The Games of Kings

Chapter Six


"Hostiles, three o'clock!" Ramsey's shouted warning preceded the soft hiss of carbon dioxide powered guns by mere seconds.

Chris dove to the ground, sliding between the bed and the wall. He cautiously slid up onto his knees, eyes carefully scanning the room he was in. A movement in the corner of his eye swung the barrel of his gun towards it. Not recognizing the shape of the man as either his uncle or Ramsey, he shot it. Had to grin when he heard the foul curses renting the air; the voice was had a foreign accent. The figure left the area, not bothering to hide his movements. It seemed the other players were following the rules of engagement set out by the Game Master too.

It surprised him that they would. But even without knowing a single thing about the other team, Chris didn't think the Game Master would hire weekend paintball warriors to pit against the FBI's Behavioral Analysis unit. The foreign voice also indicated that perhaps these were mercenaries that the Game Master had brought in to play against them.

Several seconds passed and brought no more movement from outside the bedroom. It was time to rejoin his team. Chris cautiously stood but still crouched low, just in case. Hugging the walls, he was at the bedroom door in short order. He peaked around the doorjamb, surprised to see paint splatter all over the adjoining sitting room. "Uncle Benedict? Ramsey?"

"Here, kiddo." Benedict stood up from behind an armchair, drops of paint littering the edges of his clothes and hair, but no disqualifying direct hit could be seen. "You okay?"

"Yes, sir." Chris frowned as he stared at the room. "Where's Ramsey?"

Benedict rolled his eyes. "The fool gave chase. Whooped like an eleven year old and went after three of them."

Chris ducked his head, pretending to check on his gun, but really, it was to hide his smile.

"Don't bother hiding it, I know you're laughing. I swear, sometimes I think I work with a bunch of teenagers instead of adults." Benedict's aggrieved words belied the smirk playing on his lips.

"And who exactly is it that has a different dancing partner every Friday night?"

Chris leaned around his uncle to laugh at Ramsey. Their team leader jogged into the room, pulling off his goggles, letting them dangle around his neck. Ramsey's grin was shit eating. "I take it you were victorious."

"Oh yeah." Ramsey surveyed the room in satisfaction. "You guys find an instrument yet?"

Chris shook his head, but Benedict nodded. "I did. Over there." He pointed to the corner he'd face while being pinned behind the armchair. There stood what looked like an elongated volumetric flask, rounded bottom and a long neck, with two long strings stretched along the neck.

Chris exchanged a glance with Ramsey. "Are you sure, Uncle Benedict?"

His uncle nodded, stepping around a small puddle of paint and the armchair to retrieve the instrument. Benedict held it by the neck, plucking at one of the strings. Just as he'd predicted, a single clear note reverberated in the room.

Ramsey shrugged. "Good enough for me."


~*~*~*~*~


The next bedroom did not have a sitting room attached. It did have a very large bathroom. Chris grinned upon seeing it. "I'll take the bathroom. You can have the bedroom."

Ramsey shook his head, but did not hide his grin. Chris' love of water was well known. "I'll check the closet, first." He instantly regretted it when he opened the door and out fell junk. Lots and lots of junk. "Hey, Benedict?"

"I don't think so, Ram. You called it." Benedict's laugh was thrown over his shoulder when he took one look over it at the mess at Ramsey's feet before going back to scanning the bookshelves near the door.

Ramsey didn't bother to turn to Chris because he could hear the muffled snickering of the younger man from where he was. He sighed, shoulders dropping dramatically as he contemplated the mess at his feet. Shaking his head, he resigned himself to searching through all of it. He sat heavily on the floor and began throwing the unwanted items into a pile on his other side. He didn't even think about his back being exposed to the doorway. Halfway through the pile, Chris stuck his head out the bathroom door.

"I think I may have found something."

Ramsey gratefully swung to his feet. "What is it?"

"Maybe our next instrument, but I'm not sure how to get it to make music." Chris turned to his uncle, who was halfway across the room and heading their way. A movement in the doorway caught his attention.

Chris' widened eyes were Ramsey's only forewarning before the shots echoed through the room. Ramsey dived for Chris and the bathroom. Neither Chris nor Ramsey had time to shout a warning. Benedict's body jerked in surprise as bullets of paint hit him from behind. Chris couldn't even run to his uncle because of Ramsey's arms, locked about his waist. Ramsey dragged the both of them into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and barricading it with their bodies.

It seemed like the other players were not going to give up quite so easily as round after round slammed against the door. When those, of course, proved futile, they tried banging down the door with their shoulders. Chris struggled against the arms holding him, thinking of nothing but his uncle out there with them.

"They can't hurt him. They won't hurt him. He's probably on his way out to the van, grumbling and cursing at them for taking him out of the game." Ramsey repeated the mantra over and over in his ear, hands joining the words to soothe. The banging of shoulders against the door made their bodies jump every few moments and it was hardly soothing, but something in his voice must have reached him. Rational thought finally reinstated itself, calming Chris as he relaxed into his arms. Sensing the return of his full faculties, Ramsey tightened his arms briefly before steering Chris towards the tall cabinet next to them. "Push it over here."

The adrenaline still echoed in Chris' body but he could control it now, could think out his actions instead of just reacting. He did exactly as Ramsey asked, sliding the heavy cabinet inch by inch until it covered half the door. Ramsey quickly jumped out of the way and helped him move the cabinet the rest of the way. The heavy thumps were now muffled as the solid wooden piece of furniture held easily. Chris found himself back in Ramsey's arms as they slid down the side of the cabinet. He leaned back into Ramsey, hands lacing through the ones that soothed him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Chris could feel Ramsey nuzzling into his hair, a sigh ruffling the strands closest to his mouth. "So what do we do now?" He felt the movement of Ramsey's shoulders as they lifted and dropped.

"We wait until they get tired of banging on the door then carefully leave this bathroom. Then we find us some music makers, huh?"

Chris nodded, letting his head fall back onto Ramsey's shoulder. "Sounds good to me."


~*~*~*~*~


The mercenaries obviously tired of bruising their shoulders against the barricaded door and finally left. Ramsey made Chris wait until he was sure the other players simply hadn't laid in wait outside the door. Once the cabinet had been moved, the two men carefully left their bathroom sanctuary and resumed their search, much more alert this time. The rest of the floor yielded nothing but took longer to search because they were down by one, so Chris and Ramsey headed for the third floor. This floor was different than the sectioned off bedrooms of the second floor. The third floor was separated into three main rooms. A living room in the middle, a kitchen to the left and what looked like a game room to the left. There were doors leading to the left and right from the middle living room.

"Which room first?" Chris asked. They'd peeked into each room, looking for more players from the other team, before returning to the top of the staircase.

"Let's start from the left." Ramsey took point, knowing Chris was right behind him. The kitchen proved useless in way of musical instruments. There weren't even pots and pans to bang on. There was, on the other hand, plenty of junk food, partially eaten.

"The other players have probably been waiting here for us to figure out the puzzle." Chris mused, shaking a half empty box of cereal.

"Snacking while they wait." Ramsey shook his head as he closed the last cabinet on his side of the kitchen. He froze when a whisper of sound reached his ears. He waved, catching Chris' attention, waving him silent with a finger to his lips. He didn't have time to smile in approval as Chris made himself a small a target as possible, hunkering down behind the line of lower cabinets. Another whisper of sound and a man swung into the kitchen.

Ramsey yanked the paintball gun out of his hands, sending it skittering across the tiled floor. He shot the other player point blank with his own paintball gun. Instead of leaving peacefully, the other man swung a punch towards his head. Ramsey easily ducked it and came up swinging. The Game Master promised no violence, but Ramsey believed in fighting fire with fire. He let his gun dangle as he used both hands to block hits and to get some of his own in. When he brought his legs into it, kicking and blocking as he'd been taught, it was obvious his opponent had been outclassed as he was forced from the kitchen and into the living room.

Behind him, he sensed movement, but no danger. He sidestepped, bringing the cause of the movement into view. Chris was covering his back, watching both of the fighters and the door of the living room. Ramsey smirked grimly as he backed the guy into the far corner. He should have remembered that a cornered animal was a dangerous animal. The man reached behind him. From his actions alone, one finger curled around something tiny protruding from his other hand and pulled it out of the clenched fist, Ramsey recognized the danger even in the dim lighting.

"Jesus God." He spun; already moving without conscious thought, save for the need to get both himself and Chris to safety.

"Ramsey, what—"

Ramsey grabbed him by the arm and yanked them both towards the couch. He had just enough time to shove Chris under the table between the sofa and the wall and dive in before the grenade exploded. The blast rocked the room, the couch, and the wooden table protecting them. The grenade had to be homemade because the force of the explosion was deafening, more so than any grenade Ramsey had ever encountered. The shockwave alone rocked the sofa back. He prayed the couch wouldn't tip over on top of them. The sound of debris falling on the table had Ramsey hoping to God it could hold the weight of the plaster and wood that used to be the ceiling. He covered Chris from head to toe, using his arms to protect his head and neck, just in case.

It wasn't until after the ringing in his ears had stopped did Ramsey lift his head. He cautiously peeked up and around. He sighed gustily. The table and couch had held and they were none the worse for wear. At least he was. He'd pushed Chris fairly hard in his haste to get them to safety. Now he finally looked down at the man under him. Chris' eyes were clenched tight as were the fists wrapped in Ramsey's shirt. He smiled, gathering him close when he felt the minute shivers going through Chris' slim body. "Hey, you okay?" He kept his words soft and gentle, giving into the urge to cradle his friend's jaw, thumb smoothing over soft skin.

Chris nodded almost frantically, but once again nuzzled into his palm. His hazel eyes finally opened. What Ramsey saw there took his breath away and threw out all thoughts of caution and boundaries out the window. Ramsey dropped his head slowly, giving Chris the time he needed to say no, but the younger man wasn't having any of that. Slim hands slipped up from his shirt to bury themselves in his hair and drew him down faster. Ramsey ended up kissing Chris with a smile on his lips because Chris had sighed "finally" just as their lips met.

Ramsey fell into their kiss, keeping it languid, tasting, savoring, every bit of the young man under him. Just as he had imagined, Chris was sweet as hell. The sexy sounds coming from Chris undermined his sanity and boosted his ego like nothing else. He couldn’t wait to feel this incredible body under his without a stitch between them.


~*~*~*~*~*~


The explosion didn't rock the entire house but it was damn close. It snapped Alicia and Dylan's heads up towards the third floor. Alicia barely had time to grab the musical saw and its bow as Dylan darted up the upstairs. They raced up the stairs from the basement they had been searching. Dylan's long legs let him eat up the set of steps three at a time. Alicia rolled her eyes but kept up through sheer athleticism. They found the epicenter of the blast easily from the dust and rumble billowing out of the doorway.

“Hey, Ramsey? Chris? You guys okay?” Alicia called out, knowing that Benedict was safe outside. She nodded to Dylan as he took point. As usual, she went low as he went in high. They arced their paint guns and lights about the room, taking in the debris that had been violently thrown or destroyed by the grenade. They carefully moved about the room, searching for their teammates. They found a second door that lead to another room and reasoned that was the mercenary's escape route after throwing the grenade.

Dylan tilted his head towards the couch in the ladies' boudoir mock up. The couch’s front was torn all to hell and embedded with pieces of wood from other furniture and even porcelain from what looked like a vase. But behind it, sheltered by the couch itself and the wall, a long table was intact. It was barely wide enough for a single man, but it was the only place in the room Chris and Ramsey could have found refuge from the blast.

Alicia moved to one end, motioning Dylan to the other. On the count of three, they heaved the table up and over. Then stood flabbergasted when their flashlights revealed their friends. She glanced up at Dylan only to find he’d clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes bright with laughter. She sighed. It was up to her than. Pity, they were hot together. “Uh, guys, if you’re done with the make out session, we have a game to finish.”

The glare Ramsey sent her over his shoulder was only rivaled by the blush that started at Chris’ cheeks and went down his neck. Alicia idly wondered if that pretty little blush went all the way down, but refrained from asking. Chris was embarrassed enough without her harassing him. The gleam in Dylan's eyes told her she was the only who thought that.

Ramsey, being Ramsey, dropped his head again, once more kissing Chris, and taking his time about it, before jumping to his feet and reached for their teammate to help him up. Ramsey caught Chris just in time as the young man crumpled, gasping in pain. "Chris?"

"My ankle." Chris steadied himself on Ramsey before leaning down to check on his ankle. "I think I twisted it."

"Hold onto the wall." Ramsey made sure he was supported before kneeling at Chris' feet, checking on the injured ankle. Sure enough, it was already starting to swell. He tested it, checking for cracks or breaks, but Chris' soft hisses of pain spoke of nothing serious. He rose fluidly to his feet, gathering Chris against him again. Only then did he face Alicia and Dylan.

Alicia beamed at Chris when he ducked his head, hiding against Ramsey's chest, and then peeked out from under his bangs at her. She waggled her fingers at him. "Hi, Chris." Laughed when he smiled shyly at her. "God, you're cute."

"And mine. So stop flirting with him." Ramsey already had an arm wrapped around Chris, adding a glare over his head at her. Alicia laughed at him and Dylan's deep rumbling laughter came from the couple's other side.

Dylan leaned way down to look Chris in the eye. "One kiss and he's already claiming ownership. You must be one hell of a kisser, Chris."

Chris leaned out and batted Dylan right on the nose, missing by scant millimeters. Dylan jerked out of the way, laughing even harder.

Ramsey was shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah, you guys can tease us later. Back to work. We've got the instruments, right?"

They all nodded, holding up the four instruments.

"Where to now?" Chris was no longer hiding his face in Ramsey chest. He had limped over to Dylan, inspecting the long twisting horn he held.

"We've searched the basement and first floor," Alicia pointed down, grinning as she held up the musical saw and nodded towards Dylan with the horn. "We found these. There's nothing else down there.

Ramsey nodded, eyes on Chris, reaching out to help him hobble out of the wrecked room. "We found one of the instruments."

"One to go." Chris gritted his teeth, heavily leaning on Ramsey. "Looks like the game room is next."

Ramsey groaned. "Game room. Why didn't we just search there first?"

"Because that would be too easy." Dylan smirked as his boss. "You just don't do things the easy way. Like your first kiss with Chris. Easy way: family picnic with happy people around you. Hard way: with an explosion going on around you."

Ramsey glared at Dylan. Chris mumbled "oh, shut up" and dragged, as best he could with his twisted ankle, Ramsey out of the room.

Dylan chuckled, immensely pleased with himself. Alicia rolled her eyes and hid her smile following her team leader and friends.


~*~*~*~*~


With Dylan guarding the doorway to the hall and Ramsey covering the door to the wrecked living room, that left Chris and Alicia to search the room. It took them exactly sixty seconds to find the last musical instrument. Chris found it lying on a middle shelf, ordinary in its placement. The last instrument looked like a gourd with an extremely long neck. It was another string instrument, with two threads drawn taunt along its extended neck.

"You know," Alicia said, examining the instrument in Chris' hands. "Other than the musical saw, these instruments look like they came from the Middle East."

"Maybe it's an area he's intimately familiar with?" Chris offered, limping towards Ramsey, one hand along the wall for support, the other holding onto the newly found instrument. Each of the team now had a wieldy instrument to look after but they made sure Chris, having trouble with his ankle, got the least troublesome instrument to carry.

Ramsey took point, leading them out into the hallway, with Alicia and Chris following behind and Dylan taking up the drag position. "Make sure we put that in the report for the Game Master's task force. Where to now?" He surveyed the staircase. It led both up and down. He stuck his head out over the railing but saw no activity in either direction.

"Up." Alicia pointed down the stairs. "There was nothing down there that could have been a puzzle or a clue. I think we should go up."

"Then up we go."


~*~*~*~*~


Sure enough, the attic door was locked shut and made out of metal. It was also very large. Larger than the size of double doors.

"I don't like the look of that," Dylan rumbled, glaring at the doors.

No one did.

"Looks like a microphone over here." Chris was by the left side of the door, genuflecting on his good leg in order to see the panel there more closely.

Ramsey crouched down beside him. The panel was very simple. A shiny rectangular piece of metal, flat against the wall, had a microphone flush against it and four multicolor light emitting diodes under it. "We play the instruments into here, I take it?"

Chris nodded. He smiled when Ramsey held out a hand to help him to his feet, but shook his head. "I'll stay on the floor, thank you." He slid down to sit Indian style. "I wonder if the sequence matters?" He waved to the LED lights.

"Only one way to find out." Ramsey pulled out the bucket and string instrument, plucking the string. It was quite comical how all four, highly trained FBI agents were leaning forward, staring at the little LED, waiting for it to come on. More than just Ramsey muttered an expletive when it didn't. He stared down at the instrument in his hands, completely unlike any instrument he had ever played. It was much like a guitar, pluck the strings, sound spills forth, but obviously it wasn't the right pitch. He caressed the long slim rods that held the string suspended above the bucket-like gourd. Slim, sanded smooth to the touch and very, very flexible.

"Ramsey?"

He absently caught the hand curled around his shoulder, kissing the long elegant fingers, eyes still on the instrument in his hands. Ramsey released Chris' hand, his own sliding up and down on either side of the inverted v.

"Hey, Ram, whenever you're finish giving it a hand job, could we get back to work?"

Ramsey rolled his eyes at Dylan's words, squeezing the two rods together at the middle. When he plucked the string, the clear note that resulted was of a different pitch than the previous time. He smiled at the instrument as he began running his fingers up and down the length of the rods, pressing the rods together at different intervals. Note after note sounded. The fifth try yielded a lit up LED and soft cries of excitement from the others.

"Hand me the next one." Ramsey held out the used instrument to Chris, exchanging with the other man for the very guitar like instrument that only had two strings. Similar experimentation yielded the correct note after two tries. The ram's horn was the easiest, as a single deep breath and exhalation produced the right note. The musical saw was the strangest instrument Ramsey had to experiment on. The two string instruments were enough like other string instruments he'd been familiar with and the horn was a simple wind instrument. But the musical saw was completely different. He knew the principle but wasn't quite sure how to execute it.

Finally though, as he drew a bow, normally reserved for a violin, across the back of the bent saw a clear, ethereal note, much like a woman's voice, rang out. The last LED lit up. The team jumped up, guns, a mixture of real and paint, held out at the ready when the metal doors slowly slid open. They didn't quite expect a huge box with the words "Take Me Home" painted on it to greet them.