Sam Gerard silently cursed to himself as he crept through the shadows of the buildings around the Navy Pier looking for any sign of the man he was after. For him, so far, the day seemed to be going better than most days. After all, usually he had to do much more to track down a fugitive than to go out to pick up his lunch at the local deli. The convicted bank robber had practically fallen right into his lap, the only reason he hadn't was due to the fact he had jumped out of the way when the guy slipped on the piece of pastrami. Unfortunately, he had managed to right himself and get out the door before Sam had been able to get his hands on him in the press of the deli making a chase necessary. His team was still en route from the office but he was confident that the local cops he had rounded up for assistance would be more than enough to bring this guy down. Now if he could just find him.
Meanwhile, Jon Parker was crouched in a corner, silently cursing as well, in his case cursing the twists of fate that had led him to this place. Okay, so maybe he had gone to the bank and made a couple of minor little unauthorized withdrawals. Was that really something for all of these people to get so upset about? It wasn't like the people that the money actually belonged to were using it, after all. He was just redistributing wealth, a kind of modern day Robin Hood. Only instead of giving to the poor, he gave to him self, something he justified due to the fact he had been poor all his life. He deserved a break.
And he had been doing so well too ever since that minor little incident in which he had come to a parting of the ways with the cops assigned to escort him to his new accomodations in the federal penitentiary. Go to a place where he had no ties, lay low, wait until the heat blow over. The perfect plan and he was doing great with it. He even occasionally watched the news in his rented room and chuckled at the leads the cops were pursuing. They would never have found him. If only he hadn't gone for that sandwich, if only he had gotten into the other line. His mother had always said that he had the worst luck of anyone she had ever known and she was surely right. After all, what but bad luck could have led him to get into line behind Sam Gerard, the most implaciable US Marshal in the history of the organization when it came to hunting fugitives down. And then when her tried to sneak out, he had slipped and landed practically on top of the guy. That pretty much cinched things and he had fled with the marshal in chase.
Jon shook his head as he cautiously glanced out, seeing Sam approaching, gun drawn. The man had to be some sort of fugitive chasing robot. He hadn't even bothered to grab his lunch before heading after him and it must be ice cold by now. He looked down at the water and then at the length of pipe in his hand, debating which would be best, jump in or try to get out of this mess somehow. Suddenly a voice sounded out, making his decision for him.
"US Marshal Sam Gerard, you're under arrest, Parker!" Sam called as he cautiously inched forward. He had sensed motion in the area somewhere. We can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way!"
He spun as something, a blur, suddenly launched at him from the right, two sharp cracks filling the area, one as his gun went off, slamming into Parker's shoulder, the other as the pipe made contact with his head, stunning him and sending him reeling back, crashing into the water with a loud splash.
The fugitive stood there in a daze, clutching his shoulder with one hand as he stared down, not quite believing what he was seeing. It couldn't be. Had mousy little Jon Parker actually managed to take out Sam Gerard, the marshal no fugitive was safe from? Just then he heard running footsteps and quickly started to shuffle away. He would have time to think more about this once he got himself out of this mess. And maybe found a doctor.