[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/kp75986.png?1[/img][/center] [b]Baltimore Sixteen Months Ago[/b] Tresser walked away from the burning strip club and didn’t bother to look back. Jimmy Kappas and his two bodyguards went for their weapons the second he walked into the room. He made quick work of the muscle before taking his time with Kappas. The Greek was afraid Tresser was working with the cops to bring him down. He was afraid that when he went downtown the other day, he’d cracked and was going to wear a wire and take him down. That made Tresser laugh. So he told Jimmy the truth. The real truth about who he was and who he worked for. He was a snitch, alright, he had said just before killing Jimmy. But The Greek was a piss ant compared to the people he was after. He got into his car and without another look back at the roaring inferno that had been the Kit Kat Club, hauled ass down the street. He had to get out of town fast. He didn’t want to make contact with Sarge Steel until he had something concrete. No doubt he’d hear about the massacre and be pissed. Kappas was supposed to be his in to the people running LEVIATHAN. Now that was shot to hell. His phone started to ring. He looked down and saw it was a blocked number. That was when he remembered the phone call from earlier. His rage had consumed him to the point that he forgot all about the warning from before. “Bravo, Mr. Tresser,” the same accented voice from before said. “Bravo indeed. Jimmy Kappas was a parasite who I only did business with out of necessity. It was only a matter of time before he ended up in prison or dead. I am glad it is the latter instead of the former.” “Who exactly are you?” “Someone who knows talent when I see it. In the trunk of your car, taped to the carpet, is a key. If you go to the airport, there is a locker that the key will open. Inside are a set of fake identification for a Timothy Tutwiler and a boarding pass to an early morning flight to Rome. Think of tonight as a job interview, Mr. Tresser. You passed with flying colors. I look forward to seeing you in Rome.” The line went dead. Tresser tossed the phone to the seat and checked the clock on the dash. BWI was less than a half hour away. He got on the highway and started towards Anne Arundel County and whatever was waiting for him in Rome. [hr] [b]Lake Ontario Now[/b] “I’ll let you know when we’re almost there.” The tugboat captain shouted over the droning of the engine towards Tresser’s good ear. Tresser nodded his thanks and stepped out of the controller room and made his way onto the deck. It was late and overcast, but the moon was beginning to peak out of the clouds. Just enough light for the tug to make its covert run across the lake. He seemed like the ask no questions type when Tresser found him on the Hub City waterfront. The captain confirmed Tresser’s hunch when he said an even five thousand dollars to take him across the lake and into Canada. Tresser paid him the five and promised two more if they could get there by dawn. Tresser had backup identification that marked him as a Canadian citizen with a different name. He’d be able to get a flight to Europe with the ID, he just wasn’t in any shape to cross the border and not raise questions. A vet had been paid well to tend to the wounds on his side and ear. His eardrum hadn’t ruptured from the gunfire, the vet had said, but it would ring for at least a few more days before going back to normal. The wounds on his side would heal within a week. “Well that was a disaster,” Sarge Steel said as Tresser approached the side of the boat. Steel had met him at the docks and hung back while Tresser hired the tug captain. He’d kept his distance from the captain since getting on the ship. The last thing either of them wanted was someone remembering Steel. “Do you buy Broker’s story?” Tresser asked. “I do. I wasn’t part of SHIELD back then, but I’ve heard all kinds of stories about the crazy things they did at the height of the Cold War. Besides, with the position you’re in who are you to doubt a story like that?” “He went off the reservation and forgot who he was. That worries me.” “He went off the reservation because his people failed him,” said Steel. “I’m your handler, Tom. Nobody’s forgotten you.” “I think about that night in Baltimore,” said Tresser, ignoring what Steel had said. “The night I took out Jimmy and his guys. That’s not something a good guy does.” “You’re not a good guy, Tom. I’m not a good guy either. There’s just shades of bad. What you did in Baltimore got you working for Vertigo, didn’t it? It got you on LEVIATHAN’S radar. That’s what your mission is. That’s what made all of it worth it.” “Vertigo won’t be happy I came up empty handed,” said Tresser. “But he’ll understand that things don’t work out.” “Gonna tell him the truth?” “I’ll tell him it was a trap and that Broker tried to kill me and muscle in on his business. He wouldn’t believe the SHIELD part even if I told him.” “That means he’ll be gunning for whoever Broker works for.” “Broker was independent.” Steel let out a little laugh and shook his head. “No such thing, Tommy. Everybody kicks up to someone else.” “Excuse me.” Tresser turned at the sound of the tug captain. Steel turned away to hide his face in the shadows. The captain was looking at the two of them curiously. It was loud enough with that waves that Tresser was sure he hadn’t heard what they were talking about “Umm… we should be dropping anchor in about five minutes.” “Thanks,” Tresser said with nod. “You’re gonna earn your tip.” “Just remember,” Steel said once the captain was gone. “We’re through the looking glass, Tom. Down here, we’re all mad.” Tresser didn’t offer a reply. Instead he looked out across the water and the waiting shores of Canada. [hr] [b]Epilogue Washington D.C.[/b] Special Agent Valentina de Fontaine looked through the file that the FBI field office in Chicago had emailed her just before lunch. Val was part of SHIELD’s Interagency Task Force that liaised with everything from CIA and Mossad down to the rural sheriff’s departments. In the past interagency rivalry led to things like Oklahoma City and 9/11, so the ITF helped the agencies communicate and share information. On paper it sounded prestigious, but it was a desk job. She was a traffic controller that looked over files and assigned them to other departments to do the work. If CIA needed information on a threat risk, she sent it on to counterrorism. If FBI needed help with a bank robbery in Bearshit, South Dakota she sent it on to tactical. The file in question was an unusual one. Originally Hub City had been where it took place but HPD had passed the buck on the feds given the circumstances. A series of chaotic events had transpired over one night that they thought were linked. A cop had been murdered and left in a burning car, nearly two hours later a shooting at a diner wounded at least three, and shortly after that during the search for the suspect cops found a dead body in a rundown movie theater. SHIELD had been called in because the dead body had been found with a SHIELD badge in its possession. She was about to pass it on to the fraud and counterfeiting when she found a video file among the email. Val clicked it and watched black and white surveillance camera footage of the deceased officer chasing after a suspect. The timestamp said that it was taking place right around the time the medical examiner said he died. The suspect seemed to know cameras were around so he did his best to hide his face. But there was something else. His gait, the way he carried himself. She had seen it before, a lifetime ago. She’d followed behind that man as they ran through the Hindu Kush Mountains with assault rifles in their hands. Val paused the video and tried to zoom in on the man running from the cop. It was grainy… but she could make out a few details. Details she recognized. “Oh, my god,” she said under her breath. “Tresser."