capable of taking care of herself,” Greg reminded him.

“That’s not the point!”

“Maybe she wasn’t actually kidnapped,” Fenny suggested, knowing full well that it was highly unlikely anything else had happened.

“What, she wandered off to get a Mars Bar and just missed the plane?” Paul snapped. “She would have called by now, something’s happened to her and you guys don’t fucking care.” He wrenched away from Fenny and stomped off in the direction of the Qantas terminal.

“Where are you going?” Danny asked as the three of them followed him.

“I’m going back to Australia to find my wife since no one else gives a shit.”

“No, Paul, you can’t do that,” Fenny protested.

“Why, we have to save your precious Braddles first? He’s got Ritza and Beven to take care of him, all you’re gonna do is stuff things up again anyway, you said yourself that he hates you, so why don’t you just drop it already, go and fuck Danny at the baggage claim and then have a good whinge about how your life is so messed up, save us all the time.”

Danny glared at her, and Fenny stopped mid-stride, letting Paul march off with Danny in tow while Greg slowed his pace and shrugged helplessly at her. “Well this is just fantastic,” she grumbled to herself as she continued following but at a decidedly slower pace, “my best friend is missing, my technically still-husband is probably dead, and all of my other friends are pissed with me. Just what I needed.” She realized she was whining again and scowled at herself.

“What the hell is your problem,” Gina snapped groggily as she was shaken awake. She opened her eyes but her vision was blurred and her head swam so she quickly closed them again. The stuff they had knocked her out with had obviously not had the chance to wear off properly.

“Get out of the car,” Amy snapped.

“Can’t, you tied me up,” Gina reminded her. She tried to gesture to the bonds around her throbbing ankle, but found that her wrists had been tied as well. She squinted her eyes open at her captives and glared at them.

“Get her out of the car,” Amy grumbled to one of the heavies, who leaned in and grabbed her by the arm to drag her out.

Gina stood awkwardly, trying to balance her weight on her good leg while staying upright. “Let me guess,” she said tiredly as she squinted through one bleary eye, “you’re taking me through the back entrance of a dodgy hotel where you’re going to lock me in all by myself and leave me a perfect opportunity to find a way to escape just like you and all of your freaky little kidnapper friends have always done.” Amy moved in front of her, smiling a bit evilly. “Well?” Gina asked. “Am I right? Do I win?”

“Sometimes I curse my love for the dramatic,” Amy mused to herself before slapping Gina harshly across the face. The heavy behind Gina grabbed her more tightly around the arms as she struggled against him, and Amy gestured for them to follow her. Sure enough, Gina was dragged through the back entrance of a hotel and into a service elevator. “I’d kill you now,” Amy continued, “but I’m so looking forward to you and all of your little friends watching each other die. I just haven’t figure out yet exactly who should get the best show. Originally, of course, I was going to let Greg be the last to go, because he’s a self-righteous bastard. But I’m beginning to think that you might win the prize after all. It’d be nice to watch you sob over your poor little hubby’s body. Or I could go the other direction, it might be fun to watch your geeky little girlfriend crack, having to watch you all beg for your lives before I shoot you through the head. Hmm. Decisions, decisions.”

“Watch where you’re putting your hands, pal,” Gina snapped at her captor as she was trundled out into the hall towards a room. “I really love how you’re so cocky,” she said to Amy. “I mean how long have you ever managed to hold on to any of us? I think you’ve got a complex or something. What’s the opposite of paranoid? I mean you actually believe, against all of your experiences, that you’re going to win? A friend of mine has a very interesting therapist, I’m sure he could—”

She was cut off as the door to the room opened and the heavy pushed her inside. She tripped over her still tied feet and fell face first to the floor. She quickly turned herself over and sat up as best she could.

“So, you don’t think I’m winning, huh?” Amy snapped and grabbed a bag from the henchman who had been lurking along behind them, ox-like and unnoticed. “What’s that look like?” She threw the bag at Gina, hitting her shoulder.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that it’s probably Paul’s bag, and then I’d probably ask what that’s supposed to do with anything?”

“Well I got him once, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, and he got away. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“But I’ll get him again, don’t you worry yourself about that.” She smiled in a manner that may have been a bit unsettling if Gina had taken her the least bit seriously. The door slammed closed, the lock clicked into place, and the sound of Amy’s cackling laughter and the grunting of her heavies moved down the hall. With a sigh, Gina gingerly scooted herself towards the bed, which she leaned against for a moment before deciding to peruse Paul’s bag as well as she could with her wrists bound to alleviate the encroaching boredom.

“You heartless bastards.” Paul continued to seethe in the impossibly long line at the ticket desk.

“People are staring,” Danny murmured, glancing around them, partly out of paranoia that someone would find them and start shooting, partly so that he didn’t have to look at Fenny, but mostly because he couldn’t look at Paul, who literally looked as if he was about to snap. They’d tried for the last fifteen minutes to reason with him, that he couldn’t go to Australia alone, that they didn’t really want to go with him without Beven, Ritza and Brad to help them all to stay alive, that he was being irrational, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“My wife could be dead and you’re talking to me about pooling our resources? I thought you were her fucking friends! How many times has she saved our arses, and you’re not going to do the same for her? She’s saved all of our lives, and we’re just going to let her die?!”

“Well what are we supposed to do if we do go to Australia, huh?” Greg countered. “Amy’s trying to lure us all together in one place, we’ll just be walking into a trap.”

“And what good is it waiting around for Beven and Ritza?” Paul countered. “They’ll just be walking into the trap too.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be walking into the trap with big scary guns and years of experience in how to deal with shit like this,” Fenny pointed out, beginning to get exasperated.

“If you’re so certain about their skills,” Paul sneered, “then why are you so convinced they let Sherwood get shot, huh?”

“What?” Greg gasped.

“I called him and they were being shot at,” Fenny murmured, “and the phone went dead. Haven’t heard from them since.”

“Christ,” Greg hissed, “why can’t we stay together for a change?”

“Yeah, that’s right, care about Sherwood,” Paul yelped. “For god’s sake Greg, a couple years ago you and Genie were going to run off together, now you’re more concerned about your work buddy? I just don’t understand—”

Fenny’s phone went off and she gratefully dashed away from Paul and his continuing tirade to answer in relative quiet. As she pulled the phone from her pocket her heart leapt into her throat – the call was from Paul’s phone.

“I swear to god that if anything has happened to Gina I will personally disembowel both of you,” Paul was hissing as Fenny approached.

“Paul,” she said.

“I just don’t see how you could have got on the plane and not thought to at least check that she was on board, especially with her being injured.”

“Paul, there’s something you should probably know about Gina…”

He continued either ignoring her or not hearing her, his rant never slowing. “That’s just the most idiotic, self-absorbed, fucking stupid thing to do, she could be dying in a shallow grave somewhere, and believe me, you two are next.”

“Paul!”

“And not so much because you fucked up royally, which you did, but because you really just don’t seem like you care, and you’re not willing to try and fix your own mistakes because you’re a couple of—”

Fenny grabbed Paul with one hand on either side of his head, the phone in one hand pressing against his cheek. “Paul!” she said much more loudly than necessary. “Gina is on the phone, she’s not dead, and she wants to talk to you!”

Paul’s eyes went wide and he snatched the phone from Fenny’s hand and moved out of the line, much to the relief of everyone else in the queue. “Thank Christ for that,” Greg mused as they followed him, “I thought we were going to have to sedate him.”