Frank removed his helmet and immediately noticed the strong, pungent smell of burning. He looked to his right and spotted smoke curling into the air in the distance. Replacing his head protection he sped towards the fire.

He braked in front of the blazing building which was now burning out of control with flames licking from the upstairs windows and instantly recognised Biff’s car parked across the street. Throwing his helmet aside, he dropped his bike unceremoniously into the road and ran as close to the office block as heat would allow. "JOE," he bellowed through cupped hands running to and fro, fighting the rising feeling of panic in the pit of his stomach.

Above the noise of the inferno, he heard a loud rumbling sound and for the first time noticed the crane, black against the night sky. There came a second rumbling as the engine kicked into life. Frank shouted and ran, waving his hands madly in the air hoping to attract the operator’s attention. He stopped, watching mesmerised as the arm swung across and crashed down on top of a large, familiar looking vehicle parked close to where he’d stopped. Hearing another noise above the cacophony, he strained his ears to listen. It was shouting he heard - panicked voices and instantly recognised them as belonging to Joe and Chet!

The claw gripped the truck and hoisted it high into the air. Frank’s eyes travelled to the claw, up the heavy-duty cable, across the arm and down to the crusher. Setting his mouth in a grim line, it became only too clear what was going to happen to his brother and friends if he didn’t put a stop to it.

He sprinted across the yard towards the crane and quickly climbed the metal ladder up to the cab. Peering over the edge, he saw a man manipulating the controls. Power’s was so engrossed in his work he failed to sense Frank’s presence. Frank took another look at the truck which was now swinging wildly above the crusher and realised that if he didn’t act immediately, his friend’s prison would be dropped into the machine. He crouched and sprang inside.

Wayne turned in surprise, his hands leaving the controls and instinctively moving towards the gun in his jacket pocket. "YOU? I hoped you we’re dead!" he exclaimed.

"In that case, say hello to the ghost who’s come back to haunt you!" Frank drew his fist back and punched him squarely in the jaw. Wayne fell back, cracking his head on the metalwork behind. He brought his hand up to his mouth and probed, looked and saw red on his fingers and tasted blood. Looking back at Frank, his mouth turned into an angry sneer.

They squared up for battle and launched simultaneously, grabbing each other by the lapels. Wayne swung Frank sideways in an attempt to hit his head off the cab wall, but his shoulder hit instead. Frank made a spear hand and thrust it up and under Powers ribs. Wayne lost his balance and fell backwards. Frank loomed above him, coming in for the kill. Wayne tucked his knees into his chest and kicked Frank in the midsection, flinging him back out the way he’d just come in.

***

The four teenagers charged the door as one and smashed into it using their shoulders. The truck swung so violently that they lost their balances and fell. Only moments before Biff had finally managed to untie Chet. He was at the pins and needles stage, but was so engrossed in their present plight he didn’t have the luxury of time to give it a second thought. The door hadn’t budged an inch, so they picked themselves up, stood back and repeated the exercise, getting the same non-result.

"Okay, this isn’t working," shouted Joe, leaning against the wall for balance. "All we’re managing to do is make the whole structure lurch out of control," he looked up at the extensive tearing to the roof caused by the claw and a mad plan formed in his mind. "Everyone, remove your jackets. Biff, you’re the tallest, reach up and line the edge of the torn metal in that large hole, we’re going to climb out of here."

"I won’t be able to climb up there!" exclaimed Vanessa pointing for emphasis.

"If you want to live, you’re going to have to," Joe said, matter of factly.

"Don’t worry, Nessa," said Chet. "We’re here to help you."

***

Frank managed to snatch a handhold, cutting short his plunge to the ground, he grasped the other side of the opening and hoisted himself back inside, coming face to face with the gun. Reflexes taking control, he grabbed Wayne’s wrist and pushed the revolver away and down. The gun went off with a deafening roar, tearing into the crane’s controls, causing sparks to leap out and the crane’s engine to stall. Frank couldn’t help it, he laughed out loud, realising that his friends were out of immediate danger.

They grappled, Powers’ face twisted into a grimace as he tried to force his gun hand towards his opponent’s face. The revolver went off again, this time taking out the window sending glass showering down on them. Frank forced Wayne’s hand over the window frame and he sank his wrist into the jagged glass, Powers screamed letting go of the gun, sending it spinning into the night and yanked his injured hand from Frank’s grasp.

"That was for Joe!"

Wayne began to realise he was outclassed by a younger and fitter man, and with one last desperate bid to win, launched himself forward to shove his opponent from the cab. Frank backed up allowing the man’s momentum to work against him. He leaned precariously out of the doorway and at the last possible second let go with one hand and swung out into thin air. With the aid of Frank’s hand against his waistband, Wayne went careering out and down, screaming as he plummeted to the ground. There was a sickening thud and Frank looked down to see him lying prone on the ground. "And that one was for me!"

***

Frank climbed down beside Wayne, gingerly probed the side of his neck, feeling a strong, regular pulse. He got his breath back and climbed back up into the crane to try and lower the delivery truck safely to the ground. "Joe?" he yelled.

"Frank? Is that you?" he heard Joe’s surprised reply, after a pause.

"Yep, the old Frank. I’m back Bro! Are you all in one piece?" He grinned, hearing his friends all whooping for joy.

"Just about, but Callie’s not with us, I think she’s up front, we felt the door open just before we were launched into the air."

Frank cupped his hands together. "Callie?" he bellowed and everyone fell silent, hoping for a reply.

"Any luck?" asked Biff.

"No, the windows are probably wound up, so she can’t hear me,"

"Perhaps she’s gagged?" suggested Chet.

"Thanks for that positive thought Chet! It’s so good that we can rely on you for your sensitivity," Frank paused and thought for a second. "Hold tight guys, I’m going to try and lower you," he looked at the control box, surveying the ruined wires and burned plastic doubtfully. Clicking every switch, he found that the only one that bore fruit was the overhead light. "It’s a no-go, guys, the control box is totally shot to pieces - literally."

"In that case, come out onto the arm and give us a hand up, we’re going to climb through one of the holes."

Frank looked and saw the jackets hanging over the edges of a large tear. He pulled his arm into his sleeve and cleared the broken glass from around the edge of the window frame. He cocked his leg over, climbed out and made his way up the crane arm. He was soon lying on his stomach, grinning stupidly down at his friend’s upturned faces, lit in the moonlight.

"You got your memory back then?" asked Biff grinning back. Frank nodded.

"Thank goodness for that," said Joe. "You’ve been a real pain!"

"You can talk! Anyway, I was under the impression you were meeting the lovely Vanessa tonight for a secret rendezvous," he smirked, aware that he was dropping Joe right in it.

"What does he mean by that?" asked Vanessa glaring at her boyfriend.

"Nothing," he promised and looked back up at his brother. "Good one Frank!" he wined. "You wait till I get out of here, you won…FRANK LOOK OUT!"

Frank began to turn and instantly took a brutal kick up under the ribs. It was delivered with sufficient force to launch him bodily into the air. He felt his hip hit the side of the crane arm, and before he could react, he was free falling out of control through the air. He landed on the roof of the truck with a resounding thud, his weight sending the vehicle into another wild swing. He had landed onto his side, disorientated, his lungs burning but denying him the air he so desperately required. The guys inside the truck were all sent flying as one – Joe fell onto his bandaged arm.

Frank’s heavy landing was followed by another, softer bump as Wayne jumped down onto the roof next to Frank and steadied himself with one hand on the thick cable. He delivered another punishing kick, flipping Frank over onto his back, ensuring once and for all that his nemesis would not be able to defend himself further.

Powers got down onto his hands and knees for balance and began crawling. Sensing he was coming after him, Frank tried to will his body into some sort of action but was barely conscious and found breathing still a big problem – he knew now that escape was futile. Kneeling astride him, Wayne delivered a final, stinging punch to the side of his face, so hard that to Frank it felt like his cheekbone exploded. Power’s finally pushed something cold up under his chin – the older Hardy brother guessed correctly it was the gun he had stupidly left down on the ground. Looking up, through the cobwebs he saw Wayne’s face moving in and out of focus, grinning maniacally, covered in blood from a head-wound. "This is where we part company, Kid!" he snarled.

"Leave him alone!" screamed Vanessa.

"Don’t worry, girly, you’ll get your turn."

"Hey, Wayne," shouted Joe, trying desperately to attract his attention and buy time for his brother. "What have you done with Callie."

"She’s up front, I think I might have killed her though."

"Wha…what?" whispered Frank, his breaths now coming in short, ragged spurts.

"Yeah," he laughed, "she had a beautiful thin neck."

"You stinking coward!" screamed Biff, enraged.

Wayne ignored his comment "I’m bored with this conversation now, say goodbye to your friend Kids!"

"NO!" Joe shouted, launching himself at the opening the claw had created. He grabbed with both hands and attempted to haul himself out. However, in his weakened state, his arm would not hold his weight and he fell back.

"I’m going to enjoy this!"

Frank closed his eyes, listening to the hammer being drawn back and his brother’s anguished cries, knowing he’d reached the end of the road.

"I don’t think so," said a cool voice. Frank opened his eyes again and saw a wonderful site. Con Riley was lying flat, leaning out over the arm above Powers with his police issue gun resting against the back of his head. "How you doing, Frank?" he asked.

"Better - now that you’re here," he gulped.

Wayne’s face held the expression of a man with a difficult choice – finish his prey off, or surrender. Finally, after a long drawn out pause, he slowly raised his hands in submission and Riley took the revolver and tossed it over the side, down to Officer Anderson who was waiting below. In the distance could be heard the sounds of sirens approaching. Riley hauled him off Frank by the scruff of the neck whilst reading him his rights and then cuffed his wrist to the railings above his head.

"FRANK, FRANK?" yelled Joe, openly crying.

Frank slowly slid himself over the tear and looked over into the interior of the truck. He saw his brother sitting on the floor with Chet and Vanessa both trying to calm him. "Hey!" Frank called. Joe’s tear streaked face looked up and he climbed quickly to his feet. Frank reached through he gap and Joe grasped his outreached hand eagerly with both of his. "I’m okay Joe, I’m okay. Vanessa, look after him, I’m going after Callie."

"Okay."

Frank rolled onto his side and, holding his ribs, scrambled to the front of the truck and leant over to see into the interior. He saw his girlfriend still laid out across the seats. "Callie?" he yelled, badly frightened.

"Frank, is she okay?" called Riley.

Frank shook his head and called again. Receiving zero response, he sat down, kicked in a window, turned and eased himself gingerly through the opening, gritting his teeth against the pain in his side. Crouching beside Callie, he felt for a pulse and, though weak, was greatly relieved to find one. He unbuttoned her shirt, pulled it aside and angrily surveyed the deep, purple bruising to her throat. Supporting the nape of her neck, he pulled her too him, untied her hands and then laid her gently back down. "Callie, wake up, it’s me, Frank," he pleaded, stroking her face, a lump in his throat. "Please wake up." He was rewarded thirty seconds later when she moved slightly and began muttering. He put his ear close to her mouth and strained to hear.

"Where the hell have you been?" she whispered.

"What do you mean? I’m only four days late!" He hugged her, laughing through the tears.