Disclaimer: Characters from The Professionals are © Mark-1 Productions Ltd
and are used without permission but with no intent to defraud.

Challenge: A story including at least one line of lyric in a natural manner.

No More Heroes

---

          "Ray?"
          "Yeah?"
          "Just wondered if you were awake."
          "Yeah. We should talk; keep each other awake."
          "OK." There was a pause. "You start."
          "It's not a competition, Bodie."
          "Just thought you might have something we could talk about."
          "Not especially."
          Another pause. "Could play I-Spy, I suppose?"
          Doyle snorted in derision. "Can you actually see anything?"
          "Not much, no," Bodie admitted. "Just what's right in front of me, really."
          "Right. So it would take me about three seconds to guess, and game over. Bit of a non-starter, that suggestion."
          "Just a thought."
          Doyle forbode to point out that Bodie's thoughts weren't up to much at that moment, and fished around for a topic for discussion. "I thought about going to see that new Indiana Jones film next weekend. I enjoyed the first one; the reviews reckon this is even better."
          "Who're you taking? Maybe we could double-date."
          "Maybe. Although I thought I'd go alone; it's not really Amy's sort of thing."
          "We'll go together without girls then... although I'm going to send you in to check for nutters with grenades first, after our last trip to the cinema..."
          Doyle grinned, and winced. "Why me?"
          "You're better at spotting them."
          "You saw that one earlier before me."
          Bodie managed a short laugh. "Wasn't hard, he was waving a shotgun around. And you had other things on your mind."
          "Yeah, just a couple." But he still should have seen the nutter. That was what they were trained for, after all. It might have made all the difference, if he'd seen them first. This might not have happened.
          No point in thinking about 'if's. It had happened.
          "You all right?"
          "Not really. Not much I can do about it though."
          "Wish we had more light..."
          He heard Bodie's soft laugh. "Don't tell me the great Ray Doyle is scared of the dark."
          "Not scared. I'd just prefer to be able to see more."
          "Might be a blessing, not being able to see anything at the moment."
          It was a sobering thought; not one Doyle wanted to brood on. "Just don't use it as an excuse to go to sleep."
          "No Mum." As Bodie laughed Doyle heard him catch his breath, but tactfully ignored it.
          "When we get out of here, remind me to thump you."
          Bodie laughed again, but then moaned. "No need; you're getting your revenge just by making me laugh."
          "Sorry."
          "Like hell you are... Wonder what's taking them so long?"
          "They'll be trying to decide who should take charge of the operation. Not that there should be anything to decide, first one here should just get on with it."
          "No one wants to be the hero." Bodie sighed. "Where did they all go to, Ray, the heroes?"
          "What?"
          "Back when I was a kid," Bodie continued, "I used to go to the pictures for the Saturday morning shows. Westerns, war films, space battles, stuff like that. There was always a hero, someone who'd shoot from the hip, kill all the baddies and always leap in to the rescue."
          "Yeah, I remember them."
          "So," Bodie persisted, "whatever happened to the heroes?"
          "Maybe we just got too old to believe in them, Bodie."
          "Not if you want to believe in them."
          Humour him. "You can believe in anything if you want to."
          "Exactly. So heroes are right up there, with fairies and ghosts and Cowley signing our expenses..."
          Doyle chuckled. "You just keep right on believing then, mate. I'd like to get my expenses signed off before too much longer..."
          "Me n'all..."
          "I suppose you'd call us heroes," Doyle mused. "We're always saving people."
          "You're right, we're heroes..."
          "Now if we could just convince Cowley of that, we could get ourselves a couple of medals. In fact, he owes us a shedload of medals, if you think about it; we've probably earned ourselves at least two this month alone..."
          Doyle shifted as best he could; bits of him were starting to go numb. If he could only reach his R/T, he'd be able to tell them they were still alive; that he and Bodie needed rescuing. But his radio was tucked away in his jacket pocket, currently gouging a hole in his chest and completely inaccessible.
          He wasn't able to tell what was broken or what was simply trapped under chunks of masonry. There'd been some sensation of wetness around his chest at first; it was unlikely, given the force of the blast and the amount of bricks that dropped on him, that he wasn't bleeding somewhere. But that sensation had gone away now...
          It was so dark. And so quiet. Was anyone trying to reach them, or did they think they were already dead?
          "Bodie?" Doyle could hear him breathing, but his partner didn't respond. He tried again, louder, although it hurt his chest to suck in more air... "Bodie, answer me, please..."
          Bodie had been closer to the blast...
          "Damn it..." Tears rolled itchily down his cheeks; of frustration and despair, and fear, and he couldn't reach to brush them away.
          "Can't be scared, I'm a bloody hero," Doyle said it out loud, but he wasn't convincing himself.
          "Bodie..." The silence stretched, and Doyle started to shiver. "No more heroes, mate..."

© Carol Good - August 2005