Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

There were three of them, circling and pressing against their intended victim, oblivious for the moment to the sudden appearance of her would be rescuer. The victim emitted another loud scream as one of the assailants yanked her roughly to him.

Joe didn't hesitate. He dived into the group of aggressors in a flying tackle, sending two of them sprawling onto the dirty snow. Struggling to free himself from the tangle of limbs, Joe kicked one with a booted foot and elbowed another hard in the face. Though he was rewarded with responding grunts of pain, Joe knew that the battle was hardly over. There was the third attacker to deal with, before these two recovered from his initial tackle. Rolling to his feet, he caught a flashing glimpse of the victim. She had managed to pull herself free in the brief melee, but had made no move to remove herself from danger.

"Run!" he yelled at her as he ducked and barely missed a punch from the third assailant. Before he could straighten, something slammed into his back, sending him crashing onto the frozen ground. Half-stunned by the blow, he nevertheless had enough sense remaining to roll away before his assailant could deliver the next blow. His attempt to avoid being hit again was countered by someone's boot driving into his ribs. All breath was driven from him by the well-aimed kick and his body curled instinctively against the flashing pain. He gagged on another choked breath when a second kick landed on his exposed back.

"Enough!" someone shouted.

A foot prodded him none-too-gently and flipped him onto his back. Still struggling to breathe, he dimly made out several faces hovering above him. He closed his eyes and worked on getting air into his starved lungs.

"Haven't seen him before," another voice said.

"He's cute." Joe's eyes shot open at the sound of this last voice. It was a girl's voice. He blinked furiously and the faces above him at last slipped into focus. One girl and three guys. The victim and her three assailants. Joe shook his head in complete bewilderment.

The girl suddenly laughed. "Aww, the poor kid is confused. He thought he was being the hero, rescuing a helpless girl in distress." She knelt down onto the snow as Joe struggled to sit up. Her face came within inches of his and she smiled. "Sorry, kid. We were just having fun and you came and interrupted the show. Shouldn't have done that, you know. My friends and I don’t like interruptions when we play."

"Well, sorry for intruding on your fun," Joe croaked rather shakily. "Now that I see you don't need my help, I'll just leave and let you guys continue your perverted game." Humiliation and anger were vying with pain for his attention.

The booted foot connected with his side again and this time, Joe had sufficient air in his lungs to give sound to the pain.

"You're hurting the poor kid," the girl said, though there was no hint of sympathy in her voice.

"That will shut his smart mouth," one of the guys said, presumably the one who was so liberal with the kicks. He brought his foot back again, intent on driving his point home. Joe sucked a quick breath and grabbed the swinging foot, yanking it with all his strength. His tormentor landed heavily with a loud expulsion of air. Joe lost no time in scrambling to his feet but was instantly sent crashing to the ground once more when something slammed into his back, again. One more glancing blow caught him on the side of his head and suddenly all was black. Oddly enough, he could still hear through the haze of blinding pain, though the voices seemed to be coming from a long way off.

"That's enough. Don't want to kill him. Go through his pockets and see what there is."

Joe felt hands probing his pockets, but he was powerless to stop them. Try as he might, he was unable to lift even a finger or to open his eyes, which seemed to have sealed shut of their own accord.

"I want his jacket. Take it off him."

"He'll freeze in this cold."

"Too bad, but I want that jacket." It was the girl who was saying this.

He was roughly stripped of his jacket and as his back fell back against the hardened snow, his body shuddered reflexively.

"Okay, let's get out of here. He's got nothing else on him."

The voices and footsteps faded away and suddenly silence fell around him. Pain throbbed steadily, radiating from his head and flaring hotly through his body. Vaguely, he could feel the snow melting under his back, the cold dampness seeping slowly into his all-too-thin shirt.

Get up, Hardy, or you will freeze to death! He groaned as he rolled slowly onto his stomach. Get up! Get up! His feet scrabbled against the hardened snow, clumsily seeking a foothold. After what seemed to be a Herculean effort, he was finally on his hands and knees, shivering like a leaf from the piercing cold. He lifted his head slowly, wincing at the throbbing pain, and tried to judge the distance to the nearest building. It might as well be on the other side of the earth, and he wondered how he could ever reach it in his current state.

"Hey, are you all right?" Miraculously, a voice materialized from somewhere behind him.

He tried to turn to the source of the voice, but his leaden limbs refused to respond. Hands suddenly grasped him under his arms and eased him into a kneeling position.

"You all right, kid? What happened?"

Joe blinked and tried to make out the face before him. A uniform. Police?

"Some guys jumped me," Joe mumbled. "Took my things."

Something warm fell around his shoulders. "Here, you must be freezing. Are you hurt badly?"

"No, I'm just banged up a bit," Joe replied and drew in a long, shaky breath, allowing the cold air to penetrate the fog in his head. With a grunting effort, he got to his feet, gripping the man's arm for support. "I need to use a phone."

"Here, let me help you to my place. I live in that building over there. You can use the phone there. Think you can make it?"

Joe nodded, wincing at the instant stab of pain in his head. "I'll make it, thanks."

"You don't live around here, do you?" the man asked as they made their way slowly to the front of the apartment building.

"No, I was visiting a friend and was just waiting for my ride when I heard a scream. Thought someone needed help but I got jumped instead," Joe said a little shamefacedly. "So much for being a good Samaritan."

His rescuer shook his head in disgust. "That figures. It doesn't pay to do good around here. Best thing to do is mind your own business in this place."

Joe smiled weakly at his rescuer. "What about you then?"

"Yeah, I guess I don't listen to my own advice," the man said with a rueful grin. "But look at my size. Punks will think twice before jumping me."

Joe laughed, which quickly turned into a grimace. The man was right. He was at least four, five inches over six feet and probably weighed in at well over two hundred, if not close to, three hundred pounds. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to be the one to jump you either. Thanks for helping though." It was then that he noticed that his rescuer was not a policeman after all. He had on a uniform, but it was that of a security guard of some sort and he was certainly unarmed.

"Joe! Is that you?" a familiar voice suddenly called out.

Joe looked up as quickly as he could and saw Biff trotting over to them. Relief flooded through him. "Biff, what are you doing here?"

"What happened to you? Are you hurt?" Biff asked as he took a hold of Joe's free arm while eyeing the other man suspiciously.

"I'm a bit banged up, but I'm okay. He's helping me," Joe said quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't even ask for your name."

"Name's Taylor ," the large man replied. "Is he your ride?" He seemed to be equally suspicious of Biff as the teenager was of him.

"Yes, this is my friend, Biff, and I am Joe, by the way."

"Do you still want to come to my place to clean up a bit? Maybe we should call an ambulance to have you checked out," Taylor said, looking over Joe with uncertainty. "You are pretty shaken up."

"No, I'll be fine. Nothing worse than bruises, I think. Thanks for your offer, and thank you for stopping to help," Joe said gratefully. "Oh, here's your jacket. It probably saved my life." Joe was reluctant to give up the warmth, but he couldn't very well take the man's jacket with him.

"If you are sure," his rescuer said, though he sounded unconvinced.

"I'm okay, really. Thank you again," Joe said.

"No problem," the other man shook his head and gave them a final wave. "Just don't try being a hero again around here."

Joe laughed in spite of himself. "Good advice."

"What happened to you?" Biff asked after the man disappeared into the apartment.

"I'll tell you in the car, but I am freezing to death," Joe said as he began limping toward Biff's car. "It's a long story and I'm not sure whether I want it publicized."

Biff grinned as he followed his friend. "That's a rousing start. I am sure I will want to hear every word of it."

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.