Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead

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>MOSCOW, ID
>LA QUINTA INN & SUITES
>4SEP2019
>1500...///

Donnelley lay in bed already dressed and ready in his business chinos, oxfords, and dress shirt. He was staring at the ceiling and thinking of his and Laine’s last night. It seemed like every day she took up more real estate in his mind. As much as he liked it, heart fluttering and the intertwined bodies when everyone else was sleeping was dangerous. He liked all the teams he’d been on, bonded with all of them, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind was telling him that he was getting too close. Told him to focus, maintain the distance needed to efficiently complete the mission. He shut it out for what seemed like the hundredth time since he’d began doing this with Laine. Reckless, dangerous, any other word like that he had no problem attributing to their relationship. But no matter what, wrong was not one of them.

His watch began to beep, the signal that it was time to rally the team. He silenced the alarm and got up, extending the handle on his one suitcase and wheeling it out behind him as he exited his room. He went to Ava and Dave’s room first, then Laine and Avery’s. He’d helped the other man get back to the room early in the morning, after letting Laine settle into her bed and make like she’d always been there. They followed him out of the hotel after they’d turned in their key cards and filtered out to their cars, Donnelley’s Malibu and the Campervan. Donnelley slowed from his place at the front of their little marching line until he got to Avery at the very rear.

He turned and placed a hand on Avery’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks with a stiff arm and firm hand. He let his hand come away from Avery as the other man looked at him quizzically. Donnelley’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. That he was on thin ice. Out of habit, Avery stood at parade rest. It wasn’t something Donnelley usually had to do, but he’d gotten the talk before. More times than Avery might think.

“You were drunk last night.” Donnelley said, Avery glancing away from him to look over his shoulder at the rest of the team loading their things.

“I…” Avery began, but his jaw just hung there, knowing there was nothing he could say that Donnelley wouldn’t shoot out of the air.

“I, I, I.” Donnelley echoed, and then shifted a hair closer, “I’m gonna put it to you straight right here and now, Avery. I don’t know what’s crawled up your ass and died, but you better fuckin’ fix that sour mood of yours or it’s gonna get someone killed.”

He inhaled through his nose, sniffing at Avery, “You ever turn up to muster with this team smellin’ like a fuckin’ vagrant, I’m gonna smack the taste out your mouth, boy. This ain’t whatever embassy or FOB they pulled you off of, out here I’m the goddamn President. There’s no front leanin’ rest, I’ll just tell you to flip your collar and meet me in the alley.’” Avery chanced a look at Donnelley’s face and saw a picture of severe sincerity, “Laine tried with you once. This ain’t me tryin’, this is me desperately pleadin’ that you don’t make me have to try at it myself.”

“Am I understood?” Donnelley growled. Avery nodded once, Donnelley rose his voice, “Am I understood?

“Yes, sir!”

Donnelley stepped back and looked Avery up and down, almost seeming to take the measure of his very being in those few seconds, but what he made of it Avery couldn’t tell. “Don’t call me ‘sir,’ I work for a livin’.” Donnelley about-faced and started the walk to his car, calling over his shoulder, “You’re ridin’ with me.”

Avery gulped.

>ELMENDORF AIR FORCE BASE
>ANCHORAGE, AK
>5SEP2019
>0045...///

Black SUVs driven by Air Force personnel with orders not to talk to, much less even look at them. After a while, it lost its glamor for Donnelley, riding silently in the back with Avery while Laine rode up front. They had all changed from their traveling clothes into more appropriate attire. Donnelley wore a gray button-up, tan 5.11 pants, and a black hoodie. His beard made him look like any other contractor you’d find shuffling their feet on any other military base, his FNS .40 holstered in a thigh rig on his right and his Badger and Serbu in their gun cases in the back. Avery still hadn’t seemed to get over their conversation in Idaho, though Donnelley firmly telling him to fuck off when he tried to approach him at the SeaTac airport probably didn’t help.

In his defense, the second time was against Donnelley’s orders, but his patience for the other man had steadily waned since Dave voiced his grievances and Donnelley had found him stumbling around outside the hotel barely coherent. At least he wasn’t like that. He hoped. It’d been a while since the days of him only being able to sleep on the floor or coming home drunk and trashing the kitchen in his dazes. He frowned and looked out the window, disgustedly shoving the memories out of his head and focusing on the Gulfstream G550 sprawled and waiting for them on the runway. Standing in front of it was a man in a black suit and peacoat, black hair slicked back and a clean shaven face, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. On either side of him there were two security personnel in the saltiest, faded multicam Cryes Donnelley had seen since Afghanistan. Both of them armed with Magpul PDRs, and looked like they’d taken Ghost’s DNA and made clones of him in a lab. Donnelley’s eyes narrowed to lethal slits.

The engines were already idling and he could hear them before he opened his door. He went to the back of the GMC Yukon to put on his assault pack and lug his gun cases. When they made it to stand in front of this mystery man whose self-assured smile made Donnelley want to break it, he instead offered out his hand to the man for a shake. Their hands clasped and he spoke over the engines, “Hello, it’s nice to meet you! I’m William Bruster, with March Tech! We’ll be providing your plane today!”

“It’s nice to meet you too, William,” Donnelley lied with a smile as prickish and self-assured as William’s, putting aside the Texan in his voice and replacing it with his indiscernible news accent.

“Please, just Will. Your name?”

“Just Blaine!” Donnelley gave his CIA-provided last-name alias, not trusting this smirking weasel enough to give him the real thing. “I’m eager to get this done!”

“Of course, come on in!” Will waved them along as he ascended the steps up into the fuselage of the plane. Eight people inside the Gulf Stream was stretching the limits of its capacity, but Donnelley was glad to be out of earshot of the roaring engines.

“March Tech?” He asked, voice more clear in the sealed silence of the cabin, setting down his cases and assault pack to sit in the first chair he saw.

Will nodded, “Yes, the Program and March Tech have had close ties going on twenty years now. Mutually beneficial, really.” Will smiled, “We’ll be stopping in Eielson Air Force Base before we go further. They’ve been experiencing some… unusual weather patterns up north since last month.”

“Unusual?” Donnelley asked, eyeing Will with a concerned brow.

“Usually it’s rain and hail, but they’ve been getting snow up north. Lots. It was clear when we left the airstrip, so we hope it stays that way.” Will said.

Donnelley nodded, lips pursing at the unusual news of the weather. An omen, he thought, “So do I.”

Laine hauled the heavy duffel bag over one shoulder and looped the strap of her laptop briefcase over her neck, letting it bang against her hip as she walked. She was dressed in layers after obsessing over possible weather conditions, form fitting leggings and long sleeved shirt similar to what she wore when she bothered to jog back home in Virginia. Over it, she had a black ribbed sweater and her shoulder holster, covered by a lightweight gray and black fleece. As she had to appear professional, she wore a pair of black hiking boots, the laces hidden under the dark pants.

She shifted uncomfortably, the weather was not as cold as she had thought it might be, and it was humid. Laine thought about running to the restroom to take off some of the underlayers but there was no time. She did remove the patterned scarf and tucked it into the pocket of her jacket.

Laine followed Donnelley to the plane, climbing the stairs while maneuvering the bulky duffel bag. The many times she had been caught unprepared by the Program had caused her to overpack and prepare. She shoved her bag in the back where the gun cases and other luggage would sit.

She took a moment to study the man that called himself Will, her dark green eyes taking his measure. He reminded her superficially of the best man at Mariana’s wedding and she felt an unreasonable dislike. Chiding herself, she flashed a smile as she approached to make introductions.

Laine caught the tail end of the conversation with Donnelley and said, “Snow? Looks like all the jackets I packed will come in handy.”

Even as she said it, she peeled off the fleece and smoothed the ribbed turtleneck sweater down over her hips, laying the coat on the back of the seat she chose. Laine looked over at the man from March Tech, a practiced pleasant expression on her face.

She held her hand out, the black nail polish gone instead her natural nails buffed to a shine. “Rachel Kagan, this is a very nice plane, thank you for the ride.”

Will looked up from his phone to see who the voice belonged to, the subtle look in his eye telling that he wasn’t displeased with his findings, “Thank you, Miss Kagan.” Will took her hand gently and gave it a small shake, “First time flying in something like this?”

Laine returned the shake, then withdrew her hand. “I was honestly not expecting something this nice. I was dreading some bush plane, but it seems like your company knows how to travel.”

She took the seat next to Donnelley’s and diagonally across from their host, facing him and an empty chair. Laine crossed her legs, settling in. The seats were genuine leather and well cushioned with plenty of room between them. Resting her hand against her thigh, she waited as Dave and Ava climbed aboard, Avery trailing them.

“We do.” Will said, taking a business card from his inside jacket pocket and offering it to Laine, “Whatever they’re paying, we pay better. We can arrange a meeting, I know a nice sushi place in LA.”

“Where’s mine?” Donnelley asked.

Will left the first card on the table and sat back, pulling out his phone and going back to his business while the others filed in. He was less impressed by the others than he was Laine, his glancing eyes from his phone screen not lingering half as much as they did on Laine. Or Rachel Kagan.

Laine smiled at his offer, sensing Donnelley’s dislike of that but made no move to acknowledge it. She reached for the card, moving to the edge of the table as she glanced at the neat print and took it between her fingers.

“I’ll consider it,” she said, enjoying the little role play as Rachel. “I appreciate the offer.”

She tucked the card into the pocket of her coat that was draped over her seat and stole a glance at Donnelley, fighting back a playful smirk. Instead, she leaned her elbow on the arm of the seat, covering her mouth with her fingers briefly to mask her expression and the urge to pepper the man with questions. Rachel Kagan was just here as a DoD advisor in a place where too many questions might raise eyebrows.

Ava or ‘Rosalin Bishop’ to their escorts, shuffled her way into the plane, looking around in surprise at the interior of the plane. She had been expecting them to fly in some small private plane with about six seats. The private jet provided by March Tech was a breath of fresh air compared to the flight to Alaska from Idaho.

She had spent a tense morning milling about the airport waiting for her flight and trying to not look for the familiar faces of her team in the crowd to make sure they would all be on the same flight. Which hadn’t been great for her anxiety, though she managed to distract herself with her Switch and making small talk with other passengers. Her new coat had gotten a fair amount of compliments and it made her happy she got it.

It had been warm to wear it in Idaho, but when they had touched down in Alaska she had been so happy that she wore it on the plane. Not to mention the thermal leggings and sweater she wore underneath her coat.

She had the hood of the coat still up to protect against the chill of the wind outside as she moved to the back and set down her bags with everyone else's, keeping her laptop bag over her shoulder.

She moved to the side to let Dave and Avery set down their stuff, putting down her laptop bag in her chosen seat and finally pulling the hood back on the dusky blue grey coat.

Her bright hair, normally a reasonable mess of copper and red curls, puffed out around her shoulders in an almost Bob Ross-ian style poof of vibrant colors. “Oof, cold out there.” She said, brushing the drizzle of water off the sleeves and the small shoulder cape attached to her coat. “Is there anything warm to drink? Like coffee?” She asked, looking up and around in search of a coffee maker or the equivalent.

Laine glanced up as Ava removed her hood, biting back a laugh at the sudden explosion of red hair. She raised her eyebrows at Ava pointedly and reached to smooth her own short dark hair. The coat and shawl, the cloud of curls reminded Laine of one of those dolls, the ones her grandmother always bought her as a kid that came with a historical fiction book.

“You know, coffee sounds really good,” Laine agreed.

Dave had, so far, held his tongue, not trusting his natural lack of subterfuge. He knew his cover name was “Dan Smith”, and his cover job was “DOD Security Advisor”, which basically meant merc, but beyond that he had very little idea what he was actually doing. In response, he’d taken a few pages from Ghost’s book.

He was dressed in a black polo over a grey Under Armor shirt. A coyote brown hat sat on his head, and he wore hiking boots with coyote Tru-Spec ACU-style trousers. His hair had grown shaggy, his beard a little longer, and between those, the Oakleys hanging from his breast pocket, and the Sig sheathed in his Low-Ride Safariland holster, he figured he looked the part enough to avoid raising eyebrows.

“I can do coffee,” Dave said as he trooped aboard the plane. He fought a grin at the sheer size of Ava’s hair; he wanted to reach out and play with it, but knew that would fuck up their cover. It would wait for later.

>PROGRAM AIRFIELD
>7 MILES OUTSIDE BLACKBOX
>0300...///

Trees. Fields. Fields. Trees. Donnelley almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw mountains outside the window and several hundred feet down. At last, he thought, a change of scenery. They circled the tiny airfield below a couple times, Donnelley eyeing it with curiosity. It was a threadbare thing that was almost a muddy insult to the March Tech Gulfstream they’d been riding in for the past couple hours. Nothing but a strip of dirt and a couple shacks in the middle of a narrow valley that allowed only two avenues of approach for incoming traffic, not that there was a lot. Just as Will said, the mountaintops were crowned white and pools and piles of it were splotched about the valley and the wilderness around it. Leading away from it like a tiny stream was the faint line of a road leading away and deeper into the mountains. Just the one.

“You know what causes it?” Donnelley asked, still staring out the window as they descended.

“Huh?” Will said, looking about for who asked the question, “Oh, the storms? No. Not that I’d know much, you guys are a tight-lipped bunch. If I told you, you know how it goes.” Will chuckled.

“I’d have to kill you.” Donnelley said it deadpan, killing Will’s smile.

“Yeah.” Will cleared his throat, smiling over to Laine, “Don’t lose the card, Miss Kagan.”

They finally touched down, the plane jittering just a hair. Taxiing to a stop, Will stood and his guards followed suit. Once the door was opened, Donnelley was the first out with his bags, eager to get out of the plane and onto solid ground. Will called out to Dave- or Mister Smith- and gave him a card too, as if to insult Donnelley further by offering job prospects to everyone but him. They filtered out and Will followed along with his guards. “The ride to the compound is scheduled for zero-four-hundred, we’ve got a bit of a wait. That shack over there will be our quarters for the next hour.” Will was already walking towards it, the brick building hopefully offering warmth. “There’s coffee inside, self-serve kinda deal.”

Donnelley was on the verge of shivering, his breath smoking in the cold air. Almost cold enough for him to forsake a cigarette. Almost. He stood outside while the others got settled inside, toughing it out for half a cigarette before he threw in the gloves and threw the door open, stepping inside and swearing. He looked around, confused if this was still the twenty-first century or they’d been teleported back to the 1800s. A wood-fire stove squatted in the corner being tended by one of the silent guards. There was a faint WiFi signal coming from somewhere, as Donnelley checked his phone for the time and found out. Not a TV in sight, but at least there was electricity. The airstrip and the BLACKBOX must’ve had their own generators. He settled in a creaky wooden chair, putting on a thicker coat over his hoodie and puffing his breaths into his hands.

It was a wait for the vehicles that they would be ferried to the BLACKBOX by, but after some small-talk and another cigarette, Donnelley watched them ambling down the pockmarked road. Four M-ATVs painted a dull olive drab, two with mounted miniguns manned by security personnel came to a stop in front of him. A rigid and stern looking man stepped out of the third vehicle from the front and marched straight up to Donnelley. He could practically feel the military aura radiating off of him before his gravelly voice spoke, “Are you UMBRA’s Team Lead?”

“Yup.” Donnelley said through a cloud of smoke before pinching out the cherry and placing it in a plastic ziploc.

“Tryin’ to save the animals?”

“DNA.” Donnelley spoke, replacing the ziploc in his hoodie pocket.

“Well, tell your folks to get to it, you’re needed.” The man spoke, still not having given his name.

“Needed?” Donnelley perked a brow.

“I stutter, son? Needed. I’ll tell you on the way.” The man shut his door, cutting off any more conversation.

Donnelley did as asked and rallied his people, UMBRA loading their gear in the trucks while Will and his guards went back to the plane. The man, in fact, did not tell Donnelley on the way, deflecting his questions by refusing to stop staring at his phone. The rest of his team were in the truck in front of theirs, and it pained him that they were probably having better conversation. The tough condition of the roads only served to prolong their drive to the BLACKBOX, but they’d made it in good time. It wasn’t a sprawling facility, though it was fenced off and protected by patrols. A guard waved them through once the man showed him his ID badge, but it was another long drive until they were in the BLACKBOX proper. It looked to be a refurbished mining settlement, hardly any activity between the buildings besides a few guards slowly patrolling the grounds. It almost reminded Donnelley of Fort Drum. There was a tell-tale look of terminal boredom in the guards’ eyes here, and like there was a force-field that stripped you of your hopes at the gate.

The M-ATVs stopped near an old cabin and the old military officer that had no intention of shedding the military mindset even working for the Program led their way to a large elevator. Donnelley had imagined there to be a vast and sprawling base underground buzzing with activity and important happenings. What greeted them after walking through mine shafts and past another guard post were long and empty tunnels dug into the rock more like a nuclear missile silo than a mine. Sprawling, sure, but it left Donnelley still wanting for buzzing activity. With lips clamped shut, their guide walked on, following signs painted on the walls towards the area meant for meetings until they were standing outside the sealed door of one such room. The console outside read that it was booked by someone named C. Greedy for the next few hours.

“Any questions? No? Good, wait here.” The Program Officer stalked off on his way to do whatever else needed doing by him, leaving UMBRA alone in the empty hall outside of the meeting room.

“Who do you think that guy is?” Donnelley nodded at the console.

"Sounds like a cartoon villain," Laine said, her hands resting in the pockets of her jacket as she stood near Donnelley.

Laine had been quiet on the ride away from the nice civilized airplane, her fleece coat and headband in place with her scarf and gloves against the colder weather. The air of mystery and the reticence of the guards and the Program officers refusing to answer anything left her feeling annoyed. They were still being kept in the dark, she had nothing to think on to prepare for since no one knew why they were there.

The mines were a clue, it gave her a little hope that perhaps West Virginia was not completely behind them. Laine still felt the regret of not advancing as much in the case and the mistakes she had made in her initial profile. Since then she had accepted her FBI methods of analysis of a suspect from a crime scene and victimology would have to be changed to include supernatural possibilities.

"I hope they tell something soon, they seem in a rush to get us here and then tell us nothing," she said, her fingers touching the card in her pocket.

“They ain’t gonna tell us shit ‘til it matters,'' Dave said. His tone was light despite his words. “When do we get any info? Guys keep more secrets than the Old Man an’ his thugs.”

He reached into his back pocket, taking out a can of Cope. After packing in a solid lip he put the can away, poking it into place with his tongue.

“Dude’s probably some sorta super special secret, ain’t gonna tell us his name, two families an’ five covers type.” He snorted, not quite concealing a bit of bitterness. “Least he ain’t pointed snipers at us yet. Probably.”

“Day’s still young, man, don’t be disappointed yet.” Donnelley drawled, stepping away a few feet and forgetting any pretense of professionalism. With no carpet or painted walls for the smoke to soak into, he stuffed a cigarette between his lips and lit up, “Feels like I’m in OSUT again. Hurry up, wait, and shut up. Could be standin’ at parade rest right now.”

Donnelley almost flinched as Avery spoke up, the younger man having kept quiet and out of the way since they’d touched down in Alaska, “Old guy was a Marine for sure.” He looked at Donnelley, “Even the Infantry Officers I met weren’t that big of assholes. Most of the time.”

Ava had her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her coat, glancing up and down the hallways in search of any hint of someone coming to meet them. During the plane ride she had wrestled her puff ball of hair into a braid that now laid over one of her shoulders, tied off at the end with a spare ribbon that had come with her coat. The beret that came with it now sat on her head, completing her look as a posh British woman but at least it was another layer of warmth against the cold.

Despite the layers she wore in anticipation of being in Alaska; she still felt a chill born of anxiety settled on the back of her neck. Unsurprising given the fact she was as far out of her comfort zone as she could be, standing in the middle of a highly classified Program base with some vague mention of trouble brewing in the background.

And they were told to stand and wait. “I swear, this is how one of the Resident Evil games starts.” Ava muttered, shifting herself closer unconsciously to Dave and Donnelley.

“That’s the one with the zombies an’ stuff, right?” Dave said, taking a step closer to Ava so that they were touching. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s in a big city, or whatever? Got that guy with...Ya know. The coat?”

He frowned, then shook his head. “I’unno, Mal played it a lot for a while. I mostly remember skinless dogs an’ wonderin’ why you could shoot an RPG indoors.”

Laine overheard the reference and shivered, the face of Clyde’s wife as she lunged for her at the first cabin they visited in West Virginia. She looked over her shoulder at Ava, she had not been there that night so she kept the memory to herself. Laine hunched her shoulders, her hands crammed into the pockets of her fleece and she folded the card over in her fingers.

“That’s the one,” she said, “I’d rather not recreate that.”

She looked at Donnelley smoking then shrugged, going for the black pack in the inside coat pocket, turning to him for a light. “Have you been here before?”

Donnelley shook his head, producing his lighter and flicking the flame into life, “Nope.” He frowned, puffing on his cigarette, “Secrecy’s just like home though.”

“I’m surprised my old Supervisor got us here.” Ava mused with a curious frown. “I had no idea he had this much pull. When he first told me about it, I thought it was just a warehouse, but this is a full on base.” She shook her head in mild bewilderment.

Dave looked from each of them to the other and finally shrugged. “I’unno, I kinda like it. Roomy, lotsa trees and mountains, from what I saw in the plane. I wanna get out there an’ see what’s what.” He gave Ava’s shoulder a squeeze. “Get our hike on, right?”

Laine smiled around her cigarette at the pair, then shook her head, “Hiking? Fresh air kills you.”

Donnelley looked over to the other pair, “Yeah, have fun, nerds. We’ll be holdin’ the fort.”

Ava stuck her tongue out at Donnelley at his ’nerds’ comment, seeing him return the favor more forcefully, then looked up at Dave. “I like a good nature trail as much as the next introvert, but I think if I stepped out into the Alaskan wilderness I’ll just...die. I think I’m small enough an eagle could fly off with me.”

“Nah, you’ll be alright,” Dave laughed. He leaned down and gave Ava a quick peck on the forehead. “Bird’s gotta get past me first, an’ I know three different recipes for goose that you can cook just with an open fire an’ some shit you find in the woods. Eagles ain’t much different.”

Ava sighed, as though resigning herself to her fate.

There was the sound of the heavy clunking of the door’s locks disengaging. Those paying attention may have seen Donnelley flinch slightly with his hands balled into fists as the door slid open on its tracks. The man standing on the other side of it scrunched his nose, “Smoking?” He looked at Laine and Donnelley, “Whatever, come in, the others have been waiting. You’re the last to arrive and keep us from proceeding.”

Donnelley pinched his cherry out and placed the butt in the ziploc he kept, looking to his team and nodding wordlessly inside for them to follow. There was a narrow hallway and behind a panel of reinforced glass on the side of the wall, another guard not dissimilar to Ghost was manning the counter, “Weapons and electronics.”

Donnelley handed his phone over, unholstering his .40, flipping the safety on, ejecting the magazine and then clearing the chamber. He caught the round in his other hand and offered both to the unimpressed guard, who took them without even a hint of praise. He was waved through the other set of sliding doors into a meeting hall, a few sections of chairs filled with what he assumed were different teams of the Program. In front of him were their empty section, and situated with them in the back was a pack of familiar faces he was not expecting. Nor that welcome of.

“Figured you’d keep us,” Poker spoke from around a mouthful of lollipop, “Tex.”

Next to Poker was the rest of THUNDER, who Donnelley only nodded at before taking the first seat in UMBRA’s section he grabbed and promptly going back to his former reality where THUNDER didn’t exist. Looking around the rest of the meeting hall, there were three other teams that could be seen. From the difference of their looks, he could tell two of them besides THUNDER were Wetwork Teams, and another Working Group. Whatever they’d stepped into was big.

Laine put her cigarette out on the bottom of her boot then gave it to Donnelley for his collection. She caught his tension, the set of his shoulders tightening and looked at the man behind the counter. She handed over the Glock from her shoulder holster and her phone without any flourish.

Slipping off her scarf and headband, she smoothed her dark hair back as she entered the smaller room with many large bodies filling it. Laine recognized Ghost and Queen, they were hard to forget and some of the other members of Donnelley’s old team, but the other faces were strangers. And probably would remain so. Keeping her expression cool and unreadable was not that difficult as most of the faces were stoney and intent on whatever the briefing was going to be about.

She sat beside Donnelley, crossing her legs and setting her clasped hands in her lap. She leaned over, her voice low in his ear, “Tex is it now?”

“I’m still with UMBRA.” Donnelley not giving off any humor with the statement, simply staring straight ahead and waiting for this briefing to start.

Laine flicked her gaze over his face and sat back, nodding her acknowledgement. The sense that it was something big had already been growing in her mind and his humorless response was confirmation. She looked over at his former team, tattooed sly faced Queen and big brooding Ghost, giving them a little nod of recognition.
She could see a few other women but it was still predominantly men in the room. Laine tried catching the eyes of the other women, trying not to examine what they wore but how they held themselves and if they felt as out of place as she did. One woman among the teams like THUNDER stared through her and Laine dropped her gaze for a moment but was intensely curious about a woman doing the wetwork as Donnelley called it.

When Donnelley entered the room, Queen perked up, his sea colored eyes hidden behind the dark tint of his aviators but the boyish smile clearly visible. He had been slouched, his legs extended and his fingers in a paper fortune teller marked with numbers that he had made to kill time. He played with it, opening and closing the folds then pushed it at Ghost, “Pick one, c’mon.”

When he only got a glare in return, Queen snorted, “You’ll leave your fate to chance.”

His grin at Donnelley faded a little when he sat with his new team, but that was understandable and forgivable. Queen threw a wink at him despite the sunglasses as Laine sat down beside him, his attention suddenly diverted as she crossed her legs.

Ava stepped into the room, rebuttoning up her coat after undoing it to pass over the singular pistol she carried. She looked and around the room curiously, her eyes sweeping over the room of unfamiliar faces of stoic professionals. Maybe there was more to them being here than she originally thought…

She glanced over to where Donnelley and Laine were, her eyes landing on some surprisingly familiar faces. She smiled in a friendly manner and gave a polite wave to the men making up THUNDER, Maui smiling and waving back. While she only had the briefest of interactions with Poker and Maui, it had been nice enough. She knew Queen and Ghost the best out of them, though that wasn’t saying much, she liked them nonetheless.

She made her way over and sat down with Laine and Donnelley, the smile slipping off her face as the mystery of the situation settled back in. “Something weird is going on.” She whispered over to Laine.

Laine nodded, her gaze shifting to Ava, “Weird is a word for it. You can smell the tension.”

Dave joined UMBRA a moment later, sans his Sig pistol and the Buck knife he liked to carry. They’d taken his pocket folder, too, and despite the amount of Program muscle in the room Dave found himself feeling naked as he took a seat with his group.

Some of his earlier amusement faded when he spotted Queen, and while he gave the man a mostly-friendly nod he found that he wasn’t excited to see him. Nor was he particularly excited to see Ghost, the rest of THUNDER, and the other half-dozen or so obvious killers in the room. Whatever they were about to get into, it was probably going to be rough if they’d brought that much firepower.

Ghost, for his part, watched the rest of the room with his usual impassive glare. His big arms were crossed over his chest in a classic military power-stance, an illusion enhanced by his black multicam combat suit and ever-present Oakleys. His beard was shorter, recently trimmed, and he’d cut his hair back to a mid-length fade that was covered by a black-multicam ballcap. He hated patrol caps, they looked floppy. Baseball-style was always his preference.

Ghost returned Tex’s microscopic nod and ignored the others, though his eyes did follow Laine and Ava as they sat. When Dave entered the room Ghost noted a small rise in the man’s confidence, then dismissed him as still not being on the same playing field.

Queen still fiddled with the paper fortune teller, idly pinching it open and closed when he saw Ava walk in. His eyes lit up behind his glasses and a foxy grin crossed his face. At her wave, he raised his hand with the paper gripped in his fingers and opened it like a puppet mouth a few times in rapid succession.

“Howdy there,” he said, eyeing her coat and cute face that together made her look like a Victorian doll. He sat forward a bit to try and get her attention to come over when he saw Dave.

Queen caught his eye then sat back, spreading his legs as he stretched out and gave him a close lipped smile, resting the paper casually over his crotch. The man looked more seasoned and the beard certainly added to the Ozark mountain man charm but the wariness in the eyes told him more than anything that he was becoming one of them. He still seemed to shadow Ava so Queen eased back, and let himself look elsewhere.

Donnelley brought his gaze to where Queen sat, giving a moment of mulling things over before he rose and placed himself in an empty seat next to Queen. Whatever this was, maybe the other teams that had arrived before them knew something he didn’t. Even a scrap of information would be better than waiting with the anxiety clawing into his bones before the briefing started. “You know what this is about? Where’d they call you guys from?” He asked, eyeing the older man scrolling absently on his phone at the front of the room, presumably the C. Greedy that had scheduled the room for the next few hours, “Has to be big.”

Queen turned in his chair, sitting up as Donnelley spoke to him, folding the paper fortune teller back and forth getting faster as he peered at his friend through the dark lenses. He pushed it at him, “Pick one.”

Donnelley’s lips drew thin when Queen pushed his question aside. There was that spark of a smile that he suppressed and he sighed it out, shaking his head and pointing at random, “That one, sure.”

Queen raised his brows, “Are you suuuure?”

Not waiting for an answer, he pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead and opened the fold, holding it close to him and he looked up at Donnelley. “Well, says here. ‘We don’t know jack shit.’”

He leaned back, fidgeting with the paper again, “We got a call to get our winter gear and hustle on up, we were in Mexico. Ole, motherfuckers and all that.”

His eyes met Donnelley’s gaze, “Just some clean up stuff, nothing too important I guess if they hauled us all the way up here. ‘Course they probably just wanted the best.”

“Probably wanted the best, yeah,” Donnelley smiled and nodded, giving Queen some silence for a bit, as if expecting something, “So, you seen ‘em yet, or they not show up?”

Queen grinned at that and gave him the finger from behind the paper fortune teller. Donnelley chuckled and returned it.

That wasn’t as much relief as he was hoping for, but it was what he expected. Nobody knew anything they didn’t need to, that was standard SOP, but they had a lot of bodies for just one case. A lot of Wetwork Teams. There was a chance they called THUNDER at the behest of some randomizing algorithm, but having THUNDER around on purpose? That was an omen to add to these blizzards he’d heard about. “I guess we’ll just take this a step at a time. Thanks, pardner.”

He clapped Queen’s knee and made to get up before a shuffling was heard ahead of them and Poker hissed out a whisper, “Eyes up, 12 o’clock. We’re starting.”

Donnelley kept low and hustled back to his seat with UMBRA just as the man at the head of the room began to speak. A projector was situated in front of him and it blinked to life, throwing up a picture of an Inuit man with two other girls posing in a picture. It took Donnelley a moment to recognize them as his daughters. The man threw a hand to the picture, “I am Chris Greedy, Case Officer of Working Group SIREN and Wetwork Team ARTEMIS here,” he gestured to the more business dressed team and the warzone-stained camouflaged assortment next to them before nodding to the screen, “And this is Ipiktok Irniq. Inuit shaman, keeps to himself, maintains a very small social media presence.”

“This social media presence is in the form of running the Facebook and Instagram for his little church or club or whatever the fuck the tribes up here call it when you get together, bang drums and chant nonsense.” Greedy sniffed, “We would’ve left him alone were it not for his being implicated in the disappearances of hikers in the Noatak National Preserve. A responding officer went up there to his hideaway somewhere in the Preserve to ask him a few friendly questions, but he was found outside of Noatak a week ago.”

“Local law enforcement know nothing about this operation. We were notified via one of our canaries when he saw what had happened to Sheriff Deputy Gray. Bite marks, a .308 that broke his femur. The body is being kept on ice for SIREN to examine. Same ol’ FBI cover for the case, SIREN will go in with ARTEMIS for support. SIREN will then head to Noatak and start the search for Ipiktok there, sniff him out, report it in.” Greedy clapped his hands together and rubbed them, “We don’t need another Waco. But I requested a QRF for SIREN in the event that something goes wrong out in that rough country.”

“Working Group UMBRA will be heading the QRF, which consists of Wetwork Teams THUNDER-“ Poker and the rest rose their hands went up, “-and TRIDENT.”

TRIDENT was a friendly looking bunch, looking like their entire existence was only maintained by spite and scar tissue. Even the woman among them seemed like she’d done things that would make Ghost raise a brow. Donnelley wondered if Ghost had an opinion on her, and then he reminded himself that he of course did. Greedy continued, “While SIREN and ARTEMIS are at work, the QRF teams will be put on standby. Quarters are down the hall, no intermixing the genders, but we all know what happens when nobody’s looking.” A couple people in ARTEMIS started chuckling, and one of the men in SIREN cleared his throat, “You’ll be given free reign of the facility so long as you’re open and honest. Signs are on the wall and maps are strategically placed in the facility so you can find one just when you think you’re lost.”

“SIREN and ARTEMIS are dismissed.” He said, the two teams shuffling out of the room. Once the last person left, Greedy cleared his throat, “Now, the fun stuff. Ipiktok is rumored to be armed and dangerous, and where there are signs and implications of aggressive cannibals armed with guns and hypergeometry, well… we have big ass guns.”

“UMBRA will have ISR overhead should the QRF be activated. The drone in your control is armed with hellfire missiles. Ipiktok’s compound is located in the mountains like some Eskimo Al Qaeda. Should you be needed there, ROE is to eliminate all hostiles with extreme prejudice.” Greedy fell serious there, stepping closer to the other teams, “Extreme. Prejudice. You don’t let wizards speak, that’s the first rule. If my team can not kill or capture Ipiktok, he is forfeit, and you will be given the kill order.”

He looked at the assembled faces, “Questions?”

Ava frowned as she mulled over the information, trying to process the facts through her surprise and confusion with their being there. She leaned over to Dave and whispered, “If that man,” She pointed slightly toward the picture of Ipiktok. “Is...I guess wizard is the word we’re using, could that be why there’s unseasonal blizzards in the area?”

Dave shrugged, eying the man giving the briefing. “I guess. I dunno what all wizards can do, sugar. But if he’s some sorta Merlin type, I guess it ain’t impossible.”

He glanced over at THUNDER and TRIDENT.

“I’m hopin’ that whatever goes down, we ain’t gotta go in after those guys,” he admitted softly. “Cuz I feel like if they can’t handle it, we’re probably in trouble.”

Ava grew pale and shook her head. “I’m just tech support.” She whispered, sinking slightly further in her seat; though she did throw a worried glance toward THUNDER.

“We’ll be fine.” Donnelley whispered over his shoulder, overhearing their chatter behind him as the briefing went on and the other teams got their questions in, “If we get called in, we’ll be at the rear. ISR is there too, and it’s got missiles. Whatever those two other teams can’t chew through, we’ll put a warhead on its forehead.”

Laine leaned forward writing a few notes in the small notebook she kept on her when she worked in the field. The situation seemed detached from anything they had been doing but as he spoke there were hints of threads that might be linked. She kept it in mind, but her focus was on the Inuit chief and what he might be up to in those mountains. A wizard. A shaman, whatever they might want to call him.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as Greedy mentioned missing hikers and cannibals. She shifted in her chair, then looked up, addressing him, “May I see the reports of missing people and any autopsy information, any chance for surviving witnesses maybe?”

Greedy turned to look for the voice and nodded when he found it, “I’ve instructed teams SIREN and ARTEMIS to report back any findings as they get them. We’ll have a real-time feed of any information as they come in.” Greedy shrugged, “But your team isn’t here to solve the case, any answers to those questions are going to be secondhand coming from my team.”

“Fair enough. Thank you, sir, ” she said, wrote second hand information incoming. She tapped her pen, then shook her head glancing at Donnelley, “I’m going to the library after this.”

Queen noticed UMBRA’s silence then asked loudly, “Hey, Maui, what would you do for a Klondike Bar?”

“Expected weaponry we’re up against?” Donnelley asked, glancing at Queen and back to Greedy.

“At least some .308 battle rifles, handguns, some typical mountain man shit. It’s Alaska.” Greedy shrugged. “Anything else? No? Dismissed, get outta my meeting room.”

Queen rocked himself out of the chair, straightening his shirt. He was dressed semi decently, with the same rugged cargo pants as most of the men, his in a shade of slate gray and jacket of gray flannel and fleece over an old UNF t-shirt that was likely from his college days. Once he stepped out of the room he took a deep breath, and stretched his arms over his head, showing a peek of his flat stomach before dropping his arms.

“Taking bets, how much we roll out within an hour of contact?” he asked whoever happened to be in earshot.

“They have a Wetwork Team with them,” Maui hooked a thumb in his belt and scratched at his stomach beneath his Crye shirt, “So I think two hours.”

“They have ARTEMIS,” Ghost growled, still standing at the back. “45 minutes tops. They’re chumps.”

One of the men from TRIDENT scoffed at Ghost, opening his mouth to say something until they noticed Donnelley and the rest looking at him. He grabbed his handgun and turned away from them. “Just enough time for me to go to the bathroom. You think they got Playboy in the library?” Donnelley smirked as he reholstered his .40 he grabbed away from the guard, as well as his phone, looking about for Dave, “Y’all check out the armory yet?”

Queen smirked at Donnelley, a hint of his usual expression. “Playboy? Shit...”

He glanced over at Laine, his focus on her ass then at Ava who was off to the side then back at Donnelley, “Just use your imagination.”

Dave studiously ignored Queen’s statement as he slid up beside Donnelley, taking his Sig and knives and returning them to their various places in his gear.

“I need a rifle,” he said. “Was hopin’ y’all would have one I could borrow.”

Ava unbuttoned her coat to slip her Glock 26 back in the holster at her hip, looking down as she buttoned up her coat and walked forward. She walked into a soft wall and quickly looked up, backing up as she realized she ran into one of the members from TRIDENT. “Oh, sorry! I wasn’t...Sorry, I’ll just...go there.” She said, pointing over to where her teammates were congregating. “I’m Ava though, I look forward to working with you and your team.” She said with a nervous chuckle.

“I don’t.” One of them muttered and sent up a chorus of chuckles from his teammates. Only the big woman remained stone faced, eyes scanning the faces of THUNDER and UMBRA, taking extra time on Donnelley’s scar, Queen’s tattoos, and Ghost’s surgically attached Oakleys.

“Hey, man, don’t be a dick,” Dave said immediately, stepping up beside Ava. Ghost watched, taking a few steps forward, his interest clearly piqued.

As the moment grew still and Donnelley saw the rest of TRIDENT turn to face them, he stepped up shoulder to shoulder with Dave. No hard words from him, just narrowed eyes, and it was like he could taste violence in the air. A voice called from behind them, the monotone of the guard, “You start throwing fists, I’m gonna start throwing lead. No fighting, take that shit outside.”

The sound of the lock disengaging on the door out to the hallways punctuated the sentence and it slid away on its track. TRIDENT was the first to take their leave, moving like a pack to wherever they took their smoke breaks. Donnelley breathed in deep and let it out, “Armory, you were sayin’?” He said, turning back around to face THUNDER.

Ghost relaxed as the others left, glancing at the others. “I’ll be in the gym.”

He turned and walked away, shooting a look at the guard. “Fucking POG. Don’t threaten me. It’s above your pay grade.”

Dave watched TRIDENT file out of the room, his clenched fists relaxing. “Yeah, armory.”

Ava relaxed as the tension and members of TRIDENT left the room, letting out a slow breath before looking up guiltily at Dave and Donnelley. “I’m sorry.” She said quietly.

“Don’t be sorry, sugar, you didn’t do nothin’,” Dave said. “That guy’s just an ass.”

Laine stepped out of the doorway once she saw TRIDENT shuffle out the door like a band of baboons. The tension in the air was already dissipating as she walked over to the rest of UMBRA.

“What the hell was that about?” she asked, looking directly at Donnelley then at the door that was closed. “Is this over, are we going to have to worry about them jumping us in the cafeteria?”

Her tone was dripping with sarcasm as she crossed her arms over her chest after making a flippant gesture circling around to indicate their team. “Ava, let’s go. We'll see what they have in the library and get some work done.”

She stepped through THUNDER and UMBRA, shouldering her way by before striding over to collect her gun, phone and laptop. Donnelley watched Laine for a moment before speaking, “Wetwork Teams. Things like this happen all the time.”

“Remember Burma?” Donnelley smirked at Queen. He looked to Ava then, “Don’t pay attention to the assholes. It’s what happens when you get a bunch of swingin’ dicks into one room.”

Queen smiled like a cat but said nothing to either comment. “I think I’ll head to the armory with you,” he said, watching Laine walk away from the booth, heading to the hallway. “Or maybe the library.”

Ava nodded at Dave and Donnelley’s reassurance, trying to tuck the guilt and shame away. She peaked around them to Queen and smiled. “Hi Queen,” She said, stepping forward with him. “You want to go to the library too?”

Queen grinned down at her, “Howdy Angel, yeah I thought I’d check it out. Need to do some computer stuff and maybe keep you all company.”

“That sounds fun, we can catch up!” She beamed, eager to leave behind the fight that had almost broken out. “We didn’t get much of a chance last time since…” She trailed off and shuddered at the memory of her sickness around Dulane and the visions. “Uh, well, you know.” She nodded her head to the hallway. “We better go catch up with Laine.”
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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>BLACKBOX LIBRARY
>INSIDE THE FACILITY
>0415...///

The two guards flanked the double doors of the library, heavy doors with slow pneumatic hinges that wheezed when they were pushed or pulled open. The men looked almost like twins, birthed of the same batch of testosterone and patience, the only real difference was their skin tone. They had no name plates, like all the other guards, an anonymous ubiquitous presence.

They let Laine through, not looking too hard at her as they made a cursory glance at the ID she presented them. The real security check would be her access inside, when she would try to gain access to certain classified materials.

Queen strolled along, in no real hurry to get to the library but sensed Ava’s urgency to catch up to her colleague. He turned a corner and gestured at the map on the wall, “I think we’re going to find that treasure after all.”

He glanced down at her, how the coat fit her and bounced against her knees with each step, “That’s not something you see everyday, I like it. Where’d you get that coat?”

Ava looked down at the coat with a small smile, adjusting the strap of her laptop bag. “I got it at a boutique in an outlet mall in Idaho.” She said, reaching up and taking the beret off her head. “I fell in love with it at the store, but now I’m wondering if it makes me look a little too...Pocket Sized Mary Poppins.” She flushed with a sheepish smile as she looked down at the coat again.

Queen flashed a grin, chuckling at the joke. “Hell, I’m surprised they had more than potato sacks for sale. Nah, Mary Poppins? You’d need the umbrella. It looks cute, I like that you have your own style.”

He made a little flourish of his hands, straightening out his fleece and flannel jacket. “Don’t judge me by this, gotta be ready in case you know.”

“I think you look like you fit in here better than I do.” She chuckled, fiddling with the beret. “And thank you, I do still really like it, I...definitely have a style.” She shrugged. “I know it’s a soft and cutesy style, but I like it.”

Queen looked at her askance, then smirked a bit, “I look like I do, huh. Well, I’ll try not to be insulted. You see I gotta dress for the role I’m playing, in this case a chucklehead gun slinger.”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets as they walked down the corridor towards the two guards. “I think you should dress how you want, it suits you. Everyone has their thing and ain’t no fun to have to adapt to what someone else thinks you should be wearing or just...being.”

Before they got to the guards, he paused in his stride and looked down at her, “So be soft and cutesy, because God fucking knows it’s rare here.”

Queen took his ID out and went to the guards, flashing it, “Hello boys. Read any good books lately?”

The blonde guard muttered, “Smart ass.”

His pale gaze turned to Ava as she approached and a hint of amusement flickered on his square face.

The heavyset black guard glanced at the ID and stared at him stone faced, “Just finished Native Son, and you?”

Queen paused and blinked, not expecting an actual answer. “That’s a good one, I read that in college.”

“Uh-huh,” the black guard said, handing back his ID. “Enjoy your visit.”

Ava smiled at Queen and took out her ID to show the guard as well. “I haven’t read any good books lately, have any recommendations?” She asked the man.

The hulking man took her ID and looked at it for a long moment, then down at her. “Sure, Miss Try The Great Alone, takes place here in Alaska. It’s a novel a…”

He cut himself off as his partner shot him a look then the big man handed Ava her ID back, “Enjoy your visit.”

Laine was already in the library, seated at a table with her laptop open. She had several tabs already pulled up with Ipiktok Irniq and his group’s social media. There were the same pictures that had been on the power point plus some shots of a pow-wow where many indigenous people were dressed in native costumes.

Ava accepted back her ID with a smile. “Thanks! I’ll look it up!” She gave him a little wave as she and Queen stepped into the library. She started to tuck her beret into her pocket when she paused and looked up at Queen.

She grinned and held up the beret in offering. “Want to wear it for awhile? I think you could pull it off.”

Queen strolled into the sprawling library with the rows of stacks and the doors on the side that lead to different labs for electronics, computers, and other fields he had never looked into. At her offer, he grinned and took the soft gray beret. Smoothing back his shoulder length sandy blonde hair, he put it on. He gave it a sassy tilt and gave her a quick pouting pose over his shoulder.

“What do you think? French Resistance or Madeline?” he tucked his hair behind his ears, the beard incongruous with the feminine hat but he left on his head.

Ava giggled and tilted her head to the side, as though pondering it. “Yes.” She finally answered with a grin, her bright blue eyes dancing with amusement. The girlish expression somewhat at odds with the dark bags that lingered beneath her eyes.

She looked away from him and sweeped her eyes around the room until she saw Laine; already at work. She pointed the other woman out to Queen. “There’s our other study buddy, shall we join her?”

Queen waved her forward, “Allons-y!”

Laine glanced up as they approached, Ava and shadowing behind her was Queen, wearing her beret. She recalled him from the time THUNDER had come to visit, flamboyant and colorful, with a need for attention. She nodded at him then looked at Ava, “There’s a lab here, you just need to book it. Apparently, even though no one is using it and you’re right here you have to reserve it. Talk to the receptionist at the desk.”

Ava blinked and frowned. “Seriously?” She sighed and took off her laptop bag, setting it down in a chair next to Laine. “In the middle of a government base in the literal middle of nowhere that doesn’t officially exist and they still make us jump through these hoops.” She muttered as she walked away and head for the bored looking man sitting behind the desk marked “reception”.

As Ava approached it might have been hard for her to even tell if the motionless receptionist was breathing. Even his face was slack and his eyes were staring at the dual-monitor setup that made up his workspace in the corner of the library. His headphones had faint sounds coming from it, but whatever it was it was indiscernible to Ava. The guard’s eyes slid over to watch Ava’s advance, but he quickly perked up and a frantic series of clicking and shuffles of the mouse ensued just as she stepped up to the desk.

He cleared his throat, put his headphones to rest behind his neck, and smoothed down his black polo, pushing up his aviator prescription lenses and gave his best smile to Ava, “How, uh… how can I help?”

Ava put on a neutral, but polite smile and nodded, placing her hands on the reception desk. She wondered what he had been watching to move so quickly, likely he had just been on YouTube or something instead of focusing on his work and just panicked when he saw her. “Hello, I was just looking to book one of the labs to dissect a small piece of tech.” She said, nodding her head in the direction of the laboratories. “If the labs even have that kind of equipment.”

“Uh, yeah…” The receptionist said, looking between Ava and Queen, his eyes snagging on the beret on Queen’s head. He reached over and retrieved a covered metal cup, sipping whatever his drink of choice was from the straw for a few long moments as he stared at Queen’s beret. “So… yeah? It’s pretty open, I can just schedule you in or something if that’s what you want.”

Queen followed her, stepping silently in the cavernous quiet room, leaving Laine to do her business. Besides the dark haired woman seemed to have no interest in entertaining him. He stood just behind Ava, but his gaze was on the receptionist, the recognition glinting in the blue gray bloodshot eyes. He grinned, reaching up to adjust his beret, giving it a little more jaunty angle.

“I would like that, yes.” Ava nodded. “Is there a time limit? I honestly don’t know how long I’m going to be in there.” She frowned in thought for a moment. “And I assume that everything I do on those computers will be logged into the library database?”

The receptionist was still staring at Queen staring at him, a quizzical look on his face like an entire dialogue was going on behind his eyes. He slowly peeled his glassy eyes away from Queen to look at Ava, “Huh… oh, yeah, probably. If it’s like transmitted or whatever, emails. I think. Whole place has its own network, so don’t worry about getting snooped on or anything.”

“I use incognito anyway… er, I mean… yeah, for work stuff you know.” He caught himself and cleared his throat a little too long to be normal, drinking deep from his bottle again. “Yeah, just go in there as long as you want. I gotta take your electronics though, no phones or cameras.”

“Right, of course, I’ll just leave that stuff with my friend over there.” She said, pointing behind her over to Laine. “Uh, also, I don’t know exactly how this place and it’s network works; but I don’t know if incognito would be all that private. That’d be a pretty glaring security hole.” She smiled and tapped her hands on the desk. “So, what do I sign?”

The receptionist shrank back into his chair and stared for a few seconds on his computer, like he’d gotten caught, “Oh, yeah, totally.” He chuckled nervously, pulling a paper ledger inside a three ring binder from inside his desk’s drawers, “Just sign, initial, date and time… both of you.”

Queen ran his tongue behind his teeth, looking again at the receptionist. He thought about his pharmacopeia locked up in his bag for a fleeting moment as he leaned his hand against the desk. He stood next to Ava as she signed the papers, but shook his head, “I’m just here for moral support. She’s the brains and the beauty behind it all.”

He flashed a teasing grin at Ava but locked eyes with the receptionist, noting the dilated pupils and the guilt flushed up his neck and touching his cheeks. Queen shifted his gaze back to Ava, “You got it here, Angel? Or did you need my help?”

Ava flushed at his compliments, studiously pretending to contemplate the forms while she gathered her wits back to her. “Um, yeah, I’ve got it all covered.” She said, signing her last initial. She finally looked back up at him as she pushed away from the desk. “I’m not going to be doing anything too exciting, just running some diagnostics on a chip I found in the field. I’m sure you have better things you have to do.”

“Do what you need to do, I’ll be hanging around. I’ll come check on you later,” Queen said, reaching into his jacket to take out a pack of Kools, checking inside. “Might step out for a minute.”

Ava perked up. “Oh, alright, I’d say stay warm but apparently you can just smoke in the hallways.” She said with a shrug. Then she pointed up to her beret. “You can keep borrowing that if you want.”

“Just don’t let anyone catch you, man. I know a few good spots.” The receptionist smiled at Queen.

He reached up to touch the beret, then smiled at Ava, “I will wear it with pride, mon amie.”

After watching her depart, he glanced at the receptionist, “Yeah? Care to share?”

His sly smile reappeared as he tapped the pack of cigarettes and put one between his lips.

Queen stepped back, waiting a moment before heading to the door.

Back at the long table Laine pulled her notes from West Virginia and tabbed over to the case file she was starting for the Inuit cult, it was only a single page so far. As she worked she caught the movement from the corner of her eye, the flouncing coat belonging to Ava. She looked over, tilting her chin up, “Did you get your lab space?”

“I did.” Ava nodded, sitting down in a chair next to her and looking around to make sure they were alone. Queen was leaving and the receptionist was focusing back on his computers so she let out a breath. “The thing is, everything I do in that lab or anything I find out about the tracking device will be put into the base’s network and logged away.” She said in a soft voice, looking up at Laine with slightly worried eyes. “I don’t know how easy it’d be for someone outside of here to get that info, but we are worried about someone selling us out.” She shook her head and ran her hand nervously over her braided hair. “Maybe I’m just being overly paranoid but...someone had to have put that tracker on Muru and we don’t know if it was before or after the Program picked her up.”

Laine caught the concern in her tone, then held a finger up, “We don’t know but we do know whoever was doing it knows we have the tracker, because it’s not on her anymore, they know about our...friend or at least they know it was deactivated, right? It’s not on, I trust you or our friend saw to that. The information will still be stored, unless you can do your thing and make sure it doesn’t get stored.”

She leaned back and looked up at her, “Look, I’m no computer expert. That’s my brother’s field but I know enough that a place like this might notice any virus or something that deletes files. Unless you think you can be sneakier.”

Ava pursed her lips for a moment, as though considering it, before shaking her head. “No, no, not worth it.” She said, sitting up straight and rubbing her hands over her face. “We already have targets on us, if I do anything with their system that’ll...well it won’t lead to anything good.” She grimaced. “I mean I’m literally the only person signed in to the lab, it wouldn’t be hard to trace that.” She sighed. “Alright, I trust your judgement.”

She reached into her pocket and passed over her phone to Laine. “Can you watch this for me? Phones aren’t allowed in the lab.” She frowned. “Which sucks, because I want to listen to music while I’m working.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “Though I do have my headphones in my bag and a bluetooth connector…” She mumbled, mostly to herself before nodding slightly. “Yeah I can make that work. It’s not a camera or anything.”

Laine nodded, a slight smile on her lips as Ava made her decision. She took her phone and put it in her briefcase, “I’ll take good care of it, and if you can find one, I suggest getting an MP3 player. No camera, no internet, just music. You can take it anywhere sensitive.”

“Like a Walkman?” She asked with a smile. “I don’t know if anyone makes those anymore.” She grinned teasingly.

“Something like that, only rather than mixtapes, it’s playlists,” she said, “If you need it, I still have mine. Might not be to your taste but it’s better than silence.”

“I think it’ll be okay, I have to bring in a USB to copy what I find anyway.” She said with a shrug as she stood up and moved over to her laptop bag. She fished around, pulling out her headphones; large over the ear numbers with a gold band and the earmuffs decorated with deep blue flowers. She looped them over the back of her neck, fetched the USB and the bluetooth connector from a pocket inside the bag; before suddenly pausing as her hand brushed against something inside one of the interior pockets.

“Oh, um,” Ava flushed with embarrassment as she turned to Laine again. “So, I don’t know if this is a good time but I, uh, have a gift for you.”

Laine turned back in her chair as Ava started to leave then looked up, “A gift?”

She smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Yeah, I got it for you awhile ago because you got me that big stuffed cat,” She explained as she pulled out a small rectangular box, wrapped in black paper and sealed with a red sticker that looked like a wax seal. “I still have it by the way, I use it to sleep when...well, when I’m alone.” She fiddled with the box and held it out to Laine. “Anyway, I bought it back at that safe house where we had that BBQ, then I got home, wrapped it and stuck it in my bag so I wouldn’t forget about it the next time we got activated.” Ava’s cheeks turned redder. “But...then I forgot about it until I was at the airport and had to empty out my bag in the TSA line and rediscovered it...and kind of forgot about it again until now.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry, there was...a lot going on.”

Laine grinned a little, “Doesn’t snuggle quite the same as the strong arms of a mountain man, does it?”

Taking the box, she unwrapped it and her brows rose with surprise, the black and white moth with the skull-like marking made famous by Silence of the Lambs. “This is great, thank you,” Laine said, taking it out and pinning it to the lapel of her jacket. “I like it, how’s it look?”

Ava beamed, pleased to see Laine enjoyed the gift. “It looks great!” She said, with a bright girlish smile.

It took on a more somber edge after a moment. “And, think of it as a thank you for everything you did for me back in Idaho. Not just getting my medication quicker, but also being there while I was dealing with not having it. It means a lot to me, it really does so...Thank you.”

Laine reached out and gave Ava’s coat hem a tug, “You don’t need to thank me for that, we’re a team. We’re friends, you know.”

Ava looked at her and smiled warmly. “Yeah, we are.”

She held out her arms. “So, do we hug now?”

An amused half smile crossed her face as she stood up, now several inches taller than the redhead. Laine gave her a hug, and said, “I hope we don’t get some security guard’s hopes up.”

She pulled back, giving her a pat on the shoulder, “Go do your thing, see where that thing came from.”

Ava accepted the hug happily, laughing softly at Laine’s joke about the security guards. After the other woman pulled back, she nodded. “Right, go do what I do best, which is nerd shit.” She smiled and walked over to the receptionist desk with the deactivated tracking device in hand.

>0805...///

Donnelley had made sure that Dave got his rifle, leading him to the armory and reassuring him that TRIDENT wouldn’t be a problem so long as he and THUNDER were around. He’d left Dave to mull over the decision of mounting an under barrel grenade launcher on the bottom of what he’d get for the low price of a hundred. He walked the empty halls of the BLACKBOX and tried not to think of the prison in Iraq, flinching at every echoing noise and eyeing every door he passed. When he finally got to the doorway of the Library, he offered out his ID badge and was waved on. It didn’t take long to find Laine and he snickered at the sight of the receptionist, staring at his computer screen with the vacancy of a man who was higher than giraffe nuts.

He plopped down in the chair next to Laine, giving her his smirk though she was knee deep in whatever she was reading, “Hey, cutie,” he said, trying to get her attention, “You come here often?”

Laine was typing when Donnelley came up, she heard him but kept her focus on the screen. She was unable to keep the smile that threatened from showing and as soon as she finished the sentence, she turned to look at him.

“Yes, actually all the time,” she said, “I spend my days in the library when other girls have cheerleading practice and student council. Shouldn’t you be smoking in the boy’s room?”

Laine’s eyes glimmered, seeing for a moment that young punk from Dalhart. Donnelley chuckled and he rested his back against the table, “Just finished doin’ that, actually. That was after I skateboarded in the no skateboards zone. I might look like a bad boy, but I’ve got a heart of gold if you break through the tough exterior.”

She licked lips lightly and raised a brow, “Oh, that’s too bad I was looking for a real asshole. Maybe one of those Wetwork guys. Just a meat hammer on a body.”

Under the table she kicked his foot, swinging her leg back. Donnelley let out a quiet laugh, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “You know I used to be one of them. Left after I heard you were comin’ on.”

Laine glanced over her shoulder at the cameras up at the corners of the room then at him. Her green eyes gleamed but she kept a neutral expression. “Is that right? Giving up the bad boys club for little old me?”

She chuckled, then turned her to her computer, but paused still looking at her screen. “I’ve been looking through the database, found a few things from Canada that seem relevant.”

“Yeah?” Donnelley turned around, now seriously interested. Canada was only next door, and the Native tribes were here long before the borders were, “What about?”

Laine pulled up a tab with scanned images of old reports and journal pages, cobbled together with written transcripts and interpretations. She pulled one journal page written in longhand, the date at the top Septembre 15, 1923. The writing was in French but below the image was a translation.

“This one here, written by a fur trapper in the Yukon. Translation describes an incident at a frozen lake, he was trapping for beaver and ice fishing when he was set upon by a sudden blizzard. He describes strange sounds in the wind, howls he insisted were not of wolves or nor calls of elk. There’s another one here, from around the same time, this time from the Klondike, I guess some miner still trying to dig for gold in 1926. Another reference to something called, “Wind Walker”, he writes that the men he hired to help dig spoke of it with ‘fear, almost reverence.’ After one night they had two miners disappear, the rest were said to be ‘full of fear and superstition, speaking the word ‘Itha-kwa’ and demanding they leave the area. As we had not seen as much as a grain of <gold> dust, I decided it was best to depart.’”

Laine looked over at Donnelley, “It goes on to say the native workers left and nothing was ever heard of from the two men missing. Considering the attitude of whites at the time, I doubt it was ever looked into. Hell, they won’t even look into missing indigenous people now. But there are some reports from the RCMP that include references to missing hikers, hunters and references to freak storms and the indigenous religious groups.”

She raised her arms over her head, stretching until her spine popped, the ribbed sweater hugging her curves until she dropped her arms. “I’m starving. Anyway, there’s a lot of information here, I’m sorting it onto a spreadsheet. Years, places, mentions of Wind-Walker, Ithaqua, unusual weather reports, or anything similar that lines up with missing persons. It’s different yet I sense strong similarities to West Virginia. Not that it’ll do us any good.”

“You’re sayin’ we got some Wind-Walker on our hands?” Donnelley shook his head, agreeing with Laine about their case in West Virginia. The last bit though, “What does that mean? We’re goin’ back after this.”

“It sounds like it,” Laine said, “If it means shamanistic cults or an actual thing, we’ll find out I suppose. I have some ideas but I’ll wait for the information from SIREN.”

She looked at him, her green eyes on his blue and stayed silent for a moment before sighing heavily, “Foster pulled us off. They sent someone else in there, it’s bullshit but he said we compromised ourselves, our covers were blown. The Russians, I guess. He didn’t tell you?”

Donnelley frowned something dark and turned away from Laine as his lip began to quiver, threatening to peel back like an angry street dog. He drew in a breath that seemed to have a hard time getting in and blew it out, growling, “No. No, he did not.” He rubbed his face over and cleared his throat, “We were close. Laine, we were fuckin’ close, we were onto something and they give the fuckin’ case away?”

Laine reached up, daring to give him a quick touch on his sleeve when he turned away. She drew back, her hands in her lap when he spoke. “I wasn’t happy about it and I let him know, I was told in so many words there was nothing I could do about it and to say nothing more. I got my case files together so they could be handed over. I wasn’t even able to talk to the other team, to give them anything that wasn’t covered, to warn them of what we experienced.”

She felt the frustration bubble up from that meeting, then she looked at him, “Do you think it’s because we were getting close? Like you said, you thought he didn’t want you looking too close to things in Iraq?”

Donnelley opened his lips to say something, but he didn’t want that to be true. Not Foster. Or, at least, he didn't want it to be happening to him. To them. He sighed and shook his head, “Don't do that, Laine. Get me thinkin’. We got a job to do here in Alaska, let’s just get it done.” He said, his anger deflated and billowing out of him. He looked at her and chanced a small smile, hoping to change the subject, “How long you been at this now? You’re hungry, we could go to the mess. How’s that for a date?”

Laine looked at him, she knew he had been with Foster a long time, the photo of Sobel and Donnelley, Foster had been there. She wanted to push along that path of thinking, it had been nagging at her since the meeting but seeing him push back, she left it alone. At his question, she looked at the time on her computer, “It’s been about four hours, I think I saw Dave go to the lab so Ava’s taken care of.”

She met his eyes and returned the small secretive smile, “I could go for some food, and coffee. Anything with caffeine. It’s 8 am, maybe they have waffles?”

“Bring some back for Ava and Dave if they haven’t eaten yet.” Donnelley smiled, standing up and stretching, a series of rattling pops from his back and shoulder. With no windows and a hell of a lot of feet underground, it was hard to tell the time, “Already 8? Goddamn. Four hours, guess Queen was wrong, I’d better bother him about my money.”

He nodded towards the door outside the Library and almost offered his hand out for her to hold before he remembered where they were. It had been a long time since he’d sat down and had a meal alone with someone he liked. Or liked in the way he liked Laine. The last one was her apartment, but the romantic stylings of a classified government compound in a network of mine shafts would have to do for now. Since no one else seemed to care beyond dirty looks, he put a cigarette between his lips and sparked the tip as they walked the halls. His stomach growled, and he had to wonder when the last time he ate was, “This place makes me want to take a trip to California. Los Angeles.” He smiled.

Laine glanced over at him, a hint of a smile on her lips as he lit his cigarette. She surreptitiously studied his face, the handsome features and the scars. Her eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief that did not show on her calm expression. “That does sound like fun, nice and warm. Ocean breeze,” she said, “Tacos at the boardwalk. Maybe a tour.”

She looked up, noticing another camera and muttered, “I wonder how good their audio is.”

Donnelley looked at one of the cameras as they passed under it, wondering about the audio and if they had any. He wondered then why Laine asked, “What about- oh. Oh!” He perked up, hoping they were on the same page. That familiar temptation of mischief tugging his sleeve to forget all pretense of decency and secrecy. He chuckled sheepishly, “You meant it like that right? Sorry.”

Laine gave him a blank stare, then said in a hushed tone, “Sir, I would never think anything along those lines. What kind of woman do you take me for?”

“My apologies, Doctor. I didn’t mean to insinuate anythin’ by the comment, ‘specially not such a beautiful lady as yerself.” He played up his drawl and smiled at her, stepping over and playfully budging her, “But I think we both know how we are when nobody’s lookin’.”

“I been scopin’ places out, by the by, little reconnaissance.” He winked, taking another drag and blowing it out at a passing camera, “Waffles first, gotta take care of my team. I am a provider, if nothin’ else.”

Unable to keep a straight face, she pressed her lips together tight, the laughter that threatened suppressed. She smiled a bit, giving him a little sideways glance. “You do take care of your team,” she agreed, “With all their needs.”

Laine put her hands against her hips, turning away from him to one of the maps on the wall, “The cafeteria should be around the corner. This place really is huge, you could really get lost…”

She turned to meet his eyes holding his gaze for a moment, then turned the corner to find the sign that pointed to the mess hall.

...///

“What the fuck?” Ava whispered to herself, leaning forward in her chair as she intently studied the small circuit board under view of her magnifying goggles. She was carefully pulling apart the shell of the pill shaped device, using a set of very fine tweezers to move the delicate components around. It was so small and delicate that Ava was afraid her breath would send the pieces scattering; thankfully there were plenty metal trays available for her to work in.

Her headphones were firmly placed on her ears, the steady lo-fi beats of Plastic Patina she had playing on a background computer providing a level of noise that allowed her to focus in the otherwise silent lab. Per regulations, she was dressed in a lab coat though it was meant for someone a size larger than her and so she had to roll up the cuffs of the sleeves. Over the course of her work, she felt more and more strands of her hair come loose from her braid but she ignored it in favor of the mystery of the device in front of her.

She laid out the components of the tracker and looked them over with a critical eye, her frown deepening as she studied the intricate and delicate circuitry before her.

Ava shook her head, leaning back and moving the goggles up to the top of her head. She pushed herself on the wheeling chair she sat in toward the desk behind her, where a number of computer monitors were busily processing information from the tracking device and comparing it to data that was already on file. Given the fact she was in a highly classified government facility, it was a lot of information to sift through.

She scribbled down a few notes on a notebook she swiped from Laine, muttering to herself in the quiet lab, “Definitely foreign make, but the scale is too small...” She jotted down a few preliminary observations and then pushed herself back to the table with the tracking device and her tools.

This was the rhythm she found herself in, moving back and forth between the two tables; alternating between studying the physical tracker and then turning back to the monitors to see what was found and adding a bit more information she had gleaned from her inspection.

The hours passed, unnoticed to her as she became completely consumed in the enigma laid out before her.

After four or so hours, she found herself focused intently on her notebook, her hair half falling out of her braid as she furiously wrote down a complex mathematical formula based on what she discovered. At least three pages were filled with the numbers and symbols; only to be crossed out with a giant ‘X’.

“...That can’t be right.” She murmured, studying her latest equation and then comparing it to the ones she had previously crossed out. “There’s no way...I have to be getting this wrong somewhere.” She said, putting her elbows on the table and her fingers to her temples as she glared down in thought at the formulas.

"Gettin' what wrong?"

Dave spoke loudly enough to be heard over the headphones. He was leaning in the corner, arms crossed, watching over her while she worked. He'd been there about 10 minutes, hanging back until she reached a stopping point, content to simply watch her at work. There was an intensity to her when she was engrossed in a problem, one that was at odds with her usual attitude, and he found that it appealed to him in a different way than her usual cute, upbeat persona.

She was still cute, of course. The oversized lab coat and wild hair was a good look on her, especially when paired with the way she scrunched up her nose when she was concentrating.

"Whatcha thinkin', sugar?" He walked over to her, making sure to keep clear of the delicate components.

Ava saw movement from the corner of her eye and sat bolt upright, turning and quickly calming down when she saw Dave. She pressed one hand to her chest and lowered her headphones down to rest around her neck with the other. “Dave, you scared me half to death.” She said, breathing out a relieved sigh. “What are you doing here?” She asked with a confused frown.

"Sorry." He gave her a crooked grin and put an arm over her shoulders. "Just checkin' on ya. Guy let me in, I just gave him a mean look and put the Oakleys on. Think Ghost might be onto somethin’."

“Oh, well, thank you.” She said, leaning against his chest and patting the hand of the arm resting over her shoulder. “How long have I been working?” She asked before peering at the clock on one of the computer monitors. She straightened when she saw the time. “Holy shit it’s 8 already!? I’ve been at this for four hours!?” She leaned against Dave, partially stunned. “I didn’t even notice, I was so wrapped up in this,” She lifted her hands and waved them over her work station. “Weirdness.”

"What's weird about it?" He rubbed her shoulders as she leaned against him. "I mean I don't know the first thing 'bout any of this, but if you wanna talk, maybe it'll help ya think through it?"

“Oh man, where do I start?” Ava sighed, turning to look down at her notes. “Okay,” She said, spinning around in her chair to look up at Dave. “First of all, the tracking device is definitely of foreign make, could be China or Russia, I don’t know because there are no production markings on it.” She said with a deep frown. “I have taken that thing apart and looked it over four times, but there are no manufacturing labels or numbers or anything anywhere outside or inside so I don’t know who or what made it.”

She held up a finger. “But, it’s definitely not American. The circuitry is so intricate and advanced for something so small, it’s leagues and bounds away from what the NSA or the CIA have for prototypes. You can forget about finding anything like it on the civilian market either.”

Dave sniffed, then nodded. "Right," he said. "So uh...Aliens, ya think?"

Ava had her mouth open, clearly about to continue on with her explanation; when Dave’s response gave her pause and she stared up at him. “...I want to say ‘no’ but I honestly don’t think we can rule it out.” She picked up her notebook and showed him the equation she was working on. “It would certainly explain the battery power and the frequency range if my math is right.”

He nodded again. "I don't see why it wouldn't be. Smarter'n me for sure. Got a lot of brain in that pretty head." He grinned. "I'd trust that math."

Ava flushed but smiled as she nudged him with her elbow. “Oh stop, I’m not smarter than you.” She said with a bashful chuckle. “You can turn fertilizer into an explosive compound without blowing yourself up. Anyone that can do that is a certified genius in my book.” She smiled up at him. “Plus you know how to survive in the wilderness and that’s just practical.”

Dave laughed, rubbing his side as though she had dealt a serious blow. "If ya say so," he said. "That's mostly stubbornness, an' not eatin' the wrong mushrooms."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Think there's time to grab a bite? Gotta eat to keep that brain turnin'. Guard said I couldn't just bring ya food."

“Mm, I guess.” She said, looking around her workstations with a bit of a frown; almost a pout. She reached over and picked up her notebook, holding it to her chest. “I’m taking this though.”

Dave met her frown with one of his own. "Take it, but no workin' while we eat. Okay? Been a while since I seen ya, and besides, you need to give that mind a break."

He put a finger on her chin and gently made her look at him. "Yer gonna eat with me, not just around me. Otherwise you'll burn yourself out."

Ava frowned up at him, tapping her finger gently on the back of the notebook. She sighed and dropped her head forward slightly. “You’re right. I’ll keep it with me, but I won’t work on it.” She looked back up at him. “I’ve missed you too.”

His frown became a smile in an instant, and after a quick glance around the lab he planted a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips.

"C'mon, sugar. Let's get this stuff packed up for a bit and see 'bout that food situation. Just lemme know what I can't touch."

She smiled from the kiss, her heart doing a happy flutter as he pulled away. “Thanks Dave, I can get it taken care of, but you can keep me company while I clean up.” She said, standing up from her chair and setting down the notebook. As she stood she winced and gave herself a big stretch, until a few pops sounded from her back. “Yeah, that feels like about four hours of nonstop work.”

"Toldja," he said, stepping back so she had room to work. "I'll give you a shoulder rub later, help get them kinks out."

Laine held a cup carrier of four coffees as she strolled back through the labyrinth of passages, Donnelley beside her with takeaway boxes of waffles and sausage links with little cups of syrup and a couple of fruit cups on the side. It reminded her of the cafeteria at Quantico only with less variety but the cost of shipping was pricey.

She glanced at the redhead beside her, "I've been thinking about the freak storms. I'm going to see if I can find any official weather records that corroborate the eyewitness accounts. And do you remember the reports of a shimmer appearing in Blackriver before contact? I wonder if there's anything like that here. I haven't found anything so far but the blizzards could fill that harbinger of bad things coming niche."

Laine sighed, turning a corner as the library came into view. "I'm glad I backed up my notes, the more I read about the involvement of native tribes the more I think about the books and such we found in Clyde's cabin and other ideas that I was working on."

“Something wicked this way comes.” Donnelley clucked his tongue. It was the old motto that hung above the door to THUNDER’s squad bay in the Program HQ, buried in the dirt and rocks under the CIA. A warning for those dabbling in things they shouldn’t. It was a warning, and a threat. With the omens of freak storms and missing hikers hitting close to home and giving way to scuttlebutt among the QRF, well... it meant different things now. “I’m trying not to obsess over West Virginia and Iraq, but… you know. Let’s just take an hour to eat our waffles with Ava and then we’ll be free to play with our red string and corkboard.” He smiled.

“ID- oh. It’s you guys.” One of the guards said, waving them through and going back to leaning against the wall.

The door opened for them and they stepped back into the Library. The hum of the servers and computer towers filled their ears, the smell of cleaning agents and UV light purging bacteria while the library room was empty of it’s only two occupants. Now that they returned, the UV lights were off, a smell of ozone tainting the air and making Donnelley’s arm hair stand on end. He’d never liked that smell after Somalia. The frown on his face turned into a smile when he saw Dave and Ava, and he nodded to one of the tables, “Room service.” He called out to them.

Laine accepted the break from talking about work, trying to relax her mind as they entered the library. She caught his expression, the furrowed brow but had no chance to ask before they were outside the lab.

Holding the coffee up, she peered through the glass at them, they seemed so at ease and unafraid to stand close to each other. She had kept a foot at least between herself and Donnelley, making sure not to smile too much at him while they had got their breakfast at the cafeteria.

"I brought life," Laine added, holding up the large coffees.

Dave beamed, releasing Ava and steering her towards the others.

"Coffee sounds like a damn fine idea," he said. "If y'all brought food I'm definitely puttin' ya on my Christmas list, cuz I'm starvin'."

“Hope waffles’n sausages’re good enough for you.” Donnelley smirked as he set down the boxes and placed the plastic silverware next to each. Each set individually packaged with a napkin, fork, spoon, and knife. He laid a hand on his empty stomach as he sat, all his power dedicated to not immediately demolishing his food without the others’ company, “‘Bout now, it’s good enough for me, tell ya what.”

Ava’s face brightened when she looked up and saw Laine and Donnelley outside the propped open glass door. At the sight of coffee and food containers she perked up even more. “They have waffles here?” She asked in surprise, then jumped as Dave looped his arm over her shoulders and started to guide her out of the lab. “Wait, wait, I have to take off the coat and stuff or I’ll get food on it.”

She ducked out from underneath Dave’s arm and darted over to a coat rack on the wall with a few other lab coats as well as her original coat. She took off the magnifying goggles and the lab coat, just hanging them both on the hook as she intended to come back after eating.

She turned back around, smoothing away some of the wrinkles of her dusky rose colored sweater dress. It went nicely with the dark denim vest she wore with the white embroidered flowers, the thick grey winter leggings beneath the dress and the light grey hiking boots on her feet.

Completing the look was a soft beige belt with a silver ring where the holster with her glock 26 was currently riding.

Ava smiled at Dave, taking out the ribbon holding her failing braid and combing out her hair as she headed for the door. She turned to Laine, practically trotting up to her in her eagerness to claim one of the coffees. “Thanks Laine, I need the fuel; that tracking device is turning into a bigger problem than I originally thought.”

Laine had led them out to a table in the library, one not occupied with computer monitors but simply for reading. There Donnelley lay out the styrofoam to go boxes full of breakfast. She sent the coffees down, pulling out a plastic bag of sugars and a half pint of milk still cool from the refrigerator.

She picked up one of the fruit cups, sliced pears it said on the foil label, and took a seat with her tray of waffles.

“Want to talk about what you’ve found?” she asked, though giving Donnelley a look, it wasn’t the cases so it didn’t count. “I know nothing about electronics but maybe just saying it out loud can sometimes help when you’re stuck.”

Laine poured one of the little cups of syrup on her waffles, they had become a little soft from the trapped steam in the clamshell but at least they were still warm.

Donnelley sipped at his coffee and gave Laine a look. Talking about work after doing it for four hours straight wasn’t something he wanted to be doing. He cleared his throat and quirked a brow at Laine, but then he conceded, not wanting conflict for breakfast either. He turned to Ava, “Maybe it’s aliens.” He joked.

"See? That's what I said!" Dave's tone was a good deal more serious. He lowered his voice. "We got weird ass wizards, an' extra-dimensional monsters, all sorts of shit. And Russians, man."

Laine rolled her eyes and jabbed a plastic fork into one of the sausage links, then made eye contact with Donnelley. He was hiding a smirk and he playfully knocked his boot against her’s under the table.

Ava popped open her container, her focus shifting entirely to the waffles. Now that food was in front of her, her stomach began to growl with hunger. “I can’t believe they have waffles here.” She said, pulling her hair back and working on tying it up with the ribbon that once held her braid. “You are all my favorite people right now.” She said, finishing tying up her hair and dragging over one of the coffees as well as the sugars and the milk.

Ava paused, working on sweetening her coffee before looking back up to Laine. “Oh right, the tracking device.” She looked around at their table. “It’s...probably not aliens. The implications of it are actually a little scarier than aliens.”

“How’s that?” Donnelley bit off half a sausage and quirked his brow at Ava’s statement.

She frowned, taking a sip of her coffee and putting her thoughts into order. “I already told Dave some of this, but the tracker is definitely not American made. Could be China or Russia, but it’s nothing the NSA or CIA have even for prototypes. I can’t pinpoint where it was made exactly because there are no manufacturing markings, logos or numbers anywhere on it.”

She leaned back in her chair, coffee in hand and the frown deepening along with the crease between her brow. “What’s more is how small it is. It’s about the size of a pill or a tic tac, but it’s so...scarily efficient.” She shook her head and took another sip of her coffee. “I was working on figuring out what the range of the frequency that tracker emitted would be and how much power its battery has...But my math has to be wrong. I misread the diagnostics or something because what I keep coming up with doesn’t make sense.”

Donnelley cut his waffles into fourths and shoved one in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a few long seconds before swallowing hard and washing it down with a bit of coffee. He sat back for a second and rolled his jaw, thinking why they needed Muru so much. And who they were. The GRU? Tadjbegskye Bratva? And the possibility that Renko was just giving them everything they wanted to hear so he could earn their trust…

“What’d Renko say about it?” He asked Laine.

Laine finished a waffle as Ava spoke, hardly tasting it as she focused on the possible meaning behind the technology. It was out of her wheelhouse but the strangeness was something they had all witnessed to a degree. She looked up at Donnelley, then shook her head.

“He didn’t say much about the tracker, only that he found it on her and he gave it to me when he gave us Muru. It had been deactivated, so he must have done it. I assume so, because they never found us with her after. I didn’t think to ask, just gave it to Ava.”

Laine took a sip of her coffee and thought for a moment, “I would put money on it having some sort of tech or...magic, for lack of a better word, that the Russians used with Muru.”

She looked at all of them in turn, then leaned forward, “Renko told me how GRU stole children from an orphanage in Kherson, Ukraine. They experiment on them, they turn them into whatever Muru is. She’s not...alive, in a sense. Where her heart beat should be, it sounded like broken glass falling...anyway, the tracker. You say you’ve never seen anything like this from the US? Then what if it’s Russian, Renko seemed to be familiar enough with it to turn it off. What if one of ours...”

Laine looked at Donnelley, shaking her head slightly about returning to the subject that he had not wanted to pursue. “You know we feel like there’s a leak, maybe this is part of it. If it’s even Russian, but that’s all I can figure.”

“Great.” Donnelley shook his head, forking another sausage into his mouth, “Another Cold War. We were due for one anyway. So, Renko knew his way around it. Why don’t we ask him next time we’re not in bumfuck, Alaska? Anyone got his number?”

“I’m assuming that he did,” Laine said, setting down her coffee, “I’m sorry I didn’t think to ask what he knew about the tracker, it was sort of out of my depth.”

Dave was listening intently to the conversation, glossing over the technical aspects. He swallowed hard, drained a third of his coffee, then frowned.

"I like Renko, but I don't think I trust him," he said, gesturing with his fork for emphasis. "I'm tryin', but you gotta figure that if he turned this thing off without breakin' it, he's gotta have some level of experience with it. Tells me it's probably some Russian spy shit."

He thought for another moment, shrugged, then shoved another bite of waffle into his mouth. "Kinda gotta wonder why he didn't just tell us what was up with it in the first place though, right?"

“If you’re playin’ the long con, you don’t give up everythin’ you know at once. He’s either tryin’ to make his value to us last and not attract attention to himself or,” Donnelley shrugged, his brows raising with it, “He’s givin’ us the fuckin’ run-around and playin’ at defectin’.”

Laine thumbed the plastic tab on the lid of her coffee cup, “When I interview subjects, they often try playing hold back information, like you said, to keep themselves valuable. He’s likely doing that as that is the only currency that is worth anything. I don’t think he’s giving us the run around not like you mean, I don’t get a sense of that. He came to us for help, I think he genuinely cares about those children. Everyone has their limit of what their conscience will allow, he mentioned he was still a Russian patriot in his way, he just hated what was happening to them. What would he gain by risking taking Muru from Americans to give her to other Americans? He gave her to us for a reason. We didn’t have much time to sit and discuss, I have no evidence to back it up. It’s just my feeling about the situation. The real question is who put that tracker on her and when.”

"Maybe nobody did?" Dave thought for a moment. "I mean, we only got his word that it was actually on her, right? Maybe he gave it to us to kinda… Tell us somethin' without actually sayin' it? Like a hint."

Donnelley stabbed his fork into his waffles and slapped the table, gesturing with his open hand Dave’s way, “You. Now you’re thinkin’ like a fuckin’ spy.” Donnelley grabbed his fork again, “He nabs the kid, but did any of you know if there was actually anybody comin’ to take her back? He has this tracker and hands it off to you, spins a story, and sends you on your way.”

“I wanna sit down with this guy, it’s a little bit suspect he only ever shows his face when the one guy in the CIA ain’t there.” He shook his head, taking a little bite out of a sausage and looking at Dave, and then the others, “So, a hint, maybe. For what? Showin’ off the cool toys the Russians have?”

“...We know about it now.” Ava said, setting down her fork on her half eaten breakfast, her expression pursed with thought after eating and quietly considering the conversation happening around her. “We have a piece of their tech now, if we really wanted to we can figure out just how it works and if we know how it works we can either duplicate it or we can find ways to counter it, maybe even turn it against them.”

“Big risk. Big gift. Good Intel, maybe this guy’s alright.” Donnelley finished off his sausages and spoke around a mouthful of it, “Maybe.

Laine crossed her arms, looking over at Donnelley, “To your question about ‘if we knew that there was anyone to take her back’, we were going off what Foster told us. That we were going to meet a Program team to pick her up and then go pick up a van. We got there, she was gone. A drone picked us up at our meeting with Renko, we left and when we got to where we got the van we were greeted at gunpoint. Yet, they let us go.”

She uncrossed her arms, holding her hands out in a questioning gesture, “Maybe we got told some bullshit. Maybe someone is using us just as much as Renko might be. What do you think, super spy?”

Donnelley froze in place, eyes playing over Laine’s face as she spoke. When she was done, he slowly set down his fork and there was a trace of a growing smirk, though none of its humor reached his eyes. He scoffed once, closing his box of half-eaten food and wiped down his chest of nonexistent crumbs. “I think there’s a lot of things we need to verify before we trust a foreign agent, Doctor.” He spoke softly, collected, but in a way that sounded like being collected took some work. He fixed Laine with a stare that lasted almost too long before turning to Ava with a smile, “Good job so far with the tracker.”

He rose, grabbing up his box of food and retrieving his pack of cigarettes, lifting one out with his teeth, “I need a smoke.”

Laine looked at Donnelley and said aloud as he was stepping away, “We never did find out what happened to the team that was holding Muru for us to pick up. I guess that’s need to know?”

Donnelley snorted, that smirk showing up again before he turned for the door, saying over his shrugging shoulder as he walked, “I dunno, maybe.”

Ava blinked and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at the shift in the air around the table, the rising tension culminating in Donnelley leaving. She glanced over to Dave in bemusement before calling out to Donnelley, “Uh, thank you for the breakfast!”

Laine watched him leave, wanting a cigarette herself but she would not follow him out the door. She took her fruit cup and a spork and stuck it in her jacket pocket, taking the remnants of the breakfast to toss in the trash. When she came back she looked at Ava and Dave, “I’m sorry about that. It just struck a nerve, I should have waited for a better moment.”

She looked at Ava, “You’ve done amazing work, I need to catch up.”

Ava flushed and smiled slightly. “Thank you, I’ve still got a lot of it to do, but I’ll keep working at it.” She looked at her half eaten breakfast. “...I’m gonna finish this, I’ll be in that lab for awhile and I’ll need it.”

Dave reached over beneath the table and gave her leg a companionable squeeze.

"I'll getcha more when ya need it," he said. "I'm probably gonna go to the gym, see if I can find some trigger time somewhere… Maybe Ghost is bored and will want to spin me up a bit." He grinned. "Pretty sure I'm his favorite student. But I'll hang out for a bit and keep ya company if you like."

Ava smiled at him. “I’d like that.”

Laine left them to head back to her table, pulling her jacket off to hang on her chair and sat down, looking at the computer screen. With a deep sigh, she went back to work digging through cases, trying to focus just on the incident they were working on.
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>BLACKBOX LIBRARY
>1120...///

Donnelley stood outside the door to the Library. He’d gotten used to the hallways by now, telling himself that he wasn’t in Iraq and things weren’t going to spiral spectacularly out of control. Even if they had for just those few seconds a few hours ago, snipped words. No texts to his phone from Laine, but he figured it was time to bury the hatchet. She did have a way of getting to him, and a part of him did hope that he got to her just as much. He flashed his ID to the guards and was waved through. The Library was empty again, except for Laine. Ava was still busy in the lab, Donnelley watching her for a few seconds as she worked.

He turned his attention back to Laine, sitting down next to her and thinking of poking her side or some other physical touch. How they left things though, that certainly dissuaded him. He spoke quietly, picking at his fingernails, “I was thinking we should get those case files for the Working Group in West Virginia.”

Laine rubbed her fingers over the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes briefly after reading another scanned document. Her focus was now locked in on the events of anything around the Arctic Circle to southern Canada involving missing persons, hikers in particular, problems with natives, and freak blizzards. She tried not to think of Renko and Foster, the tracker or the look on Donnelley’s face when she threw the suggestion out there.

She had lost her cool, Donnelley had a way of doing that. That damn smirk. Laine huffed a breath, then copied over a report of the shooting death of two RCMP members allegedly but rebellious indigenous during the 1970s. Another missing pair of hikers, vanished in the Gates of the Arctic National Park in Alaska, 1980s. It was all little maybes.

Laine stretched, arching her back until it popped, her arms out twisting her wrists and dropping them just as Donnelley entered the library. She was unaware of his presence until he sat down and spoke.

Dragging her attention away from the screen, she looked at him for a long moment of silence, letting it stretch out.

“You thought that did you?” she said, looking him up and down then back at the computer. “I already sent a packet with all the information we gathered. I left it with Foster, I’m assuming they will get it.”

She went back to typing, unable to keep herself from antagonizing him. Lashing out, she told herself, lashing out at the one that would take it. More angry at herself, she hit the keys harder than necessary and turned back to him.

“I don’t even know what team took the case,” she said, still staring at her screen. “You know when I advise on the case with the FBI, I don’t stick around to see if it gets solved. It’s not my job to make an arrest. I don’t know why I’m struggling so much to let this go, to let someone else with likely more experience finish it. But I am, I’m having a hard time with it.”

Laine shook her head, then tugged at the black sweater sleeves until her hands almost disappeared in them. There were no snarky remarks from Donnelley, no smirk. He just nodded his head, “I know. I am too.” He said, a quiet voice in the quiet room. Server hums and the whirring of computer tower fans, “I’m sorry for earlier. You know I’m worried. About fuckin’ with the Russians and bein’ too trusting.”

“I know you’re tired of bein’ dicked around.” Donnelley shrugged.

Laine sighed, glancing at him, then back at her computer. She stayed still then turned in her chair to face Donnelley.

“I am used to the bad guys lying and being manipulative, that’s what happens when I interview a subject, they dick us around. They hold out on information we want so they can have leverage,” she said, “I understand that but I don’t like feeling like I’m getting it from our side as well. I know you didn’t want to talk about Foster, I’m sorry I hit you with that in such a way.”

Laine shifted, leaning her arm against the back of the chair, “It wasn’t right. It’s just been gnawing at me. A gut feeling is all it is.”

“I just don’t even want to entertain the thought. There’s enemies everywhere right now, I don’t want to think one of them is that… close.” Donnelley leaned back in his chair, knitting his fingers together in his lap, “We’ll get ours.”

He sighed, “I don’t know what else to say. We’re chasin’ our tails on maybe’s and what if’s.” He said, “Any updates from SIREN? I haven’t heard anything.”

Laine studied him then shrugged, "Maybe I'm just completely wrong. It's not like that hasn't happened before."

She shook her head, "I haven't heard anything, but I don't think Greedy's going to send me any memos."

Laine turned to the computer monitor, "Let's talk about something I can give you information about. I've been doing some cross searches about the names mentioned in the reports. Now, granted the sources of more than a few are suspect. I'm sure you've heard of PhenomenX?"

She almost looked embarrassed at the admission of using the source that dabbled in the supernatural and conspiracy. It was basically a tabloid.

"Wind Walker, Ithaqua as it's called in the Inuit language," she said, "There's mention of it among the indigenous people during unseasonal blizzards to cults, reports of cannibals worshipping some sort of Wendigo type creature. According to PhenomenX, it's been responsible for missing hikers and possibly even mixed in with interdimensional Yeti."

She raised a brow at the last part, "A cult is a good place to start, it matches what Greedy showed us about Ipiktok Irniq."

“Interdimensional Yeti. That’s one thing I haven’t heard, but we’re in a Program base, so…” He shrugged, “So, this Irniq guy, he’s got a social media presence and lures people in with that? It doesn’t make sense, too high visibility.”

“Maybe this is extracurricular for him, or he just got into it.” Donnelley shrugged, “Assumin’ Irniq is our guy. Or SIREN’s, more like. I don’t know if SIREN’s got their own techie, but we could ask Ava if she can get into his social media, see what kinda stuff he’s arrangin’.”

"I don't think it's too unusual," Laine said, "Heaven's Gate used a website, it's still up in fact. The People's Temple used flyers. Cults not a cult without people. Some are more selective than others but considering the limited population pool Irniq has to draw from I'm not surprised he might advertise. Probably comes across as a cultural group, maybe competes in powwows and recruits there."

Laine waved her hand, "I'm sure she can hack a Facebook blindfolded. I wonder if they ever tried infiltration or even just made a fake account and messaged about joining, just to see what Irniq's vetting process might be."

“If we could think of it, I’m sure SIREN could. I’m not used to waitin’ around. Ain’t to my likin’” Donnelley shook his head, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket, “You wanna bother Greedy? See if SIREN’s got anythin’ we can help on?”

“I don’t like waiting either, I’m used to just getting things done but I understand we have to play nice, like working with local PDs. I am sure that SIREN has as good a team working as hard as we do. Look, so basically all these cases ring a bell with the stuff going on in the mountains around Blackriver, just with different flavor. It’s missing people, outsiders in particular, it’s reports of strange phenomena, suspected cult/illegal group activities involving murder, and a mixing in of Indigenous or old local legends. That’s pretty basic, I know. I’ll get it sorted in a more detailed way but yes, let’s go bother Greedy. My eyes need a break.”

Laine stood up, putting her notes and her laptop away, hooking the strap over her shoulder. “I don’t trust leaving it out, no offense to anyone watching the security footage.”

“‘Less the cameras gonna come off the wall and beat their asses itself, I wouldn’t either.” Donnelley snorted.

She picked up her coat, her fingers touching the black and white moth pin and she smiled a little, “See what Ava gave me?”

It was the death’s head moth, similar to one she had on her upper left chest. It was a tattoo she got her first year of college and sometimes it seemed so silly and innocent, inspired by a movie. Laine flipped the coat over the other arm and gestured to Donnelley to lead the way.

“I like it. It suits you.” Donnelley smiled at Laine, turning for the door with her in tow. Once they turned a corner outside the Library and the guards were out of sight, he looked at Laine. She hadn’t noticed yet, but the longer he stared, the bigger his smile grew until he looked away, grinning like an idiot. The halls were empty, their footsteps echoing on the cement floors in the labyrinthine corridors of the BLACKBOX.

It seemed too long to go without seeing another person, or just long enough. He stopped abruptly, gently grabbing Laine’s arm and planting an innocent kiss on her cheek before moving on as if it never happened, “By the way, about earlier. Shouldn’t be talkin’ like that to your Team Lead.” He smirked.

His kiss caught her by surprise, the boldness even if it was a small discreet gesture made her look at him with wide eyes. Laine smiled a bit, then pressed her lips together as her face heated.

“Are you going to reprimand me for insubordination, sir?” she asked, glancing at him with a gleam in her dark green eyes.

Donnelley smirked at Laine, sharing the glance, “Figure I gotta do somethin’ about it.”

Whether or not he wanted it to, that fun would have to come later. They stood in front of the familiar door to the meeting room, Greedy’s name still there with a refreshed countdown timer for the next few hours. Donnelley pressed the call button and Greedy’s voice was heard on the other end, “What’s this about?”

“Here to offer help. Or anythin’.” Donnelley shrugged.

It was a few seconds of waiting before the doors hissed open. Once again, Donnelley and Laine handed over their weapons and electronics. “We might need those.” The guard glared at Donnelley suspiciously through his sunglasses. Why anyone needed sunglasses a mile underground was beyond Donnelley, “The phones and stuff.”

The guard fixed Donnelley with the same stare for a few long moments before nodding once, and that was all. The door into the meeting room proper hissed open and inside was a veritable situation room. There was a live feed from a drone camera lazily drifting overhead displayed on a large screen, a zoomed out picture of the Alaska landscape slowly moving. Another monitor was set up with the same uptight military officer that picked them up at the airstrip sitting in the chair in front of it. It had a list of incoming files, a collection of image and text files from SIREN’s findings so far. Donnelley didn’t see much as of yet. Greedy himself was sitting in a corner and puffing on a cigar, reading a book on Inuit culture before he slapped it shut and threw it on a table next to him, “Fuckin’ gobbledygook.” He grunted in that gravelly voice of his, fixing Donnelley and Laine with his same gaze a mixture of boredom and impersonal annoyance, “You bring me coffee or something? Said you were here to help.”

Laine picked up the book, glancing at Greedy, “We’re here to help with the information being gathered, I’m afraid you’ll have to fetch your own coffee.”

She leaned against the table, flipping open the book to the index, scanning down the list of subjects. As much as Donnelley wanted to carry on with Laine’s snippy dialogue and show Greedy he wasn’t the biggest asshole in the room, he only looked at him as he glared at Laine. After a bit of glaring and seeing that Laine wasn’t bothered in the slightest, he turned on Donnelley. He wasn’t too bothered either. Donnelley shrugged, “Coffee’s above our pay-grade.” He sucked his teeth, deciding to light up a cigarette since Greedy was doing it anyways. When the lighter flicked on, he heard the military officer groan, which really didn’t stop him, “Sure, we’re QRF. Sure, SIREN and ARTEMIS are star players and probably don’t need any of our help. But, I’m sure they’d like some help. Take the pressure off.”

“I’m not sendin’ you in. Foster’s team or not, you and that other asshole aren’t steppin’ on my case.” Donnelley smirked, his and Foster’s reputation in the small Operations Office personnel pool preceding them.

“I’m not goin’ to. I’m about as ready to set foot out there in Noatak as I am ready to walk barefoot outside a heroin house.” Donnelley smiled good-naturedly, “This is y’all’s time to shine. Glory for the takin’.”

“Don’t fuckin’ patronize me.” Greedy narrowed his eyes, “So, do you have anything for me or did you come over to play your cute games?”

“Tell him what you got so far.” Donnelley nodded at Laine.

Laine tucked a finger in the book to hold her place, and stood up straighter, her free hand smoothing down the front of the turtleneck sweater. “I have found many instances of references to freak blizzard conditions to accompany reports of hikers disappearing and possible violence but the real thing that caught my eye was some indigenous gobbledygook as you call it. There are several journal entries and some RCMP reports over the last century that mention native people referring to an entity called ‘Wind Walker’ or ‘Ithaqua’. It was noted by the authors that these were often expressed with fear and even reverence. It was written off as superstition.”

She held off mentioning anything about their old case, instead she continued, “Looking into reports of this being associated with other native beliefs such as the wendigo of the northeast, there’s similarities in the stories.”

Laine raised the book to indicate what her finger was marking, pinched between the thick pages, “As for the human face of this incident, there are three missing persons cases that had visited Ipiktok’s tribal retreat in common. Tourists that went missing in 2006, 2012, and 2018. Six year intervals it seems. The woman who was recovered in 2018 was determined by the ME to be an accidental death though she had been out in the wilderness for sometime. The other two are cold cases.”

She tucked the book against her chest, finishing her thoughts, “I checked weather records for the Noatak area around the times of the victims were reported missing and their temperatures and reported snowfalls in those years were deviating from the average versus the other years where no reports were filed. Similar to the conditions reported now for Noatak.”

Laine fell silent, looking directly at Greedy. “How much cult behavior has been recorded, has anyone infiltrated or developed a source in the community?”

“Like I said, we’ve left him alone until now. There’s no previous case files I could dig up on Ipiktok, so this is all fresh.” Greedy shook his head, “We’re goin’ in blind on this, we’re the ones makin’ the Intel for the rest of the Program. I’ll take your idea into consideration, thanks.”

“Consideration?” Donnelley scoffed, “This shit is SOP, we’re a fuckin’ intelligence agency, what did you have in mind?”

“Walk up there like we own the place. It’s Alaska, who’s gonna stop us?” Donnelley grit his teeth and shut up, taking a deep drag off his cigarette.

Laine inclined her head, “I get that, but what have you got from the locals? Alaska State Troopers or tribal police, did you talk to any of them?”

“Who do you think kicked the case up to us, were you paying attention or was I just shitting out my mouth at the briefing? We have a canary in the State PD, when he found Deputy Gray he called us up. Circumstances matched with what we told him to look out for.” Greedy shrugged and looked at the both of them, his face screwed up with incredulity, “So what the fuck? You have an actual question or are you just here to tell me how to run my Op?”

Laine rolled her jaw, pressing her lips in a tight smile, “You’re right, of course. I just like to be thorough. We just wanted to know if anything had come across from SIREN, if you needed any extra hands with analysis from the field. We’re here to help.”

“I appreciate it, really.” He didn’t sound that sincere, Donnelley withheld from snorting ruefully, “Just stick to the QRF, if I need anything, I’ll call you.”

When they left the meeting room, Laine turned to Donnelley, “Can I get that fifteen minutes of my life back? Sitting here twiddling our thumbs again.”

She met his eyes with a hint of a smile, “I just hate playing second fiddle.”

He pinched out the cherry of his cigarette and put it in the slowly swelling ziploc, the look of a bad taste on his face, “I’d like five minutes alone with that fat fuck.”

He sighed, stuffing his ziploc back in his hoodie pocket, grabbing his phone and gun off the table and replacing both on his person, “I wonder how many times they’ve had to replace someone on SIREN with an asshole like that at the helm.” He took a few breaths, and came back to Laine with his smirk, “I guess we’d better find somethin’ to occupy us. Any ideas?”

Laine gave him a look, her eyebrow arched slightly at the irony of his statement. She chuckled, bumping his arm with hers, “I have a few, most of them highly inappropriate, sir.”

She glanced over her shoulder and back at him, “I should get back to work, I suppose.”

Donnelley pursed his lips, looking about the empty hallways, “Sure it can’t wait?”

Laine reached into her pocket retrieving a pack of her Djarums and her zippo, lighting her cigarette. She took a drag, the scent of cloves rising between them as it crackled. “Do you know the blind spots?”

He took another drag from a fresh cigarette, nodding, “From the armory to the Library.”

She gave him an impressed raise of her eyebrows, then blew the smoke out slowly towards him, “You already did recon, didn’t you.”

Laine looked him over, her eyes meeting his, “Let’s go to the library.”

“Let’s.” Donnelley turned on his heel and walked on, leading Laine with his hand on the small of her back for a moment, his hand sliding down her rear before he returned it to his side.

She checked over her shoulder when he touched her, then focused on the way he led her. She stole a few glances at him as she smoked and walked. Laine saw the camera and cupped her hand over her cigarette still glowing embers as she finished it. It was angled facing towards the turn of the hallway and Laine checked Donnelley, watching what he was looking for.

Donnelley passed the camera, eyeing it as they passed under it and watched it sink behind the corner, out of view. There was a small indent in the wall where a tagged out and decommissioned electrical panel was set into the concrete wall. Out of view of the next camera, and the last camera conveniently behind the corner, it was a rare lapse in the security of the BLACKBOX. And a perfect opportunity. Donnelley grabbed Laine by the arm and put her back against the wall, stepping forward until they were less than an inch apart. He could feel an electricity between them, an animal aggression he felt as he looked into Laine’s eyes staring into his. His hand went from gently putting pressure around her neck to her jaw, and he leaned forward to kiss her.

Laine pressed back against the wall, looking up at him as she bit her lower lip slightly. Her deep green eyes sparked when he touched her throat, tilting her head up to meet his kiss. Closing her eyes, she felt his lips meet hers, moving against her mouth until she opened to him. She touched his chest, feeling the hard muscle under his shirt and ran her hand down to his belt, giving it a playful tug.

He let go a small chuckle then, moving down to kiss at her neck and nibble at her earlobe. With his other hand, he worked at his buckle and the button of his pants, “I’ve needed this.” Came his hoarse, growling whisper in her ear.

She gasped softly at the sensation on her neck and ear, hearing the clink of the buckle. Her smile grew into something impish as she reached down, moving her hand inside his pants to fondle him as she whispered against his ear, her warm breath washing against him, “I’ve needed this, too.”

Laine rubbed her hand up and down against him through his boxer briefs then drew her hand back out, pulling away. “But I really should finish that compiling of reports.”

“Fuck that guy,” He softly nipped at her earlobe and kissed just under her jaw, feeling her quickened pulse with his lips, “And fuck his reports.”

He pressed a bit of his weight against her, reaching down to feel the softness of her thigh through her leggings, moving up to cup her bottom and give it a firm squeeze. His other hand moved to her waist, thumb hooking into her leggings and making ready to gently shimmy them down.

“I’d rather not fuck him,” she murmured, then laughed softly. Laine arched her back slightly when he grabbed a handful of her ass but when he started to pull down her leggings she stopped him.

“Wait,” she breathed out, looking him in the eyes. “What if someone comes by?”

Even as she spoke she caressed his forearm, feeling the taut muscles that flexed under her hand. “This place is crawling with people that might tattle.”

Laine let her hand slide down, again making a teasing pass at his open pants. “We’re not supposed to be...you know.”

“Fucking.”

Laine felt him again, this time lightly squeezing before letting go. He groaned. Out of pleasure, but also the annoyance of always having to be cautious. “It’ll be quick?” He tried.

She inhaled deeply, then shook her head but kissed him, long and deep. How she wanted to throw caution to the wind but the small space in the empty hall seemed to echo sound, each footstep magnified. Any noises they made might be heard and the risk of losing her team and Donnelley was too much. When she broke away, Laine cupped his jaw and met his eyes, “We’ll save it for when we can be sure it’ll be private.”

“Danger’s half the fun of these things.” He grumbled quietly as he buckled himself back up.

Laine chuckled, grazing his jaw with her fingernails, “So is teasing you.”

She gave him a half smile with a twinkle in her eyes and a promise in the sway of her hips as she left the alcove to head back down the hall towards the library. It was difficult not to turn around to look back, her body humming with anticipation only to be denied.

Laine passed through security without the guards blinking and went back to the same table and computer terminal, setting out her laptop and got back to work. The frustration with Greedy pushed aside, she thought back on Blackriver and the lost threads of that case.

>BLACKBOX LIBRARY
>1155...///

Ava shut off half the lights to the computer lab, her coat over her arm with her headphones around her neck and her laptop bag containing her notebook and a USB filled with raw data slung over her shoulder. She glanced around the library as she went to reception, spotting Laine still working alone; though she distinctly remembered seeing Donnelley with her at some point.

She made her way over to reception, signed herself out and filed the necessary paperwork to claim the tracker as a piece of evidence in an active case so she could keep it. She had put it back together the best she could, but put it in a small sample jar from the lab to keep it safe.

After that was completed, she made her way over to Laine, setting down her bag into an empty chair and draping her coat over the top. “Hey there study buddy.” She said with a smile. “How’s your research going?”

Laine glanced up, shaking her head as she stretched, “It’s going. Where I don’t know but it’s going. I found some interesting similarities to our old case, but as for the one we’re working on. I’m basically going over the same ground SIREN has, still waiting for them to return.”

She sat up, turning her body in the chair to face Ava. Laine looked at the young woman for a moment then glanced away, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier, losing my cool in front of you and Dave. I know that sort of thing might make you anxious so I wanted to apologize.”

Ava blinked in surprise, taken aback by the apology. “It’s alright, it didn’t make me anxious it just caught me off guard. I get it, it’s a very,” She let out a heavy sigh. “Frustrating situation.”

She perked up and smiled again. “But I saw Donnelley in here a while ago, did you guys make up?”

Laine glanced up at that, surprised then guarded at the insinuation as she replied, “Donnelley and I are professionals, we might disagree and frustrate each other sometimes, but yes, we’re fine. It’s nothing to worry about.”

She smiled briefly then leaned down, her short dark hair falling past her face as she picked up her briefcase. “You’ll be wanting your phone I suspect.”

Laine took out the pink case covered in blooming roses handing the Iphone to Ava. “I think I’ll go to our bunk and take a nap, I’m done for now until SIREN comes back with something.”

Ava blinked again, this time in confusion at the response to her question. “Uh, yeah I need my phone back, I’m done in the lab.” Ava took the phone and slipped it into her bag. “I’ve gotten all I can out of the hardware aspect with the tracker.” She patted her bag. “Now comes the fun part where I look at all the raw data and code that was on the tracker. Thankfully I can do that anywhere since I copied it over to a USB.” She frowned. “It’s going to take me awhile and I want to be able to get food and coffee and go to the bathroom.”

Ava’s frown deepened as she kept her hands braced on the back of the chair. “Laine...the level of technology that went into this thing...it’s pretty scary.” She said quietly.

Laine slung the briefcase over her shoulder, “It sounds very weird from what you’re saying, nothing the US is doing that we know, that is scary. Walk with me, can you work on it in the bunk room? Or you have somewhere else in mind?”

“Yeah the bunk room is good, I’ll get some provisions from the cafeteria before I get to work but I want to drop off my stuff at least..and know where it is.” She picked up her bag and her coat, and nodded to the door before walking. “You know that math equation I was having trouble with?” She grimaced. “I checked my work 20 times and I finally had to admit that my math was right.”

“Snacks sound good, I’ll come with you,” Laine said, her jacket over her arm, “Well, that’s good? Your math is right. That’s the nice thing with math, there’s nothing to guess at. It’s right or wrong.”

As they passed the guards and exited into the hallway, Laine prodded at her, “Why does that bother you, that you’re correct?”

“...Because it means that the device can be pinged from up to 20 kilometers away and that the power capacity of the battery, which is half the size of the tracker, has the same power as a 5590 battery. Which is something used on things like military grade radios to boost their range and performance.” She looked up at Laine. “What’s really scary is that it works so well that it shouldn’t even need that much power. The only reason I can think it would be that powerful was if it needed to power the tracker for long term surveillance.”

She shook her head. “That device shouldn’t work as well as it does and the fact that it does...That takes money, state funded kind of money.”

Laine tilted her head slightly, “Maybe Dave was right. It might be a gift.”

They approached the cafeteria, a large open room with kitchens in the back and the buffet line still open for lunch. Laine picked up a granola bar and a bottle of water, leaving the array of sodas and energy drinks alone so she could fall asleep. She found a pack of elk jerky and picked up a couple, no doubt the boys would like it. Laine rolled her eyes to herself, thinking of grown men that way but a smile flickered across her face.

“Let’s continue this in the room,” Laine advised as they passed a couple of guards on their lunch breaks, loading up their plates.

“Share some gummy bears with me?” she asked Ava, picking up a peg bag full of colorful candy.

“You don’t even have to ask.” Ava smiled as she looked over her options. She grabbed a prepackaged ham and cheese sandwich, a few chocolate and peanut butter protein bars and a 15oz can of cold vanilla flavored coffee.

She juggled the items in her arms, looking at Laine and her sensible picks and then back down at her arms full of what was essentially gamer food. “...Don’t judge me.” She smiled sheepishly. “I know how I get when I have a coding problem in front of me.”

"You actually got a sandwich, I'm not judging," Laine replied, then went back to the cooler where Ava found hers. "Well, shit I should just buy lunch but I don't want to hang around here."

Chicken salad. She checked the expiration date then picked up potato chips, her arms full as they went to the cashier. Laine looked at him, wondering how someone made it to be a cashier at a black site.

Ava deposited her items on the counter, perking up as something off in the corner caught her eye. She excused herself and stepped away before returning a few moments later with a large coffee cup. She set it down with a grin. “One hot chocolate too, please.” she said, opening up her laptop bag and shifting things around so she could carry her snacks easier.

Once they paid and gathered up their spoils, Ava looked back up at Laine. “Have you been by the bunk rooms yet?”

Laine glanced at her, “Just to drop off my bag, did Dave take yours I guess?”

She stepped into the room, it was large and perfectly square, the beds lined up in a double row with a walkway down the center. Each one was neatly made with white sheets and dark green blankets, each one exactly the same. Nothing adorned the walls except an exit sign, the bathroom sign, and another map of the facilities.

Laine found the bed near the back wall next to the bathroom with her bag set on top of the locker, it had been moved from where she had tossed it on a bed near the door. Things ran differently at BLACKBOX. Ava’s bag was sitting on the footlocker beside Laine’s, both had been moved and the bed nearest to the door was claimed. A dark gray backpack, some military issued thing Laine did not recognize, was on the locker and a pair of rather large women’s boots next to the bed. There was a patch velcroed onto the backpack and Laine stepped over to take a closer look. It appeared to be a unit patch but no unit known outside the Program. A three pronged fork rising from the waves and the word TRIDENT behind it.

“I wonder who that belongs to,” she said dryly and walked back to Ava. “You know, I kind of miss the shitty motels.”

Ava looked around the room, sipping her hot chocolate and eyeing the military kitbag placed by the door. “If she wants to be the first one up and out if there’s trouble, more power to her.” She shrugged and wandered over to her bag, picking it up and moving it closer to the bathroom. “If she’s like the rest of her team, I’ll keep far away from her.”

“Good idea,” Laine said, setting the items from the cafeteria down. “I just hate it when someone touches my stuff.”

She unwrapped the sandwich and sat on the edge of her bed, facing the door. “This reminds me of camp. Maybe we do the old warm water trick to her.”

After a few bites of her chicken salad, she glanced at Ava, “I’m joking of course. I don’t want to get powerbombed. Let her keep her space.”

Ava grimaced at the idea, even if it was a joke. “Yeah, that’s the plan.” She set down her laptop bag, sat on the bed and started pulling out everything she’d need to decipher the data she gathered.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead

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>THE BLACKBOX
>THE RANGE
>1140...///

What the BLACKBOX called their range seemed almost a modern miracle. Huge, cavernous, Donnelley wondered just how they’d built it. Or what it was before. A huge atrium hollowed out of the earth, lights overhead giving a dim glow to everything. There was a shoothouse, complete with catwalk, a range with targets set out to 50 meters and another on the far end of the room that went far beyond that. There was a chill down his spine, and he didn’t know if it was excitement at the prospect of using the facility or if there was actual air flow within the cavern.

He looked around for where this calamitous staccato of rounds being squeezed off was coming from. Somewhere in the shoothouses were his boys, and THUNDER. And TRIDENT. There was another resounding outcry of yelling. He rolled his shoulder, the hand of the same arm clutching onto his gun case carrying his Sig MCX. It wasn’t his gun, but it was close enough, issued by the armory in the BLACKBOX. He forwent the grenade launcher. He already had his plate carrier, battle belt, and helmet on, the buckles dangling on either side of his head. When he found them, they were cliqued up amongst their teams near the shoothouse. Avery was off to the side next to THUNDER while the rest of them bullshitted, even Dave.

He was coming into his own, becoming a better shooter with access to facilities like the Farm and the BLACKBOX. By the look on Avery’s face, he wasn’t quite as far along as Dave. He didn’t look uncomfortable in his battle rattle, but the way he held his rifle seemed off, like he couldn’t decide what way to hold it and just decided to do his best to do what everyone else was doing. He drew in a breath, taking in that familiar smell of powder and smiled. “So, where we at with all this?”

“He’s doing better,” Ghost said, pointing at Dave. “This one…” He pointed at Avery and paused, long enough for Dave to take over.

“He’s gettin’ better too,” Dave said firmly. “Groups are gettin’ tighter, an’ his reloads ain’t bad.”

“They aren’t good.”

“But they ain’t bad, and they’re a lot better than they were.” Dave winked at Avery, seemingly unconcerned to be disagreeing with Ghost.

Dave had donned a pair of fatigues similar to Ghost’s, a black Multicam combat top with matching trousers, and he’d replaced his personal rig with a tidy set-up of Program-issue gear. From the placement of his equipment it was clear he’d taken Ghost’s advice; his magazine pouches, IFAK, and tourniquet had all been moved to more ergonomic locations, and he’d added a suppressor for the Sig holstered on his thigh, which at the moment rode in its own pouch. Except for the leather-grip Buck knife he carried everywhere, he looked less like a “Backwoods Operator” and more like an “Operator” in general.

“I do kinda wish the outfit came in RealTree,” Dave said, eliciting a sigh from Ghost.

“Fucking hillbilly.”

Dave shrugged, his grin unshakable, and turned his attention to Donnelley. “You down here to play, too?”

“Down here to see if I can still run with the wolves. If we go out, I wanna know if I can still get some.” Donnelley smirked, putting down his gun case. He opened it up and retrieved the short carbine, putting on the sling and letting the MCX hang, sliding his hands in his pockets. “So, what y’all been runnin’ through? Two-man, three-man? We racin’?”

Queen found the rest of THUNDER at the range, their home away from home. He still wore Ava’s beret, having not found the time to return it as he had been on a detailed tour of the facilities. He whistled “Les Chantes de Partisans” then switched to “Les Marseillaise” as he stepped into the mix of THUNDER and UMBRA. He spotted Ghost and Donnelley, and Dave standing around with their guns. Dave looked more like one of the shooters than before and it was slightly disappointing not to see the Wranglers and flannel.

He smiled like a cat at the sight of the handsome mountain man, reaching up to adjust the soft gray beret to a cocky angle. His eyes danced, pupils dilated and his grin unable to be suppressed. Queen strolled up to Donnelley, stopping short and firing him a salute, “Le capitaine! Vive le Résistance!

“This is America, Queen.” Donnelley joked, stuffing a cigarette between his lips and leaving it unlit. He hooked his thumbs into his belt loops, smirking and shaking his head at his inebriated partner-in-crime, “You still ain’t give that hat back?”

Queen patted the beret, then grinned again and whispered loudly, “Non.I have found the hiding spots, mon amie, from a secret source.”

He pulled from inside his jacket a map that had been pulled off the wall and marked and he made a show of sneaking it over to Donnelley. “Ze Germans will never know.”

Queen stepped back as he absently hunted his pockets for his cigarettes, the French accent replaced with the north Florida drawl, “Is Ghost scaring the new kid yet?”

Dave caught sight of the beret on Queen’s head and for an instant, just a heartbeat, his fist tightened with the urge to send a fist crashing into the man’s jaw. He gritted his teeth; he trusted Ava, she was too innocent to try anything underhanded. Queen, on the other hand, had made his intentions with her known from the start, and given the foot that he and Dave had gotten off on it was hard for Dave not to immediately assume that everything the man did was a personal slight. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ghost cut him off.

“You look like a fucking idiot,” Ghost said, eyeing the hat through his bolted-on Oakleys. He waved a hand in Avery’s direction. “If he’s scared, he ain’t scared enough. The redneck’s doing well enough that he’ll probably kill a few before he takes one in the face. The puppy is bait.”

Queen caught Dave's reaction, the visceral response from the sight of his headwear. He could read the tension in the man and felt a moment of malicious pleasure before his better nature caught him. He turned away, entertaining himself with Donnelley until he handed over his marked map good for all sorts of recreation.

He reached up to touch the beret when Ghost remarked on it. Through the pleasant haze of the pills he took a silly smile grew on his face. Though he would never be so bold around Ghost alone he had his best friend with him.

"But... I want to be an airborne ranger!" He said, in a passionate voice, loud enough during a lull in shooting. He continued singing as he spotted TRIDENT looking over at him. "I want to be an airborne ranger! Live a life of guts and dayynger!"

He flexed his arms, his wiry biceps nowhere near Ghost impressive. From a few feet away a murmur was heard before one of the TRIDENT Operators stalked over. He wasn’t any older than Avery, it looked like, but there was fury in his frown and knitted brow. “That beret ain’t even tan, you fucking cocksuck!” He shoved a finger in Queen’s face and Donnelley nonchalantly stepped forward and staggered his feet to get ready, still behind Queen, but well within striking distance while the Ranger continued, “I swear to god, if this asshole doesn’t let up, I’ll break his face open.”

Donnelley caught Dave’s reaction from earlier, and he knew Queen’s nature when people fed him what he wanted. If this was some smooth-brain from a bar, he wouldn’t think twice, but they were all certified killers here. Donnelley lay a hand on Queen’s shoulder, “Give the beret to Dave, man.” Donnelley dragged Queen behind him and stood up to the young buck, “Surely, if’n muh pardner insulted yer fuckin’ hat, I apologize.”

The other man took a step back now that he wasn’t faced with thin, inebriated Queen and staring into Tex’s eyes. One step back, but not one more.

“Tired of all this dick-waving,” Ghost growled from behind them. He took off his rifle and shoved it into Avery’s hands, pushing his way through the group. As he shrugged Donnelley and Queen aside he cocked back his fist, intent on hammering the TRIDENT operator. The Ranger saw it coming, the massive haymaker on a collision course with his face, and skipped back, causing the fist to whiff by in front of his chin.

Seeing the huge ex Delta make for the kid from TRIDENT, Queen cupped his hands around his mouth, bellowing out, "GET SOME, GHOST, hoorah!"

From behind the Ranger, Donnelley watched another of TRIDENT step forward and took that as his cue. He wasn’t going to let Ghost get blindsided, one part because he was his friend, and the other part because he wouldn’t hear the goddamn end of it if he didn’t do anything. He shoved Queen backwards and marched forward, cocking his leg back for a devastating kick to the man’s chest. He let loose- and missed. The TRIDENT operator, a scowling big beard of a man, sidestepped and caught Donnelley’s leg.

Donnelley dropped as his back leg was swept from under him and he landed hard on his back, his unbuckled helmet sliding back towards THUNDER as if leaving him to his fate.

With the sudden violence unfolding, Dave laughed. He dropped his rifle, letting it clatter to the ground, and rushed in at the bearded TRIDENT punk who had put Donnelley on his ass. With a wild whoop he cocked back on the run and let fly, his fist connecting solidly with the larger man’s chin. His opponent grunted and pitched backwards, his helmeted head clacking on the ground, out of the fight and dazed.

Queen stumbled back as Donnelley pushed him out of the way, still grinning as chaos unfolded around him. He stepped forward towards the kid that had originally taken his bait.

Laughing, Queen tightened his fist and said, "Bitch, it's dove gray!"

He swung wildly, his punch catching air over the Ranger's shoulder just missing his ear. He stumbled forward, then recovered his footing as he swiveled around. His disappointment was short-lived when he heard the thud of one of TRIDENT hitting the ground.

"Yeehaw!" He shouted, waving the beret, forgetting the pissed off Ranger for a split second.

"Cocksucker!" The young Ranger shouted, throwing a punch towards Queen's mocking grin and despite an almost perverse desire to stand and take the hit, the agent instinctively dodged. He felt the air breeze by him as he leaned back, doing an agile twist to step back and away from Ghost and the kid.

Ghost snarled and, in the split second that the Ranger’s attention was on Queen, he piled in from the man’s blindside. Unencumbered, he fired a tight one-two, a jab and a cross that bounced the man’s head twice like it was on a Slinky. He pulled the punches, not wanting the clusterfuck that would come from killing a fellow Program operative, but the dual impacts were enough to cross the man’s eyes and drop him like a stone. That done he turned his attention on the rest of Trident, taking a step forward to stand beside Dave, who was already facing them with a broad country-boy grin.

“Everyone, stand the fuck, down!” The last remaining member of TRIDENT said, his companion that didn’t have any interest in dick-wagging sans dick stood next to him, her arms crossed. Already the bearded man that put Donnelley down was getting to his feet with wobbly legs and stumbling over to check on the Ranger.

Donnelley was on his feet, stepping up beside Dave with his fists balled, breathing heavy and a fury in his eyes for getting so manhandled earlier. “That’s easy for you to fuckin’ say, you piece o’ shit.”

“Who’s watching your fucking back out there if we get activated?” The TRIDENT team lead threw his hands out, pleading for reason, “Rooster, hurry the fuck up and get Moon, you dumbfuck. We’re leaving.”

Ghost took a few steps forward, ignoring the rest of them. He nodded at the muscular woman on TRIDENT.

“You got a workout partner?”

The big woman looked Ghost up and down, not even making any effort to be subtle about it, her head moving with her eyes before she turned her chin up at him for a few long moments. She smirked, a small shake of the head before she followed her team away. TRIDENT’s team lead turned around as they walked out, “Fuck you, and fuck that tattoo’d motherfucker!”

Queen gazed up at the woman, surreptitiously looking her over as Ghost made his move. He had the desire to yell out the same encouragement but embarrassing Ghost in front of a woman, he might as well cut his own throat. The pleasant haze still enveloped him as the adrenaline receded with TRIDENT.

He gave an overly friendly wave at the retreating team leader, unable to stop himself from laughing. Queen sighed and turned, spotting Dave who had stepped back after Ghost put on the grand finale.

He removed the little gray beret and folded it over, reaching out to hand it to Dave. "Helluva right hook, Ozark."

Dave looked over at Queen, still caught up in the rush of the brawl. He grinned and took the beret, too amped to stay mad.

“Thanks, man,” he said, folding the hat carefully and putting it in his cargo-pocket. “It uh...It goes better with her outfit than yours, anyway.”

He offered his hand.

Queen returned the smile, buzzing from the big dose of painkillers and the fight. He took Dave's hand in a firm, quick shake. "You're right, it's just not the same without the coat."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of Kools, shaking one out for himself, pulling it from the box with his lips. He shook it again and offered a cigarette to Dave.

"Showed them military bros what's up," he grinned around the unlit cigarette, his sea colored eyes dancing, "Fuck em, right?"

“Fuck ‘em,” Dave confirmed. He waved off the cigarette, but pulled a can of Cope from his back pocket. After a few snaps he took out a large pinch. “No thanks, man, I ain’t a smoker. It’s a taste thing. I’ll join ya though,” he said, packing his lip. “Bit of victory-tobacco.”

Queen fished out the plastic lighter and flicked it, lighting the menthol cigarette as he nodded. "I used to dip, way back in the day," he took a drag and exhaled through his nose. "Can't smoke on the baseball field. I liked that berry Skoal."

He chuckled at Dave then saw Donnelley approaching and checked his expression. He muttered, "Your boss might be a little mad at me."

“Thanks.” Donnelley butted his forearm on Dave’s shoulder, unable to express anything else from the embarrassment of going down like he did. He busied himself with going for his helmet and gun case, undoing the clips and throwing it open, taking the MCX and cradling it in his folded arms, “So. Are we gonna fuckin’ train or what?”
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead

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>BLACKBOX
>ALASKA
>1400...///

Queen stood in the bathroom, holding toilet paper to his nose, his head tilted down. The blood that had dripped down was hidden by the dark navy of the UNF t-shirt he wore. It had been a mistake to snort the oxycodone, he should have smoked it but carrying around a glass pipe or weed was a little more risky. He pulled the paper back, the bright red soaking through it and it tossed it in the toilet, flushing it with his foot. He took a bit more paper and rolled it up, shoving it impatiently into his nostrils.

He leaned against the sink, holding his head lower, staring down into the drain. It was quiet but for the rushing of blood in his ears, the sound of distant water in the pipes. For a moment he saw pale stone walls, the hiss of water shifting to sand and the hard bright stars were strange in his mind’s eye, twisting and changing. Queen snapped his head up, blowing the small wads of toilet paper out of his nostrils as he breathed out sharply.

Queen ran a hand over his sandy blonde hair, grown out almost to his shoulders now. The beard was scruffy but he left it alone, it suited Alaska. He reached into the sink, picking up the bloody pieces of tissue and turned the water on, letting it rush out to hear it run and forget the sounds in the sand. He splashed it on his face and rubbed his eyes before checking to see if he was still bleeding.

“They jump you or something?” Donnelley asked, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed and smirking.

He watched Queen while he tended to his nose, knowing that the blood definitely wasn’t gotten during the fight. He’d have seen it when they were running drills in the shoothouse. It was the drugs, Donnelley knew. As long as he’d known Queen, it was the drugs.

Queen sniffed hard and coughed, spitting a mix of blood and phlegm into the sink that washed away with the running water. He gave Donnelley a lopsided grin, “Ain’t none of them jumping me, I’m too sneaky. I’d just run through a narrow doorway. ‘Sides, it’s just that dry heated air in here.”

He looked down at his shirt, despite the dark color hiding the blood stains he could feel them and he peeled it off, sticking it under the faucet to rinse it. Rust colored water appeared until it ran clear and Queen turned the handle and wrung out the shirt. His lean body was covered in both colorful and black ink tattoos, no real pattern or reason could be discerned yet the swirling chaos suited him.

Queen eyed Donnelley, leaving his t-shirt hanging over the sink and he leaned a hand against it, his other hand resting halfway in his pocket. He seemed more wiry, his muscles standing out in sharper relief without added weight.

“Looks like you might be getting rusty, hanging out with the nerds,” he chuckled, reaching up to scratch at his arm. “We need to get into some more scrapes, keep you limber.”

Donnelley chuckled, looking away from Queen and shaking his head with that smile of his. His eyes settled on Queen again, the smile taking a while to fade, “Wouldn’a been a fight if you hadn’t picked on that Ranger like an asshole,” Donnelley looked Queen up and down, even now being with Laine he couldn’t deny that Queen didn’t have his charm. He looked into Queen’s eyes again, speaking softer, “Asshole.

Queen’s impish grin grew, his eyes twinkling as he looked Donnelley over, “I thought you liked it when I’m an asshole.”

He shrugged one shoulder, then ran a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled, “Besides, how was I to know there was an airborne ranger on that team. I just wanted to express how much I missed out on being a part of the big green machine.”

He giggled like a boy caught in a prank, standing up straight and he crossed his arms, “Come on, you can’t tell me that wasn’t funny. Those TRIHARDS.”

Queen brushed under his nose, checking surreptitiously to see if he was still bleeding but it had seemed to stop.

“Missed out on takin’ the Big Green Weenie too. Not as fun as it sounds.” He shrugged, sighing at Queen’s antics, a mainstay of who he was ever since they’d met. He smiled softly at him, “It was funny, though, I ain’t gonna lie. Ranger gettin’ his shit pushed in by Ghost was nice to watch.”

He looked around the bathroom, the moment growing silent for a few moments,”So, you gonna share, or what?”

Queen clapped his hands together once, “When have I ever held out on you?”

He reached into the deep pocket of his gray camouflage TRU-SPEC pants that hung low on his hips, showing the lines of his pelvis and the slight trail of hair from his navel. The pants were the smallest size they had at the base, full of men competing to be Ghost large. The baggy was twisted around and knotted, Queen prying it open to open a couple of brown prescription vials. “I got a new order of oxycodone, some Valium and Xanax. And good ol’ Peruvian snow.”

“Left the weed, the smell you know?” he reasoned, tossing the bag to Donnelley to take his pick. He looked over the older warrior, at the scar and his familiar features. “Is that all you’re looking to share with me?”

His sea colored eyes gleamed with interest, Queen had noticed the increase in muscle mass that caused the t-shirt to pull tighter on Donnelley’s biceps. He reminded himself he should hit the weights when he had free time, rather than sleeping.

Donnelley snatched the bag out of the air and looked at the assortment of fun, eyes picking through the selection. “Should probably stick with the coke, haven’t been sleepin’ too much past couple days, though.” He shrugged, “Oxy’s will help me sleep.”

He avoided Queen’s insinuating question for a few seconds as he rifled for the Oxy’s, popping two in his mouth and the crunch of them was heard. He pulled his flask from his thigh pocket and dangled it about, “Got this too.” He uncapped it and took a few sips, grimacing slightly. He offered the flask over, hoping that would satisfy his question and eyed the THUNDER unit insignia inked on Queen. He pointed at it with his chin, “Still got mine too.”

Queen took the flask, not bothering to sniff it, he knew what it held. The taste of whiskey was as much a part of Donnelley as punk music in a pickup truck. He stepped closer to him, glancing once at the closed bathroom door and a sly grin appeared on his face as he grazed his teeth against his lower lip. “Yeah, I still got mine. It ain’t going anywhere. I still remember when we gave you yours, once you stopped being such a brooding asshole.”

He grinned and looked thoughtful, the scent of whiskey and the reflection of his own tattoos in the mirror, THUNDER’s insignia on his bicep brought him back to that night.

::2016::

The rest of the team had all gone to sleep, or off to do their own things. Ghost went off to do whatever he usually did, Donnelley didn’t know any of them that well yet, Ghost least of all. Maui was alright, the big Hawaiian who loved to laugh, his high pitched screams of laughter being so contagious to Donnelley that even he couldn’t help but crack a grin. Poker was Poker, a shifty-eyed killer, the very picture of a Program Wetwork Operator. Honestly, not too different from himself. Queen though, Queen was different.

In all the ways that were right, he was different. Donnelley lay on his back, getting the cracked skull and crossed thunderbolts that was THUNDER’s unit patch tattooed along his ribs. They didn’t get to display it often, but a lot of the other Wetwork Teams had their own hanging over their barracks door here at the CIA. The only place that could or would house the redheaded step-children of America’s clandestine paramilitary operators. “Always liked the feelin’ of tattoos. Got a few yourself,” He looked at the other man steadily concentrating on the shading. The same man only a few nights ago who’d shown him the Amsterdam streets while they were on Leave, “They got a story?”

Queen's hand was steady as he filled the shadows of the skull, not answering until he had to pause to refill his gun. "All these? Sure they do, some are epic journeys, some are memories."

He gestured to the rose tattoo on his hand. "Some were even for a cover. And a couple are just me liking how it looked."

A grin flickered across his face as he glanced up at Donnelley. "I'm a real man of mystery, Tex."

He went back to work, keeping his eyes on the guidelines. "It's addictive you know, get one tattoo or get a dozen. There's not much in between."

“I’ll say,” Donnelley lifted his head to peer at the other tattoos, markedly lower quality and faded, all memories of old times and old friends, “Maybe that’s why I like you. Fuckin’ Tex.”

He snorted at the new nickname, dropping his head back on the arm of the couch. He was shirtless, and being honest, it made him feel nice whenever he caught Queen’s eyes roaming while he worked. Their time in Amsterdam was secret, just for them. “Tex…” he gave a small nod, finally accepting the name, wasn’t the worst. “Amsterdam was fun.”

Donnelley smirked, looking down again at Queen working, the tattoo starting to become even more fleshed out with the lighting and shadow. Donnelley didn’t know that side of himself for more than a few days now, but it felt true and it felt right. And Queen was someone who understood his life without even being there. Two of a kind, “Really fun.” He smiled.

::...::

He took a sip from the flask, his own buzz wearing off and he felt the tug of weariness but the interest was more in the man before him. “You gonna get one for your new team?” he asked, a hint of mockery but he still smiled, “Big boss man. Daddy Donnelley, now huh?”

Donnelley snorted, rolling his eyes at Queen, “Yeah, that’s what I am now, I guess. I miss the days of the hardest cases bein’ shootin’ or blackbaggin’ some poor bastard.” He shook his head and smirked, “Then again, I don’t know where they’d get a better team lead than me.”

“I don’t think they could,” Queen admitted, looking at him over again. His interest was stirring to places that did not involve their jobs. He took another sip of whiskey and moved in closer, handing back the flask. “You know, I got a tour of the facilities, I wasn’t joking about that. Just traded some pills to a dude that works here, knows the place well. Places even more private than an empty bathroom.”

Queen felt his face flush warm, the whiskey and the idea of having Donnelley in some hidden corner of the base full of the biggest, baddest pipe hitters around. “Whattya think? Ain’t much else to do while we sit around and wait.”

He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile crossing his face. Donnelley felt his smile grow too, an almost Pavlovian response to that mischievous smile of Queen’s. It reminded him of older times. And as he took a long swig from his flask and capped it off, there wasn’t much else to do but follow Queen, “Lead the way, Ranger.” Donnelley teased.

Queen grinned and flipped him off, then grunted deeply, “Huh-raah!

“Shit,” he grabbed his shirt, still wet from rinsing it and grimaced at the thought of putting it on. “Let me borrow your jacket. I don’t want all the security guards getting their dicks hard seeing me walking around half naked.”

A pause as he thought about it. “Might look funny.”

He took the jacket and flung it over his shoulders, then put his arms through and popped his hair over the collar. “Damn, this looks good on me.”

He ran his hand down his bare stomach, his nails grazing below his navel. Queen led the way out of the restroom, noting the silence of the range. It was empty, TRIDENT had retreated and THUNDER and the couple of shooters of UMBRA had finally left. He reached into Donnelley’s coat and found the map he had stashed there himself and unrolled it. “I marked all the spots, some of them are well known, you know? Just that agreement that no one bothers when it’s occupied.”

There was one such place on the range, he pointed it out to Donnelley, “He said put the wet floor sign outside the door and no one will barge into that closet. But I think we’d better find something even more secluded.”

Queen glanced at Donnelley, feeling the stirring below again. They had always been secret, it was between them and them alone. Especially Donnelley was wary about anyone finding out, it had taken enough for him to admit it not just to Queen but to himself.

“Round the corner, there,” Queen said, gesturing at the map. “A storage of backup generators, fuse boxes and shit, unless we have a big storm and the power goes out, no one goes there but there’s room. A whole wall where nothing is stored against, enough room to roll out a sleeping bag.”

He shrugged, then grinned slightly, “There’s supposed to be a key. My source said it’s been broken for months though, no one has bothered to fix it so you can get in and move something in front of the door from the inside.”

“There’s a couple spots between the armory and library, and another storage unit in the cellar,” Queen finished, handing over the map. He had memorized the places, made a copy of the wall map.

Donnelley took a look at the map, whistling his appreciation and clucking his tongue. Queen could always come through with the intel. “I been doin’ a little recon myself, casin’ this joint. I found this one,” He pointed at one of the ones between the armory and the Library, “I don’t know how you do it, Queen. I owe you a cigarette. A real man’s cigarette, not those fuckin’ Kools.” Donnelley winked.

“Let’s check out the cellar.” Donnelley offered the map back.

“How they gonna know I’m cool if I’m not smoking Kools,” Queen scoffed, “Alright, follow me Marlboro Man.”

The cellar in the underground facility was mostly used for storage of huge metal cases full of old files locked with padlocks and locked inside caged off areas. Beyond the forgotten files there were stacks of broken desks and chairs, even an old sofa with worn cushions and missing a leg. Queen had wondered why they did not just throw them out but laziness was efficient in some eyes. Left alone in the deep cellar, they were out of sight out of mind, along with an alcove set into the back wall, deep in shadows. A few old blankets and an old Hustler magazine with curling pages was tossed aside.

“This ain’t the most popular hangout place it seems,” he said after they stood in the silence for some time looking around in the dim light of a few overhead fluorescent bulbs, several burned out.

Donnelley bent down and plucked a tiny roll of paper from the floor, sniffing it. His suspicions were correct, “Fuckin’ stoners guardin’ one of the most classified bases in the world.” He flicked it away, standing and fishing his pack of cigarettes from his hoodie pocket, lighting up and offering one to Queen, “Think you can still get a hard-on with those downers, Opie?”

It was a cheeky joke, but a tiny voice in the back of his head was telling him that Laine wouldn’t be too pleased to know he was inside someone else. What happened in Vegas, as the saying goes, stayed there. But he made a silent promise to himself the morning after that he wouldn’t live like he was going to die tomorrow anymore. He flopped down into the couch, legs spread wide and arms out along the back of the couch, “Or is it all about me today?”

Queen took the cigarette, flashing an amused if sheepish grin at his question. He put it between his lips, letting it dangle a bit before he pushed it up slowly and bounced it a bit in a mockery of his question about the strength of his erections. Peering through the smoke at Tex, he smiled at his friend and reached down to grope himself through his pants. “I think I could wake him up,” he chuckled, then knelt on the couch with one leg, the other foot braced against the ground. He was casually positioned between Donnelley’s legs, reaching up to pinch the cigarette between two fingers, blowing a smoke ring over his head.

“It’s all about you, cowboy,” Queen replied, unable to keep from grinning. “Then it can be about me. Just like the playground, we both get our turns.”

He laughed a bit, taking a drag then put his free hand on Donnelley’s thigh, rubbing it along the taut muscle just up to where he would brush against pelvic bone. “I got some other party favors, if you got time.”

“For you, Queen?” Donnelley let his head roll back as Queen massaged the muscles in his legs, groaning his pleasure. He was like a coiled spring mentally, and physically. The tension there wherever Queen touched seemed to soften with his kneading fingers, sending tingling waves of euphoria up to flush his face, “I always have time for you.”

“Because I’m me,” Queen chuckled and kept the cigarette between his lips, the plump lower lip almost pouting with the action.

He ran his hand over his thigh again, leaning closer, letting his other hand fall on Donnelley’s thigh sprawled against the back of the sofa. Each pass of his hands got closer to the center, the ash growing on his cigarette as he looked up at Donnelley’s face. “Same here, you know? I always got time for you, even if we’re...doing our own things,” he muttered around the cigarette.

Queen removed the cigarette, tossing it on the ground and he stomped and twisted it his boot against it. He breathed out the smoke, narrowing his eyes as his hand passed over Donnelley’s crotch, brushing against the buckle of his belt before reaching under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. The muscles there reacted to his touch and he grinned a bit, biting his lip before shifting so he could get closer.

Donnelley bit his lower lip, letting out a deep, slow chuckle at the feeling of Queen’s fingers over his skin. He shimmied his hips to come closer towards him, “Makin’ me melt, Billy.”

...Donnelley sighed, at this point growing embarrassed at his failure to stand it up. He lay a hand on Queen’s shoulder, knowing anything else would be wasted time and effort. “I think it’s the whiskey, or somethin’. Stressed about bullshit.” It’d never stopped him before, but that’s what he wanted to believe. What he wanted Queen to believe. He said weakly, “I don’t know, Billy, sorry.”

Queen lifted his head, glancing at Donnelley then nodded, “Sure, whiskey dick.”

It was a lie, and it made his own arousal dampen but he smiled and shrugged, "No big deal, we'll have another time. I'll take the coke and poppers and make it a real party."

Queen adjusted himself and looked around the cellar. He clapped Donnelley on the thigh, "I think I need to catch some sleep anyway. You know, oxy wore off."

He stood up putting Donnelley's jacket and ruminated over what he wanted to say but then looked down at his friend with a half smile, "You know if you need to vent some stress, I'm good at keeping secrets."

“Yeah.” Donnelley smirked at Queen, getting another cigarette out of his pack and lighting it up. He looked away from him, knowing that he knew this was a lie. He contemplated coming clean, but decided against it. He took a long drag off his cigarette, “I’ll meet you in the bunks. Or wherever. You got my number, or one of ‘em.”

Queen nodded, sniffing a bit, "Yep, I got your number."

He took his own cigarettes, the half empty pack of Kools and struck his own light. "And your jacket, so now you're obligated to find me."

He flashed his cheeky grin around the cigarette "Catch you later, Donnelley."

Queen headed back through the cellar, a confusion and weariness pulling at him and he just wanted his bed right now.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead

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>BLACKBOX
>STORAGE CELLAR
>ZERO DARK...///

Donnelley woke with a start, flailing and falling out of the musty couch he slept on. He lay on his back on the dusty floor and stared up at the darkness of the ceiling. It was a hard time, waking up, even nowadays. He breathed deep and hard, feeling his heart thumping in his chest like it was trying to break out through his ribs. His shirt was sticky with sweat, but he couldn’t remember what his dream was even about. Of course, nowadays, there wasn’t much variety to his dreams after Pakistan and every other forgotten spot on the globe where people were desperate as animals. He just lay there for a few minutes, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and taking a nip off his flask as he searched for his lighter. The flame glowed in the shadows of the cellar, adding light for barely a second as it kissed the end of his cigarette.

He blew the smoke out, watching it spread and dissipate, flowing into a still cloud on the static air of the cellar. His eyes went to his pocket as it vibrated. Tapping it on, he went to his messages, seeing he had a new one from Ava in a group chat with the rest of them-

“Guys, guys, guys! I got a conference room, meet me as soon as possible, I have so much to tell you! This is so awesome everyone is going to be so happy fuck those Russian a-shores wait did it send”

Donnelley snorted, a pleasant grin on his face. He checked the time, 00:02. The first smile of the day, thanks to Ava, and it was only two minutes in. Hopefully not the last. He groaned as he got to standing and stretched until he popped. Taking a few more drags off of his cigarette in quick succession and blowing them all out as one. Taking a deep swig of his flask and lamenting that it was getting a little light, he walked up the narrow stairway and out of the cellar. A guard was on patrol and happened to be coming up on him, “Good nap?”

“Mm.” Donnelley shrugged.

“Yeah.” The guard shrugged back and walked past.

Donnelley went the other direction, following the signs on the wall and the maps to make his way to the meeting rooms. He yawned as he scanned the consoles set into the wall, watching out for Ava’s name. When he finally found it, he scanned his ID badge and the door hissed open, another guard behind the desk, “Weapons and-“

“Electronics, yeah.” Donnelley slid his phone and gun across the desk to the other man, walking through the door when it was finally unlocked to see it empty besides Ava. First one here.

“How’s it go?” Donnelley asked as he smirked at a very disheveled Ava who looked about as manically sleep-deprived as he was before the long nap, taking a seat at the front of the room, “First the worst? Guess that checks out.”

Ava looked up from her laptop, hooked up to the large screen in the middle of the room. There was a strange mixture of exhaustion and excitement on her features, as though she acknowledged how tired she was but didn’t care because whatever she had uncovered was worth it.

Her eyes brightened at Donnelley and she straightened up with a wide grin. She was dressed in what might have been her pajamas. She wore a long hoodie that went past her waist that was white, covered in small pink flowers, had bell-like sleeves and made from material that was visibly very soft looking, as well as a pair of thermal grey leggings. Her hiking boots clashed with the otherwise cozy looking attire but Ava didn’t seem to care.

“Donnelley!” She said excitedly. “Do you remember how we went out to steak after I found Jay’s information?” She beamed. “You’re going to want to buy me lobster after what I found.”

Donnelley smiled and raised a brow, “I’m gonna hold you to that. Better have me at the edge of my seat.”

Laine entered the conference room dressed in fresh clothing and her hair still slightly damp from a recent shower. She wore sneakers and dark gray leggings, a black thermal and over it a Ramones t-shirt she picked up from the Target in Idaho. Under her arm was her notebook and a cup of coffee in one hand, her black hoodie tied around her waist.

She paused to appraise Ava, looking over at her, “I’d offer you my coffee but I think it might upset the balance you’re working on.”

Her gaze shifted to Donnelley, looking him over briefly before taking a seat beside him as they waited for Dave. Laine leaned back in the chair, sipping from the cup she held with both hands.

She had napped while Ava worked, then wandered around the expansive base before indulging in a hot shower. A twinge of guilt struck her as she noticed the dark circles under Ava’s bright eyes. Unnaturally bright with an electric excitement that seemed to vibrate off the small woman. She had found something big.

Ava grinned again as Laine strode in, bouncing lightly on her feet. “I just chugged one of those little Starbucks Doubleshot Espressos from the cafeteria so I’m set on energy and caffeine and sugar.” She said rapidly. “I think I’ve consumed over 500mg of caffeine since I got to work.” She paused for a moment, looking down as she counted on her fingers. “Specifically 510mg of caffeine. I don’t even want to think about all the sugar I consumed in the past 12 hours, I probably shouldn’t have had that second hot chocolate.”

Laine smiled slightly, the crash would come hard but not before the suffering. She had a small travel first aid bag in her suitcase that included stomach relief.

“That’s…” Donnelley glanced at Laine, nodding his head along with Ava, “A lot.”

"What's a lot?" Dave said, striding through the door to join the others. He'd showered after the range and the brawl, and had dispensed with the tactical gear. In its place were his familiar Wranglers and hiking boots, his Sig still riding on his thigh. Because of the controlled temperature he had foregone his usual flannel, wearing instead a black t-shirt sporting the Jack Daniels label. His "hat-hat" was settled on his shaggy hair, and his belt buckle was molded in the shape of an armored bulldozer.

The Killdozer buckle had been a tongue-in-cheek gift from his son Mal, and Dave had enjoyed the looks he had gotten from the various government agents he passed, which ranged from amused to mildly perturbed, except for one man who had seemed outright offended.

"Wha'd I miss?" He asked, looking around.

“Dave!” Ava said, stepping from around the desk she was working at to run up and give him an excited hug. She looked up at him with a wide grin. “You’re just in time, I was able to decrypt the software coding that went into the tracker. I have dates and times and coordinates! Everywhere those Russians went!” She pressed her chin to his chest and kept grinning. “Am I the best or what?”

“Definitely the best.” He returned the tight hug, grinning along with her. Her excitement was contagious, and he couldn’t help but feel a flutter of his own anticipation.

Laine sat up, putting her coffee aside as she flashed a glance at Donnelley. The Russians. She took her note book out and pen, clicking it so she could write down anything she might need to look up later when Ava would launch into an explanation of such a technical piece of evidence. She rolled her eyes slightly at the word evidence, as if she was thinking ahead to preparing a case against international spies with strange weaponized children.

“I’d like to hear what you found, it sounds exciting,” she said, watching the pair embrace openly then glanced at the camera in the corner of the ceiling. Laine clicked her pen a few times, forcing herself to not look at the man beside her. Instead she let her gaze wander to Dave’s odd belt buckle, furrowing her brow as she tried to figure out what it was.

Donnelley sighed, looking to Laine and then turning in his chair to fix the pair of them with a steely gaze. As much as he didn’t like reminding anyone he was close to that he was their team lead and not their best friend… well, after everything they’d been through, the scrutiny, the interviews, the surveillance, he’d have to be that asshole sometimes. And he had to admit to himself that he was outright envious of the ability to be so brazen. He folded his arms tight, “How ‘bout we all get settled and go over this intelligence.” There was no sign of laid back and good-natured Donnelley in the man’s face, that old NCO was coming to the fore and he brought hard eyes and a stern frown, “Please.

Dave quirked an eyebrow at Donnelley's tone. He gave Ava another quick squeeze, then released her to take his seat.

"Never doubted ya, sugar," he said. "Give us the rundown."

Ava looked over at Donnelley, taken aback from his shift in tone and demeanor. She lowered her head down slightly guiltily and quickly made her way over to her laptop. “Okay, okay,” She said, stopping in front of the computer and taking in a deep breath.

She stared at it for a moment. “...Shit, how was I going to start?” She muttered to herself. “Uh, ah,” Ava snapped her fingers and tapped her forehead. “Wait, right! I remember!” She said, snapping her fingers and pointing over at them. “So, this friggin’ thing.” She tapped on her laptop and up popped a picture of the tracker on the large screen.

“We’ll start with the hardware, very high level stuff.” Ava said, turning her head up to the screen and squinting at it as though it still frustrated her. “It has a range of up to 20 kilometers or 12.4 miles, the battery is half the size of the tracker but it has the same power capacity as a 5590 battery.” She turned to them with a frown. “It’s so well crafted that it doesn’t need that much power, so this leads me to believe that it was intended for long term use without needing to swap out the tracker with one with a fresher battery.”

Ava waved her hand, the bell sleeve of her soft and plush hoodie swinging with the motion. “Like I told you all at breakfast, there are no manufatura markings inside or out so the exact origins of it are unknown, though my hunch is leading toward Russia for...obvious reasons. If I would have to guess this was the work of a very dedicated team with people of high intelligence working on it with some major state funding backing their work. Or a level of funding to rival a government backing. This technology is utterly unknown; nothing in the Program’s database comes close to matching it. The NSA and CIA have nothing like this, unless they’re keeping all the fun toys for themselves.”

She suddenly grinned, a mischievous expression crossing her tired features. “Now onto the good news,” She tapped the laptop and a world map popped up on screen. “Their programing encryption fucking sucks.” She chirped, rubbing her hands together. “They probably spent months if not a year on that programming.” Ava grinned wider and started giggling. “I deciphered it in like 4 hours and found all of this.” She typed something into the laptop.

Up on the screen red circles with lines pointing to dates, time and coordinates appeared on the map, located in Poland, the Netherlands, the UK, New York, and then finally West Virginia.

Ava gestured with both hands to the screen in a ‘ta-da’ motion. “Looking through the metadata I was able to find the transmission history and the locations of where the tracker and it’s paired locating...locator? Location?” She mumbled to herself with a confused frown. She shook her head. “Anyway, the thing they use to find the tracker; these are the locations that they pinged at. Here’s where things get...well weird. Which is more, um, not great news.”

She pointed to the times listed at each of the sites. “As you can see, they did quite a bit of globe trotting, but what’s concerning is the fact that the time between these locations is almost nothing despite all of these all occurring on the same day. There’s only a handful of hours in most cases, if even that. I mean, look at the time between the ping in the UK to the ping in New York! A flight from England to New York would take 7 to 10 hours, but they covered that distance in no time at all! Altogether, this world tour took them only 10 hours and the last ping from that day...” She tapped something on her computer and one of the red circles turned blue.

The one over West Virginia.

“...Is from a place in the middle of the woods, in Blackriver West Virginia.” She said gravely, looking at each of them. “And the day this took place? About a month before UMBRA’s case for the murder of Maria Vasquez officially started.”

She grew quiet for a moment, trying to martial her next thoughts while letting the information sink in for the others. “Jay’s emails mentioned a shed in the middle of the woods where he would meet with his Russian contacts, so...” She trailed off, losing whatever point she had been about to make. “Anyway,” She continued with a shake of her head. “Based on this information, it looks like this was how the Russians got Muru from the Ukraine to the states. Why? I have no idea, but this is how they did it.” She pointed to each of the pings on the map. “And now we have points of interest to look into.”

She turned back to her laptop and pressed a key, the map zooming in on West Virginia. “The last transmission from the tracker was from the day we met Muru, at the motel where we were supposed to pick her up at.” She frowned down at the laptop for a heart beat. “I’m also beginning to wonder if a similar tracker on Frank Wilkins is what gave away our original Safe House.” she muttered to herself.

Ava shook her head, visibly rousing herself and snapping back into focus. She smiled again, less of an energetic smirk and more of a sly grin. “The other good news is that all of the programming software that went into this tracker is one of a kind. I can easily identify it if we come across it again.” She shrugged and continued to grin. “I’ll keep studying it though, see if I can find a way to use it against them.”

She looked down at the laptop and then back up at them. “Uuh, that’s about it.” She paused. “Thank you for coming to my sleep deprived, caffeine and sugar fueled TedTALK.”

“He’s teleporting…” Donnelley scoffed humorlessly, an edge of anger to it, “They’re teleporting. Queen said there’s no flight records to match with Nikolai Gorochev’s arrival in New York from Russia… he fucking teleported.

Donnelley stood up, rubbing his hands through his hair, “The smell at the shack Michael talked about, the smell in Carlisle’s house... Electrical burn and ozone.”

Donnelley rubbed at his eyes and sat back down, “Walidu Alharb.” he muttered.

Laine watched the presentation with intent concentration, writing notes of things she wanted to follow up on. It did explain how the Russians moved so fast, how they might have found UMBRA. She sat back, clicking her pen once Ava finished. The young woman looked as she had run herself ragged but had managed to get the first big break since Dulane leading them to the murder scene.

She shivered at that memory, her scalp crawling and Laine reached up to brush her fingers through her dark hair. She glanced at Donnelley when he mentioned the smell of ozone and burning.

"I think that was the scent we smelled before that...Hound came after Renko when..." Laine paused, her eyes widened. "He just seemed to appear. He has to have access to the same technology. I think Dave was right, it was a clue. He was giving us not only Muru to keep safe but showing us...this."

She gestured towards the image still on the screen. Laine looked up, "Do we know if that smell was ever associated with the shimmers and the voice in the woods that the ranger reported?"

Laine wrote a few things then tapped her pen. "I'll go over the old statements. We never got into Blackriver's sheriff's computer."

The whole West Virginia case seemed to step out of the darkness and she felt the urge to go back over everything they had.

Laine stood up and went to give Ava a pat on the shoulder, "You did an amazing job, this really gives us a break in the Blackriver case. You should get some rest."

She tried to smile but the reminder that they were in Alaska and not West Virginia dampened her excitement.

"So what do we do with this?" Laine asked, stepping back over to seat besides Donnelley.

Dave shot Ava a thumbs up and grinned at her while Laine spoke, not wanting to interrupt her, and then turned to Donnelley himself. He’d listened to the briefing with growing fascination; he knew they had kicked around some crazy ideas, but to hear the word teleport said out-loud wasn’t something he’d expected, despite the strange things he’d seen so far with the Program.

“Somethin’ like this, the teleportin’ and stuff...There’s never been any mention of this before, has there? In other cases, I mean?” He leaned forward a little, his elbows on the desk. “I know I’ve never heard it in anythin’ but TV.”

Ava smiled at Laine and Dave, visibly happy with her accomplishment though her energy was now starting to flag. “Thanks guys, I’m happy to have done it.” She put her hands on her hips and breathed out. “I...need to sit.” She picked up some folders from the desk beside her computer and stepped forward to pass them each one. “Here’s the rundown of my findings, including the locations of each of the pings I found.”

Ava fought a yawn and went over to one of the chairs in front of the screen. “I’m just gonna sit for...five minutes.” She said, plopping herself down.

She flipped up the hood of her soft hoodie to pull over her eyes, revealing a pair of little white devil horns. She folded her arms over her chest and settled deep into her chair and the softness of her hoodie.

Donnelley looked at the manilla folder in his hands, flipping it open and skimming over it. A tiny shake of his head as he looked at the bullet points of the Russians’ route through Europe to New York. “Russians from London.” He said, another humorless scoff, “So, Michael wasn’t blowin’ air. Guess he didn’t die for nothin’, thanks, Mike.”

Laine looked at Donnelley, raising her brow as she said, "I'm certain that's good for your conscience but what do we do with the information? File a report for Foster and forget about it?"

Her green eyes flashed as she folded her arms over her chest and sighed. There was not much else they could do but perhaps it could be leverage to get back on the case. "Do you think it could get us back in the loop about Blackriver?"

“What we do with this…” Donnelley clapped the folder shut and weighed it in his hand, lips pursed as he mulled over what he was about to say. Pros and cons, what could go wrong… “We keep this. We turn it over to Foster after we make copies. This is ours.”

Laine nodded, looking over at Ava but she was dozing off in her chair with the horned hood pulled over her. She shook her head, smiling slightly at the sight but the smile faded. Her attention turned back to Donnelley, “Do we give them everything? If there is a chance that...”

She stopped herself, the spy shit was making her paranoid but the nagging feeling that something with Foster and Overman was off never left her. Clicking her pen once more, she said, “Right. We keep our copies, make a couple of back ups just in case.”

Dave read along with the others, his lips moving silently as he worked through the words. He perked up at Laine’s question, grateful to have a reason to put the reading off.

“I wouldn’t mind goin’ back to Blackriver. We got unfinished business there,” he said. “I don’t like leavin’ stuff half done, an’ whoever took over don’t know the place like we do.”

Laine smiled at Dave, twirling the pen in her fingers, “That’s my thought, too. We didn’t finish, everything I had assumed about the unsub was turned over when we went to the cabin with Dulane. I understand things that I didn’t when I started, I think we can all agree there.”

From behind the group, a soft snore sounded from beneath Ava’s hood.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead

Member Seen 4 mos ago

>BLACKBOX
>6SEP2019
>0130...///

Ava was asleep, the dead sleep of exhaustion not just of staying awake but working hard on something meaningful and finally getting results. Laine hung up her hoodie and picked up the discarded clothes, including the denim vest with the stitched flowers. She smiled slightly, the vest along with the coat and hoodie had all come from some little boutique near the campus of the University of Idaho. It had reminded her of the number of independent shops in LA, each struggling and they had both spent generously.

Laine went into her suitcase and dug out the little pink plastic bag, glancing over her shoulder at Ava who snored lightly, her wild red hair fanned out against the pillow. Laine shoved the vest into the bag and picked up her phone to text Donnelley.

She felt a giddy smile touch her lips, feeling that same girlish excitement when she texted him. It all needed to be hidden and while it could be annoying to have to be so careful there was a thrill to it.

I have a secret project. You in?

Bet your ass, I’m too bored… we could help each other out with both things ;)

Omg. Just meet me at the cafeteria. We need a workspace that’s private.

Laine rolled her eyes and smiled, smothering a laugh so not to wake up Ava. Though she could probably beat a drum next to her bed without making her stir. The prospect of both secret plans was interesting but first she wanted to finish the surprise for Ava. Gathering the pink plastic bag, she rolled it up and tucked it under her arm.

Still dressed in the clothes she wore to the briefing, Laine strolled away from the bunks. Part of her felt slightly uneasy leaving Ava alone but there was security. She could smell the cafeteria before she saw it, even at this late night someone was up making coffee.

That someone was Donnelley, hands stuffed into his pockets as he stood next to the coffee machine. He hadn’t noticed anyone walk up, his attention on something else as he bobbed his head along to a beat Laine couldn’t hear. There were two of the coffee cups next to him and he grabbed them both up, turning around making for one of the tables before looking up to see Laine. A smile quickly grew on his lips and he rushed over to her. As he got closer, it was more apparent that he had earbuds in, no doubt playing something uniquely Donnelley. He offered one of the coffees to Laine.

“Hey, sugar.” Donnelley frowned at that, “Nah, I don’t like that, makes me think of those other two. We need some cute nicknames, yeah?”

Laine smiled at him, her green eyes gleaming when she took the coffee. She looked around, the cafeteria was empty but the cameras scanned. She raised her eyebrow and grimaced at the nickname. “I’m not that sweet,” she said, taking a sip of the black coffee. “Do we need cute nicknames? Is that a country boy thing?”

She smiled slightly then reached up and plucked one of his earbuds out and put it in her own, “Now to judge you by your music choice. You caught me by surprise with the rap last time.”

“What can I say, I appreciate variety.” He said as Laine listened along to Livin In Exile by Blood for Blood, “Reminds me of home. One of the highest crime rates per capita. Not that there were a lot of, uh, capitas.”

Laine recognized the band and glanced at him, a sly smile on her face. “Ah, my hardcore phase, I remember them, a little misogynistic but good angry music to feel to. I can dig it.”

She met his eyes when he spoke about home the urge to touch his hand restrained by the eyeless watchers above them.

“Deputy Donnelley to the rescue,” she said, a little teasing but her smile was warm. Laine looked around the cafeteria again then back at him. She sipped her coffee and leaned forward, “You figure out any better places we can hide and skip class?”

He snorted at Laine’s comment about his past, endlessly chasing his tail for diminishing returns where even Sheriff Gracy knew there wasn’t much they could do for Dallard County except make sure it didn’t burn itself down too quickly. He shrugged at her question about where they would do this secret project Laine was talking about, “I took a nap in one, yeah. They got a cellar here, storage for old case files they never got around to converting to computer files.” He sipped at his coffee, “You never did tell me what this secret project was.”

Laine laid the bag on the table, pressing her palms on either side of it as she met his gaze. “Remember your battle jacket? I know you must have had one.”

She grinned, a flash of teeth behind plush lips. “I had one, a cheap leather jacket with Hot Topic spikes and band patches. Well…”

Her face flushed a little and she reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears, “I was shopping with Ava, talking with her. You know she never had many friends, being a kid in college and all. No siblings. When she was trying on coats I was picking out some accessories I thought she might like.”

Laine opened the bag and took a handful of mostly pastel colored patches, rather than bands they were cute and sassy morale patches. She held up one with flowers embroidered on it along with a pin with the simple message of ‘Don’t be a Dick’ around a heart. There were patches of cheerful cartoon teacups and a Pusheen cat like the plushie Laine had bought her back in West Virginia among others. Laine chuckled, feeling a little self conscious, “I don’t know, I just felt like doing something for her, she thinks of others quite a bit. Remember the mugs?”

Laine pushed the patches back in, “I stole her vest and I have a sewing kit, I figured you might want to hang out and give me a hand. Maybe some place we can just chill.”

Donnelley reached over and picked one up, a heart-shaped pouting face with devil horns. He chuckled, “This’ll be the softest battle jacket I’ve made yet, I guess.” Donnelley put it back down and took another sip of his coffee, “Guess we owe it to her for workin’ so hard on that damn thing. If only we’d gotten that a couple months ago, things might be different.”

He sighed, his smile fading a little back as he looked away from Laine. He put the smile back on as he looked back at her, “Come on, follow me.”

He got up and walked out to the halls, pulling out the modified map he’d gotten from Queen. He led them through the echoing passageways, glancing up from his map every so often just to make sure they were going the right way. Once they’d made it to the small door that led down to the storage cellar he took her by the hand and led her carefully down the barely lit stairway. It was a modest place, the cellar. The way it was arranged, dirty and grungy, it reminded him of some places he’d stayed at in his younger days. He plopped down into the ratty couch and patted the space next to him, “If you’re worried about an unattended Avery, he’s sleepin’. Told Queen not to fuck around with him, and told Avery not to hang out with Queen else I’d dress him like a buck.”

Donnelley shook his head and had that little smile, the one he’d get whenever he was talking about how Tilly had gotten into trouble some way or another. She took after her mother in looks, but the rebellious and rambunctious nature was all Donnelley’s blood, “So, hopefully we get some time for ourselves right now… cutie.” he said, trying another nickname and watching her frown at that one too. He laughed.

Laine nodded, a little impish smile appearing, “Yeah, but I’m no poser, I won’t put a bunch of patches on her vest that wouldn’t suit her.”

She looked at him, “Maybe it would have, but we got it now. And we’ll figure out what to do with it.”

She followed him through the large facility, the lack of windows and their flipped around schedule made her forget what time of day it was. If time was moving as slow as it felt or was it only a trick of it only being numbers on a clock. Laine held his hand, the cellar had the air of privacy not because it was hidden but that no one would want to come down there. The locked chain link enclosures caught her attention, the metal file totes also padlocked. The possibilities raced through her mind, what dark secrets lay within the stashed boxes.

He caught her attention as he sat down, she had not thought about Avery and felt a sudden stab of guilt, her focus had been on the work. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s been working hard and maybe that’s enough distraction. At least being worn out enough to just sleep. Queen...ah, he came down to the library earlier, borrowed Ava’s beret. He’s a...quite a character.”

She left it that, whatever made THUNDER successful at their grim task, it was not her place to judge it. Not that it ever stopped her but she kept it to herself when she could. It was an unfortunate necessity in the work the Program did. At least they deemed it to be and she was merely a small cog.

Laine smiled slightly, gazing at him, his handsome features marred by the burn scar but it was just as dear to her as the rest of him. She perched on the arm of the broken sofa, then scoffed with a raised eyebrow, “Cutie? I’m not cute.”

She tossed the bag at him then dropped down to the cushion beside him, bouncing slightly on the worn springs. Laine gave him a side eyed glance, trying to keep a straight face, “Cute...you’re [i[cute.[/i]”

“I’m ruggedly handsome,” he stroked his beard, “Downright beautiful. So, which one of these we puttin’ on first?”

He rifled through the bag and brought out the vest, and then rooted around in the bag without looking, taking one at random. “Fucking girl power.” He looked at the patch he’d brought out, “I like it. I vote this one.”

She chuckled and grinned at the heart shaped patch, “Fucking right, girl power. We don’t all have big dick guns.”

Laine took the sewing kit and removed two medium needles, threading one before handing it to him. “You take the right side, mind the embroidery.”

She began threading the other needle, running the thread between her lips to get it to slip through the eye easier. “What was your first patch? Let me guess, it was on a denim battle vest.”

Holding up the left side of Ava’s vest, “Yeah? Minus the flowers and add in scruffy cut off sleeves. I can just see you wearing it, skateboarding around Dalhart breaking hearts and pissing off jocks.”

“Jocks n’ cowboys,” Donnelley made his kissy faces again, holding up the right side and getting to work on the patch, “And yes, it was denim. I actually made my first patch myself. Old t-shirt and some paint, Black Flag bars. Me and my friend had broken into some cars in Dalhart, it was… ‘89, I think? California plates. We jimmied the trunk and there was just record after record after record.”

Donnelley chuckled, “I grabbed up as many as I fuckin’ could and we ran. It was a bunch of punk shit, and I was more of a metalhead until that damn day.” Donnelley smiled, getting the stitching right on the other half of the heart, “If I could go back, I’d ask to hang out with the guy instead of steal his shit, but I thank him anyways. I mean, Stooges, Black Flag, Dead Kennedy’s, Agent Orange.”

“Bloodstains, fast cars, cheap thrills,” he smiled, an edge of spite in the eyes, just like that punk in Dalhart, “Nothin’ was that raw, nothin’ was that in your face to tell you to fuck off or tell the world how shitty they felt or anythin’. And that’s all I needed in a place like Dalhart.”

Laine laughed at the kissy face, shaking her head, her eyes bright with affection and amusement. “DIY, I respect that. Already a street punk before you had a soundtrack.”

She pressed her teeth against her lower lip, watching his expression as she sewed along the edges of one of the pastel patches. “So many California bands, I swear. I was born at least a decade or two too late.”

Laine kept stealing glances at him, now sitting with her knees pulled up, her Chuck Taylors braced on the edge of the couch. “I was a child of suburbia, but by fourteen I was all about the dark and doing things that drove my mom crazy. Beach parties, all ages clubs, shit like that.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, then looked at him, “If the stars had lined up differently, I think we might have still found each other and had some wild times.”

“We met anyway, fuck the stars.” He smiled, winking at her, “What about you?”

“Nothing as cool as your story,” she laughed, finishing the patch and picking up another one, judging where the circular shape might look best and settled on the back right shoulder. “I used to hang out at the mall a lot.”

She gestured with the needle, “I know, real unusual for a California girl. But that’s where the boys would skate and my girlfriends and I would wander around, buy makeup and clothes our mothers would never approve of. I got my first patch at Hot Topic, ok? It was the Smiths, because I was such a sad girl sometimes.”

Laine huffed a laugh, shaking her head, “Shit, then I learned how to sneak out. How to take the bus, my parents never let me but my brother could go wherever. Typical. So we’d just hang out, trade mix tapes, burned CDs. They had a lot of all ages clubs around in the 80s but they started shutting down in the 90s, a lot of ‘concerned’ parents.”

She made a jerk off motion with her fist then laughed, her green eyes bright. “Jesus, it was dangerous as hell thinking back, knowing all that I know now.”

Her smile faded then, her thoughts turning to the pier at Redondo Beach. “That was another time. I don’t regret any of it. Even the heartbreak.”

Donnelley nodded at that, a sincere look in his eye before he voiced his agreement, “Not a bit. Wouldn’t be the Donnelley I am now, probably.” He put the last touches on the threading and made sure the patch was snug against the denim, “What else you wanna know ‘bout me?”

Laine tilted her head slightly, giving him a sly smile. “I like the Donnelley you are. And that would take more than a couple stolen hours in a cellar. I’ve wanted to know you since...well since you let me in.”

She poked the needle through the patch and watched the stitches as she continued, “I guess, you make me curious, intrigued. It’s not all your rugged beauty, buckaroo.”

Donnelley laughed at that and leaned into her, budging her with his shoulder, “Buckaroo. I guess I’ll take the chance while we’re here then, Little Miss Scare-All.” He said, “Huh… First kiss. Yeah, I’ll do that, I’ll be cheesy. What was it like?”

“You are like cheddar, baby,” she teased, tossing back her short dark hair. “Oh first kiss...going down that path are we? You’ll owe me an answer, too.”

Laine finished another patch then picked up the cartoon corgi but paused to rethread her needle, “He was older than me, about fifteen, I was thirteen. My dad hated him because he had a blue mohawk. And probably figured what he was up to.”

She laughed, “We used to go to the boardwalk and hold hands, go to the bonfires and skate at empty swimming pools. He kissed me the first time when he wiped out and cut his knee open, I helped him patch it up and…it was quick and both of us were so nervous. He just ran off after he did it. Later on we made out at a bonfire at the beach.”

Laine ran her hand through her hair, taking a break from sewing. “I thought I was fucking grown after that. How about you?”

Donnelley snorted at Laine’s story, knowing how much Donnelley thought he was so grown up back then. Not knowing if he’d ever make it to actually being grown up, or if he cared too much. When it was his turn, he looked up and away for a moment, “May Childers. She wasn’t the most popular in school, she was the weird kid, but so was I. I mean, not weird in the ways I was weird at fourteen.” He chuckled, “She was quiet, shy. A lot of the other girls would pick on her and I remember we became friends after the day I saw her in the middle of ‘em all gettin’ pecked at like she was a piece of meat in a swarm of vultures.”

“I went in there hollerin’ and swingin’. Didn’t hurt nobody, didn’t connect with any faces. But they left her alone, not all the time mind you, but enough.” Donnelley had another of the patches in hand, the one that said ‘Be Kind’ and smiled softly, “We stayed friends for two years, but friends don’t kiss each other when they hang out. I was a bad influence on her, though.”

Donnelley’s smile dropped, not exactly proudly boasting it in a joking manner like he usually did, “When we were sixteen, we were drunk. We fooled around a little bit. No condom, because what stupid fuck who’s wasted thinks about a condom?” Donnelley shook his head, “Anyways, she went to live with her family somewhere else wasn’t Texas.”

He cleared his throat, “Sorry, yeah. First kiss, I picked her up after she was gettin’ her ass kicked way back. I say picked her up, but she never went down. On her feet, and hands up the whole time. She kissed me when I drove ‘em off.” He nodded, looking far off to someplace distant and different, “Time was, I thought we were gonna get married. First time in those years I thought about anythin’ past the next day.”

Laine leaned in close to him, the vest spread across both their laps. She put down the needle and reached over, turning to face him. She stroked his temple, there were a few gray hairs among the ginger and she kissed him softly on the cheek. “Always the hero,” she whispered, “It’s a good memory, thank you for sharing it.”

Laine looked at him closely, a question bounced around her mind about no condom and her going off to live somewhere else. And them both being sixteen. “I’m sorry she had to leave, I hope it was on at least good terms.”

She smiled sadly, leaning her chin on his shoulder then laughed suddenly, “I can’t say much, I didn’t make you wear a condom either. I think we were kinda wasted. It’s a good thing I have back up.”

“Yeah, I didn’t ask about one either. Like I said, what stupid fuck who’s wasted thinks about a condom?” He chuckled, looking down at the patch and the jacket. He sighed, “You know us doin’ this, together… everythin’ we’ve done together…”

He shrugged, rolling his jaw and shaking his head, “Us doin’ this for Ava. I’m gonna have to talk to the both of them,” he said, “I’m not lookin’ forward to it. Makes me feel like a hypocrite, and I like to think I ain’t one.”

Laine pulled back slightly, then picked up her needle again, working on her last patch. “You’re not being a hypocrite. It’s not wrong they want to be together, God knows, it’s a little bit of happiness in this damn dark world we live in. They just have to realize that they can’t flaunt it, it’s fraternizing. It’s not quite as bad as us.”

She glanced at him with a teasing smile, “You could get in trouble with abusing your authority, sir.

“It’s just protocol and I’m not surprised they didn’t think about it. Dave probably never had a job where he had to listen to a sexual harassment conduct briefing and Ava...well I don’t think sex crossed her mind until she caught feelings for Dave. It’s just not something in their experience. That’s all you have to explain, they just can’t be open with the PDA. It sucks but it’s better than working on another team.”

“You’re right. I’ve been a little pissed between them and Avery, and everythin’ else, I ain’t even thought about that part.” Donnelley shook his head and smiled sheepishly, “Thanks, Laine.”

He leaned over and pecked her cheek, gently turning her head and then kissing her full lips, letting it linger for a moment. He leaned back and continued working, “You’re a lifesaver.”

Laine accepted his kiss and returned it before resuming sewing. “That’s what I’m here for. I think this is the last one for me.”

She held up a patch with a cute puppy running away with a heart which read, “On my way to destroy everything you have ever loved.”

Laine shrugged, “It’s a little dark but let’s face it, she can do some real damage with what she can pull from the internet.”

Once she finished she flexed her fingers and rubbed them against her thighs, finally leaning back and looking around the cellar, “How did you manage to find this?”

“Queen showed me, gave me a map.” Donnelley said, working on the last bit of stitching on the Be Kind patch. He didn’t tell her what else they did in here, “Give that man a scrap of information to get at and he’ll get it. Gotta give it to him.”

He nodded at the patch that Laine had sown, the seemingly harmless puppy on its way to ruin someone’s life completely, “After that briefing, if that’s not apt for her I don’t know what is.”

“It’s a good thing she’s a white hat. Also, he mapped it, like found all the hiding spots for you?” she quirked an eyebrow and leaned forward, “DId you give him a reason to do that?”

She made a small questioning gesture with her finger pointing back and forth between him and herself. “What did you tell him?”

“Relax.” Donnelley held a hand up and scooted closer to her, putting a hand on her thigh, “He don’t know anythin’. He found all the spots for himself and took me for a tour. For all he knows, I’m just smokin’ cigarettes and gettin’ a break from y’all drivin’ me mad.” He flashed a grin.

“Everythin’s okay.” Donnelley reassured.

He leaned towards her, closing his eyes to go for a kiss, but felt his phone vibrate. He checked it, seeing a message from Greedy. Sighing, he opened his phone and his eyes scanned it before he locked it again, “Snowstorm, Greedy wants us to report to the meeting room when it clears.” Donnelley was suddenly not so keen to continue with Laine. He swore under his breath and looked at her, “We might have a couple hours.”

Laine laughed, her smile remaining as she teased him back, “I’ve not begun to drive you crazy.”

When he paused mid kiss, she followed his movement to get his phone. “Has this snowstorm showed any signs of letting up then?”

Laine sat up, her mind already on the weather records and averages of the freak storms lasting. “He expects it might clear then.”

She looked at him for a long moment, reaching over to touch his hand. Laine wanted him, but the vibe that had built up between them sharing memories and joking was thrown back into shadow, like a cloud moving over the sun.

“I’m game for whatever you want, I had a pretty good nap earlier,” she said, leaning over to drape the newly patched and pinned vest on the arm of the couch. “I feel a little bit bad about leaving you like that earlier. I just...”

Laine shrugged, the gleam in her eyes returning. “I’ll drive you crazy sometimes.”

She leaned over to kiss his jaw, the beard tickling her nose and murmured, “We don’t know when the storm will let up, it could be sooner than later. What if they come looking for us.”

She put her hand on his thigh now, the want still rising strong within her and she gave him a squeeze and breathed warmy against his ear, “Or...we could make it quick and dirty.”

“Now you’re talkin’.” Donnelley said, moving forward again to kiss her. He placed his hand around her neck and leaned forward more, guiding her a little forcefully onto her back as the couch creaked...

[h3]From the Darkness of Futures Past…[/h3
Part I

>BLACKBOX
>MEN’S BUNKS
>FOUR HOURS LATER
>0530...///

I've been living on the edge so long
Where the winds of limbo roar
And I'm young enough to look at
And far too old to see
All the scars are on the inside...


Donnelley woke up with his fist cocked back and saw that it was only Maui who’d slapped his boot. He hadn’t gotten undressed, even for sleep, wanting to be ready for whatever Greedy needed them for. Somewhere in his brain, he knew what this meeting was about. “Time to get up, sleepyhead.” Maui smiled down at Donnelley in his bed, all the way up from his great height, “Briefing’s on. I think we’re goin’ out.”

“Fuckin’ finally.” Poker said, hiking his trousers on and slipping his feet into his boots, a wicked and toothy grin set in his face, dagger eyes gleaming. “Oh, fuck, I have to piss like a racehorse.”

“Have some respect for the dead, asshole.” Someone in TRIDENT said.

“Who says they’re dead?”

“It’s SIREN.”

“Oh, yeah.” TRIDENT chuckled, and even Maui cracked a grin.

Gallows humor, even if the bodies hadn’t even cooled down yet. There was a piece of Donnelley that wished he still could joke like that, but ever since becoming a Team Lead, he could only imagine what it was like for SIREN’s Lead to know he failed them, or die thinking he did. Donnelley stood, lightly slapping Avery awake and the other man looked around. Without a word, he nodded and began suiting up. It was almost like he knew what he was doing now. “Dave, where’s Dave. On me, Lucky!” He clapped his hands loud enough to be heard, “UMBRA, double-time!”

He walked out of the men’s bunks and down the hall, almost barreling into She-Ra on his way to the women’s bunks. He looked her over and asked, “You mind getting my people?”

“Yes.” And she walked on.

“Prick.” Donnelley called back.

She-Ra showed him her middle finger as she walked on. He stood outside the women’s bunks and cupped his hands over his mouth, “UMBRA, on me, double-time!”

Laine woke at the sound of Donnelley's voice, she had slept lightly expecting the call. She rolled out of her bunk, rubbing her eyes. "We'll be there, I'll get Ava up."

She stepped over and shook the little redhead awake, "Ava, we're up. They need us. Come on."

Laine had left the folded denim vest on top of Ava's footlocker and went to lace up her hiking boots, pulling out the heavy coat and scarf, headband and the rest of her outdoor clothing. She kept an eye on Ava so she could watch her discover the vest as she loaded her Glock and slid it into the shoulder holster.

Ghost was returning from the showers when he heard the commotion. He wore nothing but a pair of flip-flops, his hygiene bag in one hand, the other holding up the towel around his waist. He gave She-Ra a nod as he passed, his lips quirking in a rare smile that faded as he locked his cold eyes on Donnelley. One of those eyes was swollen and bruised, his bottom lip puffy and split. Jagged red lines decorated his scarred torso, the spacing suspiciously similar to that of a woman’s fingers.

“What did I miss?” He grunted.

“Got a briefing.” Dave appeared in the doorway of the men’s unit, dressed in camouflage and buckling on his gear. “Figure we’re fixin’ ta go out and shoot some badguys.”

Ghost grunted again, an acknowledgement this time. “Then move,” he growled. Dave stepped aside as he entered the room, tossing his towel in the general direction of his bed before beginning to dig out his ready-gear.

“Jesus, man,” Dave muttered. “At least put your fuckin’ hog away first.”

“You get used to it.” Maui said as he brushed past.

Ava awoke with a snort at Laine’s shaking, gently tugging down her blankets from her head and blearily blinking up at the lights above. “Mmm, five more minutes.” She mumbled and pulled the blankets back over her head as she rolled over and hunkered down underneath the covers.

“What’re we doing?” Avery’s voice came from behind Donnelley and Dave outside the women’s bunks. He yawned and scratched his neck..

Donnelley turned around and clapped his hands on Avery’s shoulders, shaking him a little as he smiled patronizingly, “We’re doin’ CSAR, Avery.”

“See Tzar?” Avery asked, his face scrunched up, before he nodded, “Oh, search and rescue. Oh, fuck, we’re activated? Oh, shit, okay.”

Donnelley turned and cupped his hands around his mouth, projecting his voice, “Whoever is awake in there, drag whoever is asleep out with you. Hurry up!”

Laine finished putting on her boots and pulled on a clean thermal then another charcoal gray shirt on to layer against the cold.

"Ava!' she snapped, then went over and pulled the blankets back. "We're activated, get up and get dressed."

The sound of Donnelley's bellowing could be heard and Laine grabbed Ava's boots and set them before her.

“Ah! I’m up! I’m up!” Ava jumped as her warm covers were yanked off of her. “Uuugh.” She picked herself up and scrubbed her hands over her face, the shock of adrenaline from the words ‘we’re activated’ helping to rouse her.

She was already dressed in a clean set of clothes, after the briefing and some alone time with Dave in an old storage closet she had taken a quick shower and changed out of her previous attire.

She looked over at what Laine was dressing in and went to her trunk; glad she had taken the time to put together her outdoor attire for such an occasion. She paused and blinked as she saw a denim vest folded up on her foot locker, the wheels visibly turning in her groggy head.

She picked it up and looked it over. “Is this mine?” She asked Laine, looking to the other woman in surprise and a little bemusement.

Laine glanced over at her then grinned, "It's your battle vest."

A moment of concern flashed across Laine's face that maybe Ava wouldn't appreciate her clothing defaced and she said, "I hope you don't mind. It's just like a thing we used to do but with band patches. Donnelley helped."

Ava’s tired eyes started to well up with tears. She smiled and rushed forward to give Laine a hug. “I love it! Thank you!” She said with a sniff, pulling back and wiping at her eyes. “It looks ten times better, thank you so much.” She held up the vest with a bright smile. “I’m absolutely going to wear it right now.”

Laine returned the hug with relief, then gave her wild wake up curls a tousle. "Do that, it's for luck. But hurry, before they send that big bitch She-Ra to drag us out."

Ava nodded with another sniff, still smiling as she returned to her foot locker. “Right, right, I’ll get dressed.” She set the vest aside and went about pulling out her outdoor wear.

As she pulled out the clothes she also lifted up a small but sturdy looking hiking bag. It was filled with an assortment of survival gear Dave had helped her pick out and pack. “Will I need this?” She asked with a slight frown.

"You probably will, considering..." Laine shrugged, not wanting to speculate. "Let's go and see, I'm sure we'll have a bit of time to gear up."

She moved to the door and swung it open, "I'll tell Donnelley you're on your way."

Ava nodded to Laine as she left and then dressed herself as quickly as possible, trying not to let the anxiety of going into the Alaskan wilderness to search for a possibly dead Working Group distract her from the now. She threw on a pair of sturdy jeans over the winter leggings she had slept in, a thermal undershirt with small holes in the sleeves for her thumbs and a muted lilac turtleneck sweater that went over it.

Despite her simmering fears, she smiled as she put her newly altered vest on and sat down to lace up her hiking boots. Without a lot of time to dawdle she had just put on her glasses rather than messing with her contacts. Lastly she strapped her holster to the belt of her pants at her hip and slipped in her handgun.

Fully dressed and as ready as she could be, she grabbed her survival bag and laid it on the bunk as well as a slate grey, fleece lined coat more suited for the outdoors than the one she originally wore to the BLACKBOX; a pair of gloves, scarf and a beanie already tucked away into the zipper pockets. Ready to grab should she need it.

She turned to the door, took in a deep breath to try to ignore the exhaustion settled over her head and the trepidation rising in her chest and started to leave the bunk room.

Then she stopped as a thought occurred to her and she turned around, going to her footlocker to quickly dig out her toiletry bag. She found her bottle of emergency medication she received in Idaho and tucked it into her survival bag, breathing a little easier knowing she had it ready. Just in case.

After putting everything back, making sure her belongings were secured in her foot locker, she stood, tried to steady herself and went to join the others.

>BLACKBOX
>GREEDY’S MEETING ROOM
>0545...///

Once the QRF was assembled in the small room they took their respective places, sticking to their teams. There had been banter, shit talking both playful and not before they got to the meeting room. The fact there was a little more legroom with SIREN and ARTEMIS gone seemed to sober them all somewhat. That, and Greedy’s military officer standing at parade rest with his seemingly persistent anger gleaming in his eyes killed any happy conversation. Even Queen had shut up.

Greedy was the last to arrive, almost looking worse for wear. Whatever arrogant asshole he looked like before, at the start of all this, now he looked like a tired mess. He paced the front of the room for a few moments before he went for his laptop and activated the projector. The same map of the Noatak National Preserve popped up onscreen and Greedy looked at it for a second before pressing another button, a red dot showing up in the mountains. “This is ARTEMIS’ last known location inside the Preserve. The last communication from their channel was a few hours after their last mandatory check-in, zero dark and zero-three-hundred, respectively.” Greedy cleared his throat, “They said they’d found Ipiktok’s compound, eyes on multiple unknowns. Then nothing.”

“SIREN’s last known is similar. They had made it to Noatak, but failed to make their last check-in. I pinged them thirty minutes ago and still radio silent. Both teams are assumed MIA. Now that the snowstorm is cleared I’m activating the QRF to confirm their status.” Greedy nodded at the military officer.

The military officer stepped up at the head of the room, “Wetwork Teams TRIDENT and THUNDER will be subordinate to Working Group UMBRA for this mission. There are no roads that lead to Noatak, locals use the river for transport, or the Noatak airport.”

“Main demographic in the area are indigenous peoples- Inuits. It is remote, it is cold, so pack accordingly. ISR will be overhead. This is a plainclothes operation, Gray Man is the dress order, so leave your Gucci belts here.” Quiet chuckles around the room, “IMINT on the area puts it as fast melting snow, the snowstorm is believed to be unnatural in nature due to the fast disappearing snowfall. The area around Ipiktok’s compound went untouched before ARTEMIS’ arrival. The following and most recent snowstorm left the town of Noatak relatively dry, while Ipiktok’s compound suffered as much as anywhere else.”

“We believe Ipiktok may be in Noatak, hiding. TRIDENT’s first objective is to go to Noatak and sniff Ipiktok out. TRIDENT will embed in Noatak under non-official US Marshal SOG cover in pursuit of Ipiktok and confirm SIREN’s whereabouts. UMBRA and THUNDER will move towards Ipiktok’s compound and confirm ARTEMIS’ status.” The military officer looked towards UMBRA and THUNDER, “Both of your teams will be issued with a strike designator for the Reaper Drone’s hellfire missiles. THUNDER and UMBRA will be issued four Black Hornet Nano UAVs capable of night vision with a range of one mile from its operator.”

“Your objectives are to confirm ARTEMIS’ status and search Ipiktok’s compound for any items that fall under the purview of the Program, as well as search for Ipiktok himself. You have execute authority on Ipiktok and his cult, a reminder not to let them speak. Once these items are identified, they are to be moved from the compound before the compound is scuttled. After these two objectives are complete, you are to make your way to Noatak, rendezvous with TRIDENT and Exfil with any evidence from Ipiktok’s compound by CORAL NOMAD transport from Noatak Airport.” The Officer looked over the faces of the three teams, “Any questions?”

Laine listened intently, her previous attitude towards Greedy melting away as she observed him report on the two missing teams. Her stomach knotted at the thought of finding them, the worst thoughts flickering through her mind but the mission was at hand. There was a chance they were alive, just cut off from radio contact. Once the briefing completed, she glanced at Donnelley for a brief moment and then tentatively raised her hand, “Are we being dropped off at the airport? You said there’s no roads…”

The idea of hiking through the soggy ground beneath the rapidly melting snow was not a pleasant one, almost as bad as taking a raft through waters suddenly inundated with the snow melt. It was going to be uncomfortable and dangerous.

“Your birds are being prepped as we speak.” The Officer nodded, “Your transport today will be two Blackhawk helicopters. TRIDENT will be inserted into Noatak via the airfield, UMBRA and THUNDER will continue into the mountains and infil six miles from ARTEMIS’ last known.”

Ava shifted nervously in her seat, the cobwebs of sleep chased away by the rush of adrenaline and fear brought on by the briefing. They would be going out into the field, into the Alaskan wilderness. She rubbed one hand over her stomach, in the spot where her bullet scar was located while the other reached up to touch the pendant tucked beneath her shirt. Her hands suddenly felt ice cold.

She glanced at her team around her, seeking some kind of solace as she felt the cold sweat start to break out at her hairline and the back of her neck.

Dave caught Ava’s eye and gave her a quick wink. He could tell her nerves were up; the thought of going out into the middle of nowhere was probably stressful for a techy. Dave, though, was excited. This was what he did; a trip into the mountains, pitting himself against nature. The presence of a witch doctor or whatever Ipiktok was might put a small damper on things, but he was reasonably confident that between his own growing skills and THUNDER, they’d come out on top.

No matter the fact that there were very possible dead people, going out on a mission like this was something that the deep part of Donnelley missed. That Tex missed. The parameters were there, the problem was singled out, isolated. The world now would be simple, right and wrong, good and evil, winning and losing… another sunrise all balanced on the squeeze of a trigger, “You ready for this shit, Lucky?” Donnelley smirked at Dave, looking at him sidelong and offering his fist for a bump.

Dave grinned and thumped his fist against Donnelley’s. He was enjoying his new nickname, which he’d been hearing since he knocked out the bearded TRIDENT operator. Apparently all it took to earn respect among these types was to punch somebody. He partially turned as Ghost’s gravelly rumble sounded from the back of the room.

“ROE’s?” His massive arms were crossed over his chest, his eyes hidden behind his Oakleys as always.

“Is that like...Part of his script?” Dave whispered, leaning towards Donnelley.

“I’ve known him for three years and that’s the only question he asks.” Donnelley murmured back.

The Officer nodded, “If it is not anyone who was present during the first brief, consider them a shooter. Cleared hot.”

Ghost nodded, his satisfaction plain to those who knew him. These were his favorite ROE’s; they created minimal complications. No worrying about witnesses, no wondering if there would be official repercussions. Just playing the Game.

“Understood,” he growled, making mental note to grab an extra magazine or two.

Laine tucked her hands in the puffy vest, the dark green over the heather gray thermal shirt and gray green trousers that had several pockets she picked up at the Moscow Academy store. Forgoing her usual black, she would blend in more with the background of rock, mud, and moss of the tundra. Her black hair had ground out enough to brushed back and she wore a warm headband covering her ears. Gloves and a knit cap were stuffed into her jacket pockets which was draped over one arm, her shoulder holster in place.

She went over to Dave and Donnelley, smiling a little at the mountain man. “Got any hiking tips for a city girl? The most dangerous place I’ve ever walked was MacArthur Park.”

“Baby powder,” he whispered. “Chafin’ ain’t made up for TV.”

Laine bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud and murmured, “Good point, I’ll keep that in mind.”

>FOUR MILES OUTSIDE NOATAK, ALASKA
>0700...///

The only thing that most could hear was the beating of helicopter blades and the wind rushing past, over THUNDER’s metal playlist screeching and crashing from the helicopter’s speakers since they’d left the BLACKBOX’s small airstrip- Exodus’ Bonded by Blood, one of Donnelley’s picks left over from his Tex days. He almost felt flattered they’d kept it in. Down below was Alaska, looking like a sprawling waste from this great of height, crawling past them on their flight to the Preserve. When the town of Noatak was only a mile away, TRIDENT’s helicopter pitched downwards and away, running toward the Noatak airport- nothing but a small tower and a beat up runway. Not that the town itself looked any better. “UMBRA 1-Actual, TRIDENT diverting to Area Bravo for search, over.”

“Roger, TRIDENT. Good hunting, out.” Donnelley said into his comm headset, watching them drift downwards elegantly towards Noatak.

And just like that, UMBRA and THUNDER were alone in the skies. Curiously, they hadn’t seen one patch of snow, the ground looked completely dry. It was as if the weather patterns were glitches in the system, but they all knew better. It was a strange world where it was safer to say it had something to do with the unnatural nature of the snowstorm than any glitch in the software. His tan 5.11 trousers bloused into his tan boots and OD Green soft shell jacket wouldn’t be out of place at least. He hooked his fingers into his tan plate carrier as he rested and waited, letting his MCX hang on the single-point. The scenery passing by reflected itself in his indiscernible expression under the aviator lenses. It was something of an omen he’d donned his helmet with the rest of THUNDER.

The mountains loomed in the distance, looking sprawling even from such a height as theirs. Somewhere in there was Ipiktok’s compound, and ARTEMIS. Dead or alive, no one could call it yet. “ETA 10 minutes to LZ.”

“Roger, 10 minutes to LZ.” Donnelley spoke again, holding up two fingers for the rest of them in the cabin not linked to the pilot’s comms. He spoke directly to the rest of his team now, which included THUNDER this time around, “Anyone have any last-minute questions? Any grievances we can promptly ignore?” He joked, his smirk showing itself.

Laine sat between two of the hulking THUNDER operators, unable to see much of the aerial view of the tundra.Their buzz of anticipation with the heavy metal competing with the thumping rotors did not infect her with the same excitement. She only felt the thickening dread as they got closer because nothing good ever came of following a siren’s call. She tried to look past Ghost, his bulk almost blocking her off from Donnelley’s view. At least the storm had vanished, that had to be something in their favor.

She tugged at her vest, the plate riding up and her shoulder holster poked into her armpit as she sat, the two minute warning almost a relief. The men on either side of her were bristling with hardware, even Dave and Donnelley were heavily armed and armored. Aside from her FBI issue Glock, she had in her lap the futuristic looking Magpul PDR that packed a harder punch in a small package. When he had handed it to her, she had asked Donnelley if they were invading a cult compound or Klendathu.

The call that they were ten minutes from the LZ perked Queen up and he resisted the urge to reach into his pharmacy. It could wait until THUNDER was rolling and he flipped the simple old fashioned MP3 player that had weathered so many helicopter rides and ground pounding. The Exodus song was already fading out and he queued their song, the announcement to any of those snow packing assholes down below that they were about to get rocked if they tried any shit.

The familiar guitar riff started up and Queen nodded his head, making brief eye contact with the boys of THUNDER and when the first line hit, he sang it out, pointing at Donnelley who was nodding his head with a wicked grin. Tex was lurking behind the responsible facade he kept for his UMBRA team and he knew it, he still felt it despite the mantle of leadership he bore.

THUNDER! THUNDER!

Queen slapped his thighs, singing along with the gravelly vocals of Brian Johnson at the top of his lungs, “YOU BEEN THUNDERSTRUCK!

Between the loud blaring music and the motors of the helicopter's propellers, Ava’s groan as Queen added more noise to the cacophony was drowned out. She was seated as comfortably as she could be in the unforgiving seat she was strapped into, with even more military gear strapped onto her person.

To say she was unhappy would be a bit of an understatement. She was terrified for herself, for her companions around her and of what they would discover at the compound. Her mind kept gnawing on the shooting at the cabin like a dog with a bone. Being shot, the pain, the fear, the not knowing how her companions had fared.

All of that tacked on to the fact she was running on at most four and a half hours of sleep in the past 24 hours meant she had spent the bulk of the ride glaring at a particular spot on the floor. She had tried to will herself to sleep early on, but when that failed she settled for trying to bore a hole into the floor with her vision alone.

Though she did briefly shift her ire from the floor, to Donnelley when he made his quip about ignoring grievances. Then she went back to her previous target of ocular assault.

Dave was torn. He was scared, any sane man would be, but he also felt a growing excitement as he hefted the rifle in his hands and tried to keep his right leg from bouncing. It was another AK, not his own but one that had been hanging around the Program armory. His flannel was back, this one a brown-and-green number, insulated for the cold. It topped Coyote cargo pants and the battered hiking boots that had carried him over miles of Arkansas mountain. His plate carrier and helmet were Program issue, but comfortable enough.

He adjusted the ride of his Sig for the fiftieth time, brushing his hand over his old Buck knife for luck before reaching down to touch the hat Ava had given him, which was tucked into a cargo pocket. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, saw that she wasn't interested, and settled for looking back out the window.

Across from Dave, and in contrast to his excited nerves, Ghost lounged in his seat with his attention casually out the window. He wore a dark blue hoodie over charcoal ACU trousers, the same outfit he had been in when he first met UMBRA. His gear was pristine, Oakleys in place, his rifle held with the casual ease of a man who had done this more times than he could count.

Inside, Ghost boiled. He was keyed up, wound like a violent spring, ready to get his feet in the dirt and start spilling blood. He trained his eyes on Dave. The hick was doing well. He wasn't to Ghost's standards, but he was at least passable. Avery though…

He kicked a foot out, thumping Avery's boot and the other man jumped.

"You know your sector when we dismount, Pup?" He growled.

Avery looked at Ghost dumbly, hoping that the huge homunculus of a man would think his comms weren’t switched on or something and leave him alone. Since they’d dusted off the airstrip in their Blackhawks he’d needed to piss, or shit, or both. And now that they were only ten minutes out, he added nausea to his list of symptoms. “My… my sector…” he swallowed the abundance of thick saliva that preceded a hose of vomit, “Um…”

He looked to Donnelley for reassurance, but the other man only raised his brows at him expectantly. Avery spoke up, raising his voice out of anxiety more than any actual animosity, “Can you guys just fucking remind me, please, I’m trying here!”

"You're across from me," Ghost said. He bit back an internal sigh. "So you're taking the six on our side. Me, then you. The rest will fall out, they know their order." He paused.

"Just don't walk into the fucking tail rotor. You'll fuck up the bird. And die."

“If you look to your left and don’t see my winnin’ smile, you’re doin’ somethin’ wrong.” Donnelley reached over and softly punched Avery’s arm, which didn’t look like it instilled any sense of surety or camaraderie. There was a lack of chatter as the helicopter flew its course.

“We are approaching LZ, over.”

“Affirmative. Cut the music!” Donnelley spoke, looking to his team, “Remember, on my command, we dismount. Hold position and keep watch over your sectors until the bird’s away. After that, we’ve got a pleasant hike ahead of us, so enjoy it.”

As soon as the bird began its descent, Donnelley’s heart pumped a good rhythm, one part excitement and another part anxiety. That intoxicating mixture he could only get in bar brawls whenever he wasn’t out doing this. And even then, it was like a sorry placebo. They hovered about a foot off the ground and Donnelley called out for his team to dismount, rushing to cover his sector and gave a sigh of relief when he saw Avery executing his movement well enough. They all lay prone among the rocks, grass, and dirt of the valley they’d been dropped into until the beating of the helicopter’s wings faded out more and more only for it to be replaced by the soft whisper of the wind. Donnelley wasn’t sure if he was the first to notice, but he was the first to say anything, “Hear that?” He whispered over his comms, silence, not even chirping birds or any other sign of wildlife. It would take some more time to discern if it was due to the raucous of the helicopter or something more… concerning, “Nothing.”

He got to his knee and brought out his map and compass, glancing between the map and the surrounding terrain for a few moments, he nodded to himself. Satisfied with his calculations, if they kept themselves heading southeast they’d be within a mile of Ipiktok’s compound and ARTEMIS’ last known. From there, they could use the small drones to scout ahead. “UMBRA on me, columns, keep your spacing and watch your sectors.”

A heartbeat before dismount Ghost pulled up the skull-print neck gaiter that he wore into battle, then he charged from the bird. For just a heartbeat, he was somewhere else. Back in some no-name mountain valley, maybe northern Afghanistan, maybe Pakistan. They were all the same. It was always the same. The mountain air, the gun in his hands, the roar of the chopper. By the time his foot hit the ground he was back, moving on automatic to his position, both eyes open.

Dave hit dirt next to Poker, scanning his sector. His heart was pounding, his hands sweating inside his Mechanix gloves, but it was all he could do to keep the grin off his face, despite his terror. As the helicopter left he heard Donnelley in his ear and paused, straining. He was right; even with the chopper having scared off most of the large game, the birds and bugs at least should have recovered almost immediately. He fought down his unease as Donnelley called them in and fell into his appointed spot, his eyes on the trees around them.

Laine ducked her head and jumped down, landing with a thump among the lichens and grass. She went to her knees as the men fanned out then lay down on her stomach until the helicopter left. It was quiet but for the distant thump of the fading rotors and she looked around, the ground not the morass of mud she expected from the snow melt. At Donnelley’s order, she pushed herself up and looked around.

The countryside was rolling and open tundra, rocky outcroppings glaciers had left behind the only thing more vertical than the stunted shrubs. The landscape rolled up into the mountains ahead and behind them in the distance the sun glinted off the Noatak river and its sprawling tributaries. There was nothing else and like Donnelley had observed, it was quiet.

Laine had seen enough nature documentaries to know that insects swarmed during the summer months, the short lived growing and breeding season before the snow returned. “Maybe it was the storm that drove away the wildlife,” she suggested in a low voice, moving towards her preassigned position among UMBRA.

Queen scanned his sector, unimpressed by the landscape. It was ugly, drab, and featureless but the maps he had studied showed an undulation of deceptively flat land before they got into the foothills that quickly rose into mountains. A place men could lay low and not be seen, especially if they knew the country since birth. The unnatural silence bothered him as well, like the land around them held its breath for what might happen next.

He moved to his position, his voice still upbeat over the comms, “Ok boys and girls, time to earn our Arctic cult hunting merit badges.”

“Radio silence, Queen,” Poker came over the comms, “Head on a swivel, mouth closed and ears open.”

“Let’s move, we got six miles to cover.” Donnelley spoke, letting his SIG rest in the crooks of his elbows as he got up from one knee and addressed his team, pulling out his clicker which was identical to the ones the rest of them had, “If you find anything, give three clicks. Two clicks for yes, one for no. If something got to ARTEMIS it won’t get us, heads on a swivel.”

“Let’s go.” Donnelley began his walk, his column made up of UMBRA parallel to THUNDER’s. His team might not be chock full of killers like his old team, but they could hold their own. A part of him reminded himself that his world wasn’t the same as Tex’s was.

Just as Greedy had said, Noatak was rough country. It sure didn’t look like it, but it surely was. There wasn’t any civilization for miles, and where even Blackriver didn’t feel all that isolated with the presence of Clarksburg and Charleston, Noatak was truly lonely and isolated. Donnelley had set waypoints every half mile or so between the Infil LZ and ARTEMIS’ last known. He pulled his map and compass from one of his pouches and surveyed the land around with a few quick glances. He hadn’t had to refer to a map so much since Bolivia with THUNDER. The closer they got, the more Donnelley himself felt uneasy even though they were still five and a half miles out. He looked around them and saw only short brush, sparse and stubby trees, and flat ground. Not much in the way of cover. Maui would be able to see for miles, tag someone in the gut with his DMR and watch them run away for three days, it was so flat.

After a mile of walking, he decided to stop. With visibility like this, the drones would be less restrained in their speed and he halted his column, Poker doing the same. “Rest up for a minute, hydrate.” He said over their comms, though at a distance like this, it really was just an echo of his own voice in their ears, “UMBRA 1-4(Ava), bring out the UAVs. The rest of you maintain a perimeter.”

Ava nodded, the slightly too big helmet on her head bobbing backing and forth with the motion. She set down her pack, grateful to take a moment to rest as she brought out the Black hornet drones in their protective little cases. Despite her tiredness, she was surprised at how well she was keeping up with the rest of the group, that had been one of the things she had been worrying about since the briefing.

It looked like all those years of cycling and core strengthening exercises were paying off though, despite the fact all she wanted to do was flop down and go to sleep for eight hours. Maybe the sceneria was helping too, despite the danger she knew was lurking somewhere within these rolling hills; it was still a very beautiful landscape. She wished she was enjoying it under more pleasant circumstances.

“How far out should I send them Do-Tex?” She asked, quickly catching herself before she called him by his actual surname. She grimaced and looked down in embarrassment, fidgeting with getting the drones up and running.

Donnelley checked his compass against the map, “Keep ‘em goin’ out our direction, southeast.” He said, “Mile out, push the limit. I want to see what’s ahead of us before it sees us.”

She nodded again, reaching up this time to keep the helmet from sliding around on her head. She picked up one of the little drones and held it up in her hand and turned on the heavy duty tablet she had been given, activating the cameras and giving them each a quick check to make sure they were working.

“Okay, Mo off you go.” She whispered, glancing down at the table as with a soft, high pitched whine, the rotors turned on. It gently hovered out of Ava’s hand, rising up a few feet or so before darting up into the sky like a hummingbird on the wing.

Ava watched its ascent and then looked back down, focusing on the landscape they could now see through the drone on the tablet.

The minutes ticked by as Ava urged the little drone to fly as quickly as it could to its one mile radius. She switched through the three cameras periodically, but saw nothing other than the grasslands and more picturesque views. The nice thing about the terrain was that at least it made it easy to find anything out of the ordinary.

After the monotony of grass, grass and more grass, Ava suddenly perked up. “Something is moving.” She said to the others, narrowing her eyes down at the brown spot moving around down below the drone, almost blending in with the tall, dull grass. “I thiiink it’s a bear.” She shivered as she brought the drone down lower to get a better look. “Yeah, it’s just a bear. Grizzly maybe? Good thing we know he’s there so we can-Body!” She exclaimed, standing up to her feet with wide eyes focused intently on the tablet. “Body, body! The bear is pawing at a human body and-Aaaah!”

Ava screamed and threw the tablet away from her, backing away from it as though it was burning her hands, stumbling back and away from the device. “Bear gone! Bear gone!” She said, her face growing sickly pale as her body started to shake and tremble.

Donnelley was facing the direction the UAV was sent until he heard Ava’s scream. He almost jumped when the shrill scream cut through the relative silence, turning and placing a hand on Ava’s shoulder, “What?” He asked, trying to gather more words to say, “What’s wrong? What do you mean it’s gone?

Laine watched the little drone drift up into the sky, taking a moment to drink from her water bottle as Ava scanned the area. She was not paying attention to her, scanning the tundra ground until her voice called out. A body. A bear.

Before she had a chance to ask the scream cut through the silence, raising the hairs on the back of Laine’s neck. “Gone? Did it run off or just...”

“Can you play it back, the recording?” Laine asked, moving to pick up the tablet that had been thrown.

“Easy sugar.” Dave was suddenly there, resting a calloused hand on the back of Ava’s neck. He looked down at her and gave her his best attempt at a comforting smile, though his own heart was pounding from hearing her sudden scream. “Relax. Easy, now. What’d ya see?”

Ava looked up at Donnelley and Dave, her eyes filled with tears and her body shaking like a leaf. Her almost hyperventilated breathing started to calm slightly, enough for her to get in some deep breaths with their support. “There-there was a bear and-and it was digging at-at something on the ground.” She explained quickly, looking between Donnelley and Dave, with her eyes mostly resting on Dave’s comforting features. “And it was a body, a human body in-in camo, it took-took a bite out of the body,” She paused as her breathing hitched and she wrapped her arms around herself.

“The bear...It turned into dust.” She said, looking into both of their faces with an expression of fear and earnest conviction. “It-it crumbled in on itself like-like it was hollow and just turned into dust.” She grabbed onto Donnelley’s arm, looking him in the eye with a desperate expression. “No one should touch that body, please don’t make anyone touch it!”

“Nobody’s goin’ to.” Donnelley reassured Ava, placing a hand over hers that was in a death grip around his forearm, but he paid no mind to her surprisingly strong grip. He turned to the others, “We’re movin’ out, check out that body, see if it’s one of ARTEMIS. Keep your spacin’, whatever got him might still be out here.”

Laine checked the tablet, it was still working and she looked to see if the footage had been saved. “We certainly need to get a look at that body,” she said absently, her thoughts turned to bear disintegrating into dust. She rewatched the footage and the continued stream of the body laying in the stunted grass.

“That’s weird, reminds me a little of the...” she stopped, a strange sense of superstition she had not felt since playing Bloody Mary at a sleepover that to speak it would invoke it. Laine tried to shake the feeling away, to be logical but there was little in the way of logic in what she had witnessed while with the Program.

She walked slowly, unable to keep her eyes off the screen as she watched the bear vanish again, finally pulling in the image of the body, pushing the drone to hover closer and closer. “Look at this,” she stopped in her tracks.

Queen noticed Laine stop and stepped a little closer, “Beep, beep, Doc. Don’t get too distracted, we’re gonna get a close look soon enough.”

Laine pulled her gaze away to look over her shoulder, blinking then shaking her head sharply. “Right.”

She glanced at it again, the image still shocking. The figure’s exposed hand looked like the elk jerky she had brought along in her pack and it made her stomach turn. Laine zoomed back out, so the drone could be more useful as an overwatch of the area. The crime scene, she thought about it that way, it made it feel familiar and something she could handle.

Dave gave Ava’s shoulder a final squeeze and then drifted away, back to his spot in the lineup. His palms were sweaty beneath his gloves; he hadn’t watched the footage himself, but he hated seeing Ava so shaken. Laine seemed fine, she had a clinical detachment that probably came with her day job, but Ava wasn’t used to that sort of separation. He gave her a concerned glance and then turned his attention outwards, his eyes combing the surroundings for potential threats.

Donnelley’s voice came over the comms as they walked, hushed and a little nonchalant despite the ruckus earlier. He’d been doing this a while, and wanted to try to take the edge off, “Hey, Lucky, if we gotta run again make sure you watch your step. Not like last time.” His voice took on a more serious edge the closer they got, though the body was still a mile off, “THUNDER pulls security, I’ll search the body.”

Their walk was uneventful, no monsters, none of them turned to dust, but none of them particularly felt in the right spirit for talking. He didn’t blame them, the spot he put himself in was even giving him some anxiety. If the bear had touched the body before disintegrating, would he? After the amount of brisk walking they stopped, THUNDER facing outwards and taking a knee, rifles at low ready and scanning the area around them. Donnelley stepped around the body while keeping a respectable distance, his SIG pointed at the body. It didn’t move, but after Baughman’s wife and everything else he’d seen, he didn’t trust bodies.

He squeezed off two loud cracks from his SIG into the corpse’s chest, and one more in the head. Instead of blood, it was simply dust that rolled off into the wind. He nodded at Avery, the other man putting his rifle’s sights on the body as Donnelley moved closer. Avery and Donnelley shared a long gaze with each other as Donnelley breathed and readied himself to potentially die. He wondered if it would hurt. His usual arrogant and cocky smirk was weighed down with something, but he forced himself to keep it, “If any of y’all have anythin’ you always wanted to say to me, I’d do it now.”

Laine moved the drone closer to record what might happen and handed the tablet back to Ava. “You just need to keep it steady, you don’t need to watch the screen.”

She gave her shoulder a pat and moved towards Donnelley, her heart starting to pound and her mouth felt suddenly dry. “I’m here to help,” Laine said, standing less than a foot away from the team leader. Her gaze was on him, the words she would like to say would remain unsaid but she would at least be with him.

“I suppose latex gloves wouldn’t do much,” she said dryly, “But I’ve got some with the first aid kit.”

Donnelley shrugged, still looking at the body, “Think I could get some of those?”

Dave frowned, taking a few steps closer and looking from Avery to Donnelley, and then at the body.

“You ain’t seriously gonna touch that, right?” He said. “That’s...Just poke it with a fuckin’ stick, man. Y’all saw that thing disintegrate a bear, puttin’ your hands on it just seems kinda...Stupid.”

Ava had a white knuckled grip on the tablet, the heavy duty plastic creaking with the pressure. “Don’t touch it!” She said, taking a few panic steps forward. “You said no one was going to touch it! Don’t fucking touch it!” She pleaded, her voice cracking and breaking as her breath started to quicken with heightened stress.

Dave reached out and took her by the shoulder again. “I’m kinda with Ava, man. Get some dudes out here with spell books an’ space suits. We got enough trouble on our hands with a damn witchdoctor an’ a bunch armed-up Eskimos.”

Donnelley held up a hand, “I ain’t gonna poke his ID out his ass with a stick, man. Gotta confirm.” Donnelley sighed hard, breath growling in his throat, “Laine, gloves. Please.”

Laine glanced back at Dave and Ava, holding her hand up slightly before letting the strap of her pack shift down her shoulder. It swung forward and she took a knee to open it for the first aid kit, taking out a pair of gloves. She glanced at Donnelley, “Does there seem to be a bite on the body, that you can see? Any tissue damage other than the desiccation?”

She snapped on the gloves, handing over another pair and looked Donnelley in the eyes. He stared back for a moment, then shook his head, “I’m gonna search his pack, I’m not touchin’ this fucker’s skin.”

He took the gloves Laine handed to him and pulled them on, a tight fit around his thicker hands, and he hoped they didn’t split open while he was searching.

Laine watched him struggle to pull them on, frowning slightly, “Why not let me do it? You take some pictures while we’re this close.”

“Laine,” Donnelley had a firmness to his voice, but a softness to his eyes, “I said I’d do it.”

Without waiting for her to protest he reached forward to gingerly take hold of one of the zippers, slightly cringing as he did in preparation for the possibility of not existing anymore.

Ava dropped the tablet, taking a panicked step forward but Dave’s hand on her shoulder kept her back.

His fingers clamped around the zipper as he sat there, still. The moment seemed to come to a head as everything and everyone seemed to quiet in anticipation. Donnelley’s eyes were screwed shut and a few long moments passed. He opened his eyes, a small chuckle escaping his lips, tentative like it was unsure it was safe to come out. Then he laughed, voice high as he looked around at the rest of them, “Holy shit, could you imagine…?” He chuckled again, shaking his head, “Jesus Christ…”

Laine took a deep breath, the urge to argue with him strong but it was not the time, not in front of two teams. She watched him start to unzip the backpack and breathed out sharply when he remained solid and alive. She pulled her phone out and stood up, “I’ll take some photos of the corpse in situ. Not that we’ll be moving it anytime soon.”

Over the comm, she said, “It’s alright, we’re not touching the body.”

Laine took careful steps around, crouching to get whatever images she could of the leathery skin, pulled tight against the skeleton, the flesh seemed to have shriveled to nothing. She tapped the button gingerly with gloves still on and breathed out, she could see the side of the face. “Completely desiccated, like a mummy. Reminds me of that ice man they found in the Alps but the victim has only been here a day or so. Assumed to be part of SIREN or ARTEMIS, no wounds observed but body cannot be touched...”

Laine paused, but then added, “See drone footage of scavenging bear, it...disintegrated after biting into the thigh, there’s no blood because there’s nothing left but dried tissue.”

She spoke in a calm voice, the recorder app on her phone catching the words and the sound of the wind around them. There were still no sounds of birds or insects, just the wind. Laine went back to her observations, trying to think about what might have done this. “His eyes...still intact from what I can see, completely shriveled attached to the optic nerve.”

Laine tried to get lower, to get a picture of the face that was turned sideways pressed against dry sedge grass. She glanced up over the body at Donnelley, her relief that nothing had happened to him was still in her eyes but kept her conversation light, “Looks like you missed the Thanos snap, any luck with the ID?”

Donnelley was elbow deep in the pack, rummaging for the last of the things it was stuffed with as he was surrounded by clothes and other such supplies. As expected, his gear was sanitized, nothing to tie the body to a name so far. He opened another pouch and smiled when he grabbed something square and hard like plastic. A cell phone, not unlike the ones they carried. Unfortunately, Donnelley’s face wasn’t programmed into the phone to unlock it, and he doubted whatever the corpse had left for a face would help, “We got somethin’. Ava,” he called out, holding the cellphone out to her, “Think you got somethin’ to unlock this thing?”

Ava let out a deep sigh of relief, the tension she had been holding in seeming to drain from her very bones. Her hands were still shaking and her heart still raced being so close to that cursed corpse, and having her friends even closer to it, but they were alright. They were still there. They didn’t turn into hollow husks and then get swept away by the wind.

She focused on Donnelley as he held up a cell phone from the body, her throat tightening as she looked to Dave nervously. She didn’t want to get any closer to that body.

Dave winked at her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. As he watched Donnelley and Laine work he felt a tickle, something strange scratching at his woodsman’s instincts. He walked a little closer to the body and squatted near its feet, his eyes on the ground.

“Got prints,” he murmured. He hesitated. “Looks...Weird. Like they’re frozen or somethin’.”

He drew his knife and reached out to prod at the iced-over prints with the blade, frowning as the thin crust of ice cracked and the dirt beneath crumbled. His eyes followed the prints back and he stood, grunting as his knees audibly popped.

As Donnelley gave her no answer, she went back to examining the body. The clothing was intact but the flesh looked ancient, brown and leathery pulled tight against bones. It reminded her of an Incan mummy, frozen in the Andes in perfect but dehydrated condition. Laine squatted down, carefully positioning the phone to try and get pictures where she could not see. Her hand moved closer and she felt it, like reaching into a deep freezer.

The cold seeped through the latex glove, a biting cold that made her hand ache just within a few moments. She jerked her hand back, careful not to touch the corpse.

“It’s cold, very cold,” she said, recording it but talking to her teammates. “Dave, what was that?”

Laine turned to see the mountain man crouching over marks in the short clumped grass. She looked back at the sedge and lichen around the body. It was brown and rough, not like the green and golden reds in the rest of the area. Frozen and dead.

“What did you find?” she asked, following the line from the body to where Dave was.

“Frozen footprints and dead ground,” Dave said. He was following the tracks, his knife still in his hand. “Shit ain’t right. Run back this way, ‘bout twenty feet or so I’d say. Like he started gettin’ cold before he dropped.” He frowned and slipped his knife back into its sheath with the ease of a man who had carried one for most of his life. Then he pulled off a glove, produced a can of Copenhagen from his pocket, and gave it a few snaps.

“It’s kinda...I dunno. Like the rest of the ground ain’t froze. Like he’s the one who…” Dave trailed off, taking the opportunity to both marshal his thoughts and stuff a fat wad of dip into his lip. “Like it’s him who was cold, ya know?”

“Maybe it was the snowstorm?” Avery offered as he stepped up, taking a moment to heft the big LMG he was carrying. “I mean, they said it was snowing before we left, we got put on hold before we could even dust off. Had to be pretty cold.”

“Snow melted, or… maybe that ain’t the right word, I don’t know. Ground ain’t muddy, snow’s not anywhere.” Donnelley shook his head, looking out at the tundra like it’d insulted him as he stepped up beside Avery. his hands in his pockets and his SIG dangling on its sling, “If I was stupid I’d sniff the poor bastard back there, see if he smelled like ozone or somethin’ ‘fore I blew away.”

“Magic?” Avery cringed at the word, as if that was the most ridiculous part of this whole world the Program put around them.

Dave glanced at Avery and shook his head, though there was nothing derisive in the gesture, just simple disagreement.

“I’m from the Ozarks, lived there my whole life,” he said. “I’ve helped with a lotta search an’ rescue, stuff like that. I’ve seen people who’ve died from exposure, from snow storms...This ain’t that. This fella looks like he’s been freeze-dryin’ for decades, not like someone who froze to death in a storm. Them tracks are recent too, or they’da been gone a long time ago.”

He pointed at the corpse. “Whatever did that, it wasn’t no weather. Shit ain’t right.”

Laine looked up at the men as she knelt close to the corpse, “It’s not natural at all. He’s radiating cold like a chunk of dry ice. Every bit of moisture is gone, even his eyes look like raisins and they’re usually the first to decompose. Not that he’s had a chance if he’s part of one of the teams. Not enough time, especially considering the temperatures. No insects on him either, from what I can see. I don’t want to get too close and accidentally brush against it.”

She stood up carefully and turned her phone on video record, “Let me get those footprints, we should take that soil sample. There’s some ziplocs in my bag, the first aid kit. Now, I’m the last person to instantly think magic but without an expert to examine his body, it’s hard to think of anything natural that could have caused this or that freak storm. Even if the ground is permafrost, you think the snow melt would still be around.”

Donnelley’s narrowed eyes scanned the far tundra, mountains in the distance, “Wind-Walker.” He said, lip turning up and he snorted something into his face and spat it far, “We should move. I’m not turnin’ out like him if another storm comes around.”

“Wind-Walker?” Laine repeated as she handed Dave a small sandwich ziploc bag, who drew his knife, collected some of the earth from the prints, and then returned it. “It’s the same thing that those journals and RCMP’s reports mentioned. The one that the journal of that gold miner said his workers were worried about. Ish...Ithakwa...something like that. The snow storms that seemed to coincide with those mentions.”

She looked at her phone, the charge had dropped to almost 50% after all the use of the recorder and camera. Laine turned it off after the last overview picture of the scene, tucking it away so she could grab her bag.

Cautiously Ava approached the group around the body, the drone tablet back in her hands with the small device hovering above and viewing the scene. She still had a nervous eye on the corpse, but everyone being careful and remaining unharmed eased some of her fear.

She walked up to Donnelley, taking the phone from him and giving it a look over. “I can get out the SIM card and pull up whatever was on the phone,” She said, looking up at Donnelley with a faint frown. “But I need to sit down to do it.” She motioned with the tablet slightly. “And I should probably keep sweeping with the drones in case there are anymore bodies. This one’s battery is about to run out.”

Donnelley nodded, checking Ava over with his eyes. She seemed alright, but he knew the truth about judging a book by its cover, “Okay. Put another one in the air and keep it ahead of us.” Donnelley turned from Ava and circled his finger in the air, calling out, “Regroup. Wedge formation, let’s move.”

>2 MILES OUT FROM OBJECTIVE...///

“What the f-“

“Shut up!” Donnelley cut Avery off, his harsh whisper over the comms. He looked over his shoulder at the rest of them and signaled for them to drop to a knee and take up defensive positions. For those of them who weren’t Avery, Donnelley, or Ava the things in the sky were only dots.

Donnelley waved Avery over to him and held his hand out for the binoculars hanging from Avery’s neck. Avery placed them in Donnelley’s waiting palm and he looked through them towards the dots in the sky. Avery watched Donnelley intently as he stared for a few long seconds before handing them back. Avery went to take them and found that Donnelley still held onto them with a strong grip, still staring at the dots in the sky. Avery cleared his throat, looking at the others before saying, “Donnelley, man… my binoculars.”

Donnelley let them go and shook his head, rubbing at his face, “You saw that?” Avery nodded at him, though Donnelley was still staring at the dots and couldn’t see it, until he looked at the other man, “I want us on full alert.”

Donnelley waved his two fingers in the air to regroup his teams, “Let’s move.”

They continued on, wordless. Donnelley was quiet, but so were the rest of them, “Ava, switch the UAV out and get another one with a fresh battery up.”

Ava looked up at the dots in the sky, squinting her eyes and frowning in bewilderment. She glanced down and made the current UAV drone turn around to head back for them. She leaned herself to the side, her head cocked all the way to the side with the slightly too big helmet on her head threatening to fall off. “What are those, they aren’t moving.”

She looked back down at the tablet, noting the battery of the UAV on it’s way back and directed it up toward the dots in the sky. “There’s still some battery left on HAL, I’ll have it move closer to see what those things are.”

“Give the tablet for the second set to Laine. You two stay back with Maui when we get on-target.” Donnelley told Ava.

Laine trudged along, the weight of the pack starting to pull at her shoulders and carrying the Magpul PDR over her shoulder to keep her hands free. Her attention was on the path when she heard Donnelley, his voice tense. She looked around and up in the sky where she could see him looking with binoculars but saw nothing but a couple of dots.

When Ava handed her the other tablet, she took it and then looked up at again. “Well, that’s weird,” she said dryly, glancing back up at it then got the instruction from Ava to set another fresh drone up to provide scouting and overwatch for the small team.

As Avery and the THUNDER team members set up their equipment, Laine watched Donnelley and the rest go forward and she forced herself to look away from his back and to the tablet to focus on the task at hand.

While Laine manned the drone Ava dubbed Baymax, she continued to fly HAL up toward the strange unmoving dots in the sky. At first she thought they might be weather equipment of some kind, but they didn’t move with the wind and she couldn’t see any tethers.

She continued to frown as she pushed the little drone to fly just a bit further.

Then the dots finally resolved themselves into shapes and she took a sharp inhale of breath, pressing the tablet to her chest with wide eyes. She looked over to Laine next to her and tugged on her sleeve with a shaking hand to get her attention. “Laine, um...I figured out what those dots are.” She turned the tablet around and showed her the screen.

The three dots had finally come into focus enough to reveal three human silhouettes, hanging in mid-air.

Laine was making her drone, Baymax, do methodical circuits in a radius around the men heading toward their objective and their own position. She could see Donnelley on point and Avery beside him and the smallest man, Queen, near the back. The large gun toting ox was likely Ghost and he was on the flank. She heard Ava and the tone of her voice made her look up.

She saw the image on the tablet and blinked, stepping closer. “How the...fuck? Is that real?”

Laine stopped herself, she had come to accept the weird shit by now though it was still a struggle against her natural tendency towards logic. The human figures just hung there, reminding her at once of the old Superman movies and Zod and his cronies hovering in mid flight. “Did you see any movement, can you tell how far they are?”

Ava shook her head, making sure the drone was recording before she had it start to fly back to them. “Maybe another mile, I was really pushing the drone to get that much of an image and it needs to come back to charge or we’ll lose it.” She took in a deep breath, trying to steady her shaking hands. “I really don’t like any of this, but there’s nothing I can do…” She trailed off, looking around her at the men setting up and then the ones going forward, her throat clenching and heart dropping.

“We can warn them,” Laine said, still looking over at Ava’s tablet as she reached up to her comm, “...UMBRA 1-Actual, do you read?”

As she waited her thoughts raced, nothing in her reading had mentioned flying people or anything even close to it. Neither had the mention of death by deep freeze or finding a frozen body, the human sized piece of dry ice that turned those that touched it into dust. Maybe that was because the accounts were written by survivors and they had not got so close. Her mouth felt dry and she called again, “UMBRA 1-Actual, come in.”

“UMBRA 1-Actual, go, UMBRA 1-2.” Donnelley’s voice came over the comms as the rest of his element followed him in after they’d shrugged their packs and left them with Avery, Maui, and Poker. Every so often, his eyes would go to the bodies hanging limp in the sky, an unbearable tingling in the back of his neck with the expectation they’d drop on them at any moment. “Keep a fuckin’ eye on those damned things.” He said to the other men around him.

“UMBRA 1-4 got a visual. It’s three...they look like human figures, just hovering. I saw the footage, it's more weird for you, Actual. The drone could not get close enough the charge was too low but we’ll take another look, 1-2 out,” Laine said into the comm as she guided her own drone overhead of the men making a sweeping circle of the terrain around them while she still had them in range.

Turning to Ava she asked, “Think we can get Baymax up there?”

Ava looked over to Laine, shutting her pack with the fresh drone, Glados, in her hand. “Um, yeah, I think you can.” She said glancing up at the suspended bodies with a shudder. “You do that and I’ll keep an eye on the area around.” She pointed to the tablet. “Make sure you record it so we can take it back to the base.” She looked back up, unable to help herself. “It’s...like they’re frozen in midair.”

Laine nodded at that, “They do, it’s very strange.”

She gave Ava an ironic glance, how many times would they say those words. Everything since they landed in the freak snowstorm had been strange. What could freeze dry a person or suspend bodies hundreds of feet off the ground. Laine directed the drone upward, the view on the tablet growing more in detail. She frowned, tapping the screen to zoom in, now features coming into view.

The face of one person coming into focus and she could see the details. Laine tapped the record button and began making a study of the individuals, trying to keep the drone steady in the higher altitude winds. Directing the camera closer, the faces came into focus. They were male and unlike the body on the ground, they did not have the dehydrated appearance. They looked like corpses in a morgue, their camo tactical gear undamaged and she saw no wounds save one.

The man closest to her had a gunshot, a small entrance wound under his eye, a perfect little circle. Laine panned the drone upward and over, searching for the exit wound. Her eyes widened in surprise, she expected to find it but not this fresh. The bullet had entered under his eye and exited from near the base of the skull, a fist sized hole in the base of the cranium. The blood, shards of bone, and chunks of brain had sprayed down his back and it still glistened wetly. It should have been dried to a dull maroon but it looked fresh as if it had just occurred. Frozen in time as there had been hours between ARTEMIS’s arrival and UMBRA making it to the site.

“Can you believe this shit?” she said, watching the tablet, talking to herself as much as Ava.

She got as close as she dared with the drone trembling in the wind her own shaky hands. Laine recorded the footage and panned the other two men but they seemed uninjured but clearly dead. She reached up, clutching the tablet one handed and hit the comm button, “UMBRA Actual, this is 1-2. I have an update on the trio, do you read?”

Donnelley was crawling on his stomach with the others just behind the crest of the hill. They’d stopped just before they could see over it, the compound was just on the other side. When he heard Laine’s voice over the comms, he acknowledged in a whisper, “UMBRA Actual, go, 1-2.”

Hearing his hushed tone, she dropped her voice though the incredulity was still audible.

"Three men, dressed like the first but they're not jerky. All dead, only one with a visible wound. Gunshot under the right eye, exit wound from left occipital...base of the skull. High angle entry and exit. So someone had a steep angle, but you. know that. But that's not the weirdest, the blood and brains still look wet, like it happened minutes ago rather than hours. All three figures look like fresh corpses in the morgue. I don't know how these guys are just hanging out but something put them there. Over."

She felt a little breathless, the adrenaline kicking up as she described what the drone showed her.

“Doesn’t sound like a firefight…” Donnelley said, thinking out loud and his voice trailing off, “Execution?”

But that didn’t even begin to explain why the fuck they were in the sky. Again, he glanced at them, hanging over the scene ominously, “You or 1-4 got eyes on anything moving in the compound, over?”

“I’m coming into view of the compound now.” Ava said over the comms, guiding the drone up as high as she could to hopefully avoid detection as the compound, the only piece of human civilization in this rolling expanse of grasslands, came into view.

It was nestled at the base of a small mountain, surrounded on all sides by rising hills like the one the forward team was crawling their way up of. A landmark that immediately caught her eye on the compound grounds was a patch of gravel where a small, civilian model helicopter sat; it’s back tail rotor appeared to have been ripped off by some kind of explosion.

As the drone flew down closer she saw something troubling in the middle of the compound. “Um, I see bodies.” She explained into the comms, glancing nervously over to Laine. “10 human bodies, strewn about the ground in the middle of the compound. They’re dressed in civilian clothing, there’s a lot of blood, uh, looks like they all either have AR15s or handguns by their sides.” She swallowed thickly as she piloted the small drone down even lower to get a better look at one of the bodies.

Her stomach flipped as she tried not to dwell too much on the fact she was looking at what was once a living person. “They, they look like members of Ipiktok’s family. Um.” She trailed off and breathed out as she turned the drone away. “I’m not seeing any other movement.”

As if to punctuate Ava’s observation, a lone wind rushed through the tundra, waltzing the grass and making Donnelley shiver as they lay prone just behind the crest of the hill. Maui, Poker, and Avery knew their jobs as Overwatch on the compound. Avery held his FN Mk48 close, Maui had his SIG 716, and Poker was equipped with the strike designator. Somewhere above them a Predator Drone was ready and waiting to send a Hellfire missile nose-first at someone’s forehead.

“Ghost, Queen, you’re with me and Lucky. We’ll search the houses, catalogue anything we need to for CORAL NOMAD, and check the IDs on the bodies in there. Make a few more if we have to.” Donnelley nudged Dave next to him, “You forget all the shit we did in the shoothouses yet, Lucky?”

"Huh? Nah, I'm good man, I'm good." Dave shot Donnelley a confident grin, doing his best to hide the tension in his stomach and the pounding of his heart. His hands were steady as he hefted his rifle.

Beside him Ghost rolled his head atop his shoulders, loosening the tension in his thick neck.

"Time to play another round," he grated, flexing his hands. "Let's go. I'm point."

“Rog’, you’re point. I’m second, Queen’s got the rear.”

Queen flashed a smile but let the opportunity for a joke pass, reaching into his pocket eagerly and took out a small vial. Without much care for measuring, he eyeballed a small amount of white powder and rubbed it on his gums, mindful of Dave's presence. He quickly followed it up with a swig from his canteen and grimaced, flexing his numbing face.

"Got it," he said with an effort not to slur, running a hand over his beard.

“UMBRA 1-Actual to all, we are moving on Area Alpha. Starting stopwatch…” Donnelley started the stopwatch on his tactical watch buckled on his wrist, “Now.”

Poker did the same some distance behind them, “Roger, 1-Actual, stopwatch is rolling, over.”

“Move.” Donnelley said, and they did, falling into place as they made their approach on the compound in a jog. Without a fence it was that much easier to breach, but stepping over the body of a girl who looked only seventeen didn’t help Donnelley’s nerves. Had to be one of Ipiktok’s daughters. They made it to the first building of three, the smallest house on the property, and stacked on the door.

Tex took one side while Ghost, Lucky, and Queen took the other. He reached over and checked the handle, unlocked. No need to kick it open or take the hinges off with his shotgun. Tex nodded to Ghost, twisting the knob and throwing the door open.

Ghost rushed the room, rifle up and moving with his eyes as he scanned his sector. His brain was in combat mode, cataloging dead space and seeking threats, and it wasn't until he had reached his position that he actually began noting the details.

The one-room cabin was simply furnished, with a minimum of electrical appliances, likely to save the generators. Sturdy furniture, wood stove. He saw a small shelf with what looked like board games. All things you might expect at a summer camp. He grimaced. The residual boredom soaked into the walls made him want to shoot himself just to have something to do.

Pushing aside his generalized disgust for the 'simple life', he raised a hand and indicated the dead space he had behind the bed on the other side of the room, and the counter across from him.

Queen stepped quickly through the door, his eyes darting around the room. It was dim but he felt confident as Ghost cleared it but kept his gun in hand. He moved to bed, it was an iron bed frame that looked like it was from the time of dog sleds delivering vaccines. He saw a few personal items and wondered briefly where they plugged in to do the facebook page or watch whale porn. It was snug, small and sturdy against the brutal Arctic winters and had a rustic charm of the sort he would never want to stay too long in.

He glanced at Dave, “Hey Lucky, remind you of home?”

Flashing a grin, he turned on the flashlight and the gleam illuminating his eyes. The sea-colored irises only a ring around the large dilated pupils, “We’re looking for monsters, what better than under the bed.”

He put out the light and slung his rifle back to position himself at the side of the bed so he could grab the boxspring and lift it with the mattress, holding it up as Ghost covered the bed. Queen shoved it over and let it hit the far wall, knocking into the nightstand.

Dave, finishing his sweep, opened his mouth to reply but thought better of it when he saw the thunderous glare that Ghost had fixed on Queen. He lowered his rifle as Ghost declared the room 'clear' with his basso growl, then stepped back as the big man stormed over to grab Queen by his vest.

"Fuck are you doing?" Ghost snarled. "You a goddamn amateur like ARTEMIS? Just tell whoever is under the bed to blow your balls off, I guess." He pulled Queen close, their helmets meeting with a clack. "Get your shit together." Then he shoved Queen away, walking to the other side of the cabin.

Tex sighed under his breath at the small altercation, already feeling like home among the ravenous wolves of the THUNDER pack as he watched Ghost stomp over his way again. Any other arrangement of killers might be at each other’s throats, but THUNDER always seemed to toe the line of consummate professionals enough to bark and snap at each other without blood being shed. “1-Actual to all, first cabin clear,” he said, “Commencing search, over.”

He brought his wrist up and looked at the watch, stopwatch still going, “Time reads zero-eight-thirty, stopwatch at five minutes-thirty-one seconds and counting, how copy?”

“Good copy, 1-Actual, time matches mine. No time anomalies.” Poker said over the comms, “Continue with search, over.”

“Roger, out.” Tex returned his hand to his side, his SIG hanging from its sling while he held the pistol grip and addressed the others, “Tear the place apart, catalogue the weird shit.”

Queen felt the powerful grip as Ghost yanked him closer, knowing he had fucked up even as the words were growled out. The grin vanished from Queen's face as their helmets collided. He looked up at the blank sunglasses but he knew those cold shark eyes were glaring daggers at him behind the reflective lenses.

A chill ran down his back, a creeping feeling recalling the ease of how Ghost would kill with little emotion. Not hidden or masked, just absent. Queen glanced away, not arguing or getting smart with the big operator this time.

"Yeah, kinda got ahead of myself," he muttered, pulling away as Ghost released him. Queen did not look at Dave or Tex as he stepped over the bed rail to check the nightstand drawers.

He tossed the drawers, finding nothing of interest, not even a stash of weed. Queen tossed the drawer on the sagging mattress that slumped to the ground and stepped over it to get to the TV console. It was a bulky thing made to hold an old fashioned entertainment system of the wood panel encased television and the brick like VCR. In the cabinets were VHS tapes crammed in, several Disney films and 80s action movies, the plastic on the cases faded yellow and ragged at the ends.

Queen picked through them one by one, popping the cases open and closing them back up when he saw the black cassettes. The smell of the tape and the plastic, the dust on the convex glass of the tv reminded him suddenly of visiting his Memaw and Granddad in their small home in the panhandle. Bowls of orange sherbet consumed while sitting with his cousins watching animatedTransformers the movie over and over on the worn tape.

This wasn’t Pace, Florida and this was a long way from Memaw Teagan. This cold place with fucking corpses hovering in the sky. Queen’s rapid thoughts flickered like passing city lights on a dark ride home. He picked up another tape and noticed the weight difference right away. Glancing at the case, it was The Neverending Story cover under the plastic slip but when he popped it open he saw the video cassette. Weighing it again in his hand, he then removed the tape and pulled it open. No reels or black tape, just a leather cord wrapped around something.

“Found something,” he said, sitting back on his heels as he unwound the cord. It was tied like a necklace and was strung with a pendant. Queen held it up so the light would catch it, studying it briefly. It was made of black painted wood sanded smooth into a circle and inlaid with a black stone,

“Looks like... I don’t know, maybe some tribal thing,” he said, turning to show Tex and the others. “Maybe something else. I’ll bag it up.”

Dave had been half searching, half admiring the home itself. It wasn’t too different from his own place, in truth; he had multiple rooms, and full electrical thanks to his solar set-up, but he often used oil lamps in the colder months when the days were shorter and kept warm with a wood burning stove. If he wanted to run his reloading setup he had to kill everything powered upstairs and then turn on the generator. He honestly found himself feeling a little homesick as he examined the simple but sturdy furnishings.

When Queen sounded off he crossed to the man, his AK comfortably cradled.

“Whatcha think it is?” He asked, eyeing the pendant.

“Witch shit.” Ghost’s voice was dismissive, and earned him a glare from Dave that went entirely unnoticed as he dumped a drawer on the ground and toed through its contents with his boot.

“Why ya say that?” Dave asked.

“Because it isn’t illegal to be Eskimo, or whatever,” Ghost said. “But they hid it anyway. I don’t see any gold or precious stones on that thing, and they’re in the middle of their own compound, but they stashed it. That means there’s a moral or spiritual imperative to hide it.”

Dave stared at Ghost for a moment. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Ghost said. “I’ve been doing this a while. Bag it, don’t fuck with it. If there’s shit written on it, don’t read it.”

"Already on it," Queen replied, folding it into a small evidence bag. He glanced at Dave, a little crooked smile touching his lips but not his dilated eyes. "Spooky stuff, ain't it?"

“Yeah,” Dave murmured, his gaze on the artifact rather than Queen. “Can’t say I’m a fan, personally.”

“A lot of people ain’t, if they know what’s good for ‘em.” Tex was kneeling on one knee next to book shelf, taking each one by one and giving them a quick thumb-through, the pages fanning away and not revealing any sort of a secret cut-outs for anything as mundane as guns or drugs, nor anything as horrifying as eyes that dilated and moved on their own, transmitting thoughts into your head… Mexico was a time, alright, “Why do you think we’re even here.” He muttered, voice trailing off.

As he flipped through the last couple books he shook his head, tossing the last one on the pile, “Well, this cabin is borin’ so far. If it weren’t for the bodies floatin’ fifty fuckin’ feet in the air outside I’d say ARTEMIS accidentally Waco’d these poor guys.”

He frowned, “Fact remains, someone did. ARTEMIS reported some unknowns. Ipiktok’s family weren’t unknowns, they were the prime suspects. They were ARTEMIS’ targets.” Tex gripped his SIG on its sling, “Whoever they found iced Ipiktok’s family and then blew ARTEMIS away. ARTEMIS was a group of professionals, can’t see ‘em gettin’ slayed by a bunch of half-trained Inuit.”

Tex rolled his jaw and shook his head, leaving the sleuthing to Laine, but something about this didn’t seem right. The sequence of events as it appeared to him when he looked at all the bodies just didn’t make sense. One round fired and ARTEMIS is out of the game, but Ipiktok’s family ventilated…

“Let’s clear the next cabin, Ghost is point.” Tex shouldered his SIG and waited for the rest of them to fall in. “1-Actual to all, evidence secured in first cabin. Four coming out, over.”

“Roger, four coming out, over.” Poker acknowledged.

Donnelley reached up and gave Ghost’s shoulder a soft squeeze, initiating the stack's advance. Ghost was the first out through the open cabin door, and Tex stepped behind him while scanning his sector.

Ghost moved smoothly and deliberately, his finger on the trigger and eyes focused just above his optic. He scoffed at Tex's words.

"ARTEMIS were amateurs like the rest," he muttered. "They should have sent us first. Instead of wasting bodies like this."

He moved on to the next cabin, settling into his position at the head of the stack and sparing a glimpse at Lucky to be sure he was following his role. Despite his stupid fascination with ComBloc weapons, he was doing well enough that Ghost didn't feel like nitpicking his footwork. Not yet, anyway.

"Set," he grunted, his voice low. .

Tex moved to the other side of the door, replicating the strategy of the first cabin. He ran his hands along the edges of the door in search of abnormalities that could clue them in on traps. Sensing none, he carefully turned the handle of the door to find it was also unlocked. Something splintered the door, sending fine chips of wood into Tex’s eye-pro. A split second after, a crack was heard on the air. Tex ducked and bulled through the door blindly, cursing.

>OVERWATCH, 1 MINUTE PRIOR...///

Ava frowned down at the tablet in her hand, piloting the drone around the perimeter of the compound to provide a lookout for the team on the grounds. All had seemed still and normal until a shifting in the grass unexpectedly caught her attention. The movement was slight, but it seemed like the ground was moving, about 200 meters roughly North of the compound perimeter.

She drifted the drone down closer, flicking through the seatings of the camera to get a better view of what was moving down there.

The infrared setting came on and her eyes widened as she had a split moment to perceive the four heat signatures to the North East and two more due North before there was a bright flash of light from the pair from the North and the loud ‘crack’ of a gunshot across the canyon.

“Enemies!” Ava started exclaiming, pressing her hand to the headset comms over her ears to start transmitting, as it felt like her heart was trying to lodge itself in her throat. “Four to the North East, two to the North; 200 meters out!”

Laine had been too focused on the bodies in the air, panning once again to look at the faces when she heard Ava cry out the warning. She shifted her drone away, jerking her hand. The sounds of gunfire could be heard and she moved over to Ava to look at her tablet over her shoulder. “Better get up there to overwatch,” she said, “Go, I’ll be behind you.”

Ava jerked to Laine, her body freezing up for a moment before she shakily nodded and willed her legs to move. She moved at a crouched run toward Poker, Maui and Avery in case they started taking fire as well.

Laine followed, glancing up from the tablet and kept her head down to run over to the overwatch team. She moved up to Poker, “I’m moving my drone from the bodies, we’ll have two pairs of eyes over the guys.”

She shifted the drone, moving over the area Ava had said the contact had come from.

Dave jumped as the incoming slapped into the wall. He felt his heart kick into high gear, and as Ghost followed Donnelley into the cabin he joined him, making a quick scan of his sector inside. He moved to a window as Ghost took the door, ripping down the curtains and then taking cover.

"I ain't got shit," Dave said, scanning the treeline.

Queen lifted his rifle, noticing a bit of movement and fired a quick three shot burst where he had seen it but only bark from the trees sprayed in the air. He grimaced at the miss and crouched down, taking cover away from the window.

"Target." Ghost's voice was calm, steady. The Consummate Professional. Beneath the skull-print of his mask, however, he was grinning. He steadied himself even as he took aim.

His finger caressed the trigger and suppressed rifle uttered a harsh bark as he sent a single shot downrange. He was rewarded by the sight of the target's head snapping back, the telltale sign of a hit.

"Point," he said, his satisfaction audible. "First blood THUNDER." He glanced at Queen. "I really need to unfuck you."

Queen shot a look back at him, a flirtatious smile flashing, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Shut the fuck up and shoot.” Tex piped up, crouching behind the boys at the window, he pinged Poker, “1-Actual to Overwatch, interrogative, where the fuck is our suppression, over?”

“Standby, asshole.” Poker snorted, “Over.”

Growling behind his bared teeth frown, Tex moved behind Dave, “Behind you, Lucky.”

Spotting another hint of movement, a figure moving in a camouflage uniform, he didn’t waste time sighting up. The red was in his eyes and ask anyone on THUNDER, it made Tex equal parts dangerous and reckless. He squeezed off five rounds to no effect, swearing as he ducked behind cover again. He peeked out to see his target drop like a sack before he heard the shot, “Scratch one.” Maui’s grinning voice over the comms.

Just then, a furious roar of gunfire erupted from somewhere and holes stitched themselves around the door and moved rapidly towards Tex and Lucky. Tex felt a punch hit him in the chest and he stumbled back on his ass, swearing at the top of his lungs as he scrambled away from the wall, “Fuckin’ goddamnit!”

Dave let his rifle hang, ignoring the rounds that punched through the wall. He knelt next to Donnelley instead.

"Hold still," he said, working to keep his voice relaxed as he grabbed the other man and shoved a hand beneath his vest. He felt the indentation of the round on the back of the plate, but pulled his hand away to find it dry. "You're good man, plate stopped it."

A wicked grin crossed Tex’s face and a chuckle bubbled up from his throat, saved once again by his plate carrier. He got back up to his knee and held his SIG at low ready, “Nothin’ fuckin’ kills me.”

Queen glanced back at Tex but grinned at his friend's God tempting boast. He swiveled in a crouch back to the window where the muzzle flashes had come from and took aim.

He sighted in one, center mass but shifted slightly above where the plate carrier might be and drew in a breath before firing a three shot burst. He saw the man stagger back and fall, the red of blood just visible as the bullets traced across his throat.

"How 'bout that for unfucked?" Queen said, dropping down from the window.

"Adequate. You still suck." Ghost tracked a man as he stood and attempted to move to another position. He let the sight hover, adjusted, and then squeezed off a round. The man staggered, and two more rounds saw him falling into the foliage. "Lucky, you want to fucking shoot somebody today or what?"

“I’ll try at it.” Tex braced his SIG on the windowsill, sighting up on one of two figures crawling through the tall grass. His wicked grin appeared again, a bearing of wolf’s teeth. He squeezed off one round, catching his target in the neck. He watched him sit up and place a hand on his neck before the second squeeze of the trigger sent lead through his face and dropped him limp, face in the dirt. The other target made a mad dash away, sprinting for all he was worth. “Fuck you.” Tex smiled the wider.

The other target seemed to trip over his own feet, pink mist escaping him as if it were his ghost, blowing away on the wind, “And another.” Maui said.

>OVERWATCH...///

Avery was still gritting his teeth like a madman, the fire from his muzzle reflecting in his eyes as he almost looked the part of a real killer, the FN machinegun in Avery’s hands roaring in their ears. Maui was beside Poker, breathing even, “You want me to try it again?”

Poker shook his head, “Nah, watch this.”

Poker did his best to judge the distance with the help of his leaf sight, sighting up and praying to the gods that his new toy would hit, “Fire for effect, motherfuckers,” he said over the comms, the thump of the grenade leaving his under barrel launcher was like music, “Splash.”

The boom echoed across the wastes, a huge plume of dirt throwing itself as high as it could go before plummeting back down to the ground. Poker looked at the drone feed, a pool of white and white flecks around it. No sign of the sniper team, “Good effect on target, over. Area is clear.”

>SEARCH TEAM...///

“What’s that thing Ghost says?” Poker chuckled over the comms, “I am the artillery.”

“1-Actual to all,” Tex said, “No casualties on our end, we are diverting to check enemy casualties, over.”

“Roger, we have you covered, 1-Actual. Over.”

Tex turned to the others, putting a firm fist to Dave’s front plate and clapping him on the shoulder, “Let us look upon our works, fellers.”

"Some works," Dave muttered. He pulled his dip from his pocket, snapped it, and angrily stuffed his lip. "Didn't even see the bastards."

"Suck less," Ghost grunted. He raised his rifle and stepped from the cabin, missing the extended finger Dave flashed him before falling into formation. "On me."

Queen grinned at the middle finger, giving Dave's shoulder a pat as he walked past him. "You get used to it," he muttered, then gave the mountain man a sly look. "Best thing it's to make sure you're behind him when the bullets fly, he is the wall."

“He’s the wall, he’s the sledge,” Tex chuckled as he walked past the two of them to side up with Ghost, “what isn’t our resident CAG Operator? Let’s move, see what manner of fuckin’ idiots decided to try this Snake Eater and his pipe hitters this time.”

Ghost knelt next to the first man he reached, approaching with his weapon raised. The shooter was squirming, panting as blood loss stole the oxygen from his body drop by drop. He quick-checked his hands and, finding them empty, he began checking the man's gear.

"ComBloc shit," he called, tossing the AK out of reach. He pulled a magazine, noted the useless 5.45x39 ammo, and tossed it too. The man reached up and grabbed Ghost's wrist, his eyes pleading.

"Stop," Ghost grunted. He pulled his knife and unceremoniously shoved it into the wounded man's throat, jerking the blade to the side to open veins and windpipe in one pull. There was a gurgle and a rush of blood, and after a few seconds of drumming heels the enemy went still.

"Nothing useful in his gear," Ghost called, wiping his knife clean and sheathing it. He pulled a smaller knife, this one with a seatbelt cutter, and slit his sleeves to the shoulders.

Queen glanced away from the dying man Ghost finished and moved onto another that lay half under a low shrub. He poked at him then noticed the skull cap was missing and brains and blood scattered behind him like so much confetti.

He knelt, searching his gear and pockets, shoving up the sleeves and pulling down undershirts to search for tattoos that might identify a gang or group the dead man might have belonged to.

"GRU," Ghost said. There was a hint of excitement to his voice as he raised the dead man's arm, using his knife to indicate a stylized bat tattooed just below his elbow. "Explains why they almost knew what they were doing."

"God damn," Dave said, comprehension in his voice. "Y'all thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

“Professionals.” Tex muttered, not as excited as Ghost about the revelation. His years in the CIA made him grasp and pull at the strings, drawing the implications into the light, “Renko’s guys. He say anythin’ about these guys sneakin’ around on US soil?”

“1-Actual to all, we got Russkies. Foreign Intel guys, over.” Tex said, letting go of the transmitter and speaking to the men around him, “Renko’s got some explainin’.”

He turned to the others, thrusting his thumb over his shoulder at the bodies still hovering in mid-air, “Doesn’t explain that shit.”

"Don't reckon anythin' does,'' Dave said. "More of that...fuckin' Magic, or whatever."

"I hate witches," Ghost growled.

“Maybe it was Ipiktok done it. Him and his family caught in the middle,” Tex shook his head slow and clucked his tongue, “Decided to use some ancient Inuit spell shit or somethin’, cut and run…”

He put his hands on his hips, letting his SIG hang, saying more quietly to himself, thinking aloud, “But then what happened to our boy we found dried out like jerky, I wonder…” he sniffed, “Alright, keep searchin’, don’t worry about specifics. Take the electronics from these assholes and we’ll dump ‘em at Ava’s feet for her to sift through. We’ll stick around for a bit in case she finds anythin’ useful and burn the rest.”

“We’ll leave a mark for the compound on our maps and hand ‘em over to Coral Nomad so they can search this place deeper. I’m willin’ to bet Irniq ran for Noatak, it’s what I’d do,” Tex pursed his lips, eyes scanning the taiga around, “We’ll just see if he made it. Link up with TRIDENT and get cozy, see if they need our help goin’ door to door for our fugitive Shaman.”

“You think Ipiktok left us some tracks?” He asked Dave.

“Let’s find out,” Dave said. He hit his Comms. “THUNDER 1-3, UMBRA 1-3, I’m gonna take a walk an’ see what I can see. Keep an eye out for me, over.”

He split off from the group, leaving them to strip the dead, and began a circular route, his eyes glued to the ground as he trusted their overwatch to play guardian angel. His blood was cooling after the excitement of the ambush, as was his disappointment in his own performance. His eyes lit up when he spotted an errant bend to a blade of grass and he honed in on it, a hound with a scent.

“Got somethin’,” he said. His poor combat chops were forgotten as he refocused on his real skill-set. “Prints over here, got a variety of sizes an’ treads. Them Russian boys’ are all wearin’ the same boots, these are different.”

Dave looked around, noting the position of the sun and the direction his team had come from, cross-referencing that with what he’d memorized of the maps they’d been shown. “Looks like whoever these belong to, they’re headed for Noatak, like ya figured. Them Russians left an easy trail to follow, too, but which group we go after’s up to you, boss.”

Tex chewed his lip for a moment, looking to Ghost and feeling that same feeling he had when he was with THUNDER. The urge to test his balance on the razor’s edge of life and death, his skills up against another’s in a contest whose only prize was breathing for a little while longer. But he looked then at Dave in the distance, and Laine and Ava over the hill. He wasn’t with just THUNDER anymore, “Russians can wait. Ipiktok’s our priority and I don’t wanna get turned into jerky like our friend a mile back.” Donnelley said.

Ghost sniffed, the only sign he’d show of his disappointment. The Mission came first, no matter how much he wanted to tear apart some GRU meat-puppets.

“The Russians will probably meet us, anyway,” he said, doing his best not to sound too hopeful.

“Maybe the Kremlin will send some real shooters next time,” Donnelley fished his pack out of a pocket on his jacket, lighting up. That bit of what it was to be with THUNDER still coursing through his veins. He snorted something from his nose and spat it on the bleeding, ruined head of a GRU operator, “1-Actual to all, regroup on my position. We’ll rendezvous with TRIDENT, see if they suck at finding people, out.”

Laine trusted Ava to handle Dave's request for a drone and used hers to make another pass around the compound, the scattered bodies now joined with fresh corpses. After the pass she went to get another look at the floaters, despite her concern for the charge in the drone.

It was fascinating and unnerving and she wanted as much footage as she could get. Donnelley's call to head up to his location made her reel it back in.

She checked the charge, still more than half. "We'd better go," she said, slinging her bag back on, the short rifle hanging over her chest. Laine walked with Ava and the two men of THUNDER. And Avery. He was still with them and she had already started to think of the young man as part of UMBRA even if it wasn't so on paper.

Laine spotted the cluster of men near the scene of the firefight. Her gaze instantly went to Donnelley, lingering for a moment to make sure he was whole then moved away before it became obvious.

"So these are the Russians," she said, looking at the bodies just beyond where they stood. "Special forces, what are they called again, Spetznatz?"

Laine glanced at Donnelley, "What makes you sure it's Renko's doing?"

“Spetsnaz.” Donnelley corrected, poking one of the bodies staring blankly with the toe of his boot, “Maybe not his doin’. There’s a difference between an agent like Renko slitherin’ around clandestine and…”

He gestured to the bodies, “Soldiers. The GRU was lookin’ for somethin’. Or somebody.” He took another drag, “Sure, operations are compartmentalized, but who’s to say they don’t have detachments like this in West Virginia, or near Langley, pokin’ around for dirt on the Program.”

Donnelley shook his head, “Or DC. Who’s to say he ain’t compilin’ a fuckin’ file on you, or Dave, or Ava?” Donnelley looked like he’d a bad taste in his mouth, “Water just gets murkier down shit creek. Let’s get a move on.”

“Let me take a look at bodies, the ones you guys didn’t make,” she said, walking away from them towards the stiffened corpses of the residents of the compound. Laine crouched near the bodies, examining the gunshot wounds. Single shots, mostly head or chest. A sniper’s work most likely and very little in the way of brass around them. They were slaughtered out in their own yard by the Russian soldiers.

She pushed the hair back from the face of a girl that appeared around sixteen, she looked like the girl from the Facebook photo, Ipiktok’s daughter. Laine moved to the male bodies but none of them were the older man, the leader of the cult that had made this compound home. After taking photos of all their faces and wounds, she stood.

“He’s not here,” Laine announced as she made her way back to the two teams, “Ipiktok, he’s not among the bodies.”

“So, those tracks are his. Let’s hope he ain’t jerky.” Donnelley said, “Form on me, let’s go.”

As they followed Dave tracking the footsteps that left the compound behind, Laine fell in step by Donnelley. She walked in silence for a while then said, “I was thinking why they let him escape or how he managed it. I thought maybe they’d take him, but maybe they wouldn’t, maybe they wanted to see what he would do.”

She glanced up at the sky, the bodies now no longer just above them but still hovering near the compound. “GRU didn’t put those men up there or turn the other into a premature mummy. Ipiktok...that freak winter storm surrounding his compound ended abruptly before SIREN and ARTEMIS went out. We don’t know how long the Russians have been out here, maybe they…”

Laine hesitated, glancing at Donnelley with a flash of deep green eyes. “Maybe the soldiers interrupted the...whatever was causing that storm when they attacked the compound. That ended it and let our teams in but were met with something like...well, something or someone that has supernatural abilities.”

The words still stuck in her mouth but her stubbornness had lessened the more she witnessed. The supernatural was not supposed to happen, but it did and Laine had started to accept it.

“You think Ipiktok’s makin’ these storms?” Donnelley cocked a brow. It certainly wouldn’t surprise him, but for whose benefit? In all his years uncovering espionage conspiracies and dismantling the unnatural’s influence on the world bit by bit for one more sunrise, he knew there was always a higher reason. “What’s he gaining? What’s his game?”

Laine shrugged, watching Ghost and Dave ahead of her for a moment, “I don’t know, but if it’s a true cult, their goal is usually the end of times sort of thing. Whatever Ipiktok was doing, what his aims were, it’s usually power. Power over his followers, power connected with God or in this case...”

She hesitated then said, “Remember that name in the gold miner’s report? Ithaqua, I think. He recorded the native workers being very spooked by a freak snowstorm and kept repeating that word. Other storms reported around times of missing people, of deaths.”

“Why would he do it now, if he was doing it, then maybe he knew we were coming or that the Russians were. Maybe it’s for something that has nothing to do with us at all,” Laine said, adjusting the weight of her pack, “Either way, why didn’t the Russians kill him with the others? Did ARTEMIS even get a chance to fight back?”

She glanced at him again, “So many questions.”

“And we still ain’t got answers.” Donnelley’s eyes scanned the wastes around, the tall grass, the mountains, a blue sky. If they were here on better terms, it would’ve been a nice hike. He shook his head, “The guy from ARTEMIS we found a few klicks back, he was runnin’. I can’t think he’d be runnin’ from Ipiktok’s family. They reported several unknowns, which I’m bettin’ are our Russians.”

“Nothin’ about this Op seems… right.” He frowned, “If Ipiktok is in Noatak, he’s desperate. Desperate people are dangerous. I know you never let the… wizard… speak, but I want to know how and why. We might have two Wetwork Teams with us, but we’re a Workin’ Group. We investigate, we don’t just scorch the earth.”

He pointed to Ghost with his chin, “But good luck gettin’ that big sumbitch to listen to that. Me and THUNDER know what happens when Wetwork Groups don’t pull the trigger fast enough.” He also knew what happened when Wetwork Groups were too quick to, Libya flashing through his mind. The two small bodies left on the dirty ground, the room they’d thrown a frag into filled with… and putting a gun to that crooked NSA spook’s head at the end of it all.

“Different jobs.” He muttered, a well-hidden disgust and anger creeping across his face for a moment.

>NOATAK, ALASKA
>1200...///

By the time Noatak was in sight, smoke rising from chimneys, Donnelley felt some sense of relief to be near some semblance of civilization before the sun went down or a freak snowstorm swept through. Donnelley activated his comms and pinged TRIDENT, “UMBRA 1-Actual to TRIDENT 1-Actual. We are approaching from the northeast, over.”

Nothing. Which didn’t exactly make Donnelley feel welcome. He pinged again, “UMBRA 1-Actual, come in, TRIDENT.”

Donnelley looked back at the rest of UMBRA and THUNDER, signaling for them to get down. If there was going to be a firefight with some other Russians, he wanted to be ready. They’d be the ones caught in the open this time. “Keep your combat spacing, watch your sectors.” He pinged one last time, “UMBRA 1-Actual to TRIDENT, come in.”

“TRIDENT 1-Actual, good copy, UMBRA. You are approaching from the northeast. We’ll meet you on the edge of town, over.” Donnelley blew a breath smoking out on the air when he heard TRIDENT’s team lead.

“Roger, out.” Donnelley looked back at UMBRA and THUNDER, signaling to regroup and continue onwards.

Just as they’d said, TRIDENT was standing in the middle of the town’s main avenue as they approached. One of them raised their hand and Donnelley followed suit, raising his own. Once they’d gotten close enough, TRIDENT’s Team Lead said, “How’d it go?”

Donnelley frowned and shook his head, “We got a secure place to talk?”

>...///

“So?” Bear said as he closed the door. He’d led them into a trailer just outside the Noatak school. They’d turned the place into somewhat of a command center and safehouse. THUNDER was outside with Moon and She-Ra, Bear and Rooster were the only ones present for UMBRA’s debriefing, “I’m pretty sure how this debrief is going to go. Doesn’t sound good.”

“It ain’t.” Donnelley admitted, shrugging, “Y’all got a computer or somethin’?”

Rooster nodded and produced his own military laptop, placing it on the long table they were all sitting at, “Videos?”

“Oh, yeah.” Donnelley nodded. “Ava, Laine, you wanna hook up to the computer and play what we got?”

While Ava and Laine were hooking up the drones to the computers to play their feeds, Donnelley was going over everything they’d found. He told Bear about the freeze-dried man, and the rest of ARTEMIS floating in the air. He then pointed to the drone feed of the firefight, “GRU.”

“What?” Bear asked, brows furrowed.

“Russian Spetsnaz. I got pictures of us searchin’ their bodies, man. Tats, guns, gear. I know Russians when I see ‘em.” Donnelley was serious, looking into Bear’s eyes the whole time.

Bear nodded, “Fuck.” Bear leaned back in his chair, “Well, SIREN isn’t here either. No sign of them, no one’s seen them. I mean, fuck, no one’s even talking to us.”

“Think we gotta get Tribal Police into this? Maybe they’ll talk to them.” Donnelley posited.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Bear shrugged, “We can try hailing them on the radio.”

“Do that.” Donnelley’s stomach growled and he lay a hand on it, “Figure we’ll take some time to eat and talk. Break bread.”
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Through the Darkness of Futures Past…

Part II

I'm not sure if there's anything left of me

Don't let these shakes go on
It's time we had a break from it
It's time we had some leave
We've been living in the flames
We've been eating up our brains

Oh, please, don't let these shakes go on…


>NOATAK SAFEHOUSE
>NOATAK, ALASKA
>1240...///

Menu option number ten. It was Donnelley’s favorite in Afghanistan, and it hadn’t lost its luster even now… for a highly processed bag of food, at least. Chili Mac was at least easy to stomach, so when he found it among the ration stores inside the BLACKBOX, he opted to fill out his survival rations with the stuff. If he was going to die in the Alaskan wastes, he’d at least die with some good fucking food in his belly. He forked the last bit into his mouth and wiped his lips on the back of his hand, taking a moment to smooth out his growing beard. “How’s everyone like the food?” He asked, a small smirk on his lips for those who’d never tasted an MRE before, “Uncle Sam made it special.”

Ghost grunted in response. He had already torn through a Penne Pasta MRE, and was gnawing at a MET-RX Big 100 protein bar on top of it. He ate mechanically, grinding through the food as though it was just one more task to be accomplished, while across from him, beside Ava, Dave was polishing off the entree of his own MRE. He’d slipped the snack item, a bag of mixed nuts, into his cargo pocket for later.

“Better’n the C-Rats the Old Man made me eat when I was a kid,” Dave said lightly. “Rather eat stink bait.”

“What, were they packaged in Nam?” Avery joked around a mouthful of his own entree, “I haven’t eaten this stuff since Lemmonier. Can't lie, it still tastes like cardboard and rat meat. Hey, how did I do in the firefight?”

Laine watched them break out the MREs, observing the shoveling of food into their mouths as if to avoid tasting it. She met eyes with smirking Donnelley, he was certainly ready to be entertained by her reaction to the shitty military grade pouch meals.

She watched him gulp down the chili mac and she smiled at him, her hand on her hip as she waited for the microwave to beep. When it did, Laine retrieved a silver stand up pouch with bold letters "Adventure Meal!" across the front.

"Ava, did you want the Beef Stroganoff or the Lasagna with meat sauce?" She called out to the young woman still working on the phones.

Laine looked at Donnelley as she tore open the pouch and the steam rising with the scent of steak and cream sauce rose with the steam. "Those MREs? I wouldn't know, I brought food."

“MRE’s are better,” Ghost grunted around a mouthful of protein bar. “High carb, high protein. Calorie dense. Keeps you going.” He popped the last bit in his mouth and gnawed through it, his jaw bulging. “We don’t eat for taste, we eat to get shit done.”

Laine rolled her eyes at the protein bar and stuck a plastic fork in her pouch, "Maybe you need 1500 calories a meal in your steam engine to keep going. But I'd rather not gag down a meal that'll make me feel like shit."

"Beef stroganoff," she said then took a bite. "It has all the goods."

It wasn't bad tasting either, Ava would have to settle for the lasagna as Laine forked the stroganoff down. Fuck the MREs.

“Boo.” Donnelley cupped his hands around his mouth, “I can’t hear you over all this nutritional value. Listen, I’ll stick with these gunfighter meals while you wine and dine at the Four Seasons before going on a leisurely stroll through the garden. Maybe you’ll make it back for tea time before collapsing from malnutrition.”

Laine said nothing but as she pulled her fork back out, her middle finger lay along it and she made sure Donnelley saw it. He returned the favor, pulling one of his bottom eyelids down with it.

Ava was intently focused between the phones and her laptop, her brow creased with concentration as she happily threw herself into her work to try and put the last half day behind her.

So it took her a moment to realize she was being spoken to. She looked up and around in mild confusion. “Huh? Oh, uh, I’ll take the lasagna, that’s fine. Thank you Laine.” She gave a quick grateful smile then turned back to the electronics.

As the others spoke Ghost took out a bottle of water and drained its contents by half.

"You didn't suck as bad as I thought you would," he said to Avery. "You kept them more or less suppressed. Just try to kill somebody next time."

Laine took the hot pouch of lasagna and brought it and a bottle of cold water, setting it beside her laptop. She laid a hand on her head, "Don't forget to refuel. And ignore those neanderthals, these are much better and just as full of calories and vitamins. No need to suffer terrible food to be a badass."

She glanced back at Donnelley and Ghost and the rest of them. "They'll be nice once they realize I packed venison jerky."

Ava tore herself away from her laptop as the smell of food reminded her how hungry she was. She took a few bites and then pushed over the phone they had gotten from the mummified agent.

“I got that open.” She said after swallowing, frowning down at it sadly. “There’s nothing that can help explain what happened to them in it. Just pictures, group selfies and all of his contacts were code names for his teammates. There’s not even location data, the phone didn’t log it.” She shook her head and glanced at her laptop screen. “The Russian devices will probably have bigger and better intel.”

A knock came at the door and any conversation happening in the room came to a halt. Donnelley was reminded of those times they’d been caught off-guard, one of those Donnelley wasn’t present for. He reminded himself there were two Wetwork Teams here and they’d all know someone was coming by the sound of a gunfight outside. And UMBRA’s enemies didn’t knock. Donnelley looked at Avery looking at him. He shrugged, slipped his plastic fork into the MRE bag and headed for the door. Poker was looking through the slightest sliver of lifted blinds to see who it was. Donnelley turned the knob and opened it, and what greeted him made him quirk a brow.

“Hello,” The Officer standing at the door in a freshly pressed Tribal Police uniform couldn’t have been past his early twenties, smile as gleaming as his badge and a face full of youthful vigor, “I’m Officer Charles Inuksuk, Tribal Police. I understand you need our help?”

“Yeah. Finding someone. We have reason to believe he’s here in Noatak, he’s wanted by the Federal Government and we’ve been sent to conduct his arrest.” The lie was easy enough. He’d told it many times to many different people, but the fact remained that there weren’t many handcuffs in the room. He smiled and offered his hand, “Jackson Denver, US Marshal Service.”

“Must be an important guy.” Charles took Donnelley’s hand, “Got a lot of people on this.”

Charles nodded behind him at TRIDENT standing there and looking like the menaces they were. If Charles thought TRIDENT was nothing to play around with, Donnelley wondered what he would make of THUNDER. “Yeah, kind of a big thing.”

“Can I ask who?”

Donnelley shrugged, nodded, “Guy named Ipiktok. Ipiktok Irniq.”

“Oh.” Charles looked like a doubt had crawled up inside him, cringing just a tad and looking away for just a second, “Really? Him?”

“And some others. Feds been around this place before us, went missing some time ago.” Donnelley said, “Looking for them too.”

“Okay.” Charles nodded, “You guys ready to go now?”

“Sure.” Donnelley gave his best friendly smile and nodded, closing the door and turning to the others inside, “Kagan, Smith.”

He nodded at Laine and Dave respectively, “You two are with me. THUNDER and TRIDENT stay with Miss Bishop,” he smiled to Ava, “Let her finish her data analysis. We’ll be back.”

Ava stopped eating her lasagna pack and slowly looked over the members of both THUNDER and TRIDENT. She swallowed her food, hard.

Dave reached over beneath the table as Donnelley called his name, taking Ava’s hand in his. He gave it a quick squeeze.

“Y’all have fun,” he said, reluctantly releasing her hand and heading for the door with Donnelley.

Queen sat at the table between two hulking operators, counting out the M&Ms from his MRE and arranging them in color groups. He listened to the conversation between Donnelley and the tribal cop, glancing up when Ipiktok was mentioned. The man's expression told him what he figured, that he was a local menace and source of consternation for the tribe.

He scooped up the red and brown M&Ms and tossed them in his mouth as real and phony FBI agents left the trailer. His pale gaze scanned the others, watching TRIDENT in particular. He did not expect much trouble, even from Ranger Danger but his guard was up.

He swept the leftover colorful bits of candy into his palm and got up, shifting past Maui's bulk to get around the table. He met eyes briefly with the young Ranger and smiled, "Piece of candy?"

"Fuck off," was the muttered response and Queen let it go, pleased with himself.

He sidled up to where Ava sat and placed a few green M&Ms beside the mouse pad. Queen popped another in his mouth, then asked, "Need any help? Got some dummy work to get outta the way?"

Ava gave Dave’s hand a squeeze before he got up, lifting her hand to give the parting trio a wave before glancing back to her laptop. Queen sitting down next to her made her blink but she smiled at the offer of candy and picked up one of the M&Ms. “Thanks Queen, but I’ve got it handled.” She said, before eating one of the little chocolates. “Besides, I don’t need you making fun of me over the obscene amount of cat pictures I have on here.” She added with a small grin.

Queen popped some candy in his mouth and chewed, furrowing his brows, “Make fun? I love cats, any kind of cat really.”

His sly smile returned to his face and then, he asked, “So in that big brain of yours, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about tribal or cult fetishes? Ornamentations or whatever, I found a pendant that was hidden.”

Queen paused then shook his head, “Anyway, it might be something if someone took the pains to hide it in a hollowed out VHS tape.”

Ava tilted her head to the side, furrowing her eyebrows in contemplation. “Um, I can look but I can’t make any promises. I’m not the anthropologist of the family, but I picked up a few things.”

“More than what any of us have,” he said, rising up from his seat. Queen went to take the pendant that was now in an evidence bag, sealed and with the time and location it was found written on it in marker.

He handed it to her, a simple but strange pendant of a tiger's eye surrounded by wood with the angular markings, slashes but they seemed to have purpose. “Here you go,” he handed it to her, the stone polished to a slick sheen, light shimmering across the gold and deep brown bands. The wood was painted black but the markings were clear around the circle. .

Queen sat back down, his elbows braced on the table next to her computer waiting to see what she thought of it.

Ava looked down at the pendant, studying it for a few quiet moments as turn the bag it was in to inspect it from all sides. She slowly tilted her head to the side again, eyebrows arching upwards as she stared intently at the markings. “That’s...weird.” She looked up at Queen with a frown. “I’m pretty sure that these markings, the script is Mesopotamian which is really weird if this belonged to someone that was a native Inuit.” She scratched her head and stared down at the pendant again. “I can’t read what it says, my Sumerian is ‘meh’ at best and this isn’t even Sumerian.” She passed it back over to him. “A linguist will need to take a look at it.”

“Maybe, hell maybe they bought it on Etsy,” he said, and took it back, with a flash of his sly grin. “It is strange though, there wasn’t anything in those cabins that we found that had anything to do with early middle eastern civilizations. But we’ll get it to someone in that field.”

He made to go, glancing at her, “If you need anything, don’t be shy.”

She smiled appreciatively. “Thanks Queen.”

Laine washed her hands quickly after shoveling the last of the stroganoff down her throat, it was almost $10 a bag for the camp food and she was not going to waste it. Reminded that she was Rachel Kagan now, she smiled as she pulled on her coat over her shoulder holster. The role was something like she remembered doing in theatre club, creating the character and embodying them. In her mind, Rachel was a much more outgoing and affable person than she was and the mask helped.

As Laine, or rather Rachel, left through the trailer door, she offered her hand to the young officer, “Officer Inuksuk, please to meet you. We appreciate your help. Beautiful country you have up here.”

“Isn’t it?” Charles smiled, gently shaking Laine’s hand, “So, you’re all Marshals after this one guy, huh? What’d he do?”

Laine glanced at Donnelley, “Marshall Denver is leading this operation, it would be better he explain. There’s been an FBI investigation into Ipiktok Irniq’s activities.”

She closed her mouth, not comfortable with winging a pretend investigation. Donnelley sided up with them, “Yeah, disappearing tourists. Marshall Smith over there is my number two,” he nodded back at Dave, “We went to his compound and found out he fled here. He got any friends here he might go to?”

Charles’ face of trepidation returned at the question, the same nerve he had when Donnelley brought Ipiktok up. He put a fist to his mouth and cleared his dry throat, “Might have one. I think I should do the talking with him.” Charles cringed a tad as he spoke, “He doesn’t exactly take kindly to, uh…”

Donnelley didn’t even have to look at Laine or Dave, much less himself. With types like these, he didn’t exactly have to beg the question, “Yeah.” Was all he had to say.

“I’ll take you, nice day for a walk anyway.” Charles sheepishly chuckled, trying to shoo off his nerves. He turned away from them and began his walk.

Laine walked, keeping Rachel in mind and had a bit of a spring in her step as she fell in next to Charles, “It is a nice day for a walk, I just love hiking. The fresh air, the sunshine...the mosquitoes. I was surprised when we flew up here and they talked about there having just been a snowstorm. It must have melted very fast, do you normally get weather that bad this late in the summer?”

She spoke in an upbeat tone, so unlike her own dry even speech. Laine could see faces in the windows, indigenous features on each one as they peered out with suspicion and even contempt at the trio of obvious outsiders now invading their village. Her smile faltered and she glanced at Charles then returned her attention to scanning the village made of small houses and heavily insulated trailers, several had a number of dog houses made of scrap wood with husky mix breeds tied up to each. The dogs barked and howled as the strangers approached, pulling at their ropes with eagerness. Laine was not sure if it was aggression or just curiosity but she was in no hurry to find out.

“Uh, well,” Charles shrugged, shaking his head, “Not really, no. Storms like this are few and far between, but we’ve had a few lately. Which… it’s summer.”

Charles didn’t feel too comfortable walking with these white Feds, Donnelley could tell. As comfortable as Donnelley was walking in the town, admittedly. The barking dogs seemed to be saying everything that was on everyone else’s mind. He looked at one of the windows as they passed and the face of a child ducked out of view, “You guys don’t have many visitors, do you?”

Charles cleared his throat, “Not really, no.”

They walked on in silence. Donnelley had left his rifle back at the trailer. He was sorely missing it now as his hand ached to rest on the butt of his pistol in its duty holster. But he had to be a cop, not a soldier in a war zone, or a G-Man on a mission to silence Ipiktok. So his hands remained empty, thumbs hooked on his duty belt nonchalantly as he walked. Out here it was like Afghanistan again, in a place that wasn’t his, among a people that weren’t his, on a mission none of these people asked to be in. An old woman sat in her rocking chair on a wooden porch that had seen better days, staring at them the whole way. Donnelley offered a smile. She offered nothing. He turned back to looking at Charles’ back as they walked, “How far’s this friend?”

“Edge of town.” Charles spoke over his shoulder, “Okay, look. I need to say this, because there’s no other way, really. He isn’t friendly to the folk here and he has more in common with them than you.”

“So he ain’t going to like us.” Donnelley smiled sardonically.

“Probably not.” Charles sighed, “Like I said. Let me do the talking, stay behind me some paces. He’s a bit of a, uh, sovereign citizen type. You know those.”

“Yeah.” Donnelley looked at Dave sidelong, a knowing smirk at the edges of his lips.

“So, just be cool. Don’t want him to think you’re here for him.” Charles looked over his shoulder at Donnelley. Donnelley nodded back.

Laine glanced at Dave at the mention of sovereign citizen and turned her head away, squinting at something else. “Understood,” she added, “Thank you for helping, Charles.”

>1255...///

Ava frowned as she shifted through the encrypted data on the Russian cellphone, her face pinched with focus as her eyes swept over the lines of code. The previous devices, the other cellphones and the tablets were fairly standard affairs. She managed to retrieve the information from inside and discovered what looked to be very official looking documents but as she didn’t speak a lick of Russian she merely copied the information over onto an external harddrive.

But this phone she was currently working on was different. The OS held the same coding software as the tracking device Renko had given them. A chill started to run down her spine as she worked quickly to get the phone open. Was that tracker actually made with Russian government backing?

With a quiet chime, a new window popped up on her laptop screen, fresh data started to appear on her screen and she began copying it over to the harddrive; when a notification popped up alerting her to an active program on the phone.

She frowned, sitting up straight and typed in a command to pull up what activity was taking place on the phone.

To her surprise a list of coordinates popped up, organized in a log with date and time stamps. She put in the most recent coordinates into her own phone’s map. Her eyes widened as the little virtual pin dropped right into Noatak.

“Oh shit!” She whispered, looking up toward Queen. “Can you get the others on the phone? Quickly?” She held up her phone. “The GRU operatives were tracking someone in Noatak and the tracking device is still active!”

Queen sat back at the table, there was a card game going on but he had already folded against Maui, the man had no subtlety when he tried to bluff. His thoughts kept turning to the bathroom and the pills and powder tucked into one of his pockets. The cocaine seemed to wear off faster, maybe it was cut more than he thought.

He rubbed his nose and mouth, sighing heavily as the pot rose and Maui kept trying not to smile. Queen pushed off his chair to head to the restroom when Ava’s voice caught his attention.

“A what now?” he focused on what she said, “A tracking device? You’re shitting me…”

Queen moved fast, peeking over her shoulder to look at the screen. “Well fuck me sideways.”

He reached for his cell phone and called Donnelley, waiting as it rang and he put it on speaker. The phone picked up and the harsh whisper of Donnelley came over the phone, “What, Queen?”

“Russkies inbound, man,” Queen said, leaning over the little redhead to look closer, “Ava’s cracked their tech, someone has a tracker there because it just pinged Noatak. I got you on speaker, she’s right here. But I suggest you take defensive positions.”

What?” Donnelley’s whisper got that much harsher, anyone listening could tell that Donnelley’s jaw was clenched, “We’re at the fucking edge of town, there is no cover. Where are they? Where are you fuckers?

"En route." Ghost was up and moving, his gear on and a round in the chamber of his rifle. He snagged Lucky's AK and slung it. "Queen, get Tex his rifle. Pup, stick with Poker, he'll put you where he wants you." He looked at THUNDER's team lead as he pulled his skull-printed mask into place.

"What are we doing with the nerd?"

Queen shot a look at Ghost, then gave Ava his phone as he moved. Grabbing the SIG, he checked the load and said, "We're not leaving her alone. I could stay."

He glanced up and around at the two teams, then Ava. Donnelley was still listening over the phone, “Leave TRIDENT. Just get the fuck over here, but hang back. We got a delicate situation over here already. Do not fire unless fired upon, just get over here.” The phone clicked off.

>DONNELLEY...///

He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and growled, tugging his plate carrier to adjust how it lay on his shoulders. He poked Dave with his elbow, “We might have more Russians,” he whispered, “THUNDER’s coming over.”

He upped his pace to get to Laine and told her the same, “THUNDER is on the way. We might have Russians. Act natural.”

“House is up here. Hang back a few paces, I’ll knock.” Charles said. Donnelley did as he was told, hand ready to go to his pistol at the first sign of violence. The house was not dissimilar to the rest of those in Noatak, run down wood and sheet metal with a wooden porch. There was a rocking chair and an empty coffee can probably filled with cigarettes. Donnelley was reminded of his own set up just like that in his old Seattle house.

Charles knocked at the door, stepping to the side of it and glancing at Donnelley. No answer for a couple seconds. He knocked again and the door swung open, revealing a fairly tall man dressed in old 90s era BDU pants and red flannel, a stained white undershirt beneath it. The woodland BDU pants looked faded, old and worn like the face of the man wearing it. Dark skinned with a prominent nose and deadly squinting brown eyes, long raven hair that came down over his shoulders in braids. He had a baseball cap with the beret flash of 5th Special Forces Group on it, and Donnelley immediately knew the measure of the man before him. Do something to disenfranchise a Snake Eater and you’d have a ready-made rebel insurgent to keep an eye on.

Or just a bitter, old drunk with a big ass mouth and a heart attack or lung cancer waiting for him like a nail in the road. Donnelley found himself wondering where on the spectrum he was. Charles offered him a smile, but it didn’t do anything to penetrate the ironclad scowl the old Green Beret wore. He was tall, but wiry, and stood like a spring coiled tight waiting to let loose. Donnelley was finding more and more in common with this guy. Charles stood with a heedless smile, “Hey, Yutu. We got a question for you. You got time for us?”

“For you. But not fuckin’ much either way.” Yutu spoke to Charles, but his eyes were boring into Donnelley. Donnelley wasn’t the type of man to look away first. “I ain’t seen him. Any of ‘em.”

Charles continued anyway, “We haven’t even told you who we’re-“

“Ipiktok? Right? I ain’t fuckin’ stupid, kid. You take your goddamn white men and go grab your ankles for ‘em somewhere else that ain’t my fuckin’ front porch.” Yutu snorted and sent a gob of snot flying an impressive distance to land in front of Dave, standing next to Donnelley. “Ain’t gonna find any of ‘em. Not Irniq, not your whites. Not out here. People go missin’, they don’t come back.”

Yutu gave each of them a look and did the impossible by deepening his frown, “Is that a good enough answer for you and your government men?

Laine pressed her lips together, listening to the conversation. He would be difficult to get any information from as the mistrust of the government was thick and not wholly unfounded. Her worry though kept turning her focus on the Russians that might be creeping up on them as Yutu spoke.

She stepped forward almost close enough to stand next to Charles, the sense of urgency now upon them, "I'm afraid it's not enough. I'm Agent Kagan, I work with the FBI to find missing persons. I understand your hesitation to trust, Mr...Yutu."

Laine attempted to imitate the pronunciation, not butchering it too badly. Her gaze was on him but her body tense with the expectation of violence.

"I've spent quite a few years in the Seattle office, working cases involving indigenous women that have a high rate of disappearance. It's been neglected too long, I was asked to come up to Alaska to see how I could help in similar situations but I was roped into this case. If we could locate these people and Ipiktok quickly and without being stonewalled, it would be better for everyone," she lied easily, familiar with the backlog of uninvestigated missing native women's cases from her studies. "Please, help me out here. I need to speak with him."

Dave stood by while Laine did the talking, his hands on his hips and his eyes watching their surroundings. Yutu wasn’t a fan of whites by his own admission, and the Arkansas native figured that his twang wouldn’t go over well with the old man. Instead he kept his attention focused on the town itself, ready to go for his weapon if things kicked off. He hated being limited to a pistol; while he understood the advantage of appearing less threatening, he felt naked without his AK, especially considering that he might soon be gunning it out with more Russian operators. Still, THUNDER was coming and those guys had enough firepower to level Noatak if Ghost got his panties in a bunch, so Dave did his best to keep cool and position himself where he could help Donnelley get Laine to safety if rounds started to fly. He just had to trust that they were taking care of Ava in the middle of all this.

Yutu looked down at Laine from his porch and held her gaze for a few moments, his lip curling in contempt, “Searching for Native girls?” He snorted, “How’s that going for you people, or are you busy beating the shit out of people for being homeless to make any headway on those cases?”

He took a single step, one of his feet making the step beneath it creak as he leaned a bit more toward Laine, “If you wanna search my fuckin’ home, come back with a goddamn warrant. Or a battering ram.” He turned away from Laine and looked at Charles, “You people don’t leave me be, you might not like how I get, Tsarlis. Get these white men off my porch before we all regret today.”

“It would go better with cooperation,” Laine said, but dropped the argument, the man was set on making them work and cost them time. Maybe buying someone time.

She stepped back at Yutu’s vehemence, turning to Dave and gave him a slight shake of her head. Donnelley sighed, taking note of his sidearm still in its holster. He stepped up close to Yutu’s first step and called out to him, “Afghanistan?”

Yutu stopped in his tracks in his doorway, hand freezing on the knob just before closing it. Donnelley could see Yutu’s shoulders tense and rise just slightly. Yutu turned around, “Iraq.”

“Noticed the beret flash. Group guy.” Donnelley noticed that slight bit of pride in Yutu’s eye to be recognized. Like he existed to someone outside this town who might have had a chance at understanding a sliver of what he was. What he used to be. Something a little better than what opened his door to some Feds just a few minutes ago.

“And?” Yutu narrowed his eyes.

“My ODA was in Afghanistan, near the Pakistan border.” Donnelley shrugged, “So, uh, you and me both know what it’s like to walk into a place where you have a job to do and not everybody wants to let you do it. I’m starting to feel that way about now, but from one Group guy to another, I think we both know the mission… my job, right now, is finding Ipiktok.”

Donnelley searched Yutu’s eyes for some kind of reassurance that he was gaining some ground with this old Commando. Yutu sighed, leaving his door open behind him as he stepped away from it and over to Donnelley, still mindful not to step off his porch and onto public property, where he knew the Feds would have jurisdiction to do whatever they wanted with him. Donnelley was sure that’s what Yutu was wary of. He leaned in close, the height of his porch giving him a few inches on Donnelley, “I won’t get fuckin’ talked to by some white man who never walked where I walked. I’m on the last hill of my life and I gotta die on it sometime. You want some kinda sympathy?” Yutu snorted hard and sent another rocket of phlegm just past Donnelley’s head, which he didn’t flinch away from, “Feds here to lock up the Red Man, harass us a little bit more, when they couldn’t even find my fuckin’ daughter while I was out fightin’ his fuckin’ goddamned fuckin’ war!” He roared.

Yutu’s eyes ripped away from Donnelley’s to something down the street. Expecting Russians, Donnelley turned too, but only saw THUNDER rolling up and stopping at the other end of the block. Just in goddamned time, he thought, bitter. Yutu growled deep, turning and grabbing a fistful of Charles’ shirt and screaming in his face, “I fuckin’ told you, Tsarlis!”

Dave bit back some choice language of his own, watching the situation devolve. He saw tensions spike as THUNDER arrived and despite feeling his own confidence grow at their appearance, he could see that it was having a very negative effect on their current conversation. Donnelley was between Laine and Yutu; Dave moved himself, stepping between her and the nearest houses, putting his plates and body between possible danger and his teammate.

He wanted to help, but didn’t know what to say. Words weren’t his strong point even in a relaxed setting, and this was far from that. Hell, he understood Yutu’s beef with the government more than the man knew. They came from different backgrounds but he still had an abiding distrust for anything Fed. As he saw Ghost’s imposing silhouette dismounting down the road, all Dave could do was hope that Yutu didn’t make the wrong move. He didn’t see THUNDER giving second chances.

The arrival of THUNDER made Laine sigh, it was terrible timing for the situation with Yutu but if shit was going to go down, then it was better they were there. She spoke up, “Please, we can help you. Tell me about your daughter, you mentioned her. We can help each other.”

Though she was certain it would fall on deaf ears, she had to try that last card to get his focus back, hopefully the flare of rage had not taken too hard a grip on the man. Laine found herself in a position between Dave and Donnelley and the feeling of not having the same protection as earlier was pronounced. After speaking she looked towards the houses, wondering if the Russians were just waiting or would they drop out of the sky or pop out of the woods.

Donnelley thrust his hand out, right hand going instinctually for his sidearm in its holster. He grabbed down on it and disengaged the duty holster’s lock, ready to pull it at a moment’s notice, “Yutu, stand down! Let him go!”

Yutu was snarling like a mad dog in Charles’ face, but turning to see Donnelley with his hand on his gun and THUNDER walking towards them at the sound of all their yelling seemed to sober Yutu up. He pushed Charles away from him, the younger man tripping over his own feet and falling backwards on his ass, eyes wide. Donnelley figured Charles wasn’t used to any action more exciting than a runaway dog. Yutu looked from Donnelley to THUNDER and back again, “You should’ve just left me alone.” Yutu turned back and slammed his door behind him, now out of sight.

Ghost was moving the moment the vehicle stopped, his weapon ready and his eyes scanning. He felt his boys taking their positions, falling in where they knew they would be of best use, with himself on point as he always insisted. He watched the tall Indian vanish into the house a moment before he reached Tex and the others, and he spared the local cop a brief glance as he slung Lucky’s AK off his shoulder and passed it to him.

“Get the fuck up,” he snapped at Charles. “Tex, will that guy be a problem?”

Donnelley reluctantly turned his back on Yutu’s house and walked some distance away from it, meeting THUNDER some meters away from where he stood right at the disgruntled man’s porch. He looked at the SIG rifle held out to him by Queen, the other man nodding at it like he was insisting Donnelley to take it. Donnelley shook his head and pushed the rifle back into Queen’s chest, “He’s been a damned problem.” He growled, wanting something to blame, but he knew Yutu still wouldn’t have cooperated, “He’s back inside his house, but-“

Donnelley ducked on instinct, whirling around to look back at Yutu’s house when he heard the sound of glass breaking. Then all hell let loose. The only one who caught the brunt of the automatic barrage was Charles, dropping to the ground from his run away from Yutu’s porch, screaming something Donnelley couldn’t understand through the blood pumping in his ears. Donnelley was at a dead sprint and grabbed a fistful of Laine’s jacket as he pulled her along in a mad dash for cover.

Laine took her vest from Avery, thanking him with a grateful look as she strapped the plate carrier into place. She was halfway done when the glass shattered and she turned, a bit stunned when Donnelley snatched at her jacket. She turned to run but tripped on a dip in the yard and fell against Donnelley.

“Shit,” she hissed, grabbing at him to keep from face planting. Luckily, Donnelley caught her and he’d begun dragging her easily, hefting her up so she could run with him again, the two of them sliding into cover behind another resident’s house as the shots rang out.

“Are you hit?” Donnelley asked her, his voice hurried and snippy, “Laine?”

She pressed back against the siding, the peeling paint flaking off onto her jacket. Her green eyes were wide with shock and she looked at him, “Yeah...no, I’m fine. I don’t think I’m hit. I’m good, holy shit.”

Ghost and Dave split from the group, their feet pounding the dirt road as they sprinted for cover. Dave slid into the shadow of the house opposite the one Donnelley, cursing the sudden gunfire and the twinge in his knees brought on by the unexpected running, and Ghost went with him, keeping his footing but thudding hard into the wooden wall beside Dave.

“Cocksucker,” he growled as he settled into cover.

“FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!” The chant grew steadily louder as Avery plummeted like a comet behind the house Dave and Ghost were at, off his feet and landing hard on his side with his FN LMG cradled tight against his chest, “Holy shit, dude, that cop’s dead!”

“Anybody have a fucking visual?” Tex’s voice growled over the comms.

When the shooting started, Queen turned to move towards the shelter of the house where Donnelley had run. The weight of the extra guns banged against his legs but he managed to miss getting hit, unlike the poor bastard in the local uniform. He dove down behind Tex and rolled onto his back, chucking the rifle towards him.

“Fucking take that,” he said as he pulled himself up to his feet. Queen leaned up against the house, unstrapping the Honey Badger SMG and waiting for Tex to pick up the rifle.

Tex did as he was told, leaning out just a sliver from behind cover to watch the crawling Charles get perforated by another round of gunfire stitching up his ass to his nape. No more screaming from the young Officer. He sighted up on the window that Yutu was firing from, not getting a good angle to see anything but the barrel of the M60 poking out the window and squeezed off five rounds in quick succession into the nearby wall. To his credit, the shooting stopped for a moment, the barrel of the M60 retreating back behind the window.

A few precious seconds went on before another window was smashed out and the machine gun opened up again, cones of fire spilling out and the loud shots ruining what was once a quiet evening.

Ghost waited until he heard another roar of gunfire unaccompanied by impacts at his position. The moment it began he leaned out, sighted carefully, and squeezed off three precise rounds. The incoming fire stopped again and Ghost pulled back into cover, smirking beneathing his mask.

“That’s a hit,” he said smugly.

“Avery where’s our fucking suppression, we need to move up.” Tex’s voice over the comms, sounding like his teeth were clenched.

Without a word, Avery lay himself prone on the ground and sighted up. For those looking, he seemed to be smirking. With a few pounds of pressure from his trigger finger, he let loose his own string of bangs, fury coming from the end of his barrel.

As Avery’s machine gun went silent Dave darted out of cover. He sprinted a few yards in, a fragmentation grenade clutched in his hand, the pin already pulled and his hand clamping the spoon tight. The distance was further than he liked, but he cocked back and let fly. He turned the moment the grenade was loosed, sprinting back for cover.

“Comin’ back!” He shouted, legs pumping as he worked to clear the firing lines before anyone on his own team smoked him. He dove and came to an unlovely landing next to Ghost, and a couple of seconds later the grenade went off with a hard bang, a thunderclap of sound that shattered a few more of the windows on that floor and seemed to slap off the nearby buildings.

The gunfire had stopped, even Avery had ceased fire. Tex looked behind him at Laine, “Let’s move, we’re stacking on the door.” He said, tapping into the comms, he called up Ghost, “THUNDER 1-2, on me. We’re stacking on the front door, you’re point.”

Tex broke cover and trusted Laine to be behind him and Ghost was already barreling towards the door. He and Ghost’s shoulders collided with the outside wall on opposite sides of the door, Laine covering the window to Ghost’s six. Tex felt the door jamb for any signs of tripwires. Not even trusting that, he took Laine’s lack of firing into the house as not seeing any signs of movement.

“UMBRA 1-1 making entry through first deck window.” He said, using the barrel shroud of his SIG to break down the remaining glass in the window frame before crawling inside. He went to the door and caught sight of the Claymore on his side. Retrieving his wire-cutters, he made quick work of the wire and opened the door for the rest of them. He fell in behind Ghost and Laine, “Entry team is inside the target house. First deck is clear, moving to second deck.”

Ghost crossed the threshold weapon-ready, his eyes just above his optic as he scanned his sectors. He called out open doors in a hushed voice as they moved, more for Laine’s benefit than for Tex’s so that she would know what to cover. Having an amateur along on an entry irked him; he’d rather be doing this with THUNDER, just Tex, or even Lucky, but she was who he had and he was going to make the best of it.

When they reached the stairs he pinned the top landing, holding it for the split second that it took Tex to arrive and cover it so that he could start up the steps before taking it back at the middle landing and advancing to the top of the stairs.

The room looked like what it was: a warzone. Shattered glass and pooling liquor showed where fragmentation from Lucky’s grenade had done its work on an in-set bar, and the walls were stippled with more shrapnel holes and a couple of fat .300BLK impacts. Spent brass in 7.62x51 NATO was piled at the front-facing window, the M60 that they belonged to leaning drunkenly against the wall.

Ghost saw the blood and grinned beneath his mask. It was pooled thickly beside the weapon, and ran in drops and spatters towards a door off to the left. Red handprints stared from the wall where the wounded Yutu had fought for balance, and Ghost could smell the coppery tang in the air under the harsh stench of burnt powder.

He moved on the door silently, stacking for entry. A voice on the other side, Yutu’s, “That you?” Yutu spoke, reedy whisper and a string of wet coughs, “There’s a claymore and my shotgun pointed at the door. Don’t come in if you don’t want to get turned into pudding.”

“We could always shoot you through the door.” Tex growled.

“I thought you folks weren’t cops.” Yutu said, and then chuckled, “Honestly, still not sure after all that. I’ll make you a deal.”

“You’ll shoot yourself?” Tex asked.

“I’ll disarm the mine and put my weapon down if you send the woman in. Kagan.” Yutu asked. “Is that fuckin’ red haired asshole out there?”

“In the flesh.” Tex answered.

“You come in with her.” Yutu said, and the sound of him crawling to the door, then throwing his weapon aside was heard. “Have the woman come in first.”

Laine had been running on autopilot, following the men through the house as she depended on the training of an FBI field agent and more recently with Ghost and Donnelley at the range.

She clutched the PDR as they entered the last room, the stink of fresh blood and gunpowder unmistakable. Laine looked at the trail, it was a lot of blood. A killing amount if she had been looking at a crime scene. And what was this, her mind racing to how the hell they got to this point when Yutu's voice caught her attention.

She glanced at Donnelley, then shifted the gun and slipped the strap so it would hang down and leave her hands free.

"I'm coming," Laine said, loud enough for Yutu to hear. She had nothing to help him, the first aid kit she had so carefully packed was in her bag back at the trailer.

She approached the door, hesitating as she touched the door knob, feeling the tacky blood under her palm. "Coming in, Yutu."

Tex watched Laine open the door with some amount of worry, keeping his rifle at low ready, she watched her step inside and then followed in soon after. What greeted the two was about what they expected. Yutu was huddled against the wall, leaning in a corner with darkened splotches on his clothes where blood had soaked through from bullet wounds. Quite a few. He clutched a bottle of whiskey, weakly tried to hold it out, but settled for just moving it into his lap, “Drink?”

Donnelley stepped around Laine and took the bottle, sniffing at it. It was Wild Turkey, alright, “You didn’t poison this, did you?”

“What good would killing you people now I’m dead?” Yutu snorted ruefully, fixing an eyeful of amusement and annoyance at Donnelley. “Was I right, though? You’re not cops, are you?”

Donnelley swigged at the bottle, handing it back. He contemplated sticking to the lie, but what was the point, “No.”

After lingering outside listening, Ghost stepped into the doorway. He wanted a look at the man who’d ruined his lunch, and he studied Yutu for a moment, his face hidden behind glasses and mask. He eyed the hat.

“The Legion,” he said, using the old Army nickname for the 5th SFG. Ghost jerked his head at Tex. “Us too. Fuck it, tell him. He’s bleeding out anyway.” Then he turned and settled back into the doorway, watching the room outside.

Laine stood against the wall as the men whiskeyed and bonded, her gaze on the dying man. She glanced around, searching for towels or something to stop the bleeding.

"What is the deal?" She asked, stepping around the bulk of Ghost, "What did you want to tell us, what can we do for you?"

Ghost snapped his gaze over to Laine for an instant, irritated at her interruption of what he considered to be an interesting conversation. He allowed himself a split-second fantasy of thumping his helmeted head into her temple, then returned to watching the door, keying his comms.

“All stations, THUNDER 1-2. Consolidate on the house, we still have that potential inbound. Be alert for booby traps. TRIDENT 1-Actual, be advised, UMBRA and THUNDER are green.” He paused. “Local cop ate it, though.”

“That I wouldn’t blow your fuckin’ boobs off if the claymore didn’t get you.” Yutu took another swig but he coughed it back up with some blood, then tried again more successfully, wiping off his chin and leaving only more blood there instead of whiskey, “Ipiktok’s downstairs. In the cellar. When you talk to him, listen to what he says. I wish I did.”

“So, what, is the Army serving warrants now?” Yutu looked at Ghost and then Donnelley.

Donnelley agreed with Ghost, no point in lying to a man who was about to die. Dead men and tales, and all that, “We’re some sort of Government Men, you got that much right. I could tell you what we do, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me, son. I seen a lot. Saw what Ipiktok could do with just his mind and a little bit of belief.” Yutu said, his eyes drifting off to what may have been death as likely as it could be some memory.

“Well, for one, we kill or capture shamans like Ipiktok. We put things down that make Saddam and Bin Laden look like the lesser of two evils.” Donnelley spoke, sitting on Yutu’s bed. He probably wouldn’t mind.

“What’s your name?” He asked Laine, “And don’t say Kagan. I’ve seen your types in Iraq, secret squirrels. I want the real one.”

Her eyes widened at the admission of the man in the cellar, a brief flash of memory to a septic tank but she shook it off. She watched him struggling, then answered, "It's Laine, Heather Laine. But I am FBI, I wasn't lying there. I do sometimes work on missing persons. You said your daughter..."

She paused, feeling the pressure of his waning time. "Do you have a first aid kit or..."

Laine fumbled for the pockets of her plate carrier, suddenly remembering as if the voice of a combat god reminded her of the personal first aid kit packed in the vests. Yutu laughed at her, Donnelley and Ghost both knew it’d be wasted effort at this point. So did Yutu, “Some gauze isn’t going to help me, Miss.” Yutu sighed, taking another swig, “Ipiktok has dreams. I wished I listened to them more. He dreamed about this, told me I wouldn’t like how it ended when I asked. But he said he saw my daughter in a dream once too. Said she was grown now, a woman, doing better than I could’ve ever given her. She was at the Space Needle. I have a picture of her when she was a little girl and…”

Yutu cleared his throat as he whimpered, shaking his head and sniffling, “It’s in my dresser drawer. If you ever see her in Washington or wherever she is… can you tell her I love her? Tell her I looked for her when no one else did.”

Laine dropped her hands to her thighs, the last bit of decency she could give him was to take that photo with her when they left, "I will, I promise."

She watched him drink the whiskey, the scent familiar and almost reassuring. "What is he, Ipiktok? Him and his people, what are they doing?"

Yutu frowned, a chill running through him, “He said he was hiding. Running from him, and those who serve him.” He swallowed, taking another swig, “Keeping him… asleep. I’m telling you, when he speaks, listen to him. It sounds… crazy, but I know it’s true.”

Laine glanced at Donnelley then looked at Yutu, "The snow storm? Was it something called the Wind Walker?"

She recalled the research and the name in English mentioned, it sounded crazy but Laine's doubts had been settled after seeing human jerky make a bear turn to dust. “Ithaqua…” Yutu spoke the name with reverence and a fair amount of fear, “Just talk to him. Don’t kill him, he doesn’t deserve it. And whatever you do, don’t let them take him. That’s all I know. Could you leave me alone with the redhead? My time’s almost up and I don’t want to spend it thinking about other people.”

Laine nodded, "We'll listen."

She stood up, meeting Donnelley's eyes briefly before stepping past him and out of the small room. Donnelley met her eyes as she passed and then looked to Yutu as she left.

“What is it, old man?” Donnelley asked, fishing his smokes out and putting his lips around one, “You mind?”

“I figure a shitload of bullet holes and blood on the walls drove down whatever property value this shithole has already.” Yutu shrugged, “Do me a favor.”

“Huh?”

“Put my gun in my hand. Always said I’d die with my boots on and a gun in my hand.” Donnelley looked at Yutu like he was talking nonsense, “Come the fuck on, son.”

Donnelley wiggled the toe of his boot under Yutu’s shotgun and kicked it over to him after lighting his cigarette. He reached over and dragged it into his lap, making no effort to point it, let alone hold it. Donnelley leaned over and unholstered his sidearm, “How do you want it?”

“Think you know best.” Yutu held Donnelley’s gaze, “What’s your name?”

“Joseph Donnelley.”

“Don’t look away, Joe.”

“Never do.” Donnelley stood and squeezed off two rounds into Yutu’s chest, who screwed up his face at the painful burning, but he didn’t look away from Donnelley. Then he put the last one dead center through his forehead. He put his sidearm back into its holster, slipping the lock back over the butt of his pistol and walked out of the room. He sided up with Laine, “Let’s go get Irniq.”

When Tex left the room Ghost had already taken control of the house. Poker was THUNDER’s boss, but Ghost was his Number Two, the Platoon Sergeant, and he’d put the men in tactically advantageous points to cover as much of the house’s surroundings as he could. He spotted Tex and jerked his head back towards Yutu’s room.

“Need to talk,” he growled.

Tex looked at Laine, nodding downstairs for her to go without him. There was a time once where Ghost’s talks and the threat of them made him nervous, but Tex was too old now to waste his time being scared of people who bled just like him. And he and Ghost had proven to each other countless times that they were trusted brothers-in-arms so long as they both had the same enemy. He watched Laine go and then walked back into Yutu’s room, the other man’s body still warm. He put his hands on his hips and nodded at Ghost, “What’s this talk about?”

Ghost stared at Tex for a moment, then reached up and pulled down his mask. Ghost didn’t have friends. He did have men he respected, for their competence and their ferocity in a fight. Tex was one of those. The other three were Poker, Maui, and believe it or not, Foster. That was why they were having the conversation here, away from Tex’s team.

“The only reason you have a gun right now is because Queen broke right instead of left when that ‘60 opened up,” he said. His voice was firm, the tone of an NCO telling a junior just how badly he’d fucked up. “You’re UMBRA now, whatever. But THUNDER taught you better. You’re still one of us, and you still rep our name. And you can’t watch my fucking back if you don’t have your weapon.”

Ghost pointed a thick, gloved finger at Tex, not quite touching his plate. “Next time we have possible contact, you take your goddamn rifle. I don’t care if you’re pissy. Hooah? Don’t rely on a fucking junkie running the right direction when bullets fly.”

Tex usually was an asshole when receiving a counseling. And it had been very many years since he’d received one, not since Hart took him aside after talking down some cops who’d love nothing more than to put a drunkard Green Beret in his place for starting shit at his daughter’s school. But he knew he’d fucked up when he didn’t take that rifle, and he knew he’d be having this same conversation with anyone else had he been in Ghost’s shoes. A younger Donnelley might have spat about doing this for such and such years, being on a CIF team, and whatever else excuse to make himself feel better. Hell, there was still that hot-blooded urge, but...

He nodded once, knowing the only reality here and the only tangible fact was that he hadn’t taken his fucking rifle like some amateur. He looked Ghost in the eye and growled out a quiet, but professional, “Hooah.”

Ghost returned the nod, then jerked his head at the door. Talk over.

“The house is ours. We haven’t gone in the basement yet, I’ve got Queen covering it. Maui is up here keeping an eye out, Pup is downstairs where he can respond at a window with that MG of his.” Ghost pointed at the big, old machine gun that he’d left by the broken window that Maui was standing at. “‘60 looks serviceable, we can grab it if we need it. Poker is...Around, I don’t fuckin’ know. And I have Lucky looking over the claymores, see if they’re something we want to salvage. Russians show, we’ll be ready. Who do you want making entry on the basement?”

Tex took his moment, weighing out his options, “Let’s you and me go, Laine’s on her way already. Figure we can shoot some sense into this shaman if he tries anythin’ fucky. We’ll have Laine hang back while we drag him out.” Tex nodded, “We’ll keep this house long as we’re here, get Poker to radio those chuckleheads in TRIDENT to pack up and relocate. I trust this house more’n I trust that rickety fuckin’ schoolhouse trailer.”

He put his hand around the grip of his rifle hanging on its sling, “You’re point.”

Ghost smirked beneath his mask. “Always.”

>...///

Laine put the three shots out of her mind for now, even as she saw Donnelley again. Tex. She said nothing when he directed her down to the basement and left with Ghost. The door to the stairs was closed and she approached it gingerly, Yutu might have done something to it. He seemed like that type and she looked back at Queen who stood nearby.

“Did anyone check it?”

He looked up and cleared his throat, moving over next to her and made a show of running his hands all over the door and the hinges, like Indiana Jones searching for a secret entrance. Finally he touched the doorknob and turned to her, twisting it just until it clicked, his eyes widening.

Laine narrowed her gaze at his antics until Queen stood up straight and shrugged, “Yeah, looks safe enough. At least before you get inside with the shaman.”

He let the door swing open and the stairs descended into dimness, a typical single bulb hanging over the staircase. Queen looked at her,“You alright?”

“Just fine,” she answered dryly as she looked down the staircase and back at him, “What, like it’s my first shoot out.”

Queen shrugged, glancing at Tex as he followed his UMBRA teammate and then waved an arm like a butler to invite Ghost down as well.

Laine made her way down the stairs, reaching to pull the cord for the bulb to come on, the light pushing back the darkness over the stairs and the basement. There was a lamp lighting a corner with muted light and a bed, a small table made from an upended crate. As they reached the bottom step Ghost stepped to the side, his weapon at the low ready, and he hit his rifle light and swept the room quickly before training it in Ipiktok’s general direction. He kept silent, content to simply look at the shaman; he knew that freaking the man out would negatively impact the mission, but he still wanted to be ready to crack a round through his face the moment he started getting...witchy.

“Mr. Irniq?” Laine called, looking towards the bed and the lamplight.

“I heard everything out there.” Ipiktok was in the corner in the darkness, shrouded by whatever shadow the dim lighting failed to reach until Ghost and Donnelley’s lights made him shield his eyes, “I told him he wouldn’t like how it ended. If I’m not dead yet, I assume you aren’t with the others? The ones who were trying to bring me back to… where I came from?”

“He said as much,” Laine replied, stepping closer to see him. “Who are these others? Yutu mentioned you were hiding from them.”

“I am…” Ipiktok said, he stood and took a step into the light, his look forlorn and so different from the smiling man in the social media photos from the briefing. He looked older, like the years had piled over him in a span of hours, “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. So much death. I’m hiding from people that… I don’t know if you would believe me.”

Laine clasped her hands, looking at the man before her, “Are they Russian? We’ve had an encounter and it was not pleasant. Over by your stronghold.”

She paused then glanced down, “I am sorry about your family. If you can help us, it would be some justice. We’ve lost people to them as well.”

Laine moved closer, to the upturned crate that had two mismatched chairs on either side. “Would you like to sit? I can see about getting you some food or coffee while we speak.”

It was the FBI repertoire but it helped her get into the mindset of questioning. While she doubted it would come to how the interrogation had gone in West Virginia, Laine at least was setting up the good cop routine.

Tex looked to Ghost and was of the same mind. He didn’t trust Ipiktok just yet and held his SIG at low ready as well. Ipiktok didn’t seem bothered by that, sitting at the table and sighing, “I would like food, yes. Yutu… I’m sorry about everything. He was a good friend, and a good man.” Ipiktok chuckled sheepishly, “Usually.”

He cleared his throat, looking at everyone arrayed in the room, “The people I’m running from can’t be put in such terms as Russian or American, or any sort of nationality you’d be familiar with.” Ipiktok reached slowly inside his shirt and withdrew a pendant that was similar to the one they’d found in the compound, but the stone was infinitely more black, “I was a slave to these people. In the… a time far from here. From one of many futures where they have succeeded. I was thrown out from the Gate into this time and place, and they have hunted me even through time.”

“I’m sure none of you are one of them or I would be dead already.” He shook his head, “Those men who came after me, they weren’t Russian. Americans, like you. They were attacked by those Russians, I woke up after the fight and just… ran.”

“I know you must not believe me, but I assure you, this is nothing but truth. I’ve been working hard to keep them asleep, but there are those whose mission it is to wake them.” Ipiktok swallowed hard, “I do not know their names, but their servants could be anywhere. After me.”

Laine sat down across from him, listening intent as he described something so odd it sounded like a one of the old B movies her mother acted in. Some sci fi horror piece with unexplained magic and a lot of death. Pushing aside her instant skepticism she left the lines open for his reasoning. Those bodies in the sky were a firm reminder.

“So...” she began, then halted and turned to Donnelley, “Tell Queen to get him something to eat, please. This is going to probably take some time.”

Laine turned back and put her phone on the crate, tapping the record app. “This is a secure phone, do you mind if I record?”

“You’re saying you were...you are a slave to these people?” she stumbled a little trying to grasp how to ask the clarifying question. “First, these people, the ones you say are not from here. The ones that hunted you. Did they attack the Americans that approached the compound and put them up in the sky? Freeze dried another? Who did that?”

“No, the Americans were the ones who were there first. One of them turned on the rest as the Russians attacked, but they were not allies.” Ipiktok explained, “He was forced to retreat and the Russians took me. One minute they had me and another I was waking up far from the place I’d made my home here, and I ran.”

“The one you’re talking about, freeze-dried. I don’t know, but it could be whatever Yutu had some grudge against had gotten to him.” He shook his head, unable to help them explain anything but what he knew about what killed him, “Ithaqua. The Wind Walker. Yutu had come to me years ago looking for his daughter, he’d heard about the things I can do and how I’ve helped some find peace with themselves or with something else.”

“I couldn’t help him. I’d dreamed of what happened to her, and I couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. Years, he’d thought her missing until I came to him telling of a dream I’d had of her alive and well.” Ipiktok wrung his hands together with a pained expression, “The Wind Walker had taken his daughter like it’d taken his wife, and taken many other wives and daughters of those who’d come this far north.”

“I don’t think all of him believed me. But that doesn’t matter now.” Ipiktok looked away from Laine, staring into a corner, “I am as lost here as you are. A foreigner among a people I have trouble calling my own.”

Laine glanced again at Donnelley when Ipiktok mentioned the single man they had found, shriveled and deadly to touch had turned on his team. But not with the Russians, on his own in this case. Either way, it was too close to home when she thought about her suspicions about a leak.

She clasped her hands and leaned in a little, watching the man as he spoke. When the subject turned to Yutu and his missing daughter, Laine felt the chills of recognition crawl across her scalp and down her spine. A flash of memory, standing over a dead girl in a makeshift autopsy room. Maria with her poor skinned body and the violent penetrative injuries. The old skeletons of other lost women buried in a forest.

“I think you spared him after such losses and it was with kindness you did,” she said slowly, “However, I do not want to be spared, we have to know everything. Those women taken, I’m assuming the girls native to these lands and the missing hikers. What happens to them, I know they are killed but if you can tell me how?”

Ipiktok looked back at Laine, a grimness to his eyes, “He is not a Shaman. He is not mortal. He is not human.” Ipiktok shook his head, slow, “Something has made his presence on this plane here more tangible, his thievery more frequent. He is not of this place. Some legends say he takes them, because he is lonely, doomed to wander alone for eternity. Some say, he takes them as plunder, like the fox takes the egg.”

“It is known in my time that he does terrible things to those he takes. Visits upon them a violence and domination that makes me sick to speak out loud.” Ipiktok said, inching ever close to the word without speaking it like the name of a devil lest its evil come knocking, “I’m sure you can imagine. He sits at the right hand of his mother, suckling like a babe, yet so cruel in only ways the darkest minds can be. But he is not the greatest evil there is, believe you me.”

“I’ve been here trying to lessen his influence, and the influence of those who sleep for long eons until they are awakened by the cruelties of the men who will become Emperors in their name.” Ipiktok said, “Count yourself blessed that you will not live to see the days I have before I escaped to this past.”

Laine furrowed her brows slightly as he spoke of it not being human and other planes. It was in the same vein as what he claimed about coming through a gate and other futures. It was all strange yet there was a nagging familiarity.

“Yes, I can very well imagine, it’s something I am unfortunately acquainted with in my line of work. This thing, this Wind Walker,” she began, shuffling the pieces together in her mind. A creature, for sake of argument and the fact there was little evidence to prove otherwise, took women for its pleasure, much as any serial killer would. For domination, for gratification, and to prove his own power. She could understand what Ipiktok was trying to say and spared him to describe more details for now.

“You mentioned you were trying to keep it ‘asleep’? Dormant I can imagine, or at least less active and powerful,” she said and cleared her throat, remembering Dulane. “It is not one of a kind, you said there’s other things even more evil. Then there are others like you? And others like the ones that wish to use it for their own gain. Can you describe those people, the ones that were chasing you?”

“I can’t say if there are others who have escaped as I have. But the cruel emperors’ reach is vast, as I’ve found when they could find me even here.” Ipiktok looked at each one of them in the room before looking back to Laine, “Like us. Like those two with their rifles. Like anyone. The Many-Angled Ones, Those Who Await. The Sleeper.”

“There are those who wish to wake them, and earn their favor as their most powerful slaves to lord over those of us who are not. In the land where all men have chains, the ones with the longest are kings.” Ipiktok said, “To speak the true names of their masters is to summon them, and so I’m glad my tongue has forgotten how to form it, and those living in this past have not yet learned how.”

Laine shifted on the crate, it was too much to try to comprehend at once but the horror of the very idea he described made goosebumps rise on her arms. What she could grasp was that the danger was very close and it was not just Russians.

“That amulet, we found one like it in one of the cabins,” she gestured to the one around his neck, wanting to shift away from the nightmare. “What does it mean?”

“The one my family had made?” He held a thumb under the leather cord of his own amulet, of similar make but the stone was impossibly black, “It is a mere copy of this one. This is meant as a shroud, to keep me invisible to the Sleeper and those hounds that hunt their query through time itself.”

“My middle daughter had made a replica. I forbade it, yelled at her. I regret raising my voice at her, because she could never understand.” Ipiktok frowned, “But it does not shroud me from the eyes of mortals. As I learned when I watched my family die.”

Ipiktok quirked a brow at those gathered in the room, suddenly curious, “If you are not with them, then… who are you? Why were you looking for me?”

Laine pressed her lips together slightly, “I am sorry about your family, truly. I just hope their sacrifice will not be in vain, with your help we can...”

She paused, not sure what they could do against such odds but there was something. Looking up at Donnelley, she said, “Maybe you can explain who we are better than I can. I should go check on that food.”

Laine stood she felt herself a little shaky, her knees weak for a moment and she paused before nodding to Ipiktok. Donnelley lowered his rifle, still keeping his hands on the foregrip and grip respectively. He clucked his tongue, “We’re the ones who make sure your future ain’t gonna happen. Put simple.”

Ipiktok looked at Donnelley, no newfound hope in his eyes with that sentiment. He chuckled softly, humorless, “Good luck.”

Laine left the basement, not looking at Ghost as she took the stairs up to the door. It was not until she opened it and stepped into the kitchen that she breathed out, unaware she had been holding it. She rubbed her hands over her face and hair, glancing over as Queen made eggs and sausage on the dead man’s stove.

“Figured, might as well use it,” he said, “Otherwise there’s nothing in the pantry but a couple of cans of ravioli.”

“It’s fine,” she replied, her hand on her hip. “Coffee?”

“Brewing. How’s it going down there? You look a little pale,” Queen said, reaching for a plate from Yutu’s small, chipped selection. He plated some scrambled eggs and venison sausage patties. “Dude was out of bread.”

“A little intense,” Laine admitted, “Just...intense.”

He handed her the plate and raised a brow, “It do be like that sometimes. I’ll bring the coffee when it’s done.”

Laine returned with the food and placed it on the crate table. She glanced at Donnelley, “Did you want to go over anything with him before I continue?”

She found herself wanting a cigarette badly and ran her hand over her vest, hunting for the pocket she had stashed them in. Donnelley nodded to Laine, the looked back at Ipiktok, “You said The Sleeper. What do you know about that… thing.”

“I know they lie dormant. Waiting. Stirring in their dreams in places where humanity is isolated. They feed on our energy.” Ipiktok said, “Cruelty, selfishness, strife. It leaves all that in its wake. Death.”

Donnelley furrowed his brows, a frown forming on his lips, “Death wakes the Sleeper.”

Ipiktok shot a look at Donnelley, almost as if he’d been slapped, and held his gaze. Ipiktok rose, and Donnelley could feel Ghost tense. “Where have you heard this?”

“Somewhere a ways away. Spoken by some crazy fool before he slit his own throat.” Donnelley recounted the story of how Dulane had met his end, “Why?”

“It is familiar to me. And anything familiar to me in this past is nothing good.” Ipiktok said, “I’d like to rest. I have a lot of dead friends, and no family. I’d like to sit and eat, please.”

Laine smoked a few feet away, the crackling of the cloves and the pungent odor soothing and familiar. She listened and relived in her mind the chase after Dulane and the result. And that shadow that haunted him, that she had glimpsed in the parking lot. She shivered and took a long drag.

Queen came down with a mug of coffee and a half pint of milk that was still good. He paused at the foot of the stairs, not wanting to interrupt. He felt the stomach turning sensation when he spotted the amulet, it looked like the one he found but for the stone. Laine moved over to him and took the coffee and milk from him.

He let her take it and stood back, watching and listening as the tale of Dulane wrapped up. It was one of those that stayed with a person and he still saw the cabin in his dreams, like so many other wretched sites of evil acts.

Laine put the drinks on the table, “One more thing, if you don’t mind. You said your amulet is to shield you from the eyes of those that hunt you...from the other place? What is it? We’ve seen that black stone before, accompanying murder victims. It’s strange and unsettling...”

She curled her lips like she had tasted something bad, “It’s not from here is it?”

Ipiktok looked at the eggs in front him, “It’s from them. It appears where they sleep, and emanates it’s influence and endless malignancy like a rot in the soil.” He said, “Beware those places, for it is there that their cancer of the mind is strongest. Kindness and hope itself starves and dies.”

Maria

Laine closed her eyes, the stone had been found deep in her heart and it had been put there in an act of sheer violence. It sounded just as the Wind Walker took his victims and she would bet they would find shards of black stone in its victims as well. Patterns. Patterns now that had to be followed not just here.

“Thank you, Mr. Irniq,” she said, “Enjoy your food.”

Laine turned away, glancing briefly at Donnelley before she went upstairs to finish her cigarette where the old shaman did not have to be bothered by smoke.
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Through the Darkness of Futures Past…

Part III

You see me now a veteran
Of a thousand psychic wars
My energy's spent at last
And my armor is destroyed
I have used up all my weapons
And I'm helpless and bereaved
Wounds are all I'm made of

Did I hear you say that this is victory?


>NOATAK, AK
>2200...///

Donnelley’s pants were still mud-stained, though he wasn’t too inclined to change them. Not many people he had to impress here in Noatak. It was his turn to keep an eye on Ipiktok, the two of them sitting at the kitchen table. Ipiktok hadn’t said much, and Donnelley wasn’t quite in the mood to kick up any conversation. Their coffee mugs were still steaming beside them, the two of them looking in different directions that weren’t at each other.

“There’s one like me among you.” Ipiktok said, his voice cutting through the silence though it was barely above a whisper, “I can feel them. I’m sure it’s the red head, the one who is quiet.”

“Ghost? The big guy?” Donnelley snorted.

Ipiktok looked at Donnelley, his face still serious, “The girl. She is like me.”

Poker came around the corner and looked at Ipiktok like he looked at most wizards. Or anyone really, like someone he was wondering if it’d be worth killing. He frowned and shook his head, Donnelley had learned after a few years with THUNDER that Poker had no love for wizards. Donnelley and Poker caught eyes, “CORAL NOMAD is prepping a transport from Eielson Air Force Base, most likely. Said it’ll be some time before they can come up here,” Poker licked his teeth and looked at Ipiktok, “You’ll be somewhere safe after, get debriefed and three hots and a cot for a bit.”

Ipiktok did not answer, not even looking at Poker. The other man left, turning on his heel and walking out of the kitchen to go check on the others. “So, what.” Donnelley said, Ipiktok looking back up at him, “What’s your point? Because as I understand it, there’s been plenty people with plenty chances to help her with her… her dreams, and none of them did shit.

“I can tell you care about her. I wouldn’t offer anything if it wasn’t in my power to fulfill it.” Ipiktok said, shrugging.

Donnelley held his eye, his own gaze boring into it. Ipiktok might have spun a tragic tale to Laine, but just like Poker, Donnelley had no love for wizards. He searched Ipiktok’s eyes for lies or treachery. He couldn’t find any in the slightest. “Okay.” Donnelley nodded, keying on his mic, “UMBRA 1-1, come in, UMBRA 1-4. Report to the kitchen, out.”

A few long moments ticked by before Ava carefully peaked into the kitchen, looking to Donnelley quizzically and then at Ipiktok with a bit more caution. She had been given a brief explanation of what happened, along with the rest of TRIDENT. She was more confused than anything, but glad that her friends and boyfriend had made it out the other side intact.

“Hi, um,” She said, stepping carefully into the kitchen and focusing on Donnelley. “Did you need me for something?”

“Why don’t you tell her?” Donnelley said, fishing his pack of smokes out and lighting it, his eyes on Ipiktok the entire duration.

“What was your name, Miss?” Ipiktok asked, turning in his chair to look at her.

Ava glanced nervously to Donnelley for a second then back to Ipiktok. “Rosalin Bishop.” She answered.

Ipiktok looked back at Donnelley. Donnelley shrugged, “Ask her.”

Ipiktok turned back around, coughing into his fist and looking at Ava with some trepidation, “I, um- your colleagues, Miss Heather Laine and Mister Donnelley here have told me their names.” Ipiktok frowned and looked away for a moment, “You don’t have to, of course.”

“Oh,” Ava frowned, giving Donnelley an expression of uncertainty mingled with concern. She cleared her throat, “Um, you can just call me Ava. Everyone does.” She said with a small, polite smile.

“Okay, Ava. I…” Ipiktok hesitated, trying to find the right words. How could you tell someone what Ipiktok needed to, “Well, could you sit with me, with us?”

When she did, he continued, “I’ve been told you have peculiar dreams. So do I. At times, they are more… intense, than I would like them to be.” Ipiktok looked at Ava with some sympathy, “Donnelley’s told me that some have promised things they did not deliver on. I can.”

Ava’s expression shifted from one of weary confusion to one of intense focus. Her back straightened as she slowly tensed, her hands clenching to fists beneath the table.

She didn’t even hesitate, “Tell me. Please.”

Ipiktok retrieved a pouch from his pocket, made of simple sack cloth and looking very rustic. It was held closed with a drawstring. He handed it over to Ava, reaching and leaving it next to her on the table. “Go ahead, open it.” What Ava saw inside was surprisingly mundane. It looked like a dried berry, a raisin of some sort, and the smell even wafted Donnelley’s way, “These I traded for in a place far from here.”

“They smell… good.” Donnelley sniffed at the air before taking another drag. It smelled almost fungal, an earthy kind of aroma.

“They do, but I wouldn’t eat more than one or you could die.” Ipiktok said to a suddenly suspicious Donnelley giving him a look that could kill from the other side of the table, “What I’m saying you should do, Ava, is tear away the dried meat of the fruit. Inside is a pit, crush it to a fine powder. It doesn’t matter how you ingest it. If you do that, no dreams at all will come to you next time you sleep, good or bad.”

“If you eat the whole meat of the fruit, a dream will come to you waking or not. Whether it is good or bad is not your choice. It is useful to me as a shaman to sometimes do this. You must focus on a person or place and there is a greater chance that the vision will be relevant.” Ipiktok shrugged, moving the small sack closer to Ava, “Take the whole thing. I don’t need them anymore.” He smiled, though something was weighing it down.

Ava frowned as she looked at the berry inside the bag, carefully taking it out to look it over. After a pause she put it back and tightly shut the bag. “Thank you, I appreciate the gift.” She said, looking up and giving Ipiktok a slight smile. “So, if I use this fruit, it will help me understand...What’s happening to me?” She asked.

“Ava…” Ipiktok smiled somewhat sadly, “Those fruits in that bag will help you sleep restfully. That’s all they’ll do. That’s all they’ve done for me.”

He shook his head, “In my time, we are called seers, with an iron will and an ironclad ability to bend the world to our mind’s every fancy if we are practiced enough.” Ipiktok said, “But, in my time, people like us- born with a mind more attuned to the other side- rule with iron fists under the cruel Emperors’ reigns.”

“I can’t tell you why we were born how we were. I can tell you that we can live with it, and we can achieve so much if we use our gifts for the right things.” Ipiktok gave Ava a reassuring smile. “Perhaps you could help Donnelley here do what he’d said to me, make sure my future never comes to fruition.”

Ava looked at him with a mixture of confusion and no small amount of disquiet at what she could piece together from the context. “How do I use them?” She asked him. “If I can help with what’s happening, I want to know how.”

“That isn’t mine to teach. I was a simple slave in my time, not one of the great sorcerers. You’ll have to find someone who knows more than just the simple tricks and Seeing that I can do.” Ipiktok said, a consoling smile on his lips.

“I know someone.” Donnelley interjected, though the way he grated it out under his breath told just how eager he was to bring this someone up, “You’ve met him.”

Ava turned to Donnelley, quizzical for a moment before the realization clicked. “Oh yeah! He said he would be in touch with me after I met him.” She said, her eyes brightening for a moment before she grew sober at Donnelley’s reaction. “Do...Do you think it’s a bad idea? To learn from him?”

Donnelley sighed, a stream of smoke escaping his lips and then his nostrils as he frowned, “He taught me some things. They weren’t nice things.” Donnelley looked to Ava, noticing how her excitement had guttered out some, making him clear his throat and force himself to perk up just a tad, “But that’s between me and him. He’s good at what he does, I’d trust him to teach you what he knows about… that stuff.

“He lives closer to where I do than you do to him. Call me up sometime, I… I can take you there, be there for, uh,” Donnelley chuckled lightly, “Moral support, or… somethin’.”

Ava smiled at him. “I think that would be a good idea too.” She shifted her attention back to Ipiktok, nodding her head to him. “Thank you for helping me.” She gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, about what happened to your family.”

Ipiktok nodded, looking back down at his coffee before taking a small sip of it, “Thank you.”

Donnelley rose from his seat and took a large gulp of his coffee before dropping his lit cigarette into it. He put it back down and lightly touched Ava’s shoulder, “Let’s go get Pup. Come on, we hash out this trip we’re apparently going on, huh?”

Ava nodded, tucking the small pouch into one of her pockets. She got up from the table, putting a tentative hand on Ipiktok’s arm. A gesture mingled with her gratefulness and compassion for the man’s situation.

She pulled her hand back and nodded up to Donnelley.

>...///

Queen emerged from the bathroom, tugging down his plate carrier then rubbed his nose with a quick pinching motion. He passed the kitchen where Donnelley and the old shaman sat with Ava, he gave her a brief look over before through the living room to the front door. He slung his rifle over and rested his hand against it, spotting Dave and Ghost with their pile of goodies laid out on the carpet and couch.

Once outside, his bright gaze fell on Avery, alone as usual and with the same lost puppy dog expression that he recalled from the first time he had met him. It was getting better but the boy was still in a sort of limbo, not on either team yet caught up in their mess.

Queen reached into one of the many pockets and took out a pack of Kools, tapping one out as he strolled over to Avery. “Smoke?” he offered as he pulled one out between his still numb and tingling lips.

Avery had been staring at a corner, thinking about the last two firefights they’d been in within a short span of time. Thinking about Ipiktok’s family gunned down. Thinking about how they’d killed someone and were squatting in his house. Thinking about- he perked up noticing someone say something to him, looked over at the pack of cigarettes in Queen’s outstretched hand and then up to his eyes. All of THUNDER made him nervous, but Queen was alright. Donnelley was the easiest going around him, and so that helped him form his own opinion of the man, “Uh,” Avery looked at the pack again, “Sure, yeah.”

Avery pulled a cigarette out of Queen’s pack and placed it between his lips, then mimicked a lighter, “Fuego?”

Queen took out the cheap Bic lighter, some tacky Ed Hardy tiger printed on it. “Si, Papi,” he replied, lighting his own cigarette before tossing Avery the lighter.

He took a drag and watched the kid, flashing an easy smile that touched his glassy eyes. “How you holding up? It’s been a day.”

Avery took a long drag and held it for a second, letting it out with a chuckle, “Yeah, ain’t that the fucking truth.” His smile faded somewhat, “You know, when those guys in suits told me to pack my shit and head CONUS for a, uh… what did they say…”

He snorted, “A higher form of patriotism,” he chuckled, “I was kinda pissed that they had me patriotically holding a Mossberg inside a foreclosed property waiting for you guys to show up.”

“Can’t lie, I kinda miss sitting on my ass. What about you?” Avery asked, taking another drag.

Queen gazed around the small town, the people wisely staying indoors after the gunfight. Charles still lay there, covered by a flower print sheet from the house, blood blossoms drying to brown staining it. “You know, shit can get tough but I wouldn’t trade it for sitting on my ass,” he replied, blowing out smoke as he spoke. “You can’t get this sorta thing anywhere else, what could you do more than this to make your career mean something? You just gotta get past the killing, the unsettling weird shit you come across, the cover stories, and not ever being able to be honest with anyone outside your teammates.”

He met the younger man’s gaze, then put his cigarette to his lips, “I mean, shit ain’t too much different when I ran undercover with the DEA. Just more risk and higher stakes. But I get it, it’s not so much sitting on your ass as it is having a normal life. Being able to clock out.”

Queen raised his eyebrows as he took a deep drag on the menthol cigarette, the only way to slow his rambling chatter that always happened after he took a bump. “But trust me,” he said, “After awhile...you won’t be able to walk away. You might try but it won’t last. It pulls you back in, you’re privy to things no one else knows about and you can pretty much do what you want, ya dig?”

“Whatever I want except quit.” Avery smirked, nodded his head and took another long drag, “That sounds like a lot of things to get past. Even when I was envisioning myself being a super secret squirrel I was imagining us dusting terrorists.”

Avery nodded to the body next to Charles’, “Not veterans. Americans.” Avery looked away and shook his head, “I don’t know. I’m not trying to be a fucking killjoy. This is just different.”

Avery cleared his throat, looked around a bit nervously and then spoke in more hushed tones, “You have anything a little… stronger than cigarettes?”

“That is the hardest part,” he agreed, “But hell it happens with any federal agency. Americans, veterans, good people doing unlawful things. It ain’t pretty but…”

He had no real excuse, shit they had to do was tamatamount to straight murder. Like Jay, the piece of shit that he was, still died at his own hands because he knew too much.

Queen looked at Avery for a long moment, a slow smile crossing his face despite the cigarette between his teeth. “I might,” he said, glancing over the broad back of Ghost as he supervised the inventory. “Come on, let’s take a little walk around back, keep an eye out on things.”

He led Avery around to the back of the house, the yard behind it was overgrown and the skeleton of a swing set stood, long stripped of the chains and seats. Queen met Avery’s eyes and held it, his own dilated even in the shade of the wall. “This is between you and me,” he started, “Not everyone is cool with this shit, got it?”

“You smoke weed, I’ll bet,” Queen said, watching him close. “Yeah, California kid like yourself. I ain’t got it here. Need something for the nerves, for the bad feels?”

Queen slipped a hand in his pocket, feeling the plastic bag knotted at the top to hold his illicit pharmacopeia.

Avery eyed the swing set for a long moment, and then nodded. He looked back at Queen, his own smirk growing, albeit a very nervous one. He felt like a teenager sneaking out with his friends to go skateboarding and hey-mister some folks to buy them 40oz’s of whatever was cheapest, “Downers. Definitely downers.” Avery smiled, “Percs, oxy’s? Or Xanax, maybe?”

Queen grinned, denting the filter of the cigarette, “I gotchu.”

He removed the bag and opened it, taking out a smaller ziploc style bag and held it closer, making sure it was the lower dose. “Here, some Xanax.Take those the nerves right down, not too much because we’re still on to see if our date shows up. How much you usually dose?”

“I’d usually take 60 milligrams a pop when I was a kid. Figure my tolerance is lower now, though.” Avery snorted, he reached back to his wallet, and counted out how many bills he had, “How much, man? Dollar per milligram, or?”

Queen raised an eyebrow, “Well, goddamn. Guessing that wasn’t prescribed by the pediatrician. Here I am thinking I was popping your cherry.”

He chuckled and tapped out several peach colored pills and offered them. Queen glanced at him reaching for his wallet, then shook his head. “Nah, this is on me. You’re close enough to a team member, just keep it between us and start slow. You need something to get up, I got that too. Come see Uncle Queen for your candy, you’ll be alright.”

Despite the coke still in his system, Queen could feel the same desire to drown the anxiety in the pastel pills. He held off though and put the rest back into the bag and in the deep well of one of the pockets on his tactical pants. “I got connections back home, shit don’t cost me much.”

He met Avery’s eyes, an impish gleam in his own and brought the cigarette back to his lips, “The worm has definitely turned for you, my friend.”

An obscure movie quote but it tickled him to use it as he watched Avery take the xanax. He chewed one up and grimaced at the taste a bit, stashing the rest for later. He sighed, nodding his head like he was reassuring himself the nightmare wouldn’t have to be all bad. He brought the cigarette to his lips again, puffed at it a couple times, “You think I am though?” He asked, looking at the swing set, “Part of the team?”

Avery looked at Queen, “I was told to follow them, you. I mean, I been in like, what, three fucking fights already with you guys. Figure I earned it by now.” He muttered a small, “I hope.”

“Fuckin’ A you should be on the UMBRA roster,” Queen agreed, then gave him a sly look, “You’re not quite ready to dance with the big dicks of THUNDER yet but keep training with Ghost while you can. If he doesn’t kill you, he’ll make you stronger.”

He rapped Avery on the shoulder, giving him a friendly squeeze and motioned towards him with his other hand, embers of the cigarette still glowing, “Looky, you earned your call sign dude. That means a lot, you know how it be.”

Queen released him and took a deep drag, his cheeks hollowing as he filled his lungs with menthol smoke then blew it out in twin streams through his nostrils. He felt the giddiness, the need to move, to fight or fuck or do something but they were still sitting around this fucking shack with two bodies cooling. He should have taken a xanax rather than more coke, fucking cocaine. It was too easy sometimes to just cruise in it.

“Yeah, I did.” He chuckled and nodded confidently as Queen squeezed his shoulder, “Pup. I kinda like it. I think Ghost’s warming up to me, he gave me that… compliment.”

“You know, ‘you didn’t suck as much as I thought you would,” Avery mimicked Ghost’s gravelly voice, “I gotta agree with him. All this gunfighting shit is getting a little easier. Especially since my toy is kinda just, point in this direction and squeeze the trigger.”

He pursed his lips, “Is it true? THUNDER being… known. You know, a reputation for doing…” Avery racked his brain for the right words, wondering how to say what he wanted without offending Queen, “You know. Things the other Wetwork Teams might not handle so easily? Like that one thing in New York. There were people at the BLACKBOX and Langley saying ‘we’ did that.”

Queen grinned at the impression, glancing over his shoulder out of habit as Ghost hated being mocked even if it was some sort of flattery. He turned his attention back to Avery and for once took a moment before answering. It would be easy to bluster and chest thump, hell even expected but despite the chemicals and cynicism he found himself wanting to be sincere.

“THUNDER is the best, not bragging but it’s just fact,” Queen said, the pride bittersweet. “We been together a long time, most of us. Tex...Donnelley was one of us. It’s a hard task, I ain’t gonna sweeten it up, it’s ugly and dangerous but we get it done. Sometimes, folks gotta die. It ain’t their fault, but they seen or heard something we can’t let get out. This here…”

He gestured to the house behind him, “It ain’t nothing. The man went native on us, we did what we had to do and the poor cop got in the crossfire. Now there’s times where it ain’t a crossfire, it ain’t a pissed off bastard with nothing left to lose. Sometimes, it’s just loose ends.”

His sea colored eyes met Avery’s gaze as he smoked down the last of his cigarette. “We tie those up and less people on our teams die and we protect the world just a little bit more. It’s a sacrifice.”

Queen tossed the butt on the ground and rubbed his nose, squeezing the bridge of it. “But look you got me getting all heavy and shit. Just do your job, man. Keep your team alive so they can do their job and we get another sunrise. I know you heard that before.”

He grinned at the Donnelley hominy that had become something to grasp onto, simple and accurate. “When you gotta deal with your head or your heart, come see me. I know.”

Avery nodded, suddenly guilty for what he said, but regained his smile when Queen did. “Yeah, for sure, man.” Avery nodded, taking the last drag of his cigarette and flicking it out towards the swing set. “Thanks again, for the stuff.”

“Anytime,” Queen replied, “Just maintain, don’t get too heavy on it if you’re in the field.”

He smiled his sly dimpled smile and said, “You’ll be alright, I didn’t even serve, I’m just some Fed boi and here I am. We better get on back, before your Daddy comes looking for you.”

Queen hefted his rifle to his shoulder and about faced, then strolled with a lazy saunter back towards the house.

>...///

Laine stood in Yutu’s bedroom, holding the photo of his daughter still in the cheap brass frame, some of the finish worn off where hands had held it over the years. A dark skinned, dark haired teenage girl with high cheekbones and a bright smile. She sighed inwardly, recalling the photos of so many missing girls and women and how many crime scene photos of what had been left of them she had seen. There would be none for her, but the mental image Ipiktok had provided was enough.

She set it down and checked the nightstand then got on her knees and bent low to look under the bed. It was there, a metal box with a lock.

“There it is. I don’t think he’d wire something under the bed he slept in. Even ex Green Berets aren’t that paranoid are they?” Laine said as she glanced over at Donnelley standing at the entrance of the room, a hint of a teasing smile on her face.

“Can’t say I’ve ever done it.” Donnelley’s smile grew at Laine’s teasing as he stood in the doorway watching Laine go through Yutu’s things. He couldn’t say he didn’t have the same idea. Whoever had as much preparedness to at least try as he did to go up against a Black Ops kill team had to have had some interesting skeletons in the closet. “What’re you lookin’ for?”

"Whatever I can find," she replied, then bent low again, reaching for the box. Laine gave it a slight tug but felt no resistance then slowly dragged it out.

It was a footlocker style box, not dissimilar from the one that they found in Clyde Baughman's cabin which still sat in her spare bedroom office back home.

"Yutu said he was looking for his daughter, I expect we'll find his file on that. Poor girl, never had a chance," she said, examining the lock. "Find any keys on him?"

Donnelley rummaged around in his pocket and let a key dangle on its leather cord like a pendant, “Just so happens I did.”

He balled up the key necklace again and tossed it Laine’s direction, walking to the bed as she caught it and sitting on the edge next to her and the box, “Sad.” Donnelley spoke, “Yutu not knowin’ whether to believe or not believe Ipiktok’s lie. I don’t know, but maybe I’d like to hang onto a comfortable lie if it was that important to me.”

Laine unlocked the padlock and slipped it open, forcing it as it had rusted slightly. She glanced at him, then sighed, "I don't know what I'd want to believe but false hope is the worst hope. It's painful but in the end I think I'd rather know the truth, however much it might hurt. I've seen enough people that lost loved ones to some murderer and while everyone is different most people that find some closure in the locating of a body rather than never finding anything and always wondering what happened."

She pushed the lid open as she added, "But then again, I'm not a parent."

“You’re right.” Donnelley nodded, placing a cigarette behind his ear for later, “I’d want to know the truth. Find whoever did it and put ‘em in the ground.”

Donnelley watched Laine open the box and he eyed the initial contents that were laid bare for them. Papers. Lots of papers. “I admire Yutu.” Donnelley said, scanning the papers, “Ask Dave and he’ll probably have done the same thing if we walked up to his front door. I would too. Especially because I know all these evil bastards on THUNDER.”

He chuckled, “I see any of them at my front door and I’m either going out like Yutu or going out the backdoor.” He smiled at Laine, “Find anything? Or is it just old taxes?”

"I feel sympathy for Yutu because of his loss and how he felt he had to end things but I don't admire him," she said, looking up at Donnelley. "He knew Charles. But he was the first to get gunned down."

She shook her head slightly, it was of course different between their experiences but killing the tribal cop ended Yutu's heroic last stand status. "And it was lucky no one else was hit."

Laine thumbed through papers, scanning them to find anything relevant. A leather bound document holder caught her eye, the seal on the front of it was certainly nothing local or even American. It looked like some sort of sigil or coat of arms and when she opened it there was a yellowed parchment with a hand drawn map.

She flipped it over and saw the columns of writing, four in total and only two she really recognized. One had Russian cyllric and another column looked like Latin. Laine turned it back over and closed the leather binding.

Beneath it was a pistol that looked like an AK-47 had been shrunk in the dryer and an old cheap flip phone. She turned to Donnelley where he sat above her on the bed. "Oh yeah, I found some stuff," she handed him the leather folder. "Careful handling that document inside it's brittle."

She set the hardware aside and continued digging.There were a number of folders, plain manilla and dates written on the tabs. "What were you getting up to Yutu, how close did you get?" Laine asked under her breath as she opened the oldest dated manila folder.

Donnelley grabbed the old looking leather and gingerly placed it on the bed. He eyed the AK pistol and a grin broke out on his face like that of a child with a new toy. He kind of was. He picked up the AK by the grip and checked the chamber, flipping the safety on and putting it next to him, “I’m keepin’ this.” Donnelley picked up another of the manilla folders and opened it up, already whistling with appreciation, “This looks familiar.”

Laine smiled a bit at his enthusiasm over the gun but it was his whistle that made her look up. She turned though stayed kneeling, putting her hand on his thigh to lean over to see what he was looking at. "What is it?" Laine asked.

“It’s…” Donnelley shook his head and continued reading, “It’s a fuckin’ case file. Not official for any evidence room or locker, but… he really fuckin’ was lookin’ for his daughter. Says here this was in Seattle, in the 90s. He’d spend every day he had on leave going out and lookin’ for his wife and daughter. Trail went cold. Says he talked to some people who were…”

“Well, like us. They pointed him to Alaska like a fire-and-forget weapon. Linked up with some people… searched all the cities.” Donnelley read on, flipping through page after page until he got to the end, “He was doin’ the real shit. I think we just flatlined one of ours from way back.”

He slapped the folder shut and put it on the bed, rubbing his face, “God fuckin’ damnit, Yutu, you stubborn...” He mumbled, recovering himself with a sigh, “These are all case files. This house is a green box, a storage place. We should take these fuckin’ files in. Read another, see if it has anythin’ on Ipiktok or this Ithaqua.”

Her lips parted slightly as Donnelley explained what he found, the surge of regret over a wasted life and resource hit her.

“Shit,” she muttered, then turned to settle on the floor, her back against the bed. Laine opened the file in hand and began reading. Yutu had been doing the damn thing in Alaska, grinding the leg work to knock on doors of those New Age gurus and commune cults that cropped up in rural places where they would be left to do as they pleased. She read his first impressions of finding out about Ipitok and the rumors of his miracles among the indigenous community. What he heard among miners sitting around in the bars that catered to them in Noatak made her sit up.

“Listen to this,” Laine said, “Yutu spoke with miners from a place called Red Dog Mine, they spoke of something they called ‘The One who Sleeps in the Earth’ as it’s translated.”

She met his blue eyes, not doubting he was thinking of Dulane as she was. “Another mine, another Sleeper who someone wants to waken. Russians. Female sacrifices. It’s West Virginia all over again. They might be related otherwise there’s a very disturbing trend happening.”

>...///

When Queen had entered the house after his talk with Avery, he could see THUNDER clustered upstairs going through the loot. He found he did not care to participate, the gun fight against one determined native had caught him off guard, even more so Donnelley’s reaction when he tried to give him his rifle. Maybe THUNDER’s whispers about Tex going soft working with UMBRA had some truth to it, though he always defended his friend. Investigation groups were different and had a different breed of people from Wet work groups.

His thoughts rambled and he found himself at the basement door which he opened and went a few steps into before reaching to turn the light on, taking a look at the makeshift bedroom they had found the shaman in.

Ava looked down at the little pouch in her hand, contemplating what Ipiktok had told her as she wandered the house, trying to stay out of the way of the two tactical teams while looking for some place to think. She looked up as she passed a doorway, finding a set of stairs leading down and Queen on them. “Oh, hey Queen.” She said with a smile, tucking the pouch away and poking her head into the basement stairwell. “What are you looking for?”

The small voice snapped him out of the dark train of thought that the interview had brought up and he turned, smiling at Ava, “I am not sure, but glad I found you. I get tired of looking at beef in tactical gear. How you holding up?”

He stepped down the stairs to let her pass if she wanted to, taking one of the upturned crates as a seat to perch on, his boot heels resting against the side.

“Uh, okay, I guess.” She said, walking down the stairs and looking around the basement curiously. She hadn’t been down here yet. “Not feeling...great about...squatting in a deadman’s house.” She said slowly with a grimace. “Or the dead police officer. All the neighbors are probably scared to death right now.” She sat down on the bottom of the stairs. “But, no one on THUNDER or UMBRA was hurt so, that’s a good thing.”

Queen leaned forward, resting his arm on the rifle he still carried. “It was unfortunate about Charles, seemed like an ok dude. I wish Yutu’d just given us a chance but there you have it. And if those locals smart, they’ll stay scared until we leave.”

He gave her a meaningful look then studied her cute features and smiled slightly, “Always a good thing to walk away with no casualties. Considering what’s been done out here, we’ve been lucky.”
Queen waited a moment then asked, “You been talking to that Shaman?”

Ava sat up a little straighter then glanced down at her hands, rubbing them gently together. “Yeah, Donnelley called me in because Ipiktok had some stuff to say to me.” She gnawed at her lip. “He said...I was like him.”

Queen tilted his head, blinking memeishly and chuckled, “What? What does that mean, like [i[him[/i]? That’s crazy. You know what he is?”

He laughed in disbelief and looked at her again, this time with a shade of nervous energy. “What did he tell you?”

She looked up at him with a frown as he laughed. She was used to talking to her team about her dreams, to hear someone laugh about them surprised her. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” She said with a shake of her head, rubbing her hands over her face. “You don’t know, I shouldn’t have said anything.” She pushed herself up to stand. “Just, forget what I said, it’s nothing.”

Queen stood up, realizing his mistake. “Ava, I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just that...well, I heard part of the interview and I’ve met some of those shaman types before. This guy...Ava he’s not even from here. Like this time or place.”

His face sobered despite the pull from the drugs in his system to chatter and laugh at the horrifying notion that this pretty girl could be anything like the witches he had helped kill. Queen shrugged, “I’m sorry, you’re right. I don’t know anything about you. Not unless you tell me.”

The dimpled grin faltered on his face and he reached up to rub his nose briefly. “Which you don’t have to, I’m just a pipe hitter. Point and shoot.”

Ava stopped as she was turning to go back up the stairs, her stomach turning with newfound anxiety at revealing what had been a truth only UMBRA had known. She looked at him, expression hesitant with just a hint of that confusion and fear in her eyes.

“I have dreams.” She blurted out as she turned to face him. “I have dreams of things that are happening or have yet to happen, I don’t know what it is. And Ipiktok upstairs told me he has the same kind of dreams I’ve had, that I’ve been having since I was a little girl. I’ve dreamt of this Hell Hound attacking and killing people and I dreamt about Donnelley being shot in the desert.” She blinked her eyes, feeling tears sting at the back of them at the vivid memories but she kept them held back. “He said I was like him and based off of everything I’ve seen and been through, I think it’s safe to believe him.”

Queen stayed quiet as she spoke, his thoughts immediately flying to witches he had helped kill, those that were like her, like the shaman. Only they were on the other side, drawing their power from the darkest forces. True evil. Slowly, he nodded understanding, “A hell of a thing to have to go through I imagine. You uh...you alright?”
He gestured to her, the anxiety and nervousness radiating off of her. “I won’t say anything, not around THUNDER or whoever. Must be a burden, having to see those things. Like...hell hounds and friends getting hurt.”

Queen shifted his weight, then looked back at her, “Sounds pretty damn stressful.”

“I’m...Managing.” She said with a heavy sigh, running her hands over her red curls; which bounced back to their previous position after her hands passed over them. “Laine and Donelley and Dave have been amazing through everything that’s been happening to me. I don’t think I would be doing as well as I am if it wasn’t for them.” She sniffed and rubbed at her eye. “I’m sorry to unload all of that on you, it’s not something you should have to worry about. I’m not on your team.” She said with a self deprecating chuckle.

“Must be convenient to have a psychologist on the team,” he said, his smirk growing to a warm smile,, “And Donnelley, he’s good for that. Man has a heart of gold under all that prickly. He’s good to talk to, I’m glad you got him there.”

He turned his head, examining the cracks in the walls, “Me and him, we had good times but he seems to be doing well as a leader.”

Shaking off the self pity, Queen flashed a sly grin at Ava, “Did Dave tell you how much TRIDENT liked your beret?”

Ava blinked and tilted her head to the side, both at the beret question and the wistful expression that had crossed Queen’s face at the mention of Donnelley. “No? TRIDENT liked my beret? They didn’t even talk to me while you guys were gone.” She frowned. “I tried to make conversation with She Ra, ask for tips on exercise and I think she growled at me. I don’t remember exactly, I just know she was not happy I was talking to her so I left her alone.”

Queen laughed then stifled it, but his seawater eyes still sparked with amusement. “Oh darlin’, They loved it, of course because it was modeled by moi. In fact, they liked it so much they could not keep their hands to themselves.”

He glanced at her, the confusion still there and he chuckled, “Ask Dave, he knows how to make hay.”

A little pause, then he added as he looked her in the eye, “He’s a good dude, I like him. It’s good UMBRA has someone who can throw down and still be...you know, good.”

At her comment on She-Ra he waved it away, “Don’t even bother, she’s not for us mortals. Look, truth is a lot of us on wet work teams are all defensive assholes. I mean, except me. I’m amazing.”

Queen sighed as if pleased with himself, but could not keep looking at Ava while he put on his act.

Ava smiled at him, eyes brightening however briefly. “You are definitely one of a kind.” She chuckled, her expression warming as her thoughts turned to Dave. “And yeah, Dave is...a good man. Smarter than he thinks, but as kind as can be. He’s just...great.”

She shook her head and flushed, realizing she was fawning over Dave and he wasn’t even there. “But I will definitely ask him about the, um, hay? I guess?”

Ava looked up at Queen and stepped forward, her arms held out to give him a hug. “Thanks for listening to me Queen, you’re a good friend.”

Queen smiled slightly at her blushing, it was a poorly kept secret what was going on with Lucky and Ava and at some point Queen had conceded to the mountain man. “Yeah, he’s that. You chose wisely.”

The hug was a welcome surprise, even if he cursed the bulk of plate carriers between them, the physical contact was much needed. He squeezed her back, patting her hair briefly, “Thanks, Ava. I mean it, you’re one of a kind, too. Don’t feel bad if hardened cranky bastards don’t respond to softness well.”

Queen released her and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. He started to say something but paused when he heard Maui shout about an incoming unknown. His cheer drained as he smiled tightly, and made his way up the stairs, “Duty calls. Might be nothing but stay away from windows, yeah?”

Ava’s own good mood was dosed with the chill of reality and she looked around the basement. “I think this is probably the best place for me.” She said with a nervous shifting of her feet. “I’m out of the way and less likely to get shot. Again.” She looked up at him with concerned eyes. “Be careful up there, Queen.”

>...///

The upstairs living room reminded Ghost of a Pakistani weapons market. The eclectic mix of firearms and explosives, the bullet-and-shrapnel pocked walls, the stink of gunpowder and burned Comp-B… If not for the fact that his knees felt a decade-and-change older, he could have been back on an op in Peshawar or Nok Kundi. Most of the guns even looked the part.

He reached out with a toe and nudged one of the battered AK’s. It looked like it had last seen action against the Soviets, though the Eastern Bloc lettering and their Yugoslavian provenance meant it was more likely that they’d been stacking Serbs or Croats.

While Ghost looked on, Dave was inventorying their find. He’d chicken-scratched what they’d taken on a notepad, separating the weapons by type and placing their ammunition with them. He’d set the canvas bag containing the sword off to one side after a quick peek confirmed that it wasn’t a gun, but was weird enough to show to Donnelley. Dave was excited. They’d found two Claymores and a block of C4 that he might get to play with, and several of the guns were in excellent condition.

“So what’re we gonna do with all this stuff?” Dave asked, directing the question into the open rather than at any of the nearby operators in particular.

“Figure we just,” Maui was picking at his teeth with a toothpick he’d gotten out of a box of them in his pack, “You know, have CORAL NOMAD get it. Why, you want one? What did you call dibs on?”

"Well, I'm happy with my AK, but we got them .300 Blackout rounds an' mags your guys like, so I figure we can snag some of those an' squirrel 'em away somewhere. Maybe one of the rifles, too." Dave pointed at the explosives. "I just want those. Never know when you'll need to blow somethin' up, right? I mean I can rig a bomb outta whatever's in the janitor's closet, but I like claymores."

“Cut out the middleman, yeah.” Poker was looking out the window, his Honey Badger laying in his lap while he watched their surroundings. “Hey, Lucky, you ever wanna live the easy life? With THUNDER. You don’t exactly strike me as a, uh… you know, investigative personality.

Dave paused, looking over at Poker, noting the gaze of Maui. Ghost loomed over him, drilling him with those Oakleys.

“I uh...Dunno honestly, man,” Dave said. He frowned and looked down at the pile of weapons. “I ain’t much of a...Well, a thinker, I guess. But I dunno…” He shook his head. “I’d hafta think about it, man.”

He looked around, making sure Ava was out of earshot. “I do enjoy some of this shit, though. Probably ain’t right, but...Beats my old hobbies all to hell.”

It was true, too. Since he’d started running as security for UMBRA, he’d found that nothing seemed to satisfy him so much as actually doing his job. They’d finish a gig, he’d go home, see his boy. He’d go hang with Ava. And all of those things were great. But he always found himself looking at his AK, and looking forward to strapping it on again.

“There’s always a spot open for you. Foster poaches one of ours, I can poach one right back.” Poker chuckled that evil sounding little thing of his, not quite villainous, but like he’d heard a joke that nobody else did. “Not that I’d wanna fuck anything up for good ol’ Tex. It’s just a little lonely without some hopped up country boy to make things exciting.”

“Queen doesn’t count. He dresses too nice.” Maui chuckled as he stashed the toothpick in his jacket’s breast pocket, presumably to dispose of it later. THUNDER was exceedingly careful about how much evidence they left anywhere they went, a leftover habit that Donnelley had that anyone who’d known him for a while would notice.

“You should think about it. Not much thinking and investigating needed when the only objective is ‘kill these assholes real good.’” Poker smiled at Dave, a show of teeth more than anything friendly. “Ain’t that right, Ghost?”

Ghost nodded, still watching Lucky.

“That’s what we do,” he rumbled. “Still have to get you trained up. Work on team shit.” His mind was already planning training evolutions, thinking about the weaknesses he’d seen in Lucky’s technique and what it would take to fix them.

Dave sat back on his haunches and dug out his dip, snapping the can a few times.

“I’ll give it some thought,” he said. He packed a lip and stowed the can, looking for a distraction. It was a heavy topic; THUNDER were killers, and as much as Dave enjoyed the fight he wasn’t sure if he thought of himself as a killer. “So do we hafta tag this stuff for CORAL NOMAD, or just take what we want an’ leave the rest layin’ here?”

“NOMAD guys don’t really care about shit unless there’s a chance whatever they’re gonna be sharing their transport with is gonna eat them.” Poker shrugged, throwing a hand out at the barely sorted piles of weapons, “Take whatever you can carry, man. No telling when you need to pop someone’s grape and not have it come back to you.”

Dave looked up at Poker, processing his words. Then he sighed and picked up one of the Yugoslavian AK’s.

“I can make this thing run with a good cleanin’,” he said. Ghost kicked one of the others.

“We’ll take two AK’s,” he said. “Might need a drop-gun. Maui, do you want the VEPR?”

“Been eyeing that one.” Maui smiled.

“VEPR and some Blackout for us, AKs for you guys. I know I’m not the only one thinking it, so I’ll say this now.” Poker looked at everyone in the room, “NOMAD gets the sword.”

Maui grunted, but he knew Poker was right. Something that out of place and old was bound to have something up with it. The last time he saw some guy on a Working Group touch something old and then vomit light as he dissolved into thin air really hammered it home that CORAL NOMAD were the only ones touching anything on an Op. “You guys want anything else?” Maui asked.

“Think I’m good,” Dave said. He picked up his AK and one of the mag slings, setting them aside. “I’ll get packin’ up the explosives so they’re ready when we leave.”

Poker looked at Ghost, then Maui. The both of them knew how Poker could get with newbies and prospects. Almost a sadist with the way he poked and prodded them until he could see what they were really made of. Donnelley’s first day had ended snarling in Poker’s smirking face and having to be pulled away by Ghost and Maui. Not that he was in danger, Poker always had a knife nearby. “So, tell me about Ava. You two seem like you’re pretty close.” Poker said, picking at his nails like he wasn’t being a prying asshole, “What happens if she catches a stray, man? You think you’ll keep it together if she’s bleeding?”

Poker looked Dave in the eye, shrugging, “I’m just saying. I know Tex and that little Fed bitch are up to something whenever they’re together. In the eyes. Maybe I should start calling him Lucky,” Poker had a grin, a chuckle that seemed altogether proud and damn annoyed, with thinly veiled predatory thoughts about Laine, “I don’t want to have to worry about you two risking all of us for…”

Poker acted like he was searching for just the right way to put it, “Pussy.

Dave paused in his work, caught off guard by the sudden turn in Poker's demeanor. His jaw clenched as his old temper flared and his blue eyes narrowed.

"Ava an' me are pretty close," he said calmly. "I'll do my job. Best help for her will be to kill the motherfuckers shootin' at us, right? Me an' her have already had that talk."

He closed the bag containing the claymores and the C4.

"But don't talk about her like she's just a piece of pussy," Dave said. His drawl was more pronounced now. "Or me an' you are gonna have a talk."

“Oh, good.” Poker said, his grin widening at the flare in Lucky’s temper as he stood. He took the few paces to get across the room and stand front and center with Lucky, holding his eye the whole time, “That’s real nice that you two got together and had that little pillow talk after the fucking was done. Let’s just hope it’s not all bullshit. You punched some idiot at a shooting range and shot at a fucking drunk Indian.”

Poker thought about clapping Lucky on the shoulder, but decided against it. He got away with it when Queen came on, but after the incident with Tex he was more conservative with things like this. “Good for you. But it takes a lot more to hang when the shit gets really real.” Poker smiled, real friendly, or as friendly as his smiles ever got, “I’ll be keeping my eye on you, Lucky, always like fresh meat.”

Dave stood as Poker approached. He saw Ghost uncross his arms and take a step closer but ignored him in favor of glaring down at the THUNDER team lead.

"Watch all you want, you'll see how I hang," he growled. "Just do it with your mouth shut. We done? Cuz I got shit to do, unless you wanna keep measurin' dicks."

“We got an unknown.” Maui’s voice cut the tension, and he was already holding his DMR at low ready, “What are we doing?”

“THUNDER 1-Actual to all stations, unknown male spotted 12 o’oclock, front of house, 300 hundred meters and closing.” Poker turned away from Dave as if they weren’t having a moment between each other a second ago, “Maui, keep your eyes on the unknown. Ghost, go find that fucking asshole Queen and tell him to stop fucking off.”

Poker looked at Dave, nodding at the stairs, “The fuck you standing there for, go get your Team Lead.”

“I’m already down here, fucker.” Donnelley rounded the corner onto the first landing, stepping down the last few steps and joining them all in the living room downstairs, “He’s just walkin’ up to the door or what?”

As Ghost left to find Queen, Dave joined the others, slapping on his helmet and snatching up his AK. He forced his recent conversation with Poker to the back of his mind, putting on his game face as he stepped up next to Donnelley.

“Maybe he wants to complain about the noise,” he murmured.

Laine followed not too far behind Donnelley, carrying her vest as she descended the stairs taking on a precursory glance at the weapons half put away. She strapped the plate carrier over the gray thermal shirt and found her small rifle where she had left it leaning against the wall. Instead of joining the men, she went to the kitchen where Avery and Ipiktok sat at the table.

“I’ll stay join you two, if you don’t mind,” she said, mostly looking at the old man.

“Oh, hey, Laine.” Avery smiled at the FBI woman as he leaned back in his chair, “Should I go to the living room with the guys?”

“Avery, where the fuck are you at?” Donnelley’s voice from the living room.

“Okay.” Avery rose and jogged into the living room, buckling his helmet and knocking his fist against it.

She smiled at Avery as he jumped up to respond to Donnelley, he really was a pup but he would grow, he was already learning the bad habit of self medicating. Maybe his time in the BLACKBOX without booze would help, being around the men of TRIDENT and THUNDER. Laine’s smile faded with that thought, teams dedicated to just the killing business made her uneasy. She sank into a kitchen chair, trying not to think about the three shots that had finished Yutu, turning her focus instead on the person approaching. It was probably another tribal cop and hoped it was not a certain stranger that liked to pop up.

>...///

Donnelley looked at Avery standing to the side of the door, the FN machinegun in his hands. Donnelley nodded, Avery nodded back and then opened the door. Donnelley stepped through the threshold and raised his hand at the stranger approaching, who walked on heedless. The stranger was still about a hundred meters away when they stumbled and collapsed on their side. Donnelley’s brow quirked in confusion, “UMBRA 1-5, on me. THUNDER 1-3, keep us in your sights, over.”

“Roger, Wilco.” Maui’s voice came back over the comms.

Avery joined Donnelley at the door and they began walking cautiously towards the stranger who’d collapsed in the road. The both of them had their weapons trained on the still form, not knowing what would greet them once they’d gotten close to this person. As they closed in on him, Avery stayed covering the man they could see now was violently shivering as Donnelley stepped over to kneel next to the person, wrapped in the tattered remains of a sleeping bag. With a glance toward Avery, Donnelley tucked his SIG to his side, adjusting the sling to let it hang at his side. He reached out and turned whoever it was over, “Star…” she murmured weakly, and Donnelley could now see it was one of SIREN, “Star…”

Donnelley recognized the challenge word and answered back, “Texas, Texas.” He wrapped an arm under the SIREN member and then his other, hefting her up and keying on his mic, “UMBRA 1-Actual, all stations. I have retrieved a member of SIREN and am inbound!”

Donnelley and Avery came careening back into the living room, Donnelley with the member of SIREN in his arms. He brought her to one of the couches in the living room and laid her down on the cushions. He unzipped and shrugged his jacket off, draping that over her legs so she was covered by more than the ragged sleeping bag she was using to wrap herself in. She looked pale, her lips drained of color and that leant her an almost cadaverous look to her otherwise attractive features. Her lips were cracked and dried blood had flaked away from them, a bruise around her left eye told of a struggle.

Donnelley knelt beside her and put a finger to her neck, feeling a soft pulse struggling to keep going, and her skin cold to the touch, “We need more covers,” Donnelley called out, “Blankets, jackets, bring them here!”

Laine was up when Donnelley returned bringing in the woman, rushing over to help. She looked pale, in shock, and shaking violently. Hypothermia or blood loss could cause it and she knelt beside Donnelley, "Any injuries, bleeding or anything?"

She pulled off her plate carrier as she spoke, touching the woman's hand. It was ice, and she glanced up at his call for blankets. If only they had a medic but Jason was off somewhere doing spook things but they did have a mountain man. Laine rose and turned, moving through THIUNDER still standing around.

“Dave, come here,” she called him over, “You know what to do for hypothermia, right?”

Laine looked sharply at him, trusting his survival skills which was the closest thing UMBRA had to a medical professional.

Dave set his rifle aside, kneeling beside the downed agent. Her skin was cold, and he clucked his tongue and looked over at Laine.

“Grab that gallon of milk outta the fridge for me. Dump it, fill it with hot water, okay? Hot. Then wrap it in a towel an’ bring it in here. Donnelley, we are gonna need them blankets, but wrap ‘em loose. Gotta have air flow,” he said. He scooted a little closer, leaning over her to look into her eyes as best he could. The best way to handle shock was to keep the person calm, focused, and preferably speaking.

“You’re gon’ be alright now,” he said gently. “Gonna get you warmed up, an’ we got three teams in this house. You’re safe. Can you tell me your name?”

The Agent’s eyes didn’t seem to focus on Dave, not answering his question. Instead she just shivered where she was, her eyes not even moving from whatever place they were staring at. Donnelley gently reached and made sure the blankets and jackets were loose around her. Donnelley’s hand brushed against her shoulder and she whimpered, making him recoil at once and he glanced at Dave. Making the woman make a sound like that put a bad feeling on him, he stood and went to see how Laine was doing in the kitchen in lieu of traumatizing the woman more.

>...///

Laine moved quickly to do what he asked, pushing through the gathered men to get to the kitchen. “Give them space,” she said while walking away.

In the kitchen, Ipitok sat alone at the table. She glanced at the old shaman and said, “A survivor came in, from one of our other groups. She’s very cold but seems unhurt.”

She spoke as she took a pot and filled it with water, setting it on the blue flame of the stove cranked up. Another smaller pot took a burner and she moved to make more coffee. After poking around the cabinets, she found a thermos and poured the remaining milk into it and began washing out the jug. She looked up as she filled the jug in the sink, catching the sight of Donnelley coming around the corner.

“How is she doing?” Laine asked as she shook the jug vigorously.

Donnelley folded his arms and leaned against the wall, shaking his head, “About the same as she came in.” Donnelley muttered, “I think you and Ava should handle her. I touched her shoulder by accident and she made out like it was a knife or somethin’.”

Donnelley shrugged, “She’s in shock, obviously. I don’t want to know what she had to do to get back here.”

“He’s out there.” Ipiktok said ominously, narrowing his eyes as he looked out the window as if who he was talking about was just outside. Donnelley hoped not. “She’s lucky she got back.”

Laine stopped shaking the milk jug, leaving the milky water where it was when she set in the sink. “Sounds like a response to trauma inflicted by another.”

She glanced at Ipiktok as he spoke, then back up at Donnelley. She studied his face, familiar and dear to her as it was but through the eyes of a stranger the large burn scar would stand out and perhaps startle. She moved a little closer to him, giving his arm a quick squeeze, “I’ve had enough experience with this, unfortunately. Hopefully she will talk. I need THUNDER out of there, even Dave might be too much. Can you finish this? Dave needs a hot water jug. Water is just starting to simmer.”

Laine wiped her wet hands on the back of her pants and marched into the living room.

>...///

Queen left the room to go down to the cellar, there was a bed down there and extra blankets for an old man living in an Alaksan basement. As he swung the door open, “Ava, you still down here? All clear.”

Ava peaked her head into view and up the stairs. “Everything’s okay? What happened?” She asked with a concerned furrow of her brow.

“Looks like a survivor from SIREN, they had a lady on their team. She’s not in great shape, exposure and cold will do that. They want blankets, figured I could strip this bed,” he said as he walked past her.

“Oh,” Ava stepped to the side to let him pass, her eyes widening. “Is there anything I can do to help?” She asked, following after him to help strip down the bed.

Queen yanked off the comforter and the top sheet, leaving the bottom with the difficult elastic corners. Bundling them against his chest, he glanced at her. “Uh, well. Probably make something warm and mild to drink, coffee is probably too strong. Maybe old boy had some tea in the cupboards.”

Ava’s eyes brightened. “I brought tea!” She said, pointing up the stairs before making for them. “I grabbed some when we got told we were coming to Alaska and I brought it in case we got stuck out in the wilderness!”

Queen grinned at her enthusiasm, “Well, there’s water put to boil.What kinda tea is it? If you have something soothing, it’ll help. What’s that one with the little daisies on the box?”

He started back up the stairs, waiting for her to come along.

She nodded energetically as she followed up after him, eager to help in whatever way she could. “Chamomile! I have that and I have honey lavender and a fruity citrusy one.”

Queen jerked his head back in recognition, “That's the one! Chamomile. My mom used to drink that all the time, she had anxiety but hated pills. She’s really into that natural healing stuff.”

He quirked a grin at the irony, then glanced over his shoulder, “A lot of weed too but when she didn’t have that it was good ol’ chamomile.”

>...///

Laine turned the corner into the living room, Dave was near the couch with the woman covered in coats and staring past the men of THUNDER that still occupied the room. She felt a surge of protectiveness and irritation that they were still there. There was no reason, other than their lack of consideration for the victim.

“Alright, everyone not Dave, get out,” Laine said, looking at Ghost and Poker, “She doesn’t need an audience. Please.”

Ghost crossed his arms and looked to Poker for direction. Dave ignored both of them. He was still talking quietly to the woman, sitting beside her, just making noise so she had something to listen to.

Poker was still leaned next to his window, making out like he hadn’t heard Laine. When it was clear that Poker didn’t give a shit about any kind of order from Laine, he pushed away from the wall and nodded upstairs for Ghost to follow, the two of them walking slow up the stairs.

Laine watched out of the corner of her eye until THUNDER moved on as she crouched next to the sofa. She looked closer at the woman, noting her condition from exposure. There was not much to see under the pile of coats but what was clear was the trauma in her eyes.

She resisted the urge to comfort, it did more harm than good to touch someone that had been physically violated, even with the best intentions.

“I’m Dr. Laine, from UMBRA. You’re safe now,” she said, kneeling down so she was not hovering over the woman. “Dave here is an expert, he’ll get you warmed back up and feeling better. No one here will hurt you.”

She smiled a little, trying to meet the woman’s gaze.

Queen left Ava at the kitchen, walking in quietly with the bedding. He placed it at the end of the sofa and glanced at Dave then Laine. “How’s she doing?”

Laine shot a look at him, piercing green eyes pinning him. “She needs quiet if you don’t mind.”

He held up his hands, slowly backing out without asking another word. Laine almost felt bad but her concern was for the SIREN ‘well being.

“You got that water heatin’ up?” Dave asked, looking up at Laine. “Ain’t really much else we can do, just try an’ keep her calm.”

“I have two burners going, Donnelley’s going to bring it,” she said, then addressed the SIREN survivor, not really expecting a reply but hating to talk around her like she was not present. “A nice hot water bottle sounds good?”

>.../// Back to the Kitchen:

Queen returned to the kitchen, whistling under his breath. “Don’t go in there.”

Ava looked away from her scavenging for mugs, finding one slightly chipped ceramic one that seemed like it would do. “I have to wait for some water to boil first.” She said with a small shrug, glancing at the stove and the multiple pots on it. “I should probably wait though.”

She looked over to Ipiktok sitting at the table and cleared her throat. “Um, Mr. Ipiktok, would you like some tea? I have a few different kinds.”

“I think the microwave works, it looks old as hell but the lights are on,” Queen suggested.

Ava blinked and looked at the microwave. “Oh...Right...I guess it doesn’t matter.” She laughed sheepishly and moved over to the sink to fill up the mug.

“I don’t think old boy was a tea kettle type,” he quipped, grinning at her reaction.

“I’m fine,” Ipiktok said, “No tea for me, thank you.”

“Do you fucking know what THUN-“ Avery walked into the kitchen, his MG still cradled in his arms, but cut his sentence short seeing Queen, “-Their… problem is?”

“Don’t worry about ‘em.” Donnelley growled and shook his head. He wasn’t there to see whatever Avery was talking about, but if it concerned THUNDER it wasn’t worth pursuing. But Donnelley didn’t see it that way, “Why?” He turned from the water and looked at Avery, then to Queen.

Queen shrugged, then glanced away, “I don’t know, I was in the basement getting blankets. I came back and they’d left the room.”

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck through his longish hair, reluctant to bring up Laine.Though Donnelley had said nothing about her, even brought him down to the basement Queen had noticed how they looked at each other and the many times they slipped off to do some work somewhere in the Blackbox. Hell, he had given Donnelley the map after all. He had never asked about it, it was Tex’s business but he knew the look in the man’s eye when he was attracted to someone. Tattling on Laine would do him no good but Donnelley had a stare that demanded answers.

Finally he added, “I think Agent Laine doesn’t want a buncha people in there.”

The microwave beeped and Ava retrieved the mug, looking to the mug and then the tea packets she had gotten from her bag. “Should probably just give her regular water before tea.” She said to herself.

She looked up to Queen at his words and cleared her throat. “I’ll, uh, just be quick with this.” She said and made her way out of the kitchen to deliver the mug of hot water.

Donnelley watched Ava shuffle out of the kitchen, her barely concealed discomfort with the topic of conversation apparent in her face. Avery sensed the change in mood and followed her out. Donnelley looked back at Queen, “I think we both know how Poker can be.” The memory of what Poker had said about his last team that had died in Chechnya and picking Poker up off his feet to slam him against a wall was still fresh after all the years, “I don’t need him playin’ his fuckin’ games right now. Mark my goddamn words, he puts this Op in jeopardy and gets someone killed that ain’t himself, I’ll get to him ‘fore any of y’all can do a damn thing.”

The water behind him was on the edge of boiling, he turned around and transferred the water into the milk jug he’d finished cleaning out just earlier. He capped off the jug and drew in a breath, letting his shoulders drop as he exhaled. When he turned back around he made for the door, but stopped just short, looking again at Queen. Studying the man’s features, he knew those handsome cheekbones well enough to notice when Billy had something on his mind. Donnelley softened just a hair as he looked into Queen’s eyes. The history between them in their shared gazes seemed to calm Donnelley, “I just want all of us to get out of here alive, Billy.”

Queen did know how Poker could be, not just an asshole but one who could find the soft spots and sliced into them with sadistic pleasure. He was also good at his job and handled a team like THUNDER with mostly professional grace. At least for professional killers.

He let Donnelley talk, he knew their history as much as anyone and Tex’s absence from the team now had unbalanced it, at least for Queen. He nodded, “I know, same here.”

Queen glanced at the silent shaman and then back at Donnelley, the coke was still in his system but right now he wanted nothing more than to curl up and pop a few Xannies. He shook his head at the unvoiced thought and then smiled a little, “You’re running this OP, we’ll be alright.”

He paused then snapped his fingers, “Hey, Dave wanted a towel, for the jug I think.”

Queen moved with a sinewy grace, snatching a hanging dish towel from the pantry door handle and slung it over Donnelley’s arms. He met his gaze and held it, “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be doing my rounds.”

...///

Ava stopped just short of entering into the living room, looking in carefully and seeing Laine and Dave speaking in low tones to the SIREN survivor, bundled up as much as possible on the couch. “Dave?” She called out, keeping her voice low.

Dave looked over at Ava and gave her a small smile. He still wore his gear, though he’d set his helmet aside. “Hey sugar,” he said, standing up and walking over to her. He looked around, saw that they were alone except for Laine and the SIREN agent, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“How you holdin’ up?” He asked.

“I’m fine.” She said with a smile and held up the mug of hot water. “I brought this, it’s just plain water, but I thought it would help?” She looked around him to the couch. “How is she?”

“Cold,” he said. He took the mug with a smile. “But I’ll see if she feels like drinkin’. Right now we’re still tryin’a get her to talk. I think she’s in shock, but part of that’s probably the hypothermia.”

Ava nodded slowly, eyebrows creased with worry. “Well, I think the water in the kitchen is almost ready.” She said, folding her arms over her chest. “And I brought tea so I can make her some if you guys think that might help.”

“If we get her talkin’ and drinkin’ tea will definitely help,” Dave said. “Til then, if you could get that hot water into a jug or a bottle, an’ then wrap it in a towel? We can put that on her chest an’ help warm her blood.”

Laine glanced up as Ava spoke but said nothing to chase her off. Unlike the aggressively masculine THUNDER, the young woman’s gentle presence might actually help with the woman from SIREN. She trusted Dave to sort out when the woman could get water, which she likely desperately needed but warming seemed the priority.

Donnelley entered from the kitchen, his blood still hit as the water in his jug as the thought of THUNDER stoking the fire with his team flared in his mind again. He took another deep breath and shook his head, looking to the SIREN agent. Bringing retribution upstairs to Poker was far, far lower on his list of priorities than making sure they made it back home, the last member of SIREN included. He raised the jug a bit, looking from the SIREN agent who’d looked at his face like a nightmare and yelped at his touch to Dave, “I, uh,” he cleared his throat a bit, staying a respectable distance from the woman, “I got that water here.”

“Perfect,” Dave said. “Thanks, man. I’ll take it.”

He grabbed the bundle containing the hot water, feeling the warmth through the towel. As he approached the couch he held it out to Laine.

“Here, you should, uh...You should do it. Needs t’go on her chest. If ya can convince her to put it under her shirt, that’d be best, but…” He shrugged. “She’ll probably take it better from you. On her chest, or her neck if we hafta. Don’t put it on an extremity, that’ll fuck things up.”

Taking the wrapped jug from Dave, she gave him a tight appreciative smile, then glanced at Donnelley past him. “Did you want to call it in? Maybe get her name, that could help to talk to her using it.”

She looked at Dave and Donnelley, a flicker of uncertainty then she said,”Maybe step out while we get her set up? Just for now.”

Turning away, she knelt by the couch and spoke to the woman, “This will help warm you up, I want to put it against your chest but it should go against your skin, are you alright with me lifting your shirt to do this?”

She set the wrapped jug on the edge of the couch, so she could feel the warmth and might allow Laine to continue. The woman did not respond, only stared through Laine to someplace far away and blinked once.

Laine made the decision for her, lifting the comforter and the jackets up enough to slide the jug against her chest, using the towel to tug up her shirt as she did, gingerly lifting just enough without exposing her breast. It would have to do, it was close to her heart. She gently touched the woman’s hand, speaking the whole time in a soft husky tone, “It’s alright, you’re safe, we’re going to help you. No one will hurt you here. I am with the FBI, you’re safe. I’m just placing this against your chest so you can get warm.”

She repeated it in a mantra, making a comfortable noise as Dave had earlier. Laine replaced the jackets, then the blanket. She sat back, to give her room after the invasiveness. Glancing up at Ava, “Let’s see about the water, I don’t know if she can swallow it. I’d rather her be able to do it herself rather than risk her choking.”

Ava nodded, taking the mug from Dave and giving him one last smile before walking over to join Laine’s side and help where she could.

>...///

The assault packs were huddled in the corner of the living room, and finding his own among the packs that looked just as bland and camouflaged as the next was a task that took a few seconds. It came down to finding the one with his specific brand of cigarettes in one of the pockets, a good find seeing as he’d left the open one in his jacket he’d so heroically forgotten. He hefted it up, walking towards the door and patting Dave’s shoulder for him to follow. Ipiktok seemed fine on his lonesome, and going upstairs with THUNDER didn’t seem a smart choice for either Dave or Donnelley. He twisted the knob of the front door and stepped outside, shrugging his pack and kneeling down over it, revealing the long range radio inside tuned to the frequency that Chris Greedy, PALADIN Main, would be on.

He put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, puffing on it a couple times while he readied to radio in their SITREP so far. He paused, glancing at Dave. He still had his back turned to him, but stood and then faced him, “Out of curiosity…” Donnelley dragged off his cigarette and clucked his tongue, “How are you and Poker and his boys gettin’ along?”

As if to make drill in his interest in Dave’s opinion, he spoke further, “Just you and me and the wind here, Dave.”

Dave shrugged a shoulder, reaching into his pocket to freshen up his dip. Poker had pissed him off, that much was for sure. For a moment he’d wanted nothing more than to take one of the loaded AK mags to the man’s teeth. But Dave wasn’t about to tell Donnelley that. Much as he liked the man, he wasn’t going to play mommy-daddy games.

“Poker’s kind of a dick,” he said after he’d packed a little more into his lip. “But I ain’t stressin’. Been around worse growin’ up. We got them weapons all sorted out, he explained how we should keep some of the ammo an’ a couple rifles in case shit gets hot. But he’s givin’ that sword to CORAL NOMAD, said it’s too fuckin’ weird for us to be messin’ with.”

Dave shook his head. “Can’t say I blame him. Weird thing t’have in a seabag, ya know?”

Donnelley nodded, feeling a cold wind brush past and the cherry of his cigarette grew brighter for a moment. Donnelley blew out the smoke, “I spent years with that guy and I don’t think the urge to crack him in the back of his head really went away.” Donnelley shook his head, “You’ll get used to findin’ weird shit. A sword’s kinda tame, you’ll find.”

Somewhat satisfied with Dave’s answer, somewhat not, he turned away again and knelt down over his pack and the radio inside of it. He keyed it on and spoke into the mouthpiece, “UMBRA 1-Actual to PALADIN Main, come in, over.” Donnelley listened for signs of life on the other end, but nothing came, “UMBRA 1-Actual, come in, PALADIN Main.”

Static, for just a few seconds, before a voice came over the weak signal. It was barely legible, but Donnelley focused on making out the words, “PAL-...-ain…-Actual…”

“Say again last, PALADIN Main, you’re comin’ in weak on the comms, over.”

“PAL-...Ahead, UMBRA 1-Ac-...”

“PALADIN Main, say again last, over.”

And then nothing but static. Donnelley rubbed at his eyes and adjusted his hat on his head, toying with the brim. He shook his head, “Interference on the comms, I’m goin’ to see if I can-“

Donnelley looked at the radio quizzically as the fuzzy static took on some sort of rhythm. One long tone, one short, one long. He listened to it repeat, and again, and again. The same rhythm over and over. It wasn’t anything he recognized in Morse code. Not an SOS, but weird nonetheless. It grew steadily louder, to the point that Donnelley could still hear it with the set a few inches from his ear. The same rhythm, over and over, long-short-long. Both of the men could hear it now, until it sounded almost like speech. “You hearin’ this?”

Dave ignored him, or never heard him at all. His eyes were fixed on the middle distance, staring not at the radio but through it, as the mellow white noise of the static lulled him. His vision doubled, Donnelley and the radio he was staring at fading beneath a rising image of the outskirts of Noatak, lit by the moon. Dave’s hand twitched and he swayed as he felt himself pulled along, the view of Noatak suddenly racing away like one of Ava’s drones. He saw the harsh Alaskan landscape passing by too rapidly to -

Come and see…

The desiccated, frozen corpse they’d found with Ava’s drone, the detail as clear as if it were lying in before him.

Come and see…

More flying snow, the landscape blurring by as though he’s got a rocket strapped to his back. The shaman’s compound looms in front of him, the corpses still floating in the air.

Come and see…

The compound vanished, replaced by the distant tundra, snow gently falling and creating a white haze in the distance.

Come and see…

Come and see…

Come and see…

Dave’s hand curled into a fist, and then suddenly he was free, the vision or whatever it was vanishing. He blinked, confused, looking around, his hand going to his pistol.

“What the fuck was that, man?”

Donnelley seemed to burst into a raucous excitement, throwing a rabid and haphazard elbow behind him as he whirled around to face Dave. There was violence in his eyes, a madness there and a sort of desperation, “Get the fuck away from me!” He was reaching out with one hand to grab at Dave’s collar and cocking back a fist. His words came out in a scream, but there was more fear than anger, “Not her!”

The hand at his collar and the cocked fist sent Dave back to countless nights spent in dingey Boone County bars. He hadn't had a proper martial arts class since the unarmed combat drills of his childhood, but he was a country boy, born and bred, and barroom tussles and nights in the drunk tank had marked many a weekend during his formative years. Dave reacted, grabbing Donnelley's collar and stepping in fast, sending the hard ridge of his forehead against Donnelley's face. He stepped in again as Donnelley reeled and stuck a leg behind his knees, grabbed him around the waist, and then took him down in a heavy bodyslam.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dave shouted, throwing his weight atop the other man. He shoved his forearm into the back of Donnelley’s neck, pushing his face into the snow and sticking his knee into the back of his thigh. “Calm down, goddammit! It’s me!”

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Donnelley was wriggling against Dave’s weight atop him and screaming for murder. A couple people had since come out to watch, staring out at the two men having a roll in the street, “I’ll fuckin’ kill you, motherfucker! Get away from me!”

His wriggling and thrashing continued until he lay still, breathing heavy and quick. Shallow, panicked breaths escaped his lips as he looked around, suddenly cold against his face. He was somewhere else, somewhere colder than this. Laine was there in that place, and the others, but… Donnelley’s breath hitched in his throat as his face screwed up in pain. He held his breath and let it out quivering, “Let me go, man.” Donnelley tried to get his one eye not in the dirt to look at Dave to no avail, just straining his neck, “Please, man, come on.”

He could see Ipiktok and Avery on the porch, both of them curious about the ruckus outside. Avery was looking at Donnelley with that same worried gaze that Tilly had when he’d threatened to make the school security guard eat the curb. He averted his eyes right quick, “I’m fine…”

Dave held Donnelley for another couple seconds, then rolled off of him, coming quickly to his feet. He was breathing hard from the struggle of holding the man down, and while he stood nearby he stopped short of immediately offering a hand to pick him up. Instead he watched him with a wary eye for a few moments.

“You alright, man?” He finally asked, slowly extending his hand.

Fuck… Y-yeah.” Donnelley lay on the ground and tentatively took hold of Dave’s hand, wincing and holding his ribs as he was hauled up, “I was there. I was right fuckin’ there…”

“Right where?” Dave asked. His anger at having been swung on faded quickly; he knew he’d seen some unsettling shit, so it only stood to reason that Donnelley had, too. “What’d you see?”

From inside the house, Laine could hear a sudden flurry of cursing, the distinct country drawls made her bolt up and turned to Ava. “Watch her.”

She hurried outside, her hand checking for her Glock as she did.

Back outside, Donnelley looked past Dave and over his shoulder. Recalling, and not wanting to, “I was back in Iraq, down a hallway, and the BLACKBOX… then it was almost like here, but… colder… and Laine was…” Donnelley fell quiet, his eyes widening just a hair, “Ava…”

Donnelley sunk down to his haunches and pressed his palms in his eyes, rubbing out the sights and the memory of it, “Jesus fuck… It ain’t fuckin’ real, it’s just tryin’ to fuck with me.”

Laine caught sight of Dave getting off of Donnelley and helping him up, she shot a look at Avery who had done nothing and rushed past him. She looked at both men, their faces held no anger but wariness and fear. She slowed down and walked up to them, her eyes on Dave, “What happened? We could hear you in the house.”

She turned to Donnelley, where he crouched and her hands slipped from her hips. Laine wanted to reach out and hold him, she could feel the distress coming off of him but Dave stood there and others were watching. Instead, she dropped to one knee so she would not hover over him and put a hand on his shoulder, “Are you alright?”

Donnelley nodded, laying a hand on Laine’s and squeezing reassuredly. He rose to his feet and asked Dave, “Did you see the same thing?” He looked at the ground and then to the hazy distances so thick with it he couldn’t see the end of the block, “When did it snow?”

Dave shook his head, reaching up to run a hand through his shaggy hair.

“I dunno man. I wasn’t in Iraq, I was...Here. I saw the frozen guy, the mummified one...An’ then the shaman’s compound, an’...” He trailed off, following Donnelley’s gaze. “Then I saw that. The tundra. Out there.”

Laine looked between them, “You saw something? What like hallucinations, both of you?”

She glanced at the radio that sat silent and back at Donnelley, waiting for some sort of explanation. Laine followed their line of sight, had it been so hazy before? She did not think so but was not sure. Then she thought about the woman on the couch, she had been so cold. Freezing.

A shiver ran up her neck and she crossed her arms, holding herself.

“Let’s…” Donnelley looked around, a fog had fallen over Noatak and there was snow on the ground that none of them had seen coming in. None of them had seen it an hour ago either, “Let’s get back inside.”

“An’ maybe get our guns,” Dave muttered. He headed for the house, giving Donnelley a light thump on his vest to show that all was forgiven. “We probably oughta tell the rest of ‘em what happened, anyway.”

“Mm.” Was all Donnelley said. The sudden appearance of snow and the haziness of the already dark night made his hair stand on edge. It didn’t help that Noatak didn’t seem to be too keen on streetlights. May as well just strap their NVGs on and leave them there.

Donnelley followed Dave and Laine to the front porch. He was the first to the door, placing his hand on the knob and stopping there. He looked to Dave, about to sheepishly mutter an embarrassed apology when he heard something weighty drop to the ground inside. He threw the door open, hand on his sidearm and disengaging the lock. What he saw made him rush forward without a word, Ava lay on the wood plank floor, eyes rolling back and twitching, “Jesus, no! No, no, no, Ava!”

>...///

The wind cut through the air like a butcher’s knife, tugging and whipping her hair around her bare shoulders and across her naked body.

All around her stretched to the horizon was gray earth, shriveled and blackened shrub and jagged mounds of hills of unforgiving rocks. In contrast to this static landscape of lifeless monotone, up above the sky was a writhing mass of storm clouds. Like a turbulent black sea they swelled and twisted, ripping and tearing themselves apart only to form back together.

Yet through the storm and the barren slate of the land, there was a light. The pale light of the moon shone down upon her and the landscape; highlighting the only structure on the land.

Off in the distance, yet still looming in its size, was a ziggurat made of deep, black stone that was darker than the deepest shadow.

The wind howled, like a long wailing moan as she looked up to the moon.

It shined impassively down at her...Until a large black pupil rolled forth from behind it and looked back at her.

>...///

Ava took in a sharp breath, her eyes fluttering as they rolled back forward; looking up at the faces hovering over her. “...What happened?” She asked, her voice not pitched with fear or panic. Just, confusion.

“You fell down, sugar,” Dave’s voice was calm, though his clenched jaw showed the tension and worry he felt. He’d bulled his way past the rest of the team to scoop Ava into his arms, and he held her gently. “Looked like a seizure. You’re okay now, I’ve got you.”

He looked down at her, putting his hand on her cheek to comfort both Ava and himself. “Just relax, everythin’ is okay.”

“What the fuck was that, what’re you yelling about?” Poker descended the stairs with his rifle at low ready, Avery at his back, “Hello?”

Laine bent at the waist, her hands on her knees to look over Dave’s shoulder. “Do you have any history of seizures, Ava? Do you remember anything, a smell or taste before you blacked out?”

With concern in her eyes at the small figure cradled in Dave’s arms, “How do you feel?”

“Okay? I think?” Ava answered, her expression growing more confused as she took stock of herself. “I don’t know what happened, I was talking to the agent to keep her company and then... I felt this really strong rush of anxiety and fear and things went muddy after that. I saw shapes and colors then…” She trailed off as her eyes widened. “I think I had another vision, like the one I had when I was really sick when we were escorting Dulane, but a different one.”

Dave gave Donnelley a worried look, ignoring Poker.

“Yeah, you ain’t the only one seein’ stuff, sugar,” he said. He was reluctant to let her go, but he shifted his grip on her a little bit. “Can you sit up? You want some water? Some tea?”

Laine cleared her throat when she noticed Poker and Avery, worried that they would over hear the talk about Ava’s visions. She stood up and put herself between Ava and the staircase but let Donnelley handle his old teammate and Avery.

“Is anybody gonna answer my fucking question?” Poker asked to the room, shaking his head incredulously.

“Don’t worry about it, everythin’s taken care of. Just get back-“

The SIREN Agent sat up stock straight on the couch, heaving in a raspy breath as if she’d been holding her head under the water until she couldn’t take it anymore. At the end of the breath, she let out a shrill scream that almost bent Donnelley double and threatened to blow out his eardrums. He looked from the equally startled Poker to Laine and the others. The strangeness that seemed to be happening in quick succession like a fucked up Rube Goldberg machine was making Donnelley feel like at any second the finale of it would blow through the door and kill them all.

Instead, nothing happened. Silence, the only sound the SIREN Agent’s haggard breathing, “Where am I!?” She asked, rising to her feet but her legs gave out and she instead flailed back onto the couch, “What the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck?

The screaming also caught Laine by surprise, the woman reviving out of nowhere and it took her a moment to register the sudden change. She stepped past Ava and Dave and went over to the panicked woman and held her hands outward slightly, showing her she held nothing in that age old sign.

“You’re with Team UMBRA,” she said in a slow firm voice, “You’re in the village of Noatak. You’re safe.”

Slowly, Laine approached so she could be close enough to touch but kept her hands to herself. She could see fear and disorientation and the trigger for her snapping out of her catatonic state did not seem to be the moment the hallucinations had hit the men or that Ava had her vision. It was after. She glanced at the window and saw the snow falling, another shiver ran up her neck but she kept her voice even.

“Can you tell me your name? You’re part of SIREN?” Laine asked, looking at the agent, no doubt she was but maybe the name might focus her or trigger her memory.

The SIREN Agent swallowed, looking at Laine with her mouth ajar. She focused her gaze on each of them in the room like she didn’t believe any of it. She probably didn’t. Donnelley looked from Laine to the SIREN Agent, hoping she was finally lucid and wasn’t completely out of her mind. The SIREN Agent closed her mouth, then spoke to Laine, “I… I’m Sarah. I’m Sarah Jung, from Homeland Security.” She looked around, “You’re… UMBRA, and THUNDER. Where’s ARTEMIS? Where’s Greedy?”

Laine tried to hold her gaze, speaking to her in the same calm, professional tone, trying to keep the concern about the snowstorm out of mind. "Sarah, Greedy is back at the BLACKBOX," she said, not sure she wanted to drop the bomb about the Wetwork team but this was a critical moment of trust establishing with the agent.

"I'm sorry but ARTEMIS is gone," Laine did not add how they floated. "They died, they were shot at the stronghold."

They died…” Sarah whispered to herself, looking away from Laine, she looked at her hands, then ran them over her stomach under her shirt, still trying to convince herself she was alive.

Dave stood and gently helped Ava to her feet before walking over to join Laine and Sarah.

“I’m Dave,” he said, looking down at her. “I uh, I helped with the medical side of things. I ain’t a doctor or nothin’, but survival is kinda my thing. Can you feel your fingers and toes? I need to make sure you don’t have frostbite.”

Her gaze fixed on Dave for a long while, saying nothing. She flexed her fingers and toes like Dave had asked and then shook her head, “No. No, I’m okay.” Sarah said, “Is there… no one else?”

“You came in alone,” Laine said, then glanced out the window. “The snow came again though. Do you remember anything before you woke up here?”

“We were on the outskirts of town, going farther into the countryside. There was a fog rolling in quick and then…” Sarah’s face fell into her hands, she shook her head, “Don’t make me remember… don’t make me remember…”

Laine felt that knot of anxiety, looking out the window again. The eye witness reports she’d read and the information Ipiktok gave her about this thing. It all showed signs of not just being true but that it had come, following it’s lost prey. A shiver ran through her, her scalp crawling.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s painful and frightening but we need to know,” Laine looked at Sarah then gestured at the window, “Is what came for you and SIREN, coming for us? Is that what you saw before, the haze and snow?”

Her heart pounded and she suddenly thought of Renko, his sad dark eyes and desperation. Laine felt empathy for Sarah but time was of the essence. “We have to protect ourselves.”

Sarah looked outside, getting up to stand well away from the windows out of fear, and instead leaning forward to peer through them. She held her arms around her and looked back to the others, nodding. Donnelley took that as a yes to Laine’s question.

>...///

While the others spoke and took care of the shaken SIREN agent, Ava backed away so she wasn’t adding to the crowd. She joined Ipiktok’s side and cleared her throat, looking up to the older native man. “Mr. Ipiktok, could you please help me brew up some tea?” She asked, tilting her head to the kitchen, her eyes betraying her intent to speak with him alone. “I think we might be needing some soon.”

“I can help.” Ipiktok nodded, turning and entering the kitchen while the others talked. It was apparent that something was troubling him from the furrow of his brow and his distant demeanor, though if there was, he spoke nothing of it.

Ava followed him into the kitchen, glancing over her shoulder to those not in UMBRA as she went, judging how close they were to the kitchen. Once they were alone, she took in a deep breath and picked up one of the empty pots to fill with water.

“Did you...feel what happened out there?” Ava asked Ipiktok with a disconcerted frown. “Do you know what that was?”

“I did.” Ipiktok nodded once, solemn, “I know what I dreamed of is coming to fruition. Your arrival here, Yutu’s death. The rest, I can not say.”

He closed his eyes and took a breath, “As much as I wish I could.”

Ava’s eyes snapped to him, widening in shock. “You knew I was coming?” She asked quietly. She glanced worriedly to the window before focusing back on Ipiktok, taking a step toward him. “I had a vision, when I was passed out on the floor.”

“Of?” He asked, turning to look at her.

She looked to the kitchen entrance to make sure they were still alone, then turned back to him and quickly explained as best she could, the details of the vision she remembered. “And, the strangest thing is, it was like I passed out from the fear, like a severe panic attack, but when I woke up…” She shook her head in confusion. “I was completely calm. Like, nothing happened.”

Ipiktok nodded as if Ava had told him it was very cold outside, “Dreams and visions are unpredictable. There are times where I wake up not knowing where I am, other times I have to concentrate to make sure the dream or vision does not fade from my mind’s eye.”

He folded his arms, “I can not say I’ve ever seen a place like you described. Maybe it’s an omen of some kind.”

“Maybe,” She said, her shoulders slumping slightly. She ddn’t know what answer she expected to get from the Shaman, but she had hoped it would have been more...revealing. But this was just par for the course for her.

Realizing the water filled pot was just sitting on the counter, she moved it over to the stove and flipped it on. “You said that what you dreamed of is coming to fruition,” She said, turning back to him. “I know you said you can’t speak more of it, but can you tell me why you can’t tell us more?”

“It will not turn out the way I dreamed it would.” Ipiktok said.

>...///

“All Stations, this is TRIDENT 1-Actual.” Came the voice of Bear in Donnelley’s headset. “CORAL NOMAD is set to arrive in ETA 15 minutes. We are inbound to escort and assist with asset recovery, over.”

“UMBRA 1-Actual, roger, TRIDENT. Out.” Donnelley closed his mic and looked around at them all, “Well, you heard the team comms, let’s get packed up and ready to move. We’ve got ground out there to cover between here and the airfield.”

Laine moved to grab her bag by the door, then looked into the kitchen. She muttered to no one in particular, “Do you think salt still works without the magic words?”

She went to the pantry and reached for the cardboard cylinder of Mortons and glanced around sheepishly before taking it to put in her bag. Slipping it over her shoulders, she then put the small rifle to hang over her chest.

“Agent Jung...Sarah, stay with me, if you would?” Laine said, walking back out to the living room. She wanted to keep her close not just to watch out for her but to watch her, whatever was out there had followed and Laine wanted to know more. Had to know more to piece the puzzles together.

Ava straightened as Laine brushed through the kitchen. “Wait, what’s happening?” She asked, turning off the burner and following Laine out of the kitchen, looking to Donnelley. “Are we leaving?”

Donnelley was busy checking over his weapons, putting his pack back on and buckling his helmet under his chin. He switched out his old mag for a fresh one with thirty rounds. Ava’s voice came from the kitchen and he turned to her, “Yes,” Donnelley quirked his brow at her, “Why?”

Ava glanced back into the kitchen at Ipiktok, her mind flashing over what he had said so cryptically. A vision he had that was being fulfilled and for it to go how he wanted it, he couldn’t say what it was.

Her stomach curled with uncertainty, but she turned back to Donnelley and shrugged stiffly. “Just...wanted to be sure I understood right. I’ll, uh, go get my stuff.” She said, pointing in a vague direction before heading over to the pile of gear to collect her own belongings.

Ghost was ready to leave, his pack on and gear ready. He'd filled a duffel bag with the equipment they had chosen to snag from Yutu's private armory and was supervising the other members of THUNDER as they got ready to go.

Dave meanwhile had slipped the C4 and its accouterments into his own pack, and stood downstairs near the kitchen. He caught sight of Ava and joined her as she began collecting her gear.

"Hey, sugar," he said, his voice low. "You holdin' up okay?"

Ava looked up at Dave with a small start, startled from her thoughts by his approach. “Uh, yeah, I’m hanging in there.” She said, glancing toward the kitchen where she left Ipiktok. “Just gotta get going right? Get in the trucks, go get picked up and get out of here.”

"That's the plan," Dave said. He gave her a comforting smile, suppressing his own nerves for her sake. "We got a lot of guns around us. Two shooter teams, an' one of 'em is THUNDER. An' I'm here. Everything's gonna be okay."

Ava gave him the best smile she could muster. “Yeah, it will.”

Queen arrived in the living room where people were gathering, giving the once near frozen agent now up and awake the once over before hooking his rifle over his chest. “Well, are all the scouts ready?”

He watched Laine move to gather Agent Jung and turned to Donnelley, stepping over to him, “We taking the old man with us?”

Or leaving him for Coral Nomad, he almost said but kept his grim joke to himself. If anything got the shaman it had better be them and not whoever else was chasing him.

“Yeah, we’re takin’ him.” Donnelley nodded, “Some people wanna talk to him about what he knows.”

Donnelley left it at that if Queen hadn’t been told the old man was a fucking time-traveling sorceror slave from the dark future. He looked at the man himself for a few long moments, watching him stand in the kitchen, his hands folded in front of him as he looked out the window. He’d lost his home, his family. His world. If UMBRA and the Program were his only hope, well, they’d make sure he saw another sunrise just like everyone else, “Ipiktok.” The man looked at Donnelley as he called his name, “You’re up front with me.”

Ipiktok nodded, siding up with him as he opened the door to the outside and felt the rush of cold move past him to swallow whatever warmth was in Yutu’s house. TRIDENT was a little ways down the road, walking with another four person contingent all dressed in Multicam uniforms, masked and faceless. “The buggies!” He heard Bear call out, “Check your buggy!”

Donnelley looked back and nodded to the buggy, watching Avery walk past him to check the vehicle out. “Oh, fuck.” He heard Avery, “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Avery, what?” Donnelley looked at Avery with confusion as he watched the younger man hold his helmeted head in his hands.

Avery stood back up and threw a hand towards the vehicle, “Tires are slashed.” He said, walking back towards Donnelley, “I wouldn’t be surprised if it won’t even start. We were sabotaged.”

“Russians.” Donnelley growled. He rolled his shoulders and walked on towards TRIDENT and the CORAL NOMAD operators. “Your buggy?”

“Fucking slashed, no battery.” Bear spat, “We’re walking to the runway. NOMAD’s got a chopper. Keep your heads on a swivel, whoever did it is still here.”

“Yeah, they’re still here because they fucking live here.” Avery said, looking around at the houses. No one was on their porches, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have their faces pressed against their windows waiting for the show. Waiting to catch them on either side like a Taliban ambush on either side of a valley road.

At least, that’s how Donnelley felt. But his team didn’t need that. They couldn’t stay here, they had to move, ambush from the townsfolk or not. “Form up, columns. Maintain your spacing and keep your eyes and feet moving.” He turned to his team and THUNDER, “Let’s go.”

He placed a hand on Ipiktok’s shoulder and pushed him along gently as they began to walk and form up in their columns. CORAL NOMAD was on one side with TRIDENT, UMBRA and THUNDER on the other. They walked in silence, every one of them eyeing the mist and hoping to either see nothing in it, or see what was in it before it was too late. Their boots crunched into the snow and the frozen dirt of the road, the sound insulated by the thick fog around them.

Laine kept her Magpul in hand, her finger resting on the trigger guard as she walked behind Donnelley, Sarah beside her. She kept watching the fog then would check on the woman beside her. She was still in rough shape, the cold not helping her condition or the level of exhaustion she must still be at.

“We’ll get there, just keep moving. One foot in front of the other,” Laine encouraged. “And tell me if you see anything that might be familiar...to what you saw.”

The feeling that this thing had followed Sarah Jung was still strong, whether it was right or wrong. Everything had swept in fast once the SIREN agent showed up in the front yard. Now sabotage on top of everything, but they had given them the excuse they needed. They had killed two of their own and left them laying out while taking their time inside Yutu’s house, they had certainly won no hearts and minds with the locals. They owed them nothing, not even against the Russians.

Ghost followed at the rear of the column, his eyes combing the landscape and his rifle ready. He was mildly annoyed at having been denied point, but he could deal. The possibility of another gunfight with GRU had him as close to giddy as he ever got, and he wasn't going to let a mild insult like being stuck at the back ruin his anticipation of a good time.

Up front with Donnelley Dave was in a different state of mind. He was stressed; a long walk through thick fog in a potentially hostile neighborhood wasn't his idea of a good time, particularly with Ava and Laine in tow.

The latter was what clenched it. He felt the same nervous excitement he had been feeling lately, but it was subdued by his worry for his friends. They weren't combatants, competent though they may be, and knowing that their safety hinged on his own abilities had him feeling the pressure. He kept his eyes on the landscape, resisting the urge to check on Ava as they moved.

Ava held her Magpul like Dave had shown her, her eyes sweeping the icy, fog covered neighborhood as they walked in tense silence. Only the faint rush or wind and the crunch of boots on snow broke the oppressive quiet.

She tried to keep her hands still, unsure if it was the cold or the fear gripping her that made them want to shake. Her mind flashed back to the cabin, her second day with UMBRA. The shoot out at the cabin, being shot in the gut; the pain, the fear all came rushing back as she became keenly aware of the scar on her stomach.

She could remember the sharp coppery smell of the blood all too well.

Donnelley walked on, eyes scanning, mind screaming at him as he tried to quiet it. Who knew how this place felt about Yutu. Who knew how this place felt about them. Matter of fact, it probably didn’t fucking matter since they’d gotten a coo killed and the White Men Waco’d one of them. If Donnelley was in their shoes, what’s slashing some tires and sabotaging some vehicles in the face of the Federal Government grinding their faces in the dirt once again. Ipiktok cleared his throat and Donnelley looked at him, “Joseph.”

“Ipiktok.”

“I had a dream about how this would go.” Ipiktok said, some sadness to his voice. Before Donnelley could say anything, Ipiktok spoke first, “It does not go well, but… this was part of it. I told Ava, but I did not tell you until now, because that is not how the dream went.”

“Okay?” Donnelley was getting nervous, his eyes more erratic as they flitted about. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, his hands start to sweat under his gloves.

Ipiktok leaned close, nodding to the CORAL NOMAD Operator walking alongside them, “Shoot him.”

“What?”

“Shoot-“

“I heard you, you crazy fuck.”

“What’s he saying?” The NOMAD operator asked. Donnelley could see the other man’s blue eyes show pale in the hole his balaclava had. Donnelley looked at the man’s trigger finger, seeing it was squarely ready to fire, his rifle at low ready.

Donnelley didn’t answer. Just stared at him and stopped walking. The NOMAD operator narrowed his eyes, “We’re not at the helicopters.”

“What’s the hold up!?” Bear asked from farther down the line. Still, Donnelley didn’t answer.

“I didn’t hear you guys come in.” Donnelley muttered, knowing damn well he knew what a fucking Blackhawk sounded like. “I didn’t hear rotors.”

Everything was quiet then. Nothing but Donnelley’s heart in his ears. Ipiktok was right. The NOMAD operator made a flinch of movement but Donnelley already was reaching down to his sidearm and praying to fucking God he still had a sub-one-second draw time. Everything seemed to move slow, like he was underwater or in a dream, and as soon as he had his shot, he squeezed two rounds at those fucking blue eyes and watched the Operator drop with his left eye a gaping, leaking hole. It was quiet.

And then so very loud.

The world grew deadly quiet for what felt like an eternity, but could have been no longer than the space between heartbeats. Ava watched Donnelley whip up his firearm as fast as a viper and shoot the NOMAD agent at point blank range.

Before she could react, before she could even fully process what she just saw, her world exploded with white hot pain. It stabbed through her chest, beneath her collarbone like a dagger. She staggered and then another explosion of pain in her neck sent her diving to the ground out of some instinctive survival mechanism to get down and find safety.

Then, she couldn’t breathe. The taste of metal and copper started to fill her mouth as she tried to desperately suck in some are, staring up at the sky above with wide eyes, everything blurred by tears brought on by the pain.

Everything was muffled around her, sounds were happening, something was happening but she couldn’t hear it over her own wet gasping breaths and the blood rushing in her ears.

Someone. She pleaded, trying to form the words but all that came out was a sputtering gasp of blood. Help.

The scent of copper was heavy in the air.

Dave heard the shots, saw the NOMAD suck lead. More gunfire erupted and he turned in time to see Ava go down in a spray of crimson. Shots from another NOMAD cracked past his head and he roared, a wordless expression of rage, and opened fire on full auto. Three shots went wide, the next four slammed into the NOMAD operator's face and pulped his head like a dropped pumpkin. Then he turned on Bear, his grey-blue eyes murderous.

The cold air was suddenly alive with the hiss and zip of shots fired and Laine was raising her Magpul as she saw Sarah crumple, the blood and brains spattering her with a hot spray. Laine screamed something wordless terror and anger, her shots towards the CORAL NOMAD going wide as he dodged aside and shot back. The impact on her upper thigh as the bullet entered and cracked her femur made her fall and the next shots struck her plate carrier and her neck, high near her jaw.

She gasped, reaching to grab the wound as she rolled on the cold hard ground but the exit blew a hole out the opposite side of her throat and she felt the heaviness settle on her, a great pressing. Laine tried a few gasps but it failed, her green eyes wide as she searched for Donnelley and grew dull as the life leaked out of her, her hand slipping from her neck to her chest.

Queen had no time to react or realize when it came, She-Ra had waited until he turned to say something and she fired, striking him between the eyes. He dropped like a puppet with his strings cut and the last fractured image his mangled brain processed was sunlight winking off crystal windchimes before the darkness took him.

Ghost watched it happen, saw She-Ra put Queen down with a single shot to the T-box. Quick, professional. He allowed himself a moment of grudging respect even as he felt the fury of betrayal well up in him. His rifle snapped up and he put a single shot through her right eye, leaving a bloody crater in her face as the heavy bullet crashed through the back of her head in a blooming flower of brains and blood.

Poker himself didn’t know exactly why the shooting had started, just that Tex had started it. In all matters of life and death, Poker did what he always did and sided with the men he knew and respected. Without question, as soon as bullets were flying, he turned on his heel and ducked down to one knee, wasting no time in sighting up and simply putting a three quick rounds punching through that insufferable fucking Ranger’s face. What was left of it was a gaping crater that’d collapsed his entire nose and left cheekbone, his eye flopping as he fell.

Ipiktok was running. Tex couldn’t blame him, he would too if given the chance. Before coming back with more friends and more guns. But he didn’t seem to have many friends out here. He barely had time to process everything going on, but the smell of copper and gunpowder brought a sick thrill, sobered by watching Laine drop just before Queen. If he was a weaker man, he might’ve frozen and screamed to the heavens, asking why.

The only sound from him though, came from him turning at the waist and raising his SIG in the same split second. He watched one of the other NOMADs sight up on Dave, but a squeeze of his trigger put the man to rest, pink mist shooting from his neck first and then pulping half his face. He turned again to the Operator next to his dead friend, but he pitched back, punched hard once in his plate and another stole his breath, useless gasps as he sucked blood. His throat burned, and he could feel hot blood filling his mouth as his eyelids, his body, everything grew heavier and heavier despite the panic and the rage.

Dave missed Donnelley saving his ass. He missed Queen falling, and Donnelley going down right after. All he saw was Bear.

His AK rattled, five rounds stitching their way up the bearded man's body. Two struck armor, one his throat, and the next two slammed through his face, tearing his jaw away in a cloud of blood, Dave's roars of anguish and hate still sounding.

Poker pivoted again at the hip, his rifle still up and catching Moon slipping as he watched Rooster die. A small twitch of the lips, something akin to a sick grin flashed over his face as Moon looked at him just before two of Poker’s round crunched through his skull, bits of teeth flying from mangled lips and the other leaving his forehead leaking dark blood.

As Bear collapsed, sucking blood through the shredded horror of his ruined mouth, Ghost tracked to the right and settled his sights on the next NOMAD in line. A crisp double-pop burst from the fat suppressor at the end of his rifle and two rounds sank into the man's temple, bursting from the other side of his skull.

He scanned, spotting no other threats, but kept his rifle up.

"I'm green," he said after a moment.

As the last two bodies dropped Dave dropped with them, hitting his knees beside Ava. He felt his heart lurch as he looked down into her open eyes, and he scooped her up and clutched her to him. He held her tight, silent, his eyes closed as he crushed her body against his, ignoring the warm blood that ran onto his arms and chest.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Poker looked around at all the carnage, “I’m green.” When no other bullets were whizzing past and no signs of a sniper were had, he shook his head at it all, “We’re clear.”

Queen. Maui. Even goddamn Tex. Poker walked past Dave, not even glancing his direction. At least he’d waited until the shooting stopped to mourn. That’s really all one could do. His eyes went to Laine’s corpse, staring at it for a moment. Then his eyes tracked Tex’s way. His gurgling, but weak breathing made the faintest sound. His fingers clutched at the dirt uselessly. Then nothing. He looked at where his eyes were pointed last and frowned, leaving Tex and Laine, and Maui, and the rest. “On me. We still got the Shaman to recover.”

Ghost joined Poker, leaving Lucky to have a moment alone. He didn't understand loss. Didn't understand grieving. But he knew that until Lucky finished doing what he was doing he would be useless. He allowed a few moments to pass.

"Lucky," he finally growled. "Let's go."

Dave held Ava until Ghost called him. Then he took a long, shuddering breath. He cupped her cheek, stroked it with his thumb, and whispered quiet words to her, too low for the others to hear, before placing a final soft kiss on her forehead and lowering her to the ground. He felt empty, hollowed out, and as he stood and looked at the blasted bodies around him he found that the only thing he really felt was hate. Deep, burning.

When he joined the others it was with a furnace behind his blue eyes.

"Let's go," he said softly.

Poker looked at the last two surviving men he could call his team. He looked past them, at all the bodies. At the people who’d simply come out to watch the firefight with implacably straight faces. Even children. One, maybe 12 years at the most, strayed too close to the carnage, stepping over one body to get to Tex. He bent down to grab something, a gun, maybe. Poker wordlessly raised his rifle and pointed it at the boy’s center mass. His face as stone cold as the Inuit peoples’. The boy caught him, froze. Then stood and walked back to his porch. Poker trailed him until he disappeared behind his front door and then lowered his weapon. “Okay.” He said, “Let’s go.”

They went down the road, following Ipiktok’s footsteps. The neat line down the dirt streets that would lead them to wherever he was shivering and hiding like a rat. After some time, being looked at by townsfolk, and expecting even more shooters to jump out of an alleyway at any second, they finally found him. It was roundabout, a huge pointless circle he’d made. Running down the street at first, then doubling back behind the houses just to get back to Yutu’s ruined house. Yutu and Charles’ bodies were gone. Dragged somewhere, and the trail led back down to the makeshift bedroom that Yutu had set Ipiktok up with.

There the bodies were, stripped naked. Something drawn or written on them in cuts that didn’t bleed. He sat there, naked as well, and swaying with his face turned up towards the ceiling, muttering something.

Ghost's rifle snapped up, covering the shaman. He hated witches. They cheated. They killed people they shouldn't be able to kill, turned the age-old contest of arms on its head. His finger curled on his trigger but he held his fire, waiting for a hostile act or word from Poker.

Dave joined him in his vigilance, looking at Ipiktok's face through the red-dot of his AK. Unlike the operator he was barely suppressing his shiver of disgust at what he saw, and the suspicions floating through his mind. Ipiktok was their asset, the whole reason they were here, but he'd managed to rabbit the minute bullets flew without even having a gun pointed his way.

"Was it you?" Dave growled. "Swear to God, I'll fuckin' gut you slow. Answer me!"

Ipiktok stopped his muttering, slowly opened his eyes as he looked back down to see the trio pointing their weapons at him. He looked to Dave, “Was what me?”

“You fuckin’ know what.” Poker growled, “You got a lot of people killed. My fucking team, my fucking team.”

Poker inched closer, but if Ipiktok was scared, he didn’t show it. Sad, maybe. But sadness and regret for selling them out wouldn’t get him any mercy, “I could always dump some rounds in your face and tell them you reached for my gun.”

“And what would that leave us?” Ipiktok asked, like addressing the anger of a child, “It was not me, I didn’t sell your people out. I told Donnelley-“

“I’m not him!” Poker roared, “So tell me, before I have Ghost rip your fucking head off.”

Ipiktok sighed, closing his eyes again and muttering more incomprehensible nonsense. Then he spoke low, “Forgive me.”

His hand shot towards a knife and before anyone could even get a shot off, Ipiktok plunged it into his own chest, dead center where some rune had been cut, until Poker on reflex squeezed off a tight triplet in his center mass. Ipiktok fell back, dead and still. Poker lowered his rifle, “Alright.” He said, looking at the three bodies, “Let’s get to the runway and wait for CORAL NOMAD. The real ones.”

Poker didn’t wait for acknowledgement. Just turned and left, the stairs creaking beneath his boots. They made it to the runway, taking shelter near a building off to the side of it. Just as they’d thought, there were no helicopters. The CORAL NOMAD they’d thought were here for them were fakes, though who’d sent them was a mystery. Whatever UMBRA knew lay with Dave, and Poker knew that Dave wasn’t in the talking mood. It would be an hour or so until CORAL NOMAD would show up, they saw them on the horizon, three black dots. Two Blackhawk helicopters and a V-22 Osprey with their rotors beating the air.

It took them another hour to load everything. The dead, the documents and weapons of Yutu’s house. They burned down the house, the official story probably something about Yutu leaving his gas stove on. No one would believe Noatak if they told anyone what had really happened. It was a quiet ride. The dead were in body bags in the Osprey with Ghost, Poker and Dave. “A lot of fucking paperwork.” Poker said.

"And training," Ghost grunted. "Recruiting. We have slots to fill."

He threw a small nod at Dave, who sat silently at the far end of the Osprey. He'd insisted on handling UMBRA himself, bagging each one carefully. He'd carried Ava aboard alone, and now sat alone beside her, the hat she'd gifted him in his hands. He was getting blood on it, but he didn't care.

Back at the other end of the aircraft Ghost looked across at Poker. "So? What do you think? He kept his head in the fight. Didn't break down until after."

Poker looked where Ghost had nodded. Dave. Lucky. Poker figured Lucky had earned the nickname after this. He didn’t have any ties, at least none that Poker knew of. In short, he’d be perfect once he got some training and some more killing under his belt. “I’d rather have a man who doesn’t break down at all, but I forgive him.” Poker shrugged, “I floated the offer. Up to him. I didn’t force anyone onto this fucking team.”

Brain, Maui, Queen, Tex. And many more names went through Poker’s head. He remembered how each one had died, remembered too all the careers long and short they had with THUNDER. Death wasn’t a big thing around here, “Question is, what do you think.”

"He can learn," Ghost said. It was decent praise from the big man. "He's not there yet, but I've spun him up. He listens. And he can kill."

Ghost sniffed, thinking. "Not sure about the long-term, though. Have to harden him up. I don't know if he's the kind to crack down the road and eat his gun. But he's good with explosives. Be useful until he does it."

Poker nodded. He’d known a few who’d done that. No shame, of course, what use was wasting time looking down on the weak when there was always more work to be done. Best to just leave them as bones in the ground, let the ones who’d make it make it. It’s what kept Poker alive all these years, and case in point, he still had Ghost with him. “Maybe. Of course, no telling when he will. Could just fucking do it in the bathroom when we get back.” Poker frowned in thought, weighing Dave’s grief and loss like a stock broker analyzes his portfolio, “We’ll keep an eye on him.”

Ghost nodded, leaning back against the wall of the Osprey. The shitty troop seat made his back hurt, though he'd never let it show.

"Should we make the pitch?" He asked.

Poker hadn’t taken his eyes off Dave. He took his moment, “Sure.”

>BLACKBOX
>MEETING ROOM
>7SEP2019
>0030...///

They all sat in silence. From the time they first came in from the outside world into the BLACKBOX, to the time they sat in the meeting room alone. Not a word spoken. Not even when Christian Greedy walked into the room, looking about as forlorn as Dave was. Even then, they all sat in silence. Greedy stood in the front of the room, his arms crossed as they all stewed. “Is this it?” He looked at the three people in front of him, not angry or arrogant like he was before, “Three people?”

He nodded as they kept silent, “Okay.” He shrugged, “So, we checked the bodies. The NOMAD team, or whatever the fuck they were trying to pass off as one.”

“Tattoos and features, all Slavic. Russian or not, they weren’t American. This only adds to the mounting evidence that there is a mole- or several- among the Program’s people.” Greedy spoke like it took every ounce of his being to not give up right then, “We’ve brought in Counterintelligence from the Program, leveraged every fucking favor the Directors could to focus on this with everyone from the fucking FBI, CIA, DIA, EPA and the fucking FDA, whatever acronym you fucking want. There are Russians in Alaska.”

Greedy had the first sign of anger on his face in a quivering frown, threatening to become a snarl, “We’re going to kill every single fucking one of them and let them know they’re not welcome here.” Greedy looked at them all, what meager team they were, “Seeing as you…”

Greedy shook his head, looking down at his feet before returning his eyes to them, “Seeing as you are what amounts as the only Wetwork Team or Working Group we have in Alaska at the moment… you will be my…” he made a fist and shook it, “My instruments of this righteous fucking vengeance.”

The anger guttered out as soon as it came, “The other part of this plan is going to have to wait until the other asset I’ve requested gets here. I’ve got no ETA, so you’re being put on standby.” He looked away from them, clearing his throat in his fist, “Make use of the facility. Any questions?”

Ghost stood to leave, then stopped when Dave spoke up.

"What's going to happen to…" Dave's voice broke and he cleared his throat. "What happens to my team? To their…"

He paused and collected himself. There was pain in his eyes, but he clenched his fist. "I wanna know what happens next. To the bodies, their stuff. Their families."

Greedy looked at Dave and knew that pain. No matter how many people he’d lost before, it never dulled the pain. Only thing a man could do was sit and drink and think, but not too hard. It’d kill you. And here they were, him and Dave. Two men who’d lost all their friends, “Officially…” Greedy began, “Messages will be sent down the wire, notifying their home agencies of their deaths in the line of duty. That’s no lie.”

“Their families, if they have any, will receive notification. Bodies will be transported to the appropriate burial grounds.” Greedy stopped himself there, then continued, “Unofficially, due to the nature of our work, we can’t allow their remains to pose a threat to the outside world. No telling what kind of unnatural or otherwise pathogen or virus, or… any other kind of incursion vector could be on them.”

Dave felt another pang of grief and looked down at the table. There wouldn't even be bodies in graves for him to visit. He stared at the cheap faux-wood and then stood, heading silently for the door. Ghost watched him pass, then looked at Poker.

"I'll be at the gym."

>ANCHORAGE, AK
>7SEP2019
>1930...///

A woman in a navy blue jacket slid a twenty dollar bill across a sticker riddled counter, almost avoiding eye-contact with the cashier. She closed up her purse and bagged the items herself, receiving the change and sticking it in a pocket.

“There you go, take care ma’am”

“You too” She smiled delicately at the man before exiting the gas station. She sank into the seat of a beaten silver SUV and thrummed the wheel as she started it. It didn’t get better than being paid to cruise around unfamiliar places while blasting music. Still, tension was building everyday her objective was unclear.

A codename and a touring schedule was all she gleaned from this assignment. Some Intel. It looked like a snail-mail vacation package with a promotion code. She had been in Anchorage more than a week, each day bringing a new prize in the box. She couldn’t help but feel like she was being hazed. This seemed like a single stage operation on home turf, but the details came in dubious fragments as if they were waiting for something.

In the passenger seat was a heavier coat that she pushed to the floor. Lanyard-bound credentials came loose. ‘PRESS. Priscilla West. EPA Photography correspondent’. A far cry from her real name. Bajbala, having been used strictly by one friend in D.C. it was almost more foreign to her than any alias.

An oversized envelope still lay on the seat with the tab marked boldly, ‘D&D’ for digest and destroy. It wasn’t there before. The Anchorage liaison must be in his heyday. She tore the envelope open and peeked at the contents. There were several photos of faces within a concise dossier, not immediately discernible, and a briefing document —third one of the trip. She closed it back up and left the station, it would be dark soon.

Bajbala drove north of Anchorage proper and crossed the Knik river towards the safehouse she was instructed to use. It was up a gravel path in the foothills, bringing in a good view of the city and surrounding mountains. The tires slowly crunched to a stop at the edge of the gravel road. She parked where the trees broke into a large vista and started thumbing through the documents in detail.

On loose-leaf was an address with approach instructions. Secure safehouse equipment prior to obsoletion. Live drop September 10th with a time window. Vehicle drop and footing to an old apartment complex. Double follow mitigation. Within the dossier were three men. Two were stamped with execute authority, a critical Russian agent and his de facto muscle. Other faces were linked in their pages but not priority.

The third dossier struck her as odd. An American. ‘J.D. CIA’ black-flagged with a follow-on objective pending an investigation notice,’...confirm death’ freshly dated 7SEP2019. Bajbala suspected he was something other than CIA, possibly linked with the former. Unusual but within her repertoire. She’s been an instrument to US forces abroad and now is being used to query the ranks within. It’s not often Uncle assigns domestic cases to her lot of agents. Before she could look further the supersonic crackle of afterburner rolled down from the frosted mountains. A small formation of jets passed to finish an exercise and set down at Elmendorf Air Base.

Bajbala stepped out of the vehicle to peer out into the valley. She clenched her jacket shut against the brisk wind that launched itself up against the hillside. Her black hair struggled to break free from the loosely worn scrunchy. Each passing minute the sun vanished further. To the east, the eerie beauty of the alpenglow began to melt into the darkened sky. Then the shadow of the mountains seemed to crawl from the water over the city and up her skin.

>THREE DAYS LATER...///
>SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE ANCHORAGE, AK
>10SEP2019
>0800...///

The THUNDER playlist whispered some song on shuffle from the speakers, Poker didn’t know which. Mostly didn’t care, just cared that at this point it was tradition and he’d begrudgingly bonded with the dead. Ghost was in the seat beside him and Dave was sat in the back of the Dodge minivan. It wasn’t a glamorous Not-a-Fed chariot, but nobody ever expected death to come out the sliding door of a soccer mom’s carriage. “Shouldn’t be far now.”

He’d said that ten miles ago too, but nobody said anything. Queen would’ve, Maui would’ve laughed. Tex would’ve… done whatever Tex felt like doing that day. At this point, Lucky was starting to remind him of that brooding fuck. He guessed that’s how lone survivors were, grizzled and brooding, dark, mysterious. Fucking insufferable. “Lucky, you ready for this?”

Dave nodded, his eyes glued to the passing scenery. They were plainclothes for this run, which still meant his trademark flannel and cargo pants, just with a covert vest under the shirt instead of his rig. The rig was there, though, plate carrier and pistol belt both. They rode in the floorboard next to him, beside the AK he was now lugging everywhere they went, unless orders told him not to.

“I’m ready,” he said, realizing a moment too late that they probably couldn’t see him nodding.

He was ready. The weight of the subcompact Sig in his waistband was a comfort, the Buck knife at his belt freshly honed. He’d taken one of the frags off his vest and slipped it into his cargo pocket. If things went sideways, which they always seemed to, Dave was ready.

“We shouldn’t need the long guns, but we all know how these things go sometimes.” The most ready example still hanging over them after these few days, “Looks like it’s here.”

The silver SUV was by itself on a turn-off. The gravel lot was nigh untouched, just like the road it was on. They hadn’t seen another vehicle pass them or come up behind them the entire drive. Poker didn’t bother with the blinker as he turned off the road and stopped a respectable distance away from the SUV, “Asset’s supposed to be here.” Poker nodded at the SUV, “Be real awkward if that ain’t them.”

Ghost eyed the vehicle, his hand on the grip of his Glock 19. The suppressor rode in a pocket of his cargo pants; he was ready to go loud.

“Fuck them,” he grunted. “Smile and wave, shoot them if we need to.”

He glanced back at Dave to see if the other man was paying attention and got a hard glare for his comment. Good, at least he was awake.

“Asset is female, right?” Ghost knew she was, but he was antsy. He wasn’t looking for new friends after their last op. Something stank, he wasn’t sure what it was, and it had him more on edge than usual.

“Dossier says so, briefing had it that way too.” Poker spoke, still staring at the SUV with his hand on his Glock, riding in the holster stuffed between the driver seat and center console, “Supposed to drive her to the place, get her On Target. Make sure she gets the job done, and come in with guns blazing if things go south.”

“Said she’d be alone too. Lone Wolf type bullshit.” Everyone knew Poker’s feelings about lone wolves.

“‘Til we meet her buddies,” Dave growled from the back seat.

“She fucks around we’ll drop her,” Ghost said. He glared at the SUV. “We shouldn’t even be playing taxi. We’re fucking THUNDER.”

In the woodline on the far side of the SUV Bajbala lowered a monocular, satisfied with the first glance of the minivan. The vehicle had the right plates and she was expecting the 3 stoic forms, all business. She wagered there were some big dicks behind that tinted glass considering they drove up in that thing. The brief mentioned a high risk compromise with courtesy of russian activities. If it was going to be a gang-bang the only thing waiting for them was a 30 meter cloud of CS and smoke rigged to blow from modules beneath the vehicle.

Bajbala emerged from the woods while configuring the settings on a Nikon as if unaware, a collapsed tripod was slung over her back. She paused for a moment in view some meters from the other side of the SUV and acted surprised when she looked up to the van. She tongued the gum around in her mouth and hoped they were American. Just a warm cheesy smile and a wave, the other hand clasping a keychain trigger taped to the camera that dangled from her neck.

Poker watched her approach from the woods, growling and kicking himself in the ass mentally. How he’d fallen for that and didn’t see her anywhere, assumed she was in the goddamn car. It took some effort from him to not punch his steering wheel. Or just shoot through the windshield and tag her in the forehead.

"I'm point." Ghost spat his mantra and then left the vehicle, hauling his bulk upright and then taking a few steps away so Poker could move or dismount according to his whims. Dave went with him, putting his AK on the seat and then lingering close enough to his door to snag it if need arose.

Ghost eyed the small woman for a moment. He was 240 pounds stacked in a dark grey hoodie, his face a pair of Oakleys set in a thick copper beard. He contrasted with the leaner Lucky, whose eyes were wary, untrusting.

"Good morning. You should be careful hiding like that. Lots of bears in these woods." His Pashto was clearly intelligible, if accented. The grammar was solid, his tone modulated to his best approximation of 'friendly but authoritative'.

Bajbala raised her brow at the first man out. You don’t get a body like that in this line of work unless you’re a real hitter. The kind with no other life, no family, a living weapon too honed to acknowledge they were part of some functioning human civilization. The other two men remained vigilant but visible, they looked American at least. They didn’t trust this encounter any more than she did.

“Says the bear.”

She eyed Ghost as she further approached, slipping her finger off the gas trigger. Within a few meters of Ghost she continued in an expressive, near mocking pashtun response, “Don’t worry, the eagles see them.” With one hand she raises the camera to her eye, pointedly at the bear man, and makes the shutter sound with her mouth, still smirking.

“What, are they fucking flirting?” Poker muttered just loud enough for Dave to hear. His hand tightened on the grip of his Glock when Bajbala pointed the camera at Ghost. Knowing these CIA types- the real ones, not their shooters like Tex- he knew anything could be a fucking weapon. One pulls out a lighter and it’s a goddamned flamethrower, “Hurry the fuck up, Ghost.”

Poker thumbed his throat mic for his team to hear, “Are we shooting people?”

Ghost gave the 'asset' a long stare, tensing slightly when the camera rose. He smirked to mask the brief tension, giving her the once-over behind his shades.

"I'll sign it later," he growled, then touched his mic. "We're good."

He jerked his head at the minivan, his voice all business in a heartbeat, and stayed there to watch her board the van before getting in himself. "Mount up. You're in the back. I'm Ghost, team lead is Poker. Lucky is in the back with you."

"Priscilla." She flashed her press card from under her shirt, looking at it like she needed to check, then passed him by. Each member of the escort looked cautious as if working in a warzone. The unease was contagious. Her only other possession was a handbag which was tossed into the far seat behind Poker, she gave a nod to Lucky then climbed in.

“Please,” Poker turned his dagger-eyes on this Priscilla in the rearview mirror, “Tell me you were given a fucking gun.”

“I’ve got three of them right here!” She exclaimed proudly about the team. Bajbala dropped the tripod to the floor and felt the van shift under the muscle of the other two. She went right into it, “So, I know there have been a few changes to the September seventh brief, do you know the way?” She asked Poker, leaning up between the seats.

“We’re one part taxi and one part QRF. I really hope you don’t need it.” He eyed Priscilla, she the only one not knowing what happened last time someone needed rescuing, “That part is unchanged. Program CI pulled the nearby cell towers and even ran some drones over Anchorage. Multiple coded messages are coming from a string of cellphones, likely burners all for one or two people.”

“Location data was ran through a sieve by the computer nerds and puts the targets in a trailer park. It’s smart, kinda, low-visibility but a fortress a double-wide trailer does not make.” Poker snorted and shook his head, “Fucking Russians. We’re supposed to sneak over, confirm the targets are there. Snatch and grab, liquidate in another place, preferably no witnesses.”

Poker looked at Ghost, then back at Priscilla, “Those just complicate things.”

“You and Lucky are going into the trailer park. Ghost and I are sitting in the van and looking pretty until you get back, or until we hear gunshots.” Poker finished, “Should be an easy day.”

Ghost shot Poker a knowing look. The new meat needed to be broken in. Lucky was still UMBRA, on paper, but they had a roster to fill.

“Still think it should be me going in,” he said. “We don’t need a new kid cutting his teeth on an op like this.”

“I’ve got it,” Dave growled. His Arkansas drawl was heavy. “If there’s Russians need killin’, I’m doin’ it.”

The southern man seemed to glow with ardor that reminded Bajbala of when she put a gun to use the first time; however, he was likely much less naive and hopefully more competent. He looked the part.

“Me and Lucky in the flesh then. You. Are a mountain, sir.” She motioned to Ghost with her palm. “May be a trailer park but it has ordinary, familiar, families running around, it’s right off the main roads. If they have any sort of surveillance you won’t catch them without the spotlight.”

Ghost shifted his weight, making sure that his shoulders bunched beneath the fabric of his hoodie.

“If you’re sure you’ve got it, Lucky,” he said.

“I said I’ve got it,” Dave snapped. His blue eyes flashed beneath the brim of his hat. It was the only thing at odds with the rest of his outfit, a tan ballcap with a blue brim, and an image of an identical hat on the front. A gift from Ava, his hat-hat.

Ghost shrugged. “Fine. Handle it.”

Truth be told, he wanted Lucky to do this. He needed to see the man in action. To know he hadn’t broken. Attachments weren’t something Ghost had a good grasp of, but he had seen enough to know that men who’d lost someone sometimes cracked. It made them a liability. A useful one, at times, when that crack left them with fewer scruples and a lack of fear, but still a liability.

“See?” Poker said, shrugging, “Our little boy’s got it.”

Poker looked to Bajbala, “So, we’ll need to find the controls for the cameras, or just cut the fucking power to the whole place.” Poker shrugged, “Do it at night, cut the power just as you two go in, bring them out wriggling.”

“Or just scrub the tapes for the whole day, make it look like a software fuck-up. Anybody bring any gadgets for that, or are me and Ghost going to pry open a panel and do some fuckery with wire cutters?” Poker asked.

Bajbala chimed in. “I’ve watched the site these past three days and it seems likely they have an auxiliary power source. I’d expect the cameras feed to another site as well. We should look to take him outside of the compound unless we want more Russians for Lucky's appetite.” She produced a photograph of a white toyota camry from her bag with a mild tint and grey interior. There was a small logo printed in the rear, a company vehicle, ‘Breger Pipe & Cable Solutions’.

"This vehicle here has come these days a little past noon to carry the target to some business elsewhere, I don’t know the route but it could be routine." She shrugged and nibbled up a fresh stick of gum then extended the pack out to the hard men.

"So let's take 'em in the car." Dave gave the gum an untrusting glance, then shook his head. "We could tail 'em, but they might have more guys wherever they're goin'. If you know what direction they turn we could just wait on the side of the road an' then broadside their ass when they pull up."

Ghost looked back at him, then at the other two. He simply ignored the gum; he didn't take candy from CIA strangers.

"Could work," he said. "Or we follow them to a stop, pull up beside them. Shoot the driver, grab the passenger. Like we did down South a few years back."

“Let’s do it.” Poker nodded, “You up for that, Priscilla?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just shifted into drive and put them back on the road. Poker wasn’t looking for applause or agreement, he was looking for any way to kill the people that’d taken his team. Ordered them killed like pigs. Dying was an inevitability in this kind of life. They just made the mistake of not killing all of them, and they were about to realize what happens when you fucked with Poker.

The brutes were going to get her in trouble. There weren’t many options as it was a time sensitive target.

“That would be fine. I have to say the directive emphasizes discretion, so I hope you animals don’t run in dicks too hard” She shouldered her handbag and sat back looking at each of the men. Dave was a handsome guy in a very normal kind of way, so normal he’d hold a cover well if his ‘appetite’ wasn’t mainstay. She couldn’t get a good look at Poker, just his eyes bouncing in the rear-view.

“We can be discreet,” Dave said as he checked that his AK was loaded and ready. He’d folded the stock to keep it mobile in the vehicle, and as if to emphasize his point he took a suppressor from a pouch on his belt-rig and began installing it on the weapon. It wouldn’t change things by more than 30 decibels or so, but it was the thought that counted in his opinion.

Bajbala didn’t want to ruin his fun, nor could she. It was their team, their op. She was there to fill in the cracks, round out the team’s capabilities. It may not even be permanent.

“I believe you.” She said incredulously.

The mornings were taking longer to warm as the Alaskan autumn fast approached. The trees passing either side of the van well turned into a palette of yellows on jade. It was beautiful countryside, if not foreboding as the grey clouds of the wet season fill the sky.

>1150...///

The tinted windows of the Dodge minivan kept people from seeing inside of it as they passed. Not that many were paying attention. In these parts of town people were more likely to keep their eyes pointed at their laces rather than risk getting into some kind of fight if they looked at someone wrong. Pedestrians walked past talking and laughing, or just counting cracks in the pavement, not knowing there were four people inside the minivan not five feet away clutching guns.

They were waiting for that Toyota Camry, Breger Pipe & Cable Solutions emblazoned on it. Poker checked his watch, “10 ‘til.”

His hand went back to resting on the compact MP7, his other holding a half-eaten protein bar. He took another bite, “Once we see the pickup, we’ll tail them for a mile or so and jump these fuckers.”

“Remember, it’s a snatch-and-grab,” Ghost said, more for Lucky than for Priscilla or Poker. “We take them here, then put them down somewhere discreet. If we can. If they make it hard-”

“We kill ‘em,” Dave finished. “All of ‘em.”

Priscilla put the camera strap back around her neck and fastened it snugly to her side behind the handbag. “Looks like he’s running late today.” The Russian safehouse was barely visible from the van. Several rows of stained trailers and junk sat between them. It was a big park for a modest city. “If there are more than the two of them we’ll need you, Ghost.” She said chewing her gum. One gun per body. Life or death, the Russian wouldn’t go down easy with numbers.

“Just tell me who to hurt,” Ghost said as he press-checked the chamber on his G19. Dave gave him a look; the big man wasn’t usually so talkative.

“So we’re just grabbin’ ‘em,” he said, more to remind himself than to go over the plan again. “Wave the gun around, hope we don’t hafta shoot ‘em. Yet.”

“People fight less when you take out a knee,” Ghost interjected helpfully. “Try that if they struggle too much.”

Poker was ready to put rounds through the windshield. The engine block would take it better than him if it took some bullets, and he wasn’t going out today. There was retaliation on the schedule. He thought fondly of Mexico, the time THUNDER had when they had a full roster before the CSAR Op staged out of the BLACKBOX. At least this run would be easier, less variables. Except for the one. He glanced at Priscilla, doubting that was her real name, and put his eyes back on the road.

He cracked a grin, then his grin grew when he counted heads in the approaching white Toyota Camry, “Breger Pipe and Cable Solutions,” he checked his watch, “On schedule. Two heads inside, making three when we ruin their day.”

Dave reached into his shirt, briefly fingering a St. Michael medallion he’d taken from Ava’s personal effects. He held it for a moment, then tucked it away and racked the charging handle on his AK.

“Let’s fuckin’ go,” he growled.

Priscilla put up her monocular towards the vehicle. It sat high, a light load on the suspension. Low tint and no modifications. Small arms were expected, but probably not on their laps. Something big happened the other day, out of her sector, but the ripples pulled her in.

The car rolled past some family enjoying the last throes of summer before their children would be back to school then parked, partially obscured. One of the men approached the building, disappearing through the front door. Moments later he returned with who looked like the target.

“Tall, scruffy, It’s Belyaev.” She confirmed.

“Are these the ones?” Dave asked suddenly. He looked into the rearview, seeking Poker’s gaze. “These the guys behind it?”

Poker looked into Dave’s eyes through the rearview mirror. He held his gaze, searching his eyes for any cracks or faults in his conviction. Finding none, he nodded. Just once, “Few of them.”

As Belyaev and his drivers mounted up in the Camry, Poker watched them leave. He counted to ten and then pulled into the road just behind them. They hit a stop sign and then took off from a rolling stop, Poker doing the same after seeing no other cars. They took a left, continued on straight and then took another left. There were other cars around them in traffic now, and they were all stopped at a red light at a four way intersection. Without warning, the Camry burst into movement, cutting a turn right and slamming the brakes in a gas station parking lot just to the right side of the street on the corner of the intersection.

Poker furrowed his brows, “What the fuck.” He spat, “What the fuck, did they clock us?”

He looked at the red light and then back at Belyaev’s Camry, “Take them at the gas station, or try to double back and find them again?” Not giving chance for an answer, he spoke again, “I vote now.”

“Now,” Dave said instantly. He snatched up his AK and gave it a quick check. It was a last-moment decision, but he saw no reason to be subtle. They were going after three men in a public place. If people were going to see them with guns regardless, he’d rather bring what he was most confident with.

“Now,” Ghost agreed. As Dave made his preparations Ghost was making his own, unbuckling his seatbelt and making one more check of his Glock.

Priscilla was wondering who the fuck she was paired with. “They are on high alert, it could be counter-surveillance, it doesn’t mean we’re burned. Your call team-lead.” The intersection could spell trouble for them down the road, but she could see the burning in their eyes and it was more an opportunity than getting into a fight in a community.

Poker, growled, looking once more from the stop light to the Camry. He smacked the steering wheel and unbuckled his seatbelt, “Fuck it, let’s go.”

He flipped the same maneuver they did, squealing into the gas station parking lot and slamming the brakes on the driver side of the Camry, the suspension rocking forward. Poker made his move as quick as he could, untethered by his seatbelt already undone and moving to his left, the red dot on his MP7 hovering over the driver’s face, “Hands, hands!”

Ghost and Dave dismounted, splitting so as to not present a single clumped target. Ghost’s Glock was leveled at the HVT himself, the sights settled just even with the bridge of his nose.

“Hands! Hands, motherfucker!” Ghost roared.

Behind him Dave raised his rifle, sighted, and without a word cut a burst through the driver’s side window, scattering brain, blood, and tempered glass across the inside of the vehicle.

Priscilla was already moving slyly across the front of the car with a startled expression as if one of several onlookers to the men that burst from the van on the target’s side. When Lucky opened up on the driver, the passenger went into a panic and fumbled with something before trying to open his door. To his surprise she did it for him.

Patmonov, the babysitter, gripped a Sig tightly in his left hand, unable to get a proper hold in the shock. Shit was already out of control. Priscilla pulled free the integrally suppressed Makorov frame from her handbag and granted Ghost’s wish. Not even close to a djinn, she failed to cripple the Russian’s knees. Instead two rounds pulped into his thigh and groin. He grit his teeth and went red, buckling over out of the vehicle. Priscilla kicked the handgun free from reaching distance and stepped back holding the barrel pointed towards his sucking dome against the soiled pavement. Bright red spilled rapidly from the pant-tears around his knees.

“Not a good day to be Russian, friend.” She uttered in Russky.

“Jesus,” Poker spat watching what was already cutting it close spiral downward into an actual fucking shit-show. He lowered his weapon, pointing at Belyaev still in the back with his two hands shaking and eyes frantically flicking between all of them, “Get him in the fucking van!”

Ghost complied, snatching open the back door and collaring Belyaev. He hauled the man from the vehicle and dealt him a rather casual elbow in the chin before shoving his Glock into the small of his back.

“Walk,” he snapped. He glared over at Priscilla, who still stood near her squirming and moaning victim. “Will you fucking put him down? Lucky, get your stupid ass in the van!”

Dave complied easily, waiting until Belyaev had been shoved into the vehicle before getting in after him, shoving the muzzle of his AK into the man’s gut to keep him compliant as he sat down.

Priscilla planted three more bullets in his chest, a pool formed around him and his hands went limp over his popped groin. The Station was now vacant of scattered pedestrians, some leaving their cars behind to flee from this side of the street. No doubt the police would be here shortly. She set in a new magazine.

“I’m thrashing the footage.” She was curt, looking at Poker then hastily entered the gas station. Immediately she trained her muzzle on the man behind the register who seemed too busy cowering to be a threat. “Stay!” she commanded. Another person ran around an aisle and knocked several things down before running out of the store. Priscilla passed through the employee swing door and found the office. She snickered in relief seeing a glowing laptop running the security system; it was all in there. The machine was easy to rip from its wires. She then sprinted out to the van and slammed the side door shut.

“We’re clear.” With the laptop tucked under her arm, she started blowing a bubble.

“Better fucking be.” Poker stomped the gas and they came squealing back out of the parking lot of the gas station. They fishtailed back into the road and sped away as fast as the 4L V6 could throw them down the road. He’d only had Priscilla around for a couple hours, and he already didn’t like her.

Dave. Lucky, he was starting to really get stuck in his craw. There was a time and a place for high-vis shit, and this was not it. No doubt Ghost would handle Lucky. He could already hear the sirens somewhere far off, not knowing if it was police or an ambulance. “Who the fuck told you to shoot?” Poker growled, “Goddamnit…”

"What other options we got?" Dave snarled back. His blood was up, heart pounding, his hand a vice around the grip of his rifle. "We got three guys, an' only two of us back here. We gonna take the time to pat 'em all down real good, make sure nobody's got a holdout? We gonna leave one and hope he don't follow us?"

He jammed the muzzle of his gun into Belyaev's gut, more from frustration than to shut him up.

"An' we're already jumpin' out of the car with a crowd around us, wavin' pistols and screamin' hands hands. You think a few gunshots is gettin' any different a reaction?" He was not quite yelling now, his voice harsh. "They killed our goddamn people! We should be guttin' every one of 'em!"

Poker jerked his steering wheel and the van’s suspension rocked left as he turned right, “I don’t know where the fuck Tex got you from.”

"Arkansas."

"Shut the fuck up!" Ghost finally roared. It was rare that he actually shouted. It was rare that he had to. "You're done! No more talking! You fucked up and we'll discuss it later, now shut your goddamn suck and watch the detainee!"

Priscilla sat quietly chewing her gum, looking out for police or any other pursuers. Lucky may have shit the bed but it was Poker's team. He should know his guys, should've listened. They looked more like wolves snapping at each other because there wasn't enough meat. She did get the feeling earlier this was personal.

"Get us off the main roads" she interrupted. "What's the plan Team Lead?" Another bubble, getting her mind off the tension in the van.

Belyaev grunted with every pothole as the glock pressed into his bruised ribs, his jaw clenched tightly. She might not have had to shoot his partner if she didn't think he was already going to die.

“Area Kilo,” Poker said, in the middle of doing just what Priscilla had mentioned. This wasn’t his first snatch and grab. Once they were a good enough distance away he cut a left and doubled back, and then another left in an effort to head south towards the objective area that they’d use to interrogate and liquidate Belyaev, Codename BLACKFISH.

He’d angled them down towards the Highway, trying to get back onto Seward Hwy and then turn off from there, wait for things to die down by nightfall and then continue to the safehouse. They’d gotten to the last few stoplights on the edge of Anchorage, glowing red. Poker looked in the rearview as the sound of sirens grew louder, seeing the lights of a cruiser bearing down on them, “If he stops on us, let him have it.”

"Done," Ghost said. Dave looked alarmed.

"Wait, we're-"

"Shut up," Ghost snarled at him. "Watch the prisoner, shut your fucking mouth. I'm cleaning up your mess, so just sit there and fucking deal with it."

"Hold on." She said abruptly. "They don't have us yet." Poker had at least been driving carefully to avoid any more attention.

"If we make an encounter they'll have another ping on us." Ahead of them was a small plaza with a big Long John Silvers sign at the entrance. It didn't look too crowded. She didn't want anyone dead that didn't need to be. "Park in there, I'll try and deal with him." She pointed out with an arm past Poker's shoulder.

"He doesn't want it, you can put him down." She reasoned.

Ghost growled but slipped his pistol into the pocket of his hoodie.

"Lucky, hide your rifle," he said. "And keep that fucking Russian quiet."

Dave leaned down and stowed his AK. He had picked up on the tone in the vehicle, and knew he'd fucked up. Now a man's life was on the line just for doing his job. He bit back his regret, clamped it down hard. Then he drew his knife.

It was a workman's tool, a Buck 105 with a 6 inch blade and a grip of stacked leather, worn from over a decade's use in the Ozarks. The blade was slim from hundreds of sharpenings, gently feathered and sharp as a razor.

"You keep quiet," Dave growled to Belyaev. He slipped his arm around the man, slid the blade beneath his shirt and pressed it to his liver. "One sound. Just one. I swear to God you'll bleed to death before the last round's fired." He leaned a little closer, his blue eyes hard as stone. "An' I'll make it hurt."

Belyaev swallowed hard. Poker made sure he didn’t look in the direction of the cop as he depressed the gas pedal and sent them casually ambling into the parking lot of the restaurant. He kept the engine on after he’d found a parking space and laid a hand on the butt of his Glock, watching through the rearview and side mirror for the cop following them there. Poker reached for the police scanner and switched it on.

“11-54, Long John Silvers on Walter J Hickel. Vehicle is Dodge Grand Caravan, Silver. Possible relation to 10-71 at Tesco. Please advise.”

“Do not approach, additional units are en route now.”

"Fuckin great guys." She lauded. "Team Lead trade places with me and everyone stay down. Ghost I need you with me." She was already clambering to squeeze into the driver's seat past Poker with her camera dangling. She pulled off her jacket revealing a loose cashmere lightweight, then fastened her hair up with a clip from her handbag. She was readying to pass through the driver door, the windows would be dark enough to conceal the exchange.

Ghost followed Priscilla's lead, shedding his distinctive grey hoodie and hat to jam them beneath his seat. His Glock went into his waistband holster, and he mussed the hem of his shirt to hide the bulge. His T-shirt was a neutral tan, stretched tight across the chest and shoulders, the sleeves straining over biceps like boulders. Hopefully any descriptions had focused on his clothing, not his mass.

In the back seat Dave shifted his weight nervously, prodding Belyaev with the tip of his knife.

"Not one word," he whispered.

Poker settled into the back, stashing his MP7 under his seat and tucking his Glock and its holster into his waistband. He placed his low-cut ankle-boot on Belyaev’s neck, “Keep fucking quiet, asshole.”

Priscilla cracked the door and shot Ghost a confident glance. "I need you to reach for my hand out there, cool? Let's go."

He had a cliche all American mountain man look about him. Belonged on a paper towel package. Face of a killer maybe, not of a criminal. Easy pass for military; bonus that she couldn't spot nerve or worry about his hard features. She stepped out to casually meet him in front, leaving the keys on the seat.

Ghost followed, closing the door not-quite all the way.

"Left hand," he said, voice low. "I'm a right-hand draw." He cracked his most genuine smile as he took her hand, giving the cop a wave.

She clasped fingers and walked closely with him, resting her other hand upon the purse hanging from the left shoulder. Looking up a shoe and a half past his fiery beard she made some arbitrary joke about the police being here for him and chuckled with a smile, her gum still going.

Another police cruiser rounded the corner next to the Long John Silver’s, no lights or sirens, trying to give the impression this was a normal spot for them on a normal day. Across the parking lot, parked on the street, the other officer dismounted. The police cruiser stopped at the parking lot entrance and met the other officer, exchanging words with him. What they were, neither Poker or Dave could tell. Poker reached down and retrieved his MP7.

There were three of them now in the parking lot, the other two new arrivals approaching Ghost and Priscilla just as they were making their way into the restaurant. The one who’d clocked them back at the intersection hung back, his thumbs hooked in his duty belt.

“Ma’am, sir.” One of the officers called out, a tall, lanky man with clean cut hair. His voice toed the line between friendly and authoritative. His partner was a head shorter, but bald and broader, staring at them through his black shades, “Ma’am, sir, we’ve got a couple questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

Ghost turned and smiled, tugging Priscilla's hand as though bringing her to a playful stop.

"Sure, no problem," he said. His tone was light, confident but friendly, all of his skill at dissembling and blending being brought to bear. "What can we do for you guys?"

"Oh! Sure." She said quietly, backing her partner.

Priscilla stood next to him still clutching his hand. At some point earlier she pulled a phone from her purse and held it limp over the bag for normalcy. She was glad to see Ghost fit into his role and had a genuinely bright countenance about it.

“Your guys’ van happens to match the description of a vehicle somebody saw fleeing a crime scene. I know how it sounds, and I’m sorry,” he said, holding up a hand, but his partner remained stoic. The likely ‘bad cop,’ “But, I’m going to have to ask you for your IDs.”

"Oh, shit, that's not good," Ghost said. He let go of Priscilla's hand to dig a wallet out of his back pocket, flipping it open to pull two bogus ID's. They were Program stock, one a Kentucky Driver's License and the other an Army CAC. Together they identified him as a Sergeant Major Richard Grissom out of Fort Campbell, with a rudimentary paper trail that, while it wouldn't fool a deep-dive, should more than handle an NCIC check.

He passed them over with a smile. He had no choice but to trust that 'Priscilla' had a similarly intact cover, and he dredged what he'd memorized of her dossier from the steel trap of his mind.

"Here you go," he said. He affected an uncomfortable look, the demeanor of a man who knew he wasn't in trouble, but hoped he wasn't about to be overly inconvenienced. Mildly annoyed, but still wanting to be helpful. "I'm on leave right now, do you need me to get my command on the phone or anything?"

Priscilla wasn't acquainted with any sort of name so she gave him the good ol’ “babe!” Said with ebullience, giving Ghost a cheery look then back to the officer. “I swear we can’t go anywhere without something strange happening.”

Her fingers slowly snaked inside the handbag past the grip of the pistol while she denoted the type of ID he produced. She pulled a floral-patterned card wallet with little urgency and handed over a Tennessee ID, Amber DeMarco, out of Nashville; close.

The officer took both IDs and nodded, “Thanks, guys.”

He walked back to his cruiser and sat in the driver seat, looking at the IDs intermittently and then typing on the computer. His stoic partner stayed with them. Back in the van, Poker was still kneeling down in the back, clutching his MP7. He eyed the cop that went back to his cruiser and then the other one that had clocked them and started this whole thing, “I got eyes on the officer in the cruiser at our 8.” Poker muttered, “You keep the nosey fuck at our 6 in your sights. If shit pops off you’d better squeeze that fucking trigger.”

Dave grunted his assent. He kept his knife pressed to Belyaev for another moment, then sheathed his knife, picking up his rifle and pushing the barrel against the man's groin.

"I'll do my fuckin' job," he growled back. His heart was pounding and he felt sick, but he clicked off his safety even as he sent up a prayer that he wouldn't have to kill an innocent man. "I'm a fuckup, not a pussy."

“Uh huh…” Poker said, tracking the officer as he left his cruiser to get back to Ghost and Priscilla.

>...///

“Here you go, sir,” The officer said, handing back Ghost’s ID, “Thank you for service, and I’m sorry for disturbing your folks’ day. You’re free to go.”

"Hey, no problem. Thank you for yours," Ghost said as he pocketed the ID's. "You guys stay safe out there."

The officer handed Bajbala her ID, “Sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am. You guys have a nice meal.”

“Oh, that was quick. You sure you don’t want him?” She put her hand by her mouth and whispered loudly, "because I'm sick of him!” At least the one cop looked amused. “Don’t worry about it, have a good one. Gonna get some tacos!" her voice lilting as she looked up at Ghost with his shades and reached for his hand again. Just had to follow through.

Ghost followed, casually ignoring the police now that business was concluded and accompanying Bajbala to the door. He leaned over as though murmuring something intimate.

"We need to exchange backstories," he said. "Good save."

She snickered at him as they went inside. "Yeah, you'd look good in cuffs though" she menaced. They wouldn't notice the missing shrimp taco and crab cake until they got back to the van. Fucking pirates.

>...///

“Well, did everyone have fun on their fucking lunch date?” Poker asked. He’d gotten back into the driver seat since the parking lot fiasco and they were now a couple miles down the road. Poker and Lucky had shared the time Ghost and Priscilla had spent inside the LJ Silver’s quietly menacing Belyaev, and watching for cops.

"My macros are fucked," Ghost grunted. After the stress of the confrontation he'd allowed himself an indulgence, and was currently tearing his way through eight fish tacos. He hadn't eaten since breakfast; the machine needed fuel.

Behind him Dave sat in silence, his food untouched and his gun muzzle digging firmly into Belyaev's crotch. He was casually neglecting to compensate for bumps.

"I'll hold your hand next time, Poker." Priscilla stated. She met eyes with him in the rear-view mirror and toasted with her cup. It was at this point empty, but she slurped the ice for effect.

The prisoner sat frozen, focusing on keeping his balls from busting under Lucky's barrel. She placed her last taco next to his leg, done. In Russian, "have a bite, friend." Fully aware that others might not have understood.

Poker looked away from Priscilla and shook his head, focusing on the road again, “Please, refrain from speaking anything but English.” Poker said and after a moment asked, “What did you say?”

“I wouldn’t trust me either.” She slurped one last time and stuffed the cup in the Long Johns bag. “I told him to eat. I wouldn’t want to die hungry and we’re all one big family in death, right?” She said nonchalantly. She extended the offer to Belyaev but didn’t care if he missed his opportunity.

"Fuck that, he ain't kin of mine," Dave snapped. He reached over and grabbed the taco, unwrapping it before taking a bite himself. He wasn't a cruel man. Not by nature. But his hate for the Russian agents was a fire, and petty or not he was in no mood to give the man any luxuries. Instead he looked Belyaev in the eye as he ate the taco.

"You're gonna die for what you did," he said finally. "All you get to choose is whether you talk first, an' they make it quick, or they give you to me."

He leaned a little closer, forcing down the knot in his belly. "You took from me, boy. You'll pay."

Priscilla recoiled at the animal way he ate the taco and suppressed chuckling. She wasn’t about to get between them, the man wanted vengeance and he fractured an operation to make his point. She didn’t know whether to feel sorry for him in his passion, or envious of whatever bonds he had.

>ANCHORAGE SAFEHOUSE
>1245...///

The Dodge van pulled into the gravel road that led off into the hills outside Anchorage, winding up and over until it ended and the gravel pooled around a lonely barn and its accompanying small shack of a house. The gravel protested under the tires, crunching and cracking in the silence between the occupants of the van. They stopped in front of the barn and dragged Belyaev out. If he had been screaming and protesting when he went in, he simply let his feet drag on the gravel when he came out. Dejected, he let himself be thrown on his face on the floor of the barn.

While Poker worked at getting a couple lamps going, the others were tying Belyaev up to a chair. Poker walked back to the van and opened the back, coming back to Belyaev holding a very heavy tool bag filled with a great many things Belyaev immediately decided he did not want to see. Poker dropped the bag clanking on the floor and they all stood in the dim light of the lamps inside the barn. Poker looked down at the bag, then looked to Belyaev, “This bag belonged to a man I knew. He was always better at this shit than I was,” Poker shook his head and shrugged, “But since you fucking killed him in some goddamned backwater, you’ll have to bear with me for this.”

“I want you to understand something. You’re going to answer my questions, or I will let Lucky have you for a couple minutes.” Poker looked at Lucky and then back to Belyaev, “He liked Tex. He doesn’t like you. Anything you don’t understand?”

Belyaev shook his head, “I understand fully.” Belyaev was still shaking his head, “Just ask me anything and I will answer, I promise.”

Poker snorted and laughed at Belyaev, wheezing and looking at everyone while he shook a finger in the Russian’s direction like he’d told a pretty good joke, “No, see, I really don’t think you do understand.” He motioned to Belyaev, looking to Dave, “Please, help him.”

Dave looked at the man in silence for a moment. He removed his can of Copenhagen from his pocket, snapped it a few times, and took a large pinch. He'd expected to feel that hot fury. Right now he just felt… Cold.

He put the can away, situated the dip with his tongue. Then he drew his knife.

"Ya ever been huntin'?" He asked. His drawl was pronounced, his tone laconic. "I grew up huntin'. I'm from the Ozarks. Middle of the mountains, out in nowhere. Figure it's somethin' like your Siberia, without quite so much snow."

He walked over to Belyaev and crouched beside him, holding up the knife. "See, our deer up there get pretty big. Can't carry' em out all once if you're deep in the woods. Ya gotta joint 'em. Take each quarter."

He pointed the knife at the bag. "We got tourniquets in there. Tie ya off, so there's no bleed-out while we work. You answer us, or I'm gonna take you apart, piece by piece."

He fought down a sick feeling in his stomach, clenched his fists to still the shake in his hands. Then he moved quick as lightning, grabbing Belyaev's right index finger. His knife bit deep, into the joint right at the base, and he brought the razored blade around in a quick and practiced motion. Flesh parted and the man screamed, then the finger came free with a wet pop.

Dave threw it on the floor and walked away.

"That's one. For my Ava. Got five more to go. Then I start countin' again."

Priscilla heard a loud yelp from the barn, muffled by it’s damp wooden walls. She teetered on the edge of an old wooden stool, leaning on the railing of the house's porch. The others were going to work on the spy. She only held a gun to his head and a cold eye to eye while he was being tied down but the rest she wanted no part of, none of her business. They were owed this catharsis. If they needed some Russian flair to bluff some information they’d call her; otherwise, she was only interested in chatting and termination.

When they arrived Priscilla burned both Russian dossiers and trashed the laptop. She watched the footage before wiping it. What they did wasn’t smart. Hardly practical. Civilian lives were on the line, their cover in a soft compromise, and public execution.

The brief covered the mash-up task force she was to link up with but she wasn’t expecting these animals. She had no doubts about their prowess. It was the manner of handling each challenge. Even her echelon adjacent to Ground Branch didn’t get this dirty. After the snatch, if the team didn’t cooperate to deflect the cops, the mandate was to evacuate all liability. Pulling it off on all three would be a miracle and she was reluctant to even think about it.

A cool breeze meandered the clearing around the safehouse rustling the loose ends of a weathered tarp covering some rows of wood. Her gut was saying this is something deeper that she’s been cast full force. No games, no seasoning, no witnesses.

>1700...///

The barn smelled of blood. The air was rank with the dirty-metal stink of it, the dirt floor around the chair on which Belyaev had sat sodden. What was left of him was slumped back, eyes to the sky, a wet red smile gaping beneath his chin.

Dave's arms were bloodied to the elbows. He'd shed his flannel, and the white wifebeater beneath was smeared crimson where he had wiped his hands between cuts. He was sweating, both from sickness and exertion.

"I'm goin' outside. Need some air." Dave said. His voice was calm, level. Numb. He absently wiped the blade of his knife on his shirt and slid it into its soft leather sheath, then made for the door. "I'll see y'all in a minute."

Ghost watched him go, then looked around the room.

"Obviously we're burning the barn," he said. He nudged Belyaev's left shin with the toe of his boot. The cuts at the knee and ankle were respectably clean. Smooth, like a butcher's work. "I'm not a janitor."

“Safehouse is still operational,” Poker said, watching Lucky stumble outside. He remembered his first too, and if Lucky was smart he’d get used to this. “Gotta keep it clean for some other assholes. Gotta do this the old fashioned way.”

Outside, Priscilla had been pacing around the property. They were at it for nearly four hours. Lucky had it his way, if the cries didn’t tell.

“No, no. No! Just leave it in there, what’s the big deal?” She chuckled on the phone and leaned against one of the wood beams holding up the porch awning. “That’s alright, I’ll fix it when I get back.” Her friend Lauren back in D.C. was the closest she had to family in any normal sense. “Awww Picasso! Yeah he does that just make sure you get him the stick one, you know —the treat stick, whatever.”

The clacking of the barn doors opening seized her attention and she saw a disheveled Lucky exit dressed in murder. “Hey, Lala, yes. Lala I have to go, thank you soooo much again. Ok. Bye.” Her smile faded then she slipped the phone into her pocket.

“Discrete.” Sarcasm in her voice as she eyed the film of blood crusting on his hands.

Dave raised a hand to her as he walked hurriedly around the side of the barn, a hasty gesture of acknowledgement. Once he was out of sight he doubled over as his stomach purged itself of the last four hours. He heaved until he was empty, then staggered back to lean against the weathered wall.

His guts were empty, but still sour. He was sick, not just physically but at his core. Dave looked down at his bloodied hands, swallowing hard.

The first cuts had been easy. Satisfying. Cathartic, almost. But that had faded fast, and by then he was too far along to stop. In the end he'd been cutting the man just because Poker told him to, and he was too deep in to quit. It had been a relief when he'd finally been told to wrap things up and he was able to draw his knife across the man's throat.

Dave looked at his hands again, tried to imagine touching Ava with those bloodstained things, or his son, and immediately he clamped down on the thought, closing his eyes to force it away.

"Not doin' anybody any damn good," he muttered. He took a sucking breath and centered himself through sheer force of will. "Alright. Bitch later. Work now."

He thumped the wall of the barn with his fist, took one last breath, and then walked back around the corner to where he'd seen Priscilla by the porch.

She had witnessed this deliberate brutality before, had to watch, listened to the tortured screams of prisoners while she sat idle at her husband's mercy. Somehow this time seemed even more cruel; there was no jihad.

Priscilla muttered something in another language then silently watched him approach. Some of the color had returned to Lucky's face but she could smell the blood, sweat and pain. "There's a shower in the bedroom, make sure you get your nails." She feigned a smile and made a claw gesture.

Dave grimaced, not even attempting a smile. Instead he joined her on the porch, leaning his elbows on the rail. Then he stared at the barn in silence for a few moments.

"I know I fucked up," he said. He thought back on the gas station, on the vengeful burst he'd sent through the windshield and into the driver's skull. "I uh… I ain't been myself lately."

That excuse sounded lame even to his own ears and he grimaced again, waving a hand as though to rewind things.

"I'm sorry, 'bout that. For puttin' you an' Ghost in that position. I just… There's been some shit. You know?"

During the silence she garnered all of the optimism she had, at least he had some feeling other than anger. "Yeah...” A measure of compassion in her voice. “We've all been there. Even those two, maybe more than once."

Priscilla turned from him. It was sketchy business, and even if he didn’t shoot it might have been a fight anyway. It crossed her mind this assignment was clean-up for these sorts of fuck-ups; though, the situation was fucked from the start, since whatever happened to their team. She blamed herself for not protesting enough.

“Nothing happened. Three Russians died and the police are returning to their families. I would have done it differently… but nothing to be sorry for.” she said, impartial, wondering what kind of shit was had.

Dave nodded in thanks, a small bit of the day's burden lifting. There would still be a reckoning with Ghost and Poker he was sure, but at least he'd gotten one third of his apology out of the way.

"How long are you with us?" He asked, looking over at her for the first time since he'd begun speaking. "Russians probably ain't done, and I can guarantee we're goin' after whoever's left."

"I'm here to see the Russian objective through. After that... it's not up to me." She said, looking towards the ground. "I guarantee more screwing up means you'll be seeing more of me though." Priscilla smirked and twisted the heel of her boot into the dirt.

“Yeah, fair enough,” Dave grunted. He wasn’t sure what Priscilla knew, or how much he could tell her. But he felt like he owed her something. Some kind of explanation as to why he’d turned things into a shit show. He stared into the middle distance until he’d made up his mind.

“They killed my team,” he said. “All of ‘em. My...My girl, too.” He blinked rapidly, forced away tears through sheer will, and felt himself getting angry all over again. He clamped down on that, too. “I’m the only one left. So...I know it ain’t an excuse, but...Now you know.”

Priscilla felt for him hard. She wanted to slap him for opening that emotional door, he was dealing with a lot of trauma. She couldn't see him going to the others for support, they'd slug him in the arm and stick some chew in his teeth. There was a place for that masculine suppression, where that most efficient padding can mean survival. This was the time but it wouldn't last. Once the crew dissolves and entomb themselves in their distant homes the pain starts to leak out, tearing past the binds that keep from violence, hatred and despair.

"I'm sorry." Her hazel eyes expressed more than her flat voice. Any more acknowledgement and it could unsettle her own trauma, expose her vulnerabilities. "No matter how many Russians you get your hands on, that hole of sorrow will always be there. Just, " she produces an archaic gesture from her childhood. Kissing her fingers, to her chest, to her head. "Honor them and they'll be part of you again." Coy, from old scriptures she didn't much believe anymore.

"Until then, think you got it? Our day could be next."

“Yeah, I got it,” he said. He looked at his bloody hands again. “I need a shower. I’ll...Go do that, I guess. You take it easy.”

>POKER AND GHOST...///

Poker figured they’d earned this break. Lucky had done alright, though he’d turned pale and his zealousness for revenge had seemingly turned robotic by the sixth finger. By the time he’d given the go-ahead to slit Belyaev’s throat when they’d gotten enough information out of him, Poker was surprised Lucky didn’t just blow chunks all over his face. He’d made no move to clean up since Lucky left, and he and Ghost shared the barn in silence for a bit after the two of them had put Tex’s bag of toys away.

“Say what you want about Tex, the man knew how to break someone.” Poker said, reaching beside himself for the mug of coffee he’d gotten from out of the Safehouse, “Shame they didn’t even have beer in the fucking fridge. I’d pour some out for the three of them we lost.”

Even though there wasn’t much mourning plain on Poker’s face, he would admit that seeing the bastard that orchestrated the deaths of his and Tex’s teams had some pleasure to it, “Goddamn, how many roster changes has it been now?” He spoke to Ghost, knowing he never really grew too attached to anyone, as much as it was useful, Poker still found it a bit creepy some days, “Three? Four?”

Ghost frowned, furrows appearing in his granite face. "Full wipes? Three. Nevada, Bolivia, now Alaska. As for regular attrition I couldn't tell you."

He gave a negligent shrug. He remembered the desperate times, the life-or-death struggles where casualties mounted and THUNDER risked annihilation. The times where he got to shine.

The ones and twos, though, those ran together. They were a fact of life, a thinning of the herd, and for the most part those deaths never left any more of an impression on Ghost than the people themselves had.

"This is the first time I walked away without a scratch though," Ghost said. "I got shot the last two times."

“Yeah, I remember.” Poker winced, a hand going to his stomach as he sipped his coffee, the metallic stink in the back of his throat didn’t seem to bother him except for reminding him of other times it did, “I was right there next to you, sniper got me too. He was fucking good, even Maui had to take his time with that asshole.”

“Dying Queen’s hair black and sending him into that fucking club in Mexico. He never should’ve come out the other side of that one.” Poker snorted, “Almost didn’t, actually. You, me, and Tex had to pick him up, double back and then catch the Sicarios at a red light.”

“And then the day after, goddamn. Now that was a firefight.” Poker smiled wistfully.

Ghost nodded, his mind ticking back over the stories as Poker related them. Mexico had been a shit-show even by THUNDER standards, but one they had remarkably all survived. He had vivid memories of having a bullet hole patched up by a drunk vet in Matamoros, one who didn't seem to care that they'd liquidated twelve of his CDG employers fifteen minutes before.

"We should go back to Mexico," he said. "Once we get the new roster filled. Make it a final exam, after I have them trained. Maybe take out a Golfo boss." He paused.

"Need to find us a Mexican. Queen could at least talk to people down there."

“Yeah, teach me some of that Spanish so I know what the fuck to say when someone calls me a pinche chino.” He chuckled, remembering that Brujo Tex was taking apart in that basement somewhere in Juarez screaming that at him before he knew how fucked he was, “Maybe we should do a Sinaloa. You know, that flock of assholes Carlisle was with. I mean, shit, maybe we go to New York when things cool off and fuck with the Bratva, the, uh… Tadjbegskye.”

“That way Program doesn’t give us shit for extracurricular activities. Pin it as official business.” Poker shrugged. “Need a Mexican, another Asian too. Tired of you white motherfuckers being everywhere I look at Langley. At least Brain was half… something. Costa Rican? I dunno.”

"I'll kill more Russians," Ghost said. He put his hands on his hips. "So are we done with the split-tail out there?"

“Just about, you ask me.” Poker shook his head, “Useful though. Can’t say she isn’t smart. Real question is if she’s done with us.”

Poker looked to Ghost, “I don’t trust CIA though. We got lucky with Tex, but she isn’t Tex. I don’t know what they told her about us, but she starts acting fucky, well…” The rest didn’t need saying.

Ghost simply nodded. He was still suspicious of Bajbala. She was a solid agent, that much was clear, but the CIA was to be trusted even less than the Program itself, and she was supposed to be a wetwork specialist. Like him. Predators knew their own.

He stared at the barn floor for a moment. Poker was one of the only men Ghost came close to trusting, and that was because the man was as savage a survivor as Ghost himself.

"TEMPEST," Ghost said suddenly. "Remember them? Catastrophic security breach, three survivors."

It was a decade old THUNDER op, a cleanup among their own.

"If things look like they're headed that way, I have a...List," Ghost said. "Interested?"

Poker snorted, “More like no survivors.” His wolf’s grin was on his face remembering that Op. it was about the closest THUNDER got to being evenly matched… barring Noatak, but that was Mickey Mouse surprise bullshit that he didn’t like. Most likely because he didn’t think of it himself, “They had three of them. Priscilla only got herself. Just might shorten that list by one.

Poker’s phone began to buzz, Foster, “Top.” He said, shaking the phone in his hand for Ghost to see, the Caller ID reading as CIAsshole, “Hello, big boy.” He said in a teasing, shit-eating tone as he walked out of the barn.

>1929...///

Sleep wouldn’t come. He’d showered away Belyaev’s blood, soaking in the hot spray until his knotted muscles had finally unwound, but Dave found that he was unable to do anything but lie on his back and stare at the ceiling. When he closed his eyes he saw the ruin he’d left in the barn, or bright blood on white snow.

With sleep not in the offing, he’d found his way to the safehouse porch. He sat in the fading light, watching the sky darken bit by bit as the sun sank.

Seeing Poker outside his plates and without a gun in his hand might have been odd for anyone outside THUNDER. Without it on, he looked surprisingly normal, like your average everyday prick you could find walking down the street. Inside a bar, maybe, waiting for a chance to come punch you in the jaw for just being there. He stood in the Safehouse doorway, looking out at the sunset and the deeply darkening sky. The velvet creeping against the bloody orange.

The two of them stayed there like that for a bit, not saying a word to each other. Just sharing the silence. Wordlessly, Poker offered something that sloshed quietly in his hands. A fifth of whiskey, halfway down. Wild Turkey, “Here.”

Dave looked at the whiskey, then took it with a nod. He took a long pull, relishing the harsh burn.

“Ain’t like my gramps makes, but it’s good stuff,” he said. “Thanks.” He passed the bottle back.

“You havin’ trouble windin’ down, too?”

Poker shrugged, not one to give in and start spilling his guts. The whole weeping into your brothers’ arms thing was something he left in the past with his badge and his gun. There was no crying in THUNDER. You just picked up a gun and made things right again. “Someone needs to mourn those assholes.” He said, pouring some out on the lawn in front of the porch, “Ghost won’t do that. Ghost doesn’t have to know I did. Long as they do, that’s fine.”

“How’s it feel, killer?” Poker asked, taking a pull of his own off the bottle and then looking at Lucky sidelong.

“Honestly? Not great, man,” Dave sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “That ain’t me. Or...It didn’t used to be. Won’t cry about it, don’t do any good anyway, but…” He shook his head. “I dunno. I’ll do what needs doin’. Same as I have been. An’ I’ll keep my head, next time. I know I fucked up.”

“Good.” Poker nodded once, nothing else for a bit. Not that there was anything else needed. Either Lucky was a liar and he’d let Ghost deal with liars like he always did, or he’d hold strong. Either way didn’t bother Poker, “Because this isn’t just about you. It’s not even some boogeyman threat to national security or about protecting the homeland.”

“It’s not even about me. So, next time you’re thinking about blowing off a little steam, scream into a pillow or punch a wall. Don’t blast someone in the face and get the cops called.” Poker turned to look at Lucky, “Maui, Queen, Tex. They deserve this. What we’re doing right now.”

“So, get your head straight. Whatever you need to do. Don’t fuck up twice, Lucky.” Poker just spoke facts, no hard feelings, just stern facts, “Make sure everybody gets to see another sunrise. I know he told you that one, he wouldn’t fucking shut up about that shit when I knew him. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Poker took another pull from the bottle and offered it again to Lucky.

Dave nodded in silence, taking the rebuke for what it was. He took the bottle and after a good slug he looked back at Poker.

“So do we have a plan?” He asked. “I mean, what’s comin’ next? I ain’t heard from Foster, I don’t know if UMBRA is scrapped, or the investigation is gonna get passed off.”

“You’re on the shelf until Foster knows what to do with you. We stay here and wait until Foster has another target for us. Those names Belyaev gave us need to be verified.” Poker took the bottle when Lucky handed it back and pulled off it, “Until then, while we’re here. Assume someone is listening.”

He didn’t have to say who. The only unknown among them, and she might’ve been CIA, but TRIDENT might have been Program until they pulled their triggers, “Get some sleep when you can.”

Poker left Dave on the porch. Minutes ticked by, the sun got a little lower, and the sky got a little darker. Around these parts, there were more trees, actual woods and everyone had learned to fear the dark in this line of work. The TV inside switched on in the living room, Poker sitting to the side of it, not wanting to let the window or the front door out of his peripheral.

Dave sat and watched the sun disappear beneath the horizon. The trees were cast in deepening shadow, until they finally vanished from view. He sighed, looking up at the moon, then felt the hair on his neck rise. He loved nature. He’d spent his whole life in it, and now his woodsman’s senses were picking up a sound that didn’t belong. The high, whining squeal of brakes.

He moved at once, going into the safehouse and beelining for his gear.

“Poker, we’ve got a vehicle somewhere down the road,” he said as he picked up his vest. “Ain’t got lights on either, an’ that ain’t right.”

Poker’s eyes went from the TV to Dave. He frowned for a second, then looked outside the window and shook his head, “No.” he looked at Dave, “Don’t think it is.”

Poker reached behind the couch and dragged his vest over, slipping it over his shoulders and buckling the side. His rifle was next to it, and with a quick brass check, he was up with Dave. “Go get Ghost.” Poker said, kneeling down behind the couch with its back to the window. Wasn’t much for cover, but concealment would have to do, “He sleeps light.”

Dave nodded, running for the back room where Ghost had made his lair. He banged the door open and pulled up short, raising a hand when he found himself unexpectedly looking down the barrel of a rifle.

“What?” Ghost growled. The big man had stripped to his boxers for sleep, but kept his rifle in the bed. Somehow Dave didn’t find that surprising.

“Got a car comin’, no lights on,” Dave said. Ghost nodded.

“Be right there.”

Dave ran back to the living room and made his way to Poker.

“He’ll be here in a minute,” he said. “You know he sleeps with that rifle?”

Poker shrugged, nodded, “Most of us do after Arkansas...” Poker chewed slowly on a stick of gum, his narrowed eyes sharp as knives as he stared almost unblinking out the window with the TV now off, “No visual. You’re sure you heard something? My show was getting good.”

“Positive,” Dave said. He’d retrieved his AK and clutched the rifle as he stared out into the darkness. “Brakes squealin’ down the road, I know that sound.”

As he was speaking Ghost arrived, dressed in cargo pants and boots and with his plate carrier on over a bare chest.

“Status?” He growled.

“Lucky heard brakes on the road about five hundred meters away, east, no headlights.” Poker shook his head, eyes still out that window and scanning, “Still no visual.”

Poker saw a flash, “Wha-“

The wet thwack that followed glass breaking had put Poker on his ass. Lucky for him, he was alive enough to start stringing together swears as he scrambled back behind the couch.

Dave swore as well, pulling back out of the line of fire.

“You hit?” He asked. He looked out into the darkness and then pulled back. “I can’t see a fuckin’ thing.” Beside him Ghost’s rifle spat twice as the big man sent a careful pair of rounds into the night.

“Aim at the muzzle flash,” he said.

“Yes.” Poker answered Licky. The sound of a car starting could be heard faintly from outside, and then a pair of headlights coming on in the distance. Back inside and behind the couch, Poker swore again, “Where the fuck’s Maui when you need his big Hawaiian ass.” His hand was covering a blooming splotch of red in his white shirt.

There was another sound, an engine revving for all it had and the living room got brighter little by little.

“Move!” Ghost’s shout elicited an immediate response from Dave, courtesy to the time he’d spent training under the big man. Both of them darted away from the window in time for a red car to come slamming through the window and wall. Dave’s adrenaline-spiked mind somehow noted that it was a Toyota, then he raised his AK and sent a tight triplet into the driver’s face.

Poker was up after the carnage of the wall had begun to settle, dust, insulation and shattering glass all around. He was still clutching his bleeding stomach as he held his sights over the driver, the sole occupant of the Toyota. He carefully advanced with the others until he could see inside, and what greeted his eyes didn’t make sense at first. All the windows were rolled down on the Corolla, and driving it was an overweight, blonde woman. He could only tell that much and only that much on account of Lucky’s big 7.62s ripping her face off. Hanging on a piece of jaw was a ribbon of silver duct tape. And in her hand was a detonator rigged as a dead-man’s switch to a backpack in the passenger seat.

“Get away!” Poker yelled as he turned and ran.

Dave swore and spun on his heel, sprinting for the hallway. He grabbed Ghost by the dead-drag of his plate carrier as he passed, hauling the big man with him in a cloud of profanity.

The light rattling of gunfire was tied with the sounds of nature in Priscilla's home country, where conflict and war persist in their thousand-year heritage. Normally, it's the call of a rooster but it barely shook her from a cold sleep. Brought on by reminiscing across from Belyaev's bagged corpse in the cooling barn and passing out. The blare of an engine and crashing pulled her out of her peace.

She jumped up from the long wooden chest she had been laying on. It took some shuffling on the ground to find her footing amidst the craggy floor. The cold started to seep in through her jacket. Priscilla pulled the makarov from her bag as she moved a distant angle around the half opened barn door, peering out into the moonlit glade from the pitch black interior. Her heart was pounding, her thoughts shifting between what, who, where.

Before Bajbala’s mind could straighten things out, another explosion blew a huge cloud of dust through the gaping hole already in the house. The windows shattered outwards from the violent change of air pressure. Poker’s ears were ringing as he stumbled into the kitchen, not even able to hear his own heartbeat or breathing. His shoulder bumped into one wall, then another. He set himself down in a corner and held his head in one hand, his head throbbing and his balance so off he couldn’t even bring himself to stand. He withdrew his sidearm from its duty holster, the FNP shaking in his hand as he tried to steady himself, “Status!” He called out, his voice still muffled to his own ears, “Lucky! Ghost!”

“We’re good!” Dave’s own voice was choked as he coughed dust from his lungs. “We’re alive!”

“Green!” Ghost snapped beside him. He hauled his bulk upright, grimacing at the sting of a dozen new minor scrapes. He and Dave both had their rifles, thanks in no small part to Ghost’s constant harping about the efficacy of slings in combat. Ghost held his weapon at the low-ready, unwilling to put himself at the mercy of an attack of opportunity. If he was going to drive a bomb into a place, it would be to storm it after. Shooters were coming, and he was going to be ready.

“Poker, what’s your status?” He shouted.

He opened his mouth to speak but the floating pieces of dirt, dust, and drywall stung bitter in the back of his throat. He coughed out, still sitting in his corner. His eyes were still blurred and stinging from the dust still hanging about. A figure in the blurriness, indiscernible except for the fact it was human. “Lucky?”

“Lucky is with me!” Ghost shouted. “He’s green! Where’s the female? Was she in the house?”

Priscilla nearly fell over with the surprise of the blast. All of the dust in the barn jumped into a cloud with the flash of light. Her gut sank.

"Damn…" she mouthed, knowing the team was still in the house. She couldn't see the damage but feared the worst and felt more to come. If she had any luck, whoever it was didn't have her in their sights yet. She waited in the dark of the barn and looked through the doors wide hinges for movement after the blast.

Ghost growled, his eyes tracking the smoke-filled ruins of the safehouse. He was stressed, pissed off, and worst of all unsure. Indecisive. Indecision killed.

"Lucky, on me," he snapped. Dave settled in beside him and the two began moving, rifles up and heads on swivels. "Poker! Moving to your POS, watch your fire!"

As soon as they entered the kitchen, they saw a man larger than Poker dressed in civilian clothes bearing down on him. Poker’s back was pressed against the kitchen sink, teeth bared and straining against the bigger man’s hands, wrapped around the hilt of a knife. The point of it glinted in the dusty moonlight filtering in from the blinds as it slowly crept closer and closer Poker’s way, “You motherfucker, fuck you.” Poker growled through his gritted teeth, “You’re fucking dead, you piece of shit.”

Ghost slung his rifle, the sling taking it clear of his hands. He rushed in, drawing his knife and bringing it forward in a sharp thrust. Whether by luck or the simple fact of the big Operator's lumbering footsteps, the man turned at the last second. His forearm moved to block the strike, catching Ghost's wrist and knocking it offline. His own blade came around and Ghost rolled his hips, grabbing the man's jacket and slinging him clear, his mass and strength coming into play as he flung the enemy away and to the ground. He took up a fighting stance, knife tucked close and off-hand slightly forward, a feral grin on his face.

"Come on, pussy," he growled. "Come on. Let's play, bitch!"

The other man was back on his feet in mere seconds, practiced movements and a practiced stance. He kept his eyes on Ghost and Lucky, the other man with his rifle still refusing to shoot. Too many variables in the room, and that’s what he was banking on, his voice muffled by the balaclava, “I’m gonna dig those fucking eyes out of your skull, Ghost.”

The man came on quick enough to rival even Poker’s speed with a knife, lunging forward at Ghost’s face. Poker himself was still holding his gunshot wound on his lower abdomen as he watched the first moves of this deathmatch.

Ghost met the first thrust with an off-hand parry, knocking the blade aside. His counter attack was quick and clean, a hard thrust that sank the Camillus to the hilt in the man's belly and then neatly retracted it. Both men moved like lightning, blades flickering as Ghost followed with a backswing aiming to disembowel the stranger. It whiffed past as the man stepped right, and his own quick counter left a deep cut across Ghost's powerful thigh. They broke apart and Ghost snarled.

"I'm gonna wear your fucking face," he said. "Strip that mask, see who you are, then cut your fucking face off."

“Maybe if that pussy over there took his shot!” With the last word came another lunge, a feint for the face and then the groin, going for the femoral artery.

Ghost watched him move, read his body and took a gamble. He raised his hand to shield his face, then pulled his foreword leg back, the blade missing him by a quarter of an inch at most. His own blade flicked out, a swift one-two swipe, and it bit twice into the stranger's forearm before it retracted.

"Don't you fucking dare, Lucky!" Ghost snapped. His blood was singing through his veins, his every sense stretched to the limit. He was alive. "Don't you fucking ruin this for me!"

“Fuck you, Ghost!” The Stranger, already bleeding from multiple, deep cuts still came at Ghost again unheeding. His knife struck out quick as a viper looking to taste Ghost’s neck.

Ghost saw the blade coming, knew there was little he could do to stop it. The strike was reckless, lightning quick, and all Ghost could do was raise his shoulder and duck his head, tucking his chin to protect his throat. The knife laid open his cheek to the bone, grating on teeth, but Ghost stepped in, unwilling to lose his momentum. His arm pistoned out and he felt the blade part flesh, felt hot blood on his wrist as he drove all six inches of the blade up beneath the man's ribs before he pulled it back.

Dave watched the contest in awe, his stomach twisting with each ugly blow. His sights followed the stranger, but he obeyed Ghost, holding his fire.

With a gasp that sounded like a tub drain sucking in water, the Stranger stumbled back, colliding violently with the kitchen counter. His shaking leg gave out on him and he sprawled face first on the floor. The gun Poker had disarmed him of before the bloody duel was inches from his reaching fingers. He drew in another wet breath and coughed, spraying bloody spittle across the floor, “Fuck…”

Ghost watched him fall with a savage satisfaction. The gash on his face stretched his grin into a leer, bloody teeth showing where the cheek had drooped. It had been a good fight. A great fight.

He dropped to a knee on the man's back, put the point of his knife against the base of his skull, then shoved hard. Sever the brain stem, end the pain. The guy deserved it after a show like that. Ghost pulled the knife free and wiped it on the man's shirt, then pulled the balaclava off.

“What the fuck…” Poker pushed off from the counter and knelt down next to the Stranger. He grabbed two fistfuls of his jacket and hauled him over onto his back. A pool of black blood spread out from the back of his neck as they all took in the face they were looking at, “Bear.

"Oh what the fuck is this?" Dave said. He stared at the body, feeling a sense of vertigo. He'd killed that man. Blown his fucking face off for what he'd done to Ava. He raised a shaky hand and wiped at his forehead.

"Bullshit is what it is," Ghost growled. The ugly wound in his face slurred his words, helping to mask the sudden twist of anxiety in his guts. He shoved his knife into its sheath and brought his rifle around, then put three rounds in the body's skull at close range.

"Poker, you good to move? We'll stress about this later."

Poker stared down, unblinking even with the sharp cracks of Ghost’s rifle. He swallowed, “Yeah. Gotta,” he cleared his throat, shaking his head and looking at the others, “Gotta get this wound treated.”

He made his way out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Let’s get rid of that fucking body… we still have a Safehouse to keep.”
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead

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>ANCHORAGE SAFEHOUSE, EN ROUTE TO
>11SEP2019
>0900...///

The road was a thin ribbon of asphalt that wound through the woods and mountains, the late summer rapidly vanishing into autumn under the morning sun, the air still brisk from the night. It had been years since he had been up this way but the operator remembered the routes. He had a knack for it, a quick study of a map or visit a place once and it was etched deep into his memory.

Under his thick black beard and the dark Locs covering his eyes, it was hard to make out his features other than the deep olive skin and the occasional flash of smile at his own private joke. His tactical gear was mostly deep green digital camouflage, mixed in with grays and a black t-shirt under the jacket and plate carrier. He was a CORAL NOMAD operator, more anonymous than any other Working team. His call sign was not even velcroed to his gear, only a blank spot for it. They were the ones who asked no questions and gave no answers, who mopped up after whatever the teams left behind or whatever was left of the teams.

It was a quiet drive and he itched to turn on some music, the man beside him probably would not object. Sobel, or as the operator called him, Spooky, was a man of few words. Maybe he would not object, maybe he would not even mind but he might look at him in that way and it was one of the few times he felt fear from one of his own.

“Hey, Spider,” he said, glancing in the rearview mirror at the woman in the back seat. She was also dressed in similar gear though hers was more black and gray toned but also without a name plate. Her glare told him what she thought of the call sign he had christened her with when she joined their team. He had taken one look at the tall lanky woman with legs forever unfold herself from a chair and the name stuck.

“Wanna play Slug Bug?” he asked. “Maybe I-Spy is more appropriate?”

She shook her head, then narrowed her dark eyes, “I spy with my little eye an asshole that’s not keeping his attention on the road. That’s Zeus.”

He shrugged and smirked under his beard, “Are you always this much fun at parties? Lighten up, Mama, we have had a long night. Ever been to Alaska? I’ve been a few times, first time I came up right after highschool. Hitched it all the way from Texas.”

“Sure you did,” she said, glancing at the back of Sobel’s head. He was always so quiet but never not working, she could almost see the gears grinding. About the four in the other car, the prisoners. Spider had been witness to some of his interrogations, not by her own choice in the matter but because she was the medic and they had to stay alive. He was careful, very methodical but the human body was both resilient and remarkably fragile at the same time.

“Oh yeah, right up through the Rockies,” he laughed, “The farther north I went, the less Mexican I became, suddenly I was from whatever local tribe was there. It was fun though, white girls thought I was exotic when I said I was from the Aztec tribe.”

His dark eyes hidden behind the black lenses of the shades gleamed, “I bet even you would have too back in those days.”

“I doubt that,” she said, her sharp features giving no hint of a smile. “My tastes have been the same.”

“Ah, that’s just because you never had the chorizo, only the bolillo,” he chuckled.

“Gross.”

Spider leaned back, turning her face to watch out the windows as the sun gleamed off the distant snow capped peaks, bathing them in golden light and was just now reaching the deep forested river valleys. They had left after dawn from the airport, the Safe House should not be far. Despite her distaste for his humor, Zeus never failed to get them where they needed to be.

“How much longer?” Foster spoke up from the back, next to Spider. His shades had been glued to his face since it got light enough to justify them. He scrolled on his phone looking at work emails, Intel reports. Whatever kept him looking busy and unapproachable.

“Shouldn’t be long now. Fifteen minute ETA.” Sobel too had his shades, but he busied himself with looking out at the countryside and committing it all to memory. Something to recall alongside his Idaho plains when he needed calm. He turned to his Mexican compatriot in the driver seat, “Fifteen?”

Si, Jefe,” he agreed, “Maybe thirteen mikes, if the following car doesn’t lag again. pinche mamon doesn’t know how to follow. He’s either on my ass or falling too far.”

“You picky, bitch,” Spider said, then gave a side eye at Foster. He wasn’t one of their team and it made her a little nervous. She fell silent, her brooding features left a mystery of her genetic origin, perhaps a blend of Native American or Northern Europe, maybe even a little of the East but she never bothered saying.

Zeus turned off the main highway, flicking a glance at the rearview mirror to see the SUV behind them following too close again. Asshole. At least they were close to Safe House and likely not going to be ambushed but the chance was always there and he did not need the car with the assets putting its nose up his ass.

“Gonna have a talk with Junior about his driving,” he muttered, “Ten minutes, ETA. We’re in the woods now, keep your eyes out Spider. All of them.”

“Fuck you,” she murmured, trying not to show a hint of laughter, watching the trees flit by as they moved.

It was indeed ten minutes on the dot when the SUVs came roaring up to the Safe House. Or what was left of it.

“What the fuck?” Zeus said, “What the fuck these putos been up to?”

He pulled to a stop and honked, tapping out a rough version of La Cucharacha and then stepped out, leaving his door open and he slung his rifle up. Spider could see the damage right away and reached to grab her medical bag, putting it over her shoulder.

“Are we clear to go?” she asked, still new to the game after her stint as an Air Force medic somehow tripped and fell down the stairs into this dark hole. “What the hell happened?”

Sobel dismounted, closing his door and removing his sunglasses. There was a gigantic hole in the Safehouse, filled with detritus. The chassis of what looked like a responsible family sedan was peeking out from the hole. “Get the detainees inside, don’t worry about the house.” Sobel looked to Spider, “Lead Foster to the barn with the detainees. Zeus and I will introduce ourselves.”

...///

Spider climbed out of the SUV, in her combat boots she was just over six feet tall and long limbed, her trim figure hidden under the layers of tactical gear. She left her rifle slung across her chest and her medical kit on her back as she walked over to the other car. A young man in the driver’s seat had an eager look about him, with close cropped blonde hair so fair he might as well have been bald.

“Let’s unload them,” she said, passing his window and going to the passenger door, opening it. There were four of them and they had been quiet mostly. She did not know who they were or why they were picked up and she liked it better that way.

Spider took the arm of the first one, “Step out, just follow my lead. There you go.”

She led them to Junior who stood with the chain wrapped around his hand and an eager dog that had been picked up along with him. One of those spotted breeds that got popular, Spider was not sure what it was called. She was a cat person.

With Junior and Foster, they lead the hooded detainees into the barn. It was old and run down, it smelled of must and something else, something almost rusty. Her nostrils flared slightly at the sight of the single chair and the dog that had been brought along immediately began sniffing around it.

“Here,” she said, bringing one of the detainees over to the wall, “Take a seat, get comfortable. It might be awhile.”

Spider helped each one to sit as it was difficult with their hands zip tied behind their backs, none giving her an issue save one. Even under the hood she sensed the aggression and said little to him other than basic instructions.

“Junior, get that dog away from there,” she snapped, looking at the younger operator sharply as the dog kept digging around the stained floorboards.

“I’m gonna take him out for a walk,” he announced, enjoying the duty of a dog sitter compared to dealing with shackled detainees. Spider was left with them and she asked, “Does anyone need to piss, raise your hand?”

The joke was unappreciated without Zeus around.

She found a bucket in the corner of the barn and hoped it was not leaky. Spider set it down and glanced at Foster, “I’ll go get them some water.”

“Do that, please. Unload the polygraph too.” Foster said, slipping his phone into his pocket and giving Spider the most eye contact he’d given everyone since the pickup. He put his hands in his suit pants pockets and looked down at the four individuals, “We’re going to find out if you’re telling me the truth. I wouldn’t want to be you if you’re lying.”

...///

Bajbala peeked past the kitchen window curtains at the sound of crunching gravel breezing in through the open-concept living room. They were expected, but she would wait for them to dismount before any judgment.

The team was sporadically lounging in propped furniture about the kitchen. Not much of the small house was without loads of debris and the cold Alaskan draft. They should have moved to another location but their comms equipment was damaged and a secure channel to CORAL NOMAD was too distant.

Throughout the night priscilla and Lucky periodically checked the perimeter, likely because they didn't trust her to do it alone. A crash, exchange of fire, bomb, and knife fight later she was immaculate, a rubbing of old wood on her jacket from laying on the chest.

"Poker, I believe your friends are here." She broke the silence with a smile. Through the pane of glass musical horns mocked their solemnity.

Poker was patched through to the exit wound, bleeding settled, but he would still need a check to make sure his guts were in order. Ghost was back behind her as well. His face was closed up after an hour long stitching ordeal. It wasn't perfect, but the clean cut made it relatively easy. She shook off the feeling in her neck when he snarled through the gash as she worked on him. Grunting not in pain but anger or maybe some primal baying as he relished in victory, embracing the disfigurement through every stitch.

Ghost perked up when he heard Priscilla, rising from his seat on the hood of the ruined car. He'd put on a jacket in deference to the weather, the clean garment at odds with his ripped cargo pants and bloodied face. He hefted his rifle.

"Lucky, on me," he said. Dave fell in beside him and watched Foster take a pack of hooded and bound people into the barn. He sighed and grabbed his AK.

"Let's do this."

Sobel had his hands in his pockets as he looked towards the others. The assembled four looking like they had quite the night. So did the house. “Zeus, with me.” He looked to two other plain clothes NOMADs, faces obscured by black neck gaiters, “Face, Tripod, you’re with me too.”

The two operators nodded and followed Sobel. All of the parties involved were armed to the teeth, and after the evidence of whatever had happened last night, he didn’t blame the others. His MP9 hung from the single point sling, bouncing on his stomach as he walked. When he got to a respectable distance from THUNDER and Bajbala, he removed his sunglasses. Pale, blue eyes regarded each of them for a few personal seconds. One by one, cold predator’s eyes took them in like a butcher eyeing a line of sheep. They hung on Lucky and suddenly Sobel’s face twitched to a friendly smile as if seeing an old friend after years.

“David, hello.” Was all he gave the other man before speaking to them all, “The barn is now under mine and Foster’s purview in connection to an adjacent investigation which none of you have clearance for. Until the end of the investigation, you are to keep back from the barn or risk injury or death.”

The friendly smile was gone in an instant. He remembered hosting Dave and his team some time ago, keeping appearances and making them feel as at home as he could. But there was now something in his eyes that made him more like Poker, or the other rough and tough trigger-pullers in the Program. Nothing friendly, and Sobel was more than comfortable dropping the friendly veneer and cutting deep to the bone of the matter, “I hope I’m understood.”

"Injury. Or death." Ghost's words were muffled by the swelling of his injury and the pull of the stitches that held his face together, but there was no missing the growl in his tone. Dave returned Sobel's brief smile, but the hunted look in his eye held a hint of violence, like a man on the edge. His shaggy hair and beard were dirty from the night before, and he seemed to share Ghost's irritation in his stance and the confident grip of his AK.

"Classified, fine, I can accept that," Ghost said. "But don't threaten me." He looked at the NOMAD team. "You or your amateurs."

He paused. "Show me your faces."

Zeus rested his gloved hand on the M-4 that was slung over him and looked through the dark sunglasses, his beard covered now with a black gaiter, hardly a bit of skin visible but his nose and the top of his cheeks. He shook his head minutely, looking over the huge scarred man. The other two operators towered over him but stood back, also dressed from head to toe in tactical gear and none wore name plates. One of them, the taller of the two, wore a skull-faced gaiter and even under the bulky gear his powerful build was obvious. He looked back at Baj in a curious but flat eyed manner, then over at Ghost. He puffed slightly at the challenge but none removed their masks.

“The identities and faces of CORAL NOMAD are classified. Accept that too.” Sobel spoke, not bristling, just stating facts with his flag voice. He took a few steps toward THUNDER, his eyes mirroring Ghost’s under his Oakleys as they held each other’s gazes. The faint smell of ozone just barely noticeable hanging about him the closer he got, “And I don’t make threats. You should all get some rest, it looks like you had a rough night.”

Sobel turned away from Ghost, walking just slow enough back to the three of his own faceless killers to let Ghost know his breadth and growls had no effect on him. He turned around again, hands in his pockets, “You’ll speak to me or Foster. Pretend these people don’t exist.” He said, “Because they don’t.”

Tripod flexed as Sobel laid down the law and Zeus cut his eyes to the young operator and back to Ghost. The Mexican was much shorter and stockier than both but the dark eyes behind the loc sunglasses were quick and calculating. He turned to Sobel as the man walked away and stepped beside him, speaking in a low voice, “Jefe, we should have the medic take a look at them, they’re looking rough. I don’t want to have to shoot that big one. I only brought three magazines.”

“I’ll have Face switch with Spider then.” Sobel said as he walked to the barn.

Priscilla had slapped a stick of gum in her mouth earlier, ostentatiously chewing for the friendly encounter. She stood back, silently leaning on the same awning pole and exchanged glances with the uniformed goons, donning a half smirk for their show with her arms crossed. This operation grew more sour by the hour. She could see there were odds even between NOMAD and the assholes she was already with. Something was playing her a pawn and she was alone.

Zeus watched Sobel leave, the spooky bastard, the faint scent of ozone going with him. He turned, putting his hands on his hips and raised his chin at them, a grin under the gaiter. “Que pasa?,” he asked, looking at the four. “Y’all had a fucking night.”

Tripod said nothing, keeping the CORAL NOMAD silent squirrel image but Zeus was too gregarious by nature to keep stoic and silent long when it was not necessary. These were associated with the detainees and they looked like shit, at least one friendly voice might keep the tension from exploding.

Spider carried her medical bag, pulling the gaiter up over her nose as she made her way to the house. All that could be seen was the tops of her high cheekbones and the dark hooded eyes that peered with a sharp curiosity at the scene before the house. She stepped up, brushing past Tripod in his power stance and rolled her eyes, she could almost smell the stink of bro.

“I’m a medic,” she said simply, glancing over the rough stitching job on the big one’s face. “Don’t mind me, I’m just going to make sure it’s been cleaned properly. Who did this? What did you use?”

She looked between them, her gaze settling on the only one that did not seem hurt. Spider looked her over, a hint of appreciation on her dark gaze.

Priscilla acknowledged the tall woman with her brow and approached, stopping by her side to examine her work closely.

"A slash wound, through and to the bone. I flushed it with water and used peroxide, he also has an antibiotic. Luckily the trauma kit here was good. Even got him a tetanus shot!" She put her hands in Ghost's face and gave him a quick neutral glance to ease the invasion. "I started here... near his lip." Her finger traced along the stitching. "Three layers um, subcutaneous? Then inside his mouth and out." The stitching was amateur, but tight.

Priscilla gave a steady slap to Ghost's shoulder. "I think it looks alright! Can't make much more a monster out of you anyway, am I right?" He was probably tasting the blood that would ooze in his mouth for a week.

Spider nodded, looking at the stitching in the deep laceration that must have laid the man's face open. "Good work for what you had."

Her dark gaze met Ghost's eyes, "Any other injuries that need attention before I move on?"

Priscilla pointed to Poker with her eyes. "He's got a bullet wound through and through. Bandaged and no bleeding I can tell, but you should take a look." She left it.

Out of the barn came Foster, the suited man that looked every bit the seasoned CIA Operations Officer that everyone but Priscilla knew. Little did she know, Priscilla’s dossier was slid across his desk a few weeks before at his request. It’s a shame the team she was supposed to augment with her particular set of skills was now six feet deep in the monumental shit-show that was Alaska. Almost as bad as the HUMINT Asset purge in Syria on behalf of those chucklefucks at the DIA. Jason not counted among those, understandably. Foster’s only man on the inside in Iraq was dead and his 8 year operation was tits up, and any hope of another operation was grounded indefinitely.

His frantic and angry conversation over the phone gave everyone the idea of how he felt about all of that, even if they didn’t know the particulars. A lot of intelligence cases were bust by nature, they told everyone that on The Farm, but this was utter dogshit. He joined the gathering looking none too happy to be there, “Why is there a fucking Corolla in your living room?”

When Foster approached, Spider stood back, waiting for the case officer to finish his questions. She half listened with curiosity though her job had no business with their drama before approaching Poker about his wound.

"Because someone drove it through the fucking wall," Ghost growled. He was accepting the ministrations of the two females without complaint, the model patient. "And then blew it up."

He glared over at Tripod, meeting the man's gaze.

"I killed Bear last night," Ghost said. "From TRIDENT. Except Lucky already blew his fucking face off four days ago, so what the fuck is going on?"

Dave nodded, his face hard at the mention of Bear. The loss of his team was fresh. The loss of Ava. Seeing Foster didn't help. "He ate a burst from my AK in his fuckin' mouth. But he seemed fine last night until Ghost gutted him."

Foster nodded, “We’ve been made aware of,” His eyes flicked to Bajbala, not sure she was read in yet and then deciding it didn’t matter, “Made aware of some hypergeometric activity around the Noatak area. If it calms everyone the fuck down, this is what this adjacent investigation is about.”

“Consider this your debriefing. Fill me in on everything that happened this week, because I got a phone call two days ago saying one of my entire Working Groups got put down save for one guy, and another guy that’s fifteen countries away on indefinite standby.” Foster was fuming at the state of affairs, “Please, enlighten me as to how this all came about.”

Dave shot Foster a baffled look at the mention of hypergeometric activity but held his peace. At the mention of his team his face fell, then quickly hardened.

"TRIDENT," he spat. "Cocksuckers and their CORAL NOMAD buddies turned on us. They… They killed everybody. Just shot 'em down." He swallowed a catch in his throat. "Then…"

"Then we wiped them out," Ghost said. "Killed every one of them. Until our safehouse was attacked last night by a VBIED and a sniper, and I got to dance with Bear in the fucking kitchen."

Priscilla looked around the room at the others. No one knew what was going on –she didn't know what was happening. Foster's words were unfamiliar. She tried to ignore them for now.

"Prior to last night was our blind date. We saw through the Russian assignment, but there was room to be tracked." She passed her eyes over Lucky then spoke to both teams. "If we covered well these rogue agents of yours must have known we'd be here already, I would think. They must know a lot of things. I don't understand how I'm finding out about this now." She said disdainfully, not expecting an answer.

"Because the rogue agents are supposed to be dead," Ghost growled. He clenched a fist on the grip of his rifle.

“We knew about possible moles, but now the GRU is getting a lot more kinetic. I don’t know why, unless we’re onto something they don’t want us near.” Foster mused out loud, “First West Virginia, then Massachusetts, now Alaska. They already took out one of our team, now this.”

“It’s like they’ve got a personal fucking vendetta with us or the case we were working.” Foster shook his head, “Program CI is working through DOD and DOJ channels. Belyaev was just the first, but there has to be more. I find it hard to believe a single GRU Officer in Alaska orchestrated all of this, I want a transcript or a recording, or whatever the fuck from his interrogation.”

“As far as THUNDER is concerned, keep working closely with this asset. Dave… keep doing what you’re doing.” Foster said, then looked to Bajbala, “You. Let’s talk somewhere else.”

Bajbala tensed with his unexpected summons. She hoped he had answers as to why everything was fucked. If it was to be chewed out, she had her own words for him. She silently followed him out of the room avoiding looking at the others as she passed them.

Foster led Bajbala upstairs to one of the bedrooms. He sat at the desk and gestured for her to sit on the bed. When she did, he wasted no time in getting to what she must be wondering at all this time. “Bajbala Shirzad, Project Red Bulb asset in Afghanistan. One half of the failed Operation in the FATA of Pakistan.” Foster nodded, “Not much else other than that but black ink. At one point in time, I would’ve had my friend here to greet you too.”

“But that friend’s dead. Working Group UMBRA is now nothing but a name in my roster. The reason I’m being so forward with you right now, is because as of this moment, the training wheels come off.” Foster said, “We’ve had an eye on you for a while, and even though your exposure to the very unique purview of the Program is… minimal, you’re a good candidate.”

“I’d say you have a choice in the matter, but your paperwork’s already been faxed over and it’s waiting for your signature. So, you’re one of us now.” Foster looked Bajbala up and down, “How’s it feel? Anything yet?”

Bajbala soaked up Foster's proposition with a straight face. "I don't feel anything, I don't understand." He knew details she had nearly passed from memory. She was so young then, those days in the barren mountains with the wailing wind. His matter of fact tone crept up her skin.

"What about my position within the directorate?" She didn't grip it other than being reassigned. Posted to a new billet with the 'program'. It was deeply wrapped in mystery, she almost didn't believe the man.

“You’re still officially CIA, your position isn’t being vacated. As far as anyone knows at Langley, you’ve been indefinitely loaned out to a Joint Counterterrorism Task Force in which everything you do is classified.” Foster shrugged, “I don’t expect you to understand. No one really does until they see it for themselves, but the threats we deal with…”

“Let’s say an international threat, and we’re the ones best equipped to deal with it. Everyone outside of this Safehouse,” Foster shook his head, “They shouldn’t have to know anything about what we do or deal with. How much do you remember about Pakistan?”

Foster produced an envelope, handing it over to Bajbala. Once opened, it had a series of aerial photographs of the AO that Bajbala was operating in during Pakistan, “Maybe these will refresh your memory,” he nodded at the photos in Bajbala’s hands, “Bazir al-Khalwadi was never with the Taliban or Daesh. His activities were rogue, or so we thought. Joseph Donnelley was there.”

“The man you’re supposed to confirm is dead or not. My friend. You both helped to coordinate an executive action order on Bazir when he was compromised before we could get to him, and put the black slabs on the map for the Program.” Foster shook his head, “Anyways, you’re Program now. I want you to take Dave away from those fucking cowboys over there and restock Working Group UMBRA. After Alaska is done, just go back to SAC. Twiddle your thumbs or carry out your assignments, but just wait for a call.”

Foster produced a cheap burner phone not unlike his own from his pocket, tossing it bouncing on the bed next to Bajbala, “You and I hear this a lot, but this conversation never happened and we don’t know each other at Langley. You understand?”

The dutiful soldier in her gravitated towards the mission, the authority, the purpose it provided her. Meanwhile a deep-seated human part of her cried out to run. Foster wasn't being as forthright as he claimed, but Bajbala felt she could trust him this far. It sounded more like she had no choice; he would be in Virginia, somewhere, and he would look for her whether she wanted to be found or not.

"I understand." She said, subdued.

She slipped the photos back into the envelope and snatched the phone. They weren't something she wanted to look at with the current stress. Vague memories of the sights and scents reaffirmed themselves in her consciousness. Voices; one voice a distinctly American man whom she communicated with briefly. She wondered if he was the dead one. All evidence pointed to that fact, however, the dead were rising according to 'Ghost'.

"Then I'll speak with Dave." She stood up to Foster's desk "I do feel something. I feel crazy. Seems to be the normal thing here?" Referring to NOMAD, THUNDER and Foster sounding like a lunatic himself. The only lunatic she'll believe again.

“You get used to it.” Foster stood and straightened his coat, “I’ve got an interrogation to watch.”

>...///

A crack of light from outside shone in the darkness the lamps couldn’t illuminate. Foster stepped inside and sided up with Sobel. They watched the proceedings with sober expressions, the polygraph technician asked the detainees some simple questions to start out, Foster and Sobel only able to see the backs of the detainees heads from where they stood. A man in a priest’s clothes had just finished his turn and the CORAL NOMAD slipped the earmuffs, gag, and hood back over his head before bringing over the next. A middle-age man in civilian clothes.

“Sobel.” Foster said, the man looked over at him and Foster nodded towards the table the detainee was seated at.

Sobel nodded back and relieved the polygraph technician, sitting across from the man. He offered his hands, and the other man was hesitant even to speak. Sobel offered him a smile and said something that seemed to convince him, and he lay his palms against Sobel’s. Sobel closed his eyes and began muttering in whatever that nonsense was that wizards seemed to all know until he froze, stiff…///

Get up…

One more time, мой друг


He gasped, just as a horn blared and he saw the front of a car barreling straight towards him just before he yanked the wheel hard to the right, feeling like the wheel gave him an extra fifty pounds of resistance. The power steering was gone. A scream came from the back of the car he was apparently driving, but he didn’t have time to pay it any mind as he dramatically over-corrected the car, yanking the wheel left in a desperate attempt to right themselves, and then he was spinning like a sheet in a dryer…///

???...///

His eyes fluttered open to blurriness, greenery outside in blobs against a blue sky, sparse clouds drifting above. He forced his eyes to focus again and looked at the movement in the back. His head swam, turning round and round in his skull, pulsing painfully. He groaned, looking around himself and trying to figure out what the fuck was even happening.

“A-are you okay?” He asked on instinct, not even knowing who he was talking to, or who he was, or where he was.

“Uh huh.” Came the voice from the back, and he recognized it, just a bit.

With the recognition came a creeping feeling of anxiety as more and more came back to him. Soon, the two of them were staring at each other in the rearview mirror as they blinked away grogginess and shook their heads. For some reason, he couldn’t explain it, he was starting to feel a burning hot hatred for that face. It began to show plainly in his eyes, though he wasn’t meaning for it to. And then the other person, the woman in the back seat looking like her clothing was far too small for her, looked at him with one part recognition and another part that same burning hatred.

Donnelley…

He turned to look at her, snarling, “You fucking cu-

She hit first, Donnelley not yet knowing why, but he did know it was a fight now. His nose had been bent and he held his right arm against his head to absorb the hard punches She-Ra had been throwing. He reached down to his seatbelt and unbuckled himself, suddenly falling into the roof with a grunt. He was on his back now, and before She-Ra could unbuckle herself too, Donnelley kicked her head back into her seat once, twice, three times. The force of his kicks were fueled by whatever inexplicable hatred he’d had for the woman, and the very explainable anger at having his nose broken.

He just kept kicking, again and again, his hands on the headrests of the front seats to give him leverage and some force as he roared and grunted with each one. By the time he was done, her face was a bloody mess, her lip split completely up to her red-dripping and crooked nostrils as she sucked in haggard, wet breaths through a mouth missing teeth. The muscles in her arms were tense and her hands were quaking fists, the first sign of traumatic brain damage as her eyes lolled back. With the sight of her it all came rushing back. The gunfight. Ava dead, Laine dead. And she was the one who’d dropped Queen like a stone. “Fuck you!”

He reared back another time and jammed his heel into her face once more, and She-Ra fell limp, her ragdoll arms falling to rest against the ceiling. Donnelley was snarling, his lips still curled up, “You fuckin’ bitch. You fuckin’ bitch, you killed him, you fuckin’ bitch!” Donnelley crawled his way towards her, hellbent on exacting his revenge, “You’re not gettin’ out of this fuckin’ car alive.”

He had a sick laugh bubble up from his throat and past his clenched jaw. He bared pink and bloody teeth in a death’s head grin. Donnelley unhooked her seatbelt, the weight of her falling on top of him. He tried to get her seatbelt to reach around her neck, but the length of it was too short. He felt around his waist, and another sick and hateful chuckle came up his throat. A belt. He undid it and worked it from around his waist just as she began to stir and moan, “N-nuh. Nuh, wai’.”

“Is that what he said to you?”

“P’ease.” She pleaded through a ruined mouth, bloody drool dripping from her bloodied lips. She snorted every breath in with a noise that sounded like a runny nose, a desperate and pained moan with each exhalation. Donnelley hooked the belt through the buckle and then yanked it tight, holding her head against his shins as he pulled up with everything he had, as if he was trying to pop her Goddamn head off.

“Please?” He growled, “Please? That’s all you fuckin’ got!? Beg me, you fuckin’ bitch!

She struggled against him, trying to get her fingers underneath the belt around her neck, slapping at his thighs, clawing at him. Her silent screams cut off and only ekeing out tiny squeaks and choking gurgles. She slowly stopped her fighting the longer Donnelley kept the pressure, the slaps becoming nothing but pats. He could see it plain as day, Ava going down, gurgling as she coughed up blood. Laine just beside him, not alive to see that he was still trying to fucking get to her when he was on the ground next to her. “You fuckin’ bitch, you fuckin’ killed them.” Donnelley whimpered, and he dragged in a shaky and quivering breath, threatening to turn into a sob. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes, making everything a blur. His high voice came from quivering lips, “I hope you’re in fuckin’ hell.”

He let go of the belt after he was sure she’d never wake up again and just lay there next to her. His chest and shoulders rocked by hiccups and sobs. He’d thought it was a dream, and when Ipiktok had told him he’d dreamed of the shootout… he thought it had been a dream seeing Laine and Ava dead before he woke up with Dave pressing down on him. His crying contorted his face even as he heard the window break, felt the beads of glass pepper his flannel button-up shirt and tan Carhartt vest. “Hey! Sir! I’m here to help, okay, just come towards me.” The voice told him. When he made no move to, he felt himself being pulled out by a pair of strong hands, “Hey, man, it’s going to be okay. Alright? It’s okay, just calm down.”

He was pulled to his feet and dusted off by slapping hands. He looked at the man who’d come to his rescue, Native features and dark skin, his hair slicked back. A Good Samaritan. “What about her?” He asked.

Donnelley looked at She-Ra curled up dead on the overturned ceiling of the Jeep Liberty. He shook his head and wiped at his face, “Dead.” He muttered, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t…”

Save her. Was what he wanted to say. Couldn’t save any of them, and he bent double and sank to his haunches. He stayed there for a moment until he heard the other man call out, “Hey, why does she… oh my god…” Donnelley looked over to him with wide eyes, and the man looked back in horror at Donnelley, “You…”

“No.” Donnelley shook his head. “No, it was the crash.”

“You killed…” Donnelley and the other man held each other’s eye for a long moment. Donnelley stood, his hands balling up into fists, and then the other man was on his own feet and at a dead run for his car. Donnelley was after him, tackling him about halfway up the hill back onto the Highway. “You kill-“

Donnelley jammed a fist into his face, and another, again and again. “Why,” Donnelley said with gritted teeth, “Why, man? Why are you makin’ me fuckin’...”

The last punch cracked something, perhaps his nose, but Donnelley wasn’t paying attention to where he was punching. Just that they landed. And hard. With each punch came another utterance of why, again and again, and Donnelley turned the stranger over, hefting him up until the stranger’s back was resting against his front. He wrapped one arm around his neck, grabbing the bicep of his other arm as he rested his hand against the back of his head, “I can’t have you tellin’ no one, partner.” Donnelley suddenly dropped all of his weight into the rear-naked choke, felt and heard bones crunch. “Sorry.”

He dragged the body back to the Liberty, nabbed the man’s wallet and keys, repositioned him as best he could to make it look like an accident, and made his way to the stranger’s car. He finished putting his belt back on and opened up the door to the stranger’s white, dirt-stained Toyota 4-runner, closing it after. He drew in a breath, let it out and started the car. He didn’t go just yet, couldnt bring himself to, just sat and stared at the lines of traffic headed towards… he still didn’t fucking know. He opened up the wallet and looked at the ID, Gregory Miles, Alaska. Then whatever wallet was in his pants, Samuel Teague, Alaska again. He looked at the plates of a passing car, Alaska, and another set of Alaska plates on another car.

He was still here. Still somewhere in Alaska. His eyes went to the rearview as he adjusted it, and then he saw it there. A child’s car seat, empty. He swallowed down a lump in his throat the set his lip to quivering.

He took the hand holding the mirror and smashed it into the steering wheel in a moment of violence, focusing instead on the pain in his knuckles than Laine’s dead eyes pleading for help that never came. Just pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, shifting into drive and merging onto the Highway...///

>...///

Sobel heaved in a breath like he’d just come up to the surface after almost drowning. His shoulders heaved, and he looked at the man across from him. Bearded and scarred. The man stared back, eyes dark and angry. Sobel spoke, “It’s you.”

Donnelley nodded once.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by KuroTenshi
Raw

KuroTenshi

Member Seen 10 mos ago

“Unmask the others. Do that with them.” Foster said, pointing to the three of them sitting on the ground.

The second hooded figure, smaller than the other four, was hauled to their feet and sat down across from Sobel. The hood was removed, frightful eyes slightly clouded over with the haze of some kind of substance looking forward to Sobel.

“Let’s see if you’re in there.” Sobel regarded her with none of the friendliness he had the night they had met, reaching over and grabbing her hands in his when she refused to bring them to him...///

>...///

An almost scenic little village nestled among the slopes and valleys of a mountain range of natural browns and tans stretched before her. Trees sparsely decorated the hills and mountainside, either in pairs or stoically alone, some were clustered into little groups of three or more; like patchy fur on a mangy animal. She could hear the faint whistle of wind through the canyons.

The landscape nagged at her, the terrain familiar though she couldn’t place where for a few moments. Then it clicked, she was looking somewhere in the Middle East. Pakistan or maybe Afghanistan, she didn’t know.

One mountain in particular drew her attention. It was a behemoth, looming over the village like a tyrant upon a throne. The wind began to grow stronger, rising louder and louder into her ears until she realized..It wasn’t the wind at all.

Whispers. A cacophony of whispers, of what must have been hundreds of voices began to swell until she could make out the words they were repeating over and over again with increasing volume until it was a buzz in her ears.

“Death wakes the Sleeper.”


>...///

Ava jerked her head as she felt it start to fall forward. She saw herself in a grimy mirror covered in graffiti at the edges before the room started to spin. She stumbled back from the sink she was washing her hands in and pitched backwards as her legs became tangled around her ankles. A cold tile floor hit her back, knocking the air from her lungs.

As hard as the floor was, it was cool and it gave her a chance to wait for the room to stop spinning. She blinked her eyes, taking in deep breaths as the disorientation faded and her mind began to clear. Or somewhat clear, she felt a headache coming on that felt like she had spent the last five minutes staying up too late, drinking too much coffee and getting too little sleep.

She sniffed the air as the dizziness started to settle and she began to push herself up, frowning as the familiar scent of ozone and electrical discharge permeated the air. She looked around herself, finding she was in a bathroom that was familiar with the concept of cleanliness but didn’t seem to grasp the full concept.

The tile was dirty, the colors on the small industrial squares of white and blue having faded or gone yellow. The walls might have once been white but were now a mixture of piss yellow and muddy brown. Where the paint wasn’t peeling or chipping, it was covered in graffiti. The toilet wasn’t in much better shape nore was the state of the sink but it was clearly functional. She looked up, noting an awning type window that was cracked open, letting in a very cool breeze that was likely the cause for the icy floors.

As she sat there, taking in her surroundings and composing herself she sat up straight with a thrill of alarm.

“Where am I?” She whispered to herself, her heart starting to beat faster as she searched through her memories. She remembered Yutu’s house, meeting Ipiktok, the SIREN Agent, the vision and then…

She winced as her head throbbed when she tried to think further back. She grabbed her head and finally looked down at herself.

Her eyes widened and her confusion only grew seeing she was wearing clothing that very much did not belong to her. She slowly pushed herself up to her feet, reaching up and grasping onto the sink for balance as she looked down at herself.

She was wearing clothing that must have belonged to a man twice her size. The faded and sweaty smelling black long sleeve shirt fell down to her thighs like a dress, the boxers and jeans bunched around her ankles in a puddle of denim and cotton. Beyond that she found she was in shoes that must have been for an 18 inch foot and a quick wiggle of her toes revealed that she was also wearing socks that were far too big.

What was going on?! Why was she in someone else's clothes and why was she in the middle of this bathroom?!

Her panic started to rise and her head started to spin again, but she took in a deep breath and tried to focus her mind. I can’t panic. I can’t panic. Have to think with a clear head. Need to investigate and find the others, maybe they know what happened.

She continued to breathe, like she had been taught to to manage her panic attacks.

She was startled when she heard the doorknob jiggle followed by a firm knocking on the door. Without thinking she squeaked out, “Occupied!”

There was a pause, she thought she heard a man’s voice grumble something and then the sound of heavy boots and rattling chains walking away.

Ava stood still, waiting a few breathless moments before she let out the breath she had been holding and struggled her way out of the jeans, boxers and shoes her legs were encased in. She pulled up the socks as much as she could and approached the door, pressing her ear to it.

She heard the muffled sounds of heavy metal music and what sounded like a crowded restaurant. She unlocked the door and carefully cracked it open, peeking outside. She squinted her eyes as she realized that her vision wasn’t just blurry because of her headache, she didn’t have her contacts anymore.

From what she could make out, it looked like a crowded bar, a dive bar judging by the low light interior and the abundance of exposed wood. She watched the crowd for a moment before shutting the door again and firmly locking it, turning and pressing her back to the door.

“Okay, I...need to get out of here.” She whispered to herself, pushing away from the door and looking around the bathroom again, as though she had just missed the large man that had to have been the original owner of the clothes during her first look around.

A quick sweep of the bathroom revealed that there was no sign of her own clothing, not the outfit she had last been wearing nor anything she could recognize as belonging to her.

She also discovered that there was a vest that was part of her ensemble and after stripping it off, her nerves only grew. The vest was clearly a biker vest, but she didn’t didn’t recognize the symbol of the club it belonged to. What she did recognize was the word ‘Prospect’ sewn onto a patch on the front of the vest and then sewn larger onto the back.

She tossed it onto the sink, and started going through the pile of jeans, boxers and boots. She managed to find a phone that was completely fried and unusable, so she tossed it onto the sink with the vest. In the pockets of the jeans she found a pack of half full, crumbled cigarettes, a few what looked like joints tucked into a little baggy and a wallet.

Opening the wallet she found an Alaskan driver’s license of the man who must have originally owned the clothes, one Walter Arbeit, and frowned as she realized the wallet had cash and credit cards. She bit her lip before taking out the cash, which amounted to about sixty four bucks. She tossed the wallet with the credit cards on the sink with the vest and the phone.

Through her shifting she also found a .38 revolver, tucked into a concealed appendix holster on the pants and belt. She carefully removed it and set it to the side with the money, the cigarettes and the joints before resuming her search.

Tossing aside the jeans when they didn’t offer anything else she turned to the boots. She found a switch blade with an impressively sharp blade tucked into the right boot and then in the left she found a fifty tucked into a fold inside the boot. Likely emergency funds.

She added it to the pile of cash and squated there, her mind sluggishly trying to piece together what could have happened. It felt like there was a veil of drunken haziness hanging over her memories though and she was left with a current feeling of cotton head.

She knew one thing, she couldn’t stay there and she couldn’t walk out of the bathroom wearing the clothes of a strange man. Particularly one she didn’t know the whereabouts of or why she was in them.

Taking in a deep breath and making a plan, she picked up the switchblade and flicked it open.

She trimmed off the bottom of the jeans so they would cover her legs and then she poked an extra hole into the leather belt so she could cinch the jeans around her waist. After a brief debate, she decided to forgo the boxers and tried not to think about the fact she was now going commando in a man’s jeans.

She tightly laced up the boots, trying to keep them as tight to her shins as possible. She put the switchblade in the front pocket, but tucked the money into her socks to make sure she didn’t lose it. She took the cigarettes, put the baggy of joints in the pack and then tucked that into the back pocket. She didn’t know why, but she hoped it might come in handy.

That left the revolver and she stared at it for what felt like minutes, her mind nagging her that it wasn’t her gun. But another part of her pointed out that she was alone, in an unknown place and she had no idea where her friends were or how she got there.

Taking in a deep breath, she took the revolver in it’s holster and tucked it into place, against her stomach and well hidden under the baggy shirt.

She folded up the vest and the boxers and placed them on the back of the toilet tank along with the phone and wallet.

Then she dragged over the metal trash can, quietly apologized to the bar staff and tipped it over, spilling out the contents, but she could now stand on the bottom and reach the window. She climbed up on the trash can and first looked out of the window, squinting her eyes to try and make out the blurry surroundings.

It looked like an alleyway, judging by the brick building across the way. She craned her head out further and didn’t see any movement or hear any voices. A glance down revealed a fairly high drop, maybe six or seven feet, but she should be fine if she took her time-

A loud banging on the door behind her made Ava jump and swivel her head toward the door. “What the fuck are you doing in there!?” Bellowed a deep male voice. “You got 30 seconds to get the fuck out or we’re coming in Prospect!”

Ava squeaked and with no time to waste she pulled herself up and crawled out the window, hearing the trash can tip over beneath her but not caring. The window was just big enough for her to squirm and wiggle her way through, kicking her heavy boot clad feet before she finally slipped out.

She threw her hands out instinctively as she fell, landing on them and muffling a cry as her hands slammed into the pavement and she felt her left wrist roll in a bad way. She crashed down next onto her left shoulder, but did her best to roll with it, stumbling her way up to her feet and making a quick retreat further down the alley and away from the front of the business where people would see her.

Ava cradled her left arm close to her chest, looking around with her impaired vision for any threat, any exit from the back alleys. She shivered as the cold started to set in, despite the sun being high in the sky.

Where was she and where the fuck was the rest of her team?...///

>...///

Sobel withdrew his hands and shook them out like he’d touched a stove, the feeling of heat dissipating from his and Ava’s hands. Sobel’s eyes were bloodshot now, a trickle of blood coming from his nose. Using this much hypergeometry was taxing on the body, and worse yet, if they weren’t quick about this they’d earn the attention of something worse. Sobel had to bear it, “It’s her,” Sobel wiped his mouth off on his sleeve, “It’s Ava.”

“Come on,” Donnelley placed a hand on Ava’s shoulder, knowing she’d be woozy as he was when he came out of Sobel’s magic bullshit, “Let’s get you up, come on.”

Ava sniffed, shaking her head of the strange magic as she followed Donnelley’s lead and stood up from the chair. “Thanks, Sobel.” She murmured, leaning against Donnelley for support.

“Next,” Sobel growled, “Hurry up!”

Queen was next, rising from the barn floor to move to sit across from Sobel. He looked at the man then grinned a little, putting out his hands like he was visiting a fortune teller. The joke that he would have told died on his tongue when he looked into the bloodshot flat eyes and bleeding nose. Sobel looked like he was on the wrong end of a coke binge. Queen relaxed as much as he could and waited for the wizard to do his trick.

“Hope you’re ready.” Sobel grabbed Queen’s hands, not waiting for an answer...///

>...///

“...I swear it was only once, we got drunk and her husband is out on a fishing boat. We...had sex in her marital bed, I feel kinda bad. Now she’s calling me, what should I do?”

Queen blinked and rubbed the bridge of his nose, it was dark wherever here was and confined. He focused on the screen where light shifted through and he could make out a vague silhouette of a man. He reached up and pushed the little door farther to get more light.

Queen’s head pounded and the stink of scorched wire was eerily familiar and beyond that it smelled like a head shop. He looked down at his hands in the dim light, he seemed in one piece just with no idea what the hell just happened. Must have been a fucking bender.

“Father? What should I do, I like her and don’t want to hurt her feelings but I know it’s wrong to continue?”

“Huh...oh, was it any good?”

“Good? I mean, sure I guess.”

“Did she let you do butt stuff? Suck your dick?”

“Butt...what the…”

Queen shifted, wondering at the whole absurd conversation. He reached up to tug at the tight collar and felt the stiff material. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry that was a test, I’m sure. I swear I won’t do it again.”

It dawned on Queen where he was and he nearly howled with laughter, how he got there had to be a hell of a story with a lot of chemicals. “Listen, dude. Say ten Our Fathers while you’re plowing her next time. Just make sure you know when the ship docks.”

“Father...alright?”

Queen got up and pushed open the confessional door and stood in awe as he looked up at the vaulted ceilings and the crucifix over the altar. There were a few people in the pews, mostly older women but the young man stepped out of the box they had both occupied.

“Hey, you’re not Father Leahy,” he said, staring at the long hair and scruffy beard and the inked skin on display in the short sleeves of the black priest's shirt.

“No, I’m Father Patrick,” Queen said quickly, “I’m Leahy’s replacement.”

“But…” the man’s eyes widened, “Why?”

Queen glanced around then reached up to smooth his collar against his throat, “That’s right, he’s been taken care of, he’ll not be back here.”

The man gave him a skeptical look, “What’s going on? I never heard anything about him in a negative light, he’s been a blessing for Saint Anthony.”

“Eh…” Queen hesitated, he hardly knew what the guy was talking about or what happened to the priest that once occupied the clothes he wore. Holy shit. Queen felt the clutch of panic, what had he done? Memories started to filter through, Noatak and the gunfight, the old shaman. Sweat popped up on his forehead and he cleared his throat, “I wouldn’t worry about it and you should go fuck that fisherman’s wife if you want. It ain't adultery if you're not the married one."

He pushed past him and the older women stared at him as Queen sprinted past the holy water fountain and ran out onto the street. He looked around, saw no one from the teams and all his gear was gone. Checking the pockets of the priest's pants he found a leather wallet with the man’s Alaska ID, a red nosed blue eyed slim man in his late middle age. There was about ten bucks in small bills and a few saints cards. Around his neck was a black beaded rosary with a silver crucifix but little else.

Queen started walking, looking at street signs and stores to orient himself until he found a bus stop and looked at the map on the wall of the shelter. Anchorage. “What the fuck,” he said, stress starting to knot his shoulders and he instinctively reached into his pocket. Then remembered it was not his pocket. His drugs. His fucking stash was gone.

“FUCK!” he shouted, realizing what the next few days would be like unless he could score. A passer by looked at him shocked, the F bomb dropping from a priest.

He stopped another person that was looking to catch the bus and forced a sing-song southern Irish accent, “Good morning, lad. I was wondering where the worst of yer unfortunate may live, where the poor and desperate might be needing to hear the good word of the Lord.”

The native looking man shrugged, narrowing his gaze at Queen, “Around here, you should know that if you’re at St. Anthony’s though downtown is probably the worst. Got the methadone clinics. But you’d be barking up the wrong tree, Father. God ain’t a power up here.”

Queen looked into the man’s dark eyes and saw Yutu’s ghost, the desperate helpless anger simmering there. “Bless you, my son,” he said after a moment.

The man only grunted and turned to watch for the bus heading south.that would take him away from the airport and crumbling nearby neighborhood and towards the more gentrified south where he worked at a new sushi restaurant.

Queen looked at him a little longer, the man was not very tall but had a decent build and Queen suspected if he was from the hood he at least carried a knife with him. But he had no car, so it was pointless in robbing him for whatever change he might have and risk injury or attention.

"Do you happen to have a phone I could borrow, lad?" He asked but the man was irritated now and shook his head.

"Maybe you should go back to the church, priest," he looked at the tattooed arms and the unkempt hair then muttered, "Fucking junkies."

Queen felt a little offended by that, how could he tell he was looking for a score and not preaching the Good Word. He knew payphones still existed and were usually at the scabbiest convenience store in the worst neighborhoods. He needed to contact Donnelley or even Poker, someone has to know what the fuck happened. Queen started walking, heading in the downtown direction so as not to waste money on a bus...///

>...///

Sobel ripped his hands away from Queen’s and pounded the table with his fists, growling. The bleeding was now coming from both nostrils, Sobel turning his head and spitting a gob of blood from his lips. He held his head in his hands, but did not yet call for the next and last of them, “Give me a moment.”

“Is it him?” Foster asked.

“Yes, it’s him! Everyone shut up.” The stink of ozone and electrical burn was thick in the barn now, and Sobel looked worse for wear as he panted in his seat.

“Well, shit.” Donnelley muttered, his hand still supporting a swaying Ava and watching for Queen’s reaction now he was out of the stupor. “You back yet, fucker?”

“Right as rain,” Queen muttered, then rubbed his eyes the heavy feeling of wanting to slip into unconsciousness still with him. He rolled his head and felt the popping of vertebrae in his neck, then glanced at Sobel, “Better than him anyway.”

Laine waited for her hood to be removed, her green eyes flashing at the masked CORAL NOMAD operator they called Face, of which she saw only a nose and blue eyes behind goggles. These head games they liked to play, she thought. When she rose she saw the others, her heart jumping as she met Donnelley’s eyes even if just briefly.

In the seat, the man she remembered from Idaho looked like he had been hit by a car. The comparison made her suddenly ill and she shook her head as she sat across from him.

“Whatever you’re doing, you don’t need to do this,” Laine said. “We’ve been honest about who we are, they passed your little tests?”

She glanced at Foster and back at Sobel, her hands laid flat but relaxed. Sobel looked back at her and sniffed up blood, “I have a job to do.” He laid his hands over Laine’s and bit back a grimace...///

>...///

Water was dripping somewhere, a steady tap tap tap in the sink and it finally drove into Laine’s consciousness as she found herself laying in a bed that smelled musty. Sweat, cigarettes, and perfume and none of it familiar. Another motel maybe, she opened her eyes, turning her head expecting to see another full sized bed but there was an open closet with bare wire hangers and a dozen sweaters and dresses hanging and more pants and stockings tossed on the floor with a clutter of shoes.

Laine pushed herself up, the alarm clock blinking red 12:03PM and the smell of burning stung her nostrils. She rolled out of the bed that sat on the floor without a frame and fell to her knees, searching the wall outlet as the stink of electrical ozone faded. A chill ran down her spine and she realized she was not dressed except for a pair of panties.

She touched her face and arms, her bare chest and then looked down at the cheap bright colored rhinestone studded thong. “What the fuck,” she whispered, her eyes hunting the room for any movement. “Donnelley?”

Laine pulled off the strange underwear and began looking for her own clothes but there was nothing but someone else’s apartment, someone else’s life. On top of the dresser there was a red knock off Gucci purse and she dug through it. A wallet, condoms, keys, make up, a folding knife and a small pair of brass knuckles.

She opened the wallet and thumbed through it, there was over two hundred dollars and an expired ID for a woman in her mid thirties. Long dark hair and high cheekbones with hollow black eyes like chips of obsidian. “Alasie Creech,” she said, softly, tapping the ID against her palm.

Laine opened the top drawer, full of underwear and bras, all of them the same cheap satin and lace but there were the cotton ones for comfort. She brushed through the clothing and found a small book, a ledger with phone numbers and dollar amount estimates and a flip phone that was dead.

She stared at it a moment and felt a chill again and not just from standing naked but doing so in a stranger’s home without any idea how she got there. A flash of memory, the tundra, UMBRA and Yutu. Sarah Jung’s screaming and the creeping fog.

Laine dropped the cheap cell phone and looked around in horror, something had happened. “Sorry, Alasie, I need to borrow a few things,” she muttered and grabbed clean panties but left the bras alone, they would never fit. She found jeans and skirts too small and left them in favor of a pair of bright teal sweatpants she managed to pull up over her hips and ass. Alasie’s fat pants she realized and went back to find a top. She found a gray shirt with Betty Boop’s big head hovering over #Sassy. It was awful but it was the largest size she found in the drawers and drew it on over her head.

Alasie was listed at 5’2” so the sweats scrunched around Laine’s calves and stretched tight on her hips. The shoes were too small so she found a cheap pair of flip flops. Thank god it was summer in Alaska and not freezing. She took the purse, she would find the woman and give everything back, she told herself. Laine could not look in the mirror, the truth of the situation’s weirdness hovering somewhere, as faint as the traces of ozone now were but there.

A heavy knock startled her and she reached into the purse for the brass knuckles and slipped them on, hoping not to have to use it. The pounding continued and she heard a male voice calling, “Alasie! It’s Thumper, open up. Bitch, you never returned my call. I know you’re in there.”

Laine moved towards the door to peer out the fisheye and saw a large squat muscular man with an impressive gut and a hell of an overbite. He knocked heavy and persistent, “Goddamnit, your fucking car is out here. Don’t pretend you’re not here, open the fuck up. I need my money!”

What the hell?

Laine moved from the door and looked for another exit but it was a small cheap place without a second door. She slung the missing woman’s purse over her chest and squared her shoulders, Laine would have to be fast.

While he knocked again, she unlocked the door and swung it open as the stunned Thumper lurched forward as Laine threw a punch with the knuckles square into his mouth, just missing his nose. There was a crack of teeth and a howl, the big man covering his bleeding mouth and staring at her, “Who the fuck are you?”

He spat and began to recover, reaching for her as Laine dashed past him as fast as she could in the flip flops. She held the keys in her hand and could hear him catching up. Laine pressed the fob a few more times and an old Buick LeSabre, the mealy metallic tan color that had been rusted by the road salt beeped.

Rushing for the driver’s side door, Laine jumped into the car, slamming the door just as Thumper caught up and grabbed at the handle, “Who the fuck are you bitch? Robbing my girl? Get the fuck out!”

Laine started the car, only giving him a moment’s look to make sure he wasn’t going to break her window. Slamming it into reverse, she peeled out and gave Thumper the finger as he tried running after her but was quickly winded. Having no idea where she was or where she was going, she sped out of the parking lot of the Cedar Shade apartments and onto the road that went east.

She drove for a while, passing more apartment complexes and parks,until she felt the chugging and sputtering. “What the hell now?” she checked the dash and cursed herself. She was on E, apparently Alasie owed money and didn’t fill her tank and wore cheap trashy panties.

“Girl, what are you doing with your life?” Laine asked out loud, not sure she was talking to the missing woman. Laine was pretty sure what Alasie had been doing, the life of a small town sex worker was not glamorous.

The car coasted now, the engine dead and she put it in neutral as she put it onto the shoulder of the road once the incline ended and began to rise.

Putting it in park, she looked into the rear view nervously, wondering if Thumper was going to be on her ass but she did not see him. Maybe he had walked to visit his girl. What a piece of shit, she scowled at her hand, despite the brass knuckles it felt tender after hitting him in his hard face.

Laine got out of the car and moved to open the back door and look around the back. She reached under the seat and felt something cold and hard, covered in plastic. Pulling it out, she expected a gun, especially after living with the likes of UMBRA and THUNDER. Instead it was a large, heavy duty ziploc bag with a 10 inch dildo and a few smaller toys. Laine stared at it for a beat and slowly pushed it back under the seat.

There was nothing much else in the back seat other than some magazines and receipts and a few old blankets folded on the far side. She found she did not want anything out of that car and locked it up, walking east in her hodge podge of clothing and the flip flap of her shoes against the pavement kept the time.

Laine needed to find a phone, she was still in Alaska but far from the last place she could remember. The chill crept up her spine again as pieces of memory flickered like flashing a light in a dark room. Digging into the woman’s purse she found a lighter and a pack of Merit Lights with a few cigarettes left. Better than nothing, she took one and lit it, smoking away her anxiety as she walked.

Holding the cigarette between her lips, she continued pawing through the purse, finding the typical debris and small ziploc baggie with pills in it, she thought they might be oxycontin or something similar, typical small town opiates. She left them there, then found another phone and it was also useless, fried by whatever power had surged at that moment Laine awoke.

A horn honked at her and she turned sharply, expecting to see Thumper but it was just a man in a pickup, “Need a ride, honey?”

“I’m good, thanks,” she waved him off.

“You sure? You look like you need a ride, saw your car back there,” he looked her over then grinned, leaning over the passenger seat even as he rolled along.

“No, I don’t,” Laine snapped.

“Whatever, bitch. Good luck,” the man stomped on the gas and left a belching blue diesel truck fart in her face...///

>...///

When Laine awoke, Sobel wasn’t even in his chair. He was a few feet away leaning with his hands against a wall and coughing up blood. He wiped his mouth off while Face and Junior helped steady him, bringing him back to his seat so he wouldn’t have to stand, “It’s her.” Was all he muttered, flashing a snarl at Foster, “They’re telling the truth.”

“Somebody get Spider to look Sobel over.” Foster said, looking around at the NOMAD operators present.

Laine sat in her chair as she watched Sobel struggling and pressed her hands together. They had relived her awakening and she felt still as if on a wavering edge. It felt so real and yet dreamlike, waking up once more. Pushing herself up, she went over to Donnelley and Ava, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall. “What now?”

“Is Dave okay?” Ava asked Foster, her posture straightening as the cloudiness of the memory delving seemed to finally fade. “Dave, Avery and the rest of THUNDER; what happened to them?” She asked, a chill of nervousness running through her despite the pleasant haze of the Xanax.

Laine perked up at Ava’s question, the one she was thinking about asking, slipping away with her concern with their teammates. She was certain the people they had replaced were gone, dead. No one would know what happened to them. Alesie Creech would be another missing Native sex worker and life would go on. A cold knot gripped her stomach at that and guilt dug at her.

“That’s not yours to worry about. So don’t. We’ve got to place you accordingly, none of you can risk connection to anything that came out of Noatak.” Foster said, a bit callus towards Ava’s worries. “Sobel can take you back to Idaho, from there-“

“No.” Donnelley shook his head, “No, I’ve been through this shit. You’re gonna stick us back in Langley and the CI Agents are gonna run amok with us. Happened after Chechnya, happened after Tom died.”

“None of us sold anyone out! We got killed by the Russians just like Tom!” Donnelley marched towards Foster and shouldered him out of the way. The CORAL NOMAD operators were confused as to whether to raise their rifles at him or let him pass. In the end, Donnelley opened the barn door to end this stupid fucking game they were playing.

Across the way was a ruined house, and so was Poker, Ghost, and Dave.

Ava watched Donnelley storm out and fixed a hard glare on Foster. “I want to go home.” She said before following Donnelley, hoping in that direction she would find answers about what happened to Dave.

She paused to look back at Foster with hard blue eyes, conveying how tired, angry and done she was with the whole situation. “Also I found official Russian documents on the GRU agents from Ipiktok’s compound, probably their marching orders to murder us! It’s on my laptop,” She threw her hands up and kept walking. “Knock yourself out!”

Queen searched his pockets until he found the half crushed box of Kools and took one out. He watched the tall woman from CORAL NOMAD tending to Sobel before he glanced at Foster. As Ava left, Queen put the cigarette between his lips.

"Y'know it's bad when she yells," he commented, hunting for the lighter but they had taken it away. Queen looked directly at his case officer, he had trusted him through hard times but this was another level.

"Ghost out there?"

Foster watched the two of them leave despite his orders, basically giving him a huge middle finger. When Queen asked his question, Foster sighed, sarcastically gesturing towards the yawning door, “Why don’t you just see for your fucking self.” He turned away and went to be by Sobel’s side, making sure he didn’t burst a blood vessel in his brain, “Go ahead.”

Queen gave him a long look, then shrugged, “Would be a shame to make it this far and torture your...friend there to just have him shoot us all in the face thinking we’re something else.”

Laine was watching Sobel then turned to Foster, the thoughts and distrust that had compiled since after West Virginia flooded into her mind and her face flushed hot. They had been treated like criminals, bound and gagged and frightened. Made to do near useless polygraphs which had only spiked anxiety and mistrust, then having their memories read. She took a deep breath, the desire to rip into him only dissuaded by Ava. It was enough and said it all, they were tired.

She walked past Foster then glanced over her shoulder at him, “I want to talk later.”

Leaving it at that, whether he would indulge her or not, she followed the other two out the barn doors. Queen watched her then looked again at Foster, “Can’t blame us can you, we died.”

He followed after them, at least someone might have a lighter and maybe he could keep Ghost from blasting away at the undead.

Ghost and Dave loitered outside, near the barn where Spider had been inspecting Poker's wound. The big man looked bored; now that he was no longer the center of attention he had lost interest in the proceedings and was instead alternating between keeping an eye out and mean-mugging Tripod.

Dave simply looked tired. His grip on his rifle was casual enough, but the fatigue and bone-deep weariness were evident in the cast of his face and the subtle slump of his posture. He saw activity at the barn, noted people emerging, and then his heart stopped.

"Donnelley?" He looked again. "Ava!"

Ghost looked over in time to see Dave break into a run. His blood went cold and he had time to choke out a furious 'Lucky stop!' before he was moving as well, his rifle raised and sight locked on the ghost of his teammate.

Queen’s eyes riveted to Ghost, a chill running up his spine. They would not have a second chance this time. “Ghost! Ghost, fuck off, it’s us!”

He pulled the unlit cigarette from his lips and jogged forward to fall in with Donnelley. “It’s cool, man.”

Donnelley had his hands up, slowly reached into his vest pocket and bit out a cigarette dangling from his teeth, “Look’it you, boy, startin’ to look like me. Shoo’.” Tex smiled into Ghost’s barrel, that old wolf’s grin hungry for violence or mischief, “Down, boy.”

Ava looked up at the sound of her name in a familiar voice and her eyes lit up with joy and relief to see Dave, alive and unharmed. “Dave!” She shouted with a smile. “I know this is-eek!” She was cut off mid sentence by Dave running at her full force and pulling her into the biggest bear hug of her life, a squeak escaping her as his strong arms crushed her to his chest.

She looked up at him and let out a happy sigh, whispering for only him to hear, “Hey Mountain Man, I missed you.”

Dave held her tight for a moment. His eyes were wet, and he reached up to cup her cheek, looking at her face, her eyes, as though seeking anything unfamiliar.

"Oh, sugar," he whispered as he pulled her close for another hug. "I don't know how, but thank you, God. I missed you."

Ghost ignored Dave's happy reunion. If he got killed that was his problem now. Instead he focused on Tex and Queen, a silent pillar with a loaded gun. When he spoke it was to Tex, in rapid Pashto.

"Our first mission. Where did we go. Who were we there for." He paused. "Who did I watch you kill?"

Tamik abd Al-Malik. Libya, Muammar Gaddafi’s Fist of Allah Commander.” Tex frowned, speaking back in Pashto, “And I had to kill… I had to liquidate those... children.

Even then, he felt like the others would look at him with disgust, he knew he did that enough for himself for months after. Even if it was in Pashto, and none of them could speak it, he felt the weight of those sins lay their hands on his shoulders. He stepped forward, pressing his forehead against Ghost’s barrel, “Do I pass?”

Ghost stared at him for a moment, then switched aim to Queen.

"What's the first thing I said to you when you joined THUNDER?"

Queen stood beside Donnelley, unaware of what he said but not unaware of what had occurred in Libya. He twirled the cigarette between his fingers, the memory of his first encounter with Ghost as vivid as anything. The screaming man and the powertool.

“You said,” he lowered his voice and gave it a growling quality, “‘If you ever fuck me over, I’ll cut your head off and mail it to your mother.’”

Queen smiled slightly, speaking in his normal Florida drawal, “Ankle-grinder.”

Ghost eyed him. The 'ankle-grinder' was what clenched it. He'd been taking an angle grinder to the ball of a suspect's ankle, and had made the pun during a meth high. Not a proud moment. Ghost lowered his weapon.

"Welcome back," he growled.

“Thanks,” Queen said, a relief coursing through him he put the cigarette back between his lips, “Anyone got a light?”

Ava reluctantly and gently pulled back from Dave, a glint catching her eye and she blinked seeing a familiar necklace around Dave’s neck. She smiled and patted his shoulder as she stepped back. “Look who else I found.” She joked lamely, motioning with her arms towards Queen, Laine and Donnelley.

Donnelley gave Face a thumbs up and tossed his lighter back. When he heard Ava comment about the rest of them back from the dead he looked at Dave. He tapped the RealTree bill of his goddamn redneck hat and nodded, smiling, “Howdy.”

Dave released Ava and wiped his eyes, then spread his arms. He was grinning now even as his eyes shined.

"Hey man," he said as he threw his arms around Donnelley. He gave him a hard squeeze, and a few pounds on the back for good measure before he stepped away from him, holding him at arm's length. "God damn. God damn." He slapped Donnelley on the shoulder. "I like your hat."

“Yeah, I know you do,” Donnelley laughed as he looked Dave up and down. “Feels like it’s been forever. I don’t even know how…”

Donnelley’s voice trailed off, and his smile slipped, the aftershock of realizing his own mortality. No matter how many times he’d cheated death, this was the least in control of it all he’d ever been. He guessed he should thank Ipiktok. This is how he dreamed it’d go, he guessed. He regained his smile in step and chuckled again, “So… you been workin’ hard I see.” He nodded at the bombed out car in the bombed out living room of the Safehouse.

"Gettin' 'em back," Dave said. There was a new edge to his voice, a violence in his eyes he hadn't had before. "They're back too. We'll talk about it soon, I'll hafta give y'all a...debrief, or whatever, now that UMBRA is back."

Bajbala pushed through the kitchen swing door with her sweater sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back. She was drying her hands with a dishcloth and paused at the sight of the strange pow-wow, figuring them the 'detainees' NOMAD walked in. Their friendliness was perturbing, then her attention snapped to 'JD CIA' who was poking a grin around his crowd.

Laine stood back, watching both the suspicious and the embracing reunions, both just as heartfelt. She waited, feeling a mixture of joy and apprehension, that same shy girl in black always standing on the fringe still lived deep inside her.

Watching Dave swing Ava into a big hug, her stomach clenched and she wanted to cry and cheer for them but she stayed still with a tight smile. Her heart ached as her gaze moved to the back of Donnelley's head and down his shoulders. Laine drew her arms up and crossed them tight, blinking hard to keep the tears from spilling.

Dave came to Laine next. He gave Donnelley a final pat on the shoulder, then turned to the dark-haired woman, pausing briefly to wipe at his eyes again.

"C'mere," he said. He pulled her in, squeezed her tight. There was the tiniest hitch in his voice, forced down but still there, and his hands were shaky despite his efforts to quell it. "It's good to have you back. I missed all of you. Thought I'd lost you."

His hug was a welcome surprise, her arms trapped between them until she dropped them and returned the embrace. Laine slipped her arms under his, grasping at his shirt. She felt him trembling and wondered if he felt her uneven breathing as she held it to force away the sobs.

"It's good to be back," she said, her voice still tight. Laine had needed the hug more than she had expected and held on as long as he would let her. Dave must have gone through hell, she realized. Like Donnelley he had watched them die and unlike Donnelley had not gone with them.

Dave had likely picked up their bodies, mourned them, and tried to push on after watching Ava die. His team fell around him and he was still there. Laine squeezed him tight and patted his back, "I guess we got lucky."

Laine pulled back, a smile ghosting her lips at the little reference to his call sign. She remembered the night they met, his team BLACKBEARD had just been wiped in the West Virginia hills by some monster that got some of UMBRA as well. And almost took down Donnelley.

She finally let go, smiling sadly as she looked up at him, "I'm sorry you had to experience this."

Dave snorted, but kept his voice pitched low.

"You're sorry?" He shook his head. There was a break in his voice and he squeezed his eyes shut tight for a beat. "No, no, I'm sorry. I let you guys down. Dropped the ball bad. But I've been makin' things…" He paused, stopping himself from saying that what he'd done had made things right. There was nothing right about that barn and what he'd done. "I'm not gonna fuck up like that again. Won't fail you guys again."

"Dave," Laine said quietly, putting her hand on his shoulder so she could try and meet his haunted blue eyes. "Dave...no one blames you, this was not your fault. We were betrayed, and we will find out who did it. You have nothing to be sorry for, you kept going and that's all anyone could ask."

Dave sniffed and nodded, cuffed at his eyes with his filthy, blood-stained flannel shirt.

"Alright, that's enough," he said with a shaky laugh. "You're gonna make me cry in front of Ghost, an' I'll never hear the end of it. It's just...damn good to have you guys back."

He looked over at Queen.

"Even you, c'mere," he said. He opened his arms and paused, his bafflement plain. "Boy, what the hell are you wearin'?"

Laine glanced towards Ghost, remembering THUNDER's existence. Queen was there with Donnelley and Ghost, and Poker. Beyond on the porch, a woman she did not recognize stood watching the whole affair. Laine glanced around, the big Polynesian guy, Maui they had called him, was absent. And Avery, he wasn't waiting for them either.

She stepped aside and went over to Ava, putting an arm around her small shoulders and side hugging her. Leaning over she said, "When are you going to introduce Dave to that handsome prince you found?"

Ava’s eyes widened and she started looking around the Safehouse grounds. “Oh shit, I forgot about Prince.”

Queen turned when he saw Dave, then grinned around the smoldering menthol cigarette. "That's Father Patrick to ye, me lad. And I'm here, back from the dead to deal holy wrath unto the souls of the wicked and into the arses of the willing."

His song song brogue fell away as he stepped forward, his Florida Panhandle drawl returning, "Well, it's a long story. Let's just say we didn't get to pick our wardrobe."

He fell into the hug, gripping him tight as his thoughts flashed to places they should not but were quickly replaced with relief for not only himself but for Ava. She had worried over Dave the whole time and it had warmed even his heart to see them reunited. Queen pat Dave's shoulder and pulled back, reaching to take the cigarette out of his mouth. "I hope y'all got some beers cause we got some talking to do."

Dave laughed and shook his head. "Beer nothin', I'm gonna need a bottle of black label for myself after this. We need a liquor run. An' a place to drink that ain't been blown up."

Donnelley stood watching the hugs and smiles, keeping a smile on himself too. Even sided up with Poker and Ghost, the big man’s oppressive aura didn’t seem to damper him too much. Even with the unwelcome memories, but those he pushed back to where he kept the rest of them. He looked at Poker, the other man holding his hand out, and even the slightest smile on his mean face.

“Guess it’s fucking true then.” Poker said as Donnelley took his hand and they shook.

“What?”

“Nothing fucking kills you. I saw you die.” Poker said, his eyes searching Donnelley’s, “Saw Bear die too. Until he was in our kitchen.”

“No shit. I kicked that bitch She-Ra’s ass again.” Donnelley said, shaking his head. He looked past Poker to see a woman hanging about the porch staring at him, “Safehouse handler?”

“CIA. You guys should be friends.” Poker smiled that wolf’s grin of his, making Donnelley wonder if he had any other personality trait other than being a mean fuck or a sarcastic one. Maybe that’s why they hated each other as much as they liked each other. A good amount for both.

“Yeah,” Donnelley said, uncrossing his arms, “We’ll see.”

He put on his best winning smile then and marched towards the house, eyes on the woman on the porch like he was welcoming a new neighbor to the neighborhood. All the while, he was wondering if he’d have to keep an eye on her. When he got to the porch he stood below it, hands on his hips and big friendly fuck-off grin, “What’s your name?” Donnelley asked, “Don’t think we’ve met before.”

Her hazel eyes dropped in contemplation as she charmed up her own smile. Things still didn't make sense, but she's seen what they can do and they had her in body and name. "Nooo, we haven't." She said as she leveled her eyes back to him. It was the first greeting not sprung from haste in a leery encounter like the others.

“Bajbala.” She stretched down an arm over the railing and shook his hand with a gentle squeeze. “Quite the reunion.”

“Ain’t it? I’m Joseph Donnelley. Everyone just calls me Donnelley.” Donnelley lowered the intensity of his smile to a content smirk as they shook hands. Now that he was up close to this mystery woman, he looked her over. Not that he was looking for any romantic prospects other than the one fifty or so meters behind him, but just taking her in for what she was. Attractive, olive-skin, looked like the typical American person-of-color, but it was that slight bit of accent his ears perked up at. “Bajbala…” he tried the word on his tongue, see how it fit his lips.

“Pashtun?” Donnelley asked, “Spent some time in Afghanistan. What, uh, brings you into our pleasant company?”

It was an agreeable sentiment; Bajbala had no idea how far on the spectrum of 'intense' the reunion was. She almost found hilarity in how affable he was compared to the others.

“Donnelly, got it. Yes! Pashto, you speak it?” she asked, marking surprise at the chances of a third member of this team speaking her native language. She found it hard to believe his distinctly American intonation would be able to produce some of the sounds. But she knew. After what Foster told her, she could just pin that accent among the few normal and comforting sounds that met her ears in the Pakistani mountains with the serious Pazir, even garbled in radio static. “Someone decided you weren’t pleasant enough, so... we’ve been arranged.” She jested while joining her fingers together, cautious that Donnelly knew far better than her.

Just a little bit.” Donnelley answered in Pashto, no doubt accented with American, “My Pashto is out of practice, but I can hold my own… I think.

Donnelley smirked, huffed a chuckle through his nostrils and puffed on the still smoldering cigarette in his fingers. At her insinuation of him of all people being unpleasant in the slightest, “Who, me? Unpleasant?” Donnelley shook his head, feigning offense, he knew his reputation well, “I’m a gracious host. Fearless leader. Arranged, huh? Foster pluck you from somewhere and drop you in with us? I hear you’re… from the same places I am.”

Bajbala smiled and muttered a short remark of praise in Pashto to his satisfactory response.

“Pluck is a good word for it. Could have just asked me through email, instead they tell me ‘drive to Alaska, play with Russians’ —I have a new family now!” she said facetiously as if convinced by Foster’s announcement. “Yes, Ground Branch right? I’m with Special Programs,” right next door within SAC/SOG, “ or, I was.” She shook her head, not knowing where to put herself.

“How much did he tell you ‘bout it?” Donnelley asked, quirking a brow.

“Nothing; he told me I’m now with Working Group UMBRA and I’d better show. Professional, but a prick.” She smiled and shrugged. “You going to be tight-lipped on me too?"

“Yeah, you get used to him too.” Donnelley nodded, taking a final drag from his cigarette before putting it out and stashing it in a pocket, “As much fun as it is knowin’ stuff other people don’t, it gets real inconvenient when your team isn’t on the same page as you.”

“So you’re new-new. Huh. Well, I can tell you one thing. The things we deal with make the Taliban look like the lesser of two evils.” Donnelley shook his head and crossed his arms, fussed with the bill of his hat for a second, “You know I wish I knew where to start with it all, but there really ain’t a good place to. I can tell you the Russians are not our friends, like they ever were. I can tell you there’s things out there that should’ve stayed in horror movies and whatever sick imagination they crawled out of.”

He frowned up at Bajbala, “There’s a lot you don’t know. And even if I did tell you all of it, it don’t make it easier when you see it. Spellin’ it out would just make me sound crazy,” Donnelley chuckled, “But at this point all of us kind of are, a little.”

Bajbala gave him a nod, peering back towards Poker, Ghost. "I believe that." She murmured, anticipating the kind of crazy she was going to be after this assignment. One with no timeline or end other than, as far as she could tell, death. The ghouls of a dead team settling right back into their forsaken rhythm before her.

"Russians I can handle but I don't know much about horror films, seems to be no need in this world of ours." She sighed and smiled. "So where do you fall in with all of this?" Unaware that the her and Dave were just a skeleton of UMBRA.

“Suppose I’m at the wheel of this goddamn train wreck,” he chuckled, “I’m your Team Lead by the way. Hopefully I do a better job this time.”

The dark humor tasted bad on his tongue the moment it left. Gallows humor was the only way to cope, but joking about his own death? That was something else entirely that he wasn’t sure if he was ready for, or ever would be, “I take it you’re not a wildman cowboy like THUNDER, else you’d be with them and not me.” He nodded, “We’re nicer anyway.”

Everything was backwards. Dead, then not dead, she just had to roll with it like she usually did. "Not at all like THUNDER. My god, those guys… I play a different game." She chuckled. "Well, then Team Lead, just point me to where I’m dying."

>...///

Ava looked up at Dave as they made the short walk to the barn to untether Prince from the barn, leaving the others to talk and figure out what to do with the Safehouse with a giant hole in the living room. She had questions about that, but for this quiet moment her eyes were on Dave, taking in his appearance since the last time she saw him.

She had seen Dave scruffy and tired, but this was a whole new level. She could see the exhaustion in his face and way he held himself, scrapes and small bruises marred his face and hands. Dust drifted off his body from time to time, thanks to the breeze, though filth was spattered on his shirt along with stains of what was clearly dried blood.

There was also a look to his eyes...one that hadn’t been there before. He looked like he had aged 5 years in the course of 4 days and Ava felt like a knife had struck her heart. Dave must have been in absolute hell since they were betrayed and murdered.

Maybe he still was…

She shook her head and put a smile on her face as Prince started whining and wuffing happily with her and Dave’s approach. The large dalmatian was practically dancing on his paws with his tail going a mile a minute.

“So, this is Prince, though I’ve kinda been calling him Cerberus too.” She explained to Dave, motioning to the dog and yelping in surprise when she got close enough and he jumped up on her, knocking her down onto the ground. “He’s not really trained!” She laughed, covering her face with her hands and arms to protect herself from the onslaught of dog tongue.

Dave followed along, watching Ava the entire time. It felt like years since he'd seen her, and he felt a catch in his throat every time the wind caught her hair or the sun kissed her face. She was beautiful. She was back.

The whining dog caught his attention and he grinned as it tackled her to the ground. He knelt and wrapped his arms around the dog, roughing his fur.

"Hey there, Prince," he laughed as the dog turned its attentions to him.

Ava crawled out from under the dog now that he had turned his attention to Dave. She sat up with a sigh and adjusted the crappy reading glasses back on her face. “Yeah I don’t think he was trained at all, his old owners had him chained up to a doghouse and there were a bunch of divots in the ground where he just dug and dug for something to do.”

"Poor fella," Dave said. He had his chin in the air to avoid Prince's flailing tongue. "You're a good boy, you don't deserve that."

“He does not.” Ava agreed, smiling as she watched Dave interact with the dog. Hopefully that helped with the shock of everything. She pushed herself up and walked over to unhook Prince from the old pipe he had been tethered to. “Soon as we get out of here I’m gonna find out how to get him to Virginia, I should be able to find a good home for him there.” She smiled and scratched his black, floppy ears. “Hmm, he looks a bit like Pongo from the old Disney movie now that I think about it.” She smiled as Prince licked her hand. “We could also call you the Canine Formerly Known as Prince.”

"We could," Dave agreed. He ruffled the dog's ears, happy to simply sit there petting a dog with Ava. Happy not to be fighting. To not be killing. He'd killed five people in three days. Six counting the grenade he had chucked at Yutu. He was just tired.

Ava noticed Dave not getting up and taking his que, she sat down on the ground as well, looking down at her sandaled feet. Her toes were caked with dirt and mud and her feet hurt something fierce so she didn’t mind the sit.

She watched Dave pet Prince, the dog eventually settling down enough to lay still and accept the affection; resting his head on Dave’s leg. Her mind raced with questions and concerns, but she didn’t voice them. Not now. Not yet. Dave needed this moment, this quiet moment to just...breathe.

Ava reached over, placing a hand on Dave’s arm and giving it a warm, comforting squeeze. She smiled at him, her thumb rubbing back and forth before moving her hand away to run over Prince’s back.

He smiled at the touch, reaching over to take her hand. Their backs were to the others, so he gave it a squeeze, enjoying the contact.

"I'm so glad to have you back, sugar," he said softly. "It's been… It's been hard. We'll talk about it, but…" He swallowed hard. "I've just…"

Dave took a shaky breath. "I've just missed you so damn much."

He held her hand for another few minutes, then stood and stretched, using the moment to wipe his eyes.

"C'mon," he said. "We oughta get back."

She looked him in the eyes and gave his hand a hard squeeze before he pulled way. “Yeah.” Ava agreed, taking in a deep breath and standing up with Prince’s lead in hand. “I’ve missed you too.” She smiled and ruffled Prince’s ears again as the dog looked between them, a large doggy smile on his face in anticipation of going for a walk. “Come on, let’s see if we can rustle up some food for this good boy.”

>...///

Queen watched Dave and Ava go fetch Prince, a slight smile on his face as he recalled the wild flight with the dog in tow. He reached up and tugged at the stiff collar, pulling it free and he rolled it in his hands. Stuffing it in a pant pocket, he made his way towards his team lead. He could see Poker and Ghost there but no Maui and Queen sighed inwardly.

He pushed the smile and rolled his shoulders, strolling up with his hands out. “Still kicking, boss,” Queen said, then looked over at the carcass of the car stuck in the house. There would be work to do. He put his hands in the pockets of his slacks, feeling the priest collar and beneath it, the small bag of coke.

“Oh yeah?” Poker turned to Queen, looking him up and down and smirking a little at his priest outfit, “What bachelorette party did they drag you out of, you cretin?”

Queen flashed a toothy grin, then squeezed the coke bag before reaching up for his rosary beads, twirling them. “Hell, I don’t even remember. That’s how you know it must have been good. What y’all been getting up to while I was dead?”

He said it casually, but it still made an impact on him, the ripple of reality stretching through him. It was fucking weird. Poker shrugged at Queen’s question, “Making more dead people.”

“We killed three Russians in Anchorage. Well, one of them was in the barn, but three Russians.” Poker said it like it wasn’t a huge ordeal, killing three people. It probably wasn’t to him, “Like Lucky said, we’ve been getting them back for Noatak.”

“Save me some,” Queen said, then glanced up at Poker’s hard features, “Maui?”

Poker looked back at Queen, his frown deepening a bit, “We loaded him on the chopper and watched them take his body.” He said, “And he isn’t with you.”

Queen nodded slightly then glanced back over his shoulder the road. They had appeared in different places and circumstances, like someone had taken them and scattered their bodies across the city. There might still be a chance, maybe he was in Anchorage and they just never crossed paths. He turned back, “Well, who knows. Maybe he popped up surfing some sweet waves.”

He found the half crushed box of Kools and fished out another cigarette, furrowing his brow. Even the Russian had found them, Maui should have if he had made it. Queen said, “I’m gonna find a light, need to burn one before Foster rounds up the class.”

He walked away unless Poker called him back, heading into the barn where he found the CORAL NOMAD operators hanging around and Sobel and Foster off aside. “Any y’all gotta light? Or maybe you could give me my shit back, like my lighter. That tackle box.”

His pale eyes flicked over their masked faces. The tall female glanced down at the shortest of the soldiers and he only stared back from behind the wrap around Locs. “Tackle box?”

Zeus snapped his fingers, “The effects, right. Guess we won’t be having a bonfire after all.”

He sent Junior to the last SUV to bring out the items that had been confiscated from them when they had been bound and hooded. The short Mexican handed him the old fishing tacklebox and a heavy bomber jacket and a few other items.

“I need to sign for it or something?” Queen asked dryly

Zeus shrugged, “You sure you want your name on that?”

“Did you go snooping?”

“CORAL NOMAD ask no questions, hermano,” he replied, a glint off his sunglasses from the overhead lightbulb was the only indication of a movement of his head.

Queen looked him up and down and then over at the tall female medic, “Shame about the masks.”

Zeus grinned under his gaiter, “They only pick the pretty ones for the Working Groups.”

Queen snorted a laugh and took the items, hunting a spot behind the barn where he could take stock of his goodies. He had taken a count in the SUV of the various benzodiazepines and opioids, hoping the labels of bottles were accurate and not filled with other things though at a glance he recognized most of the shapes and colors of the pills. He took a Xanax bottle, one of two 1mg he had inventoried then searched for the other.

“Huh...ask no questions, sure,” he muttered, but it was odd. Most that might steal pills would go for opiates or the stronger dosages.

Queen glanced up, a worried frown flitting over his face. He locked it and tossed the jacket on, tucking the tacklebox under one arm to head back to the house.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead

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>4 DAYS AGO...///

Ava squinted her eyes, both against the bright light of the noon day sun and tried to make out any of the businesses she was walking passed. She had found her way out of the alley after what felt like twenty nerve wracking minutes of taking random twists and turns.

Each new alleyway had filled her with increasing panic as it just felt like she was becoming more and more lost. Finally she had made it onto the sidewalk, no sounds of blaring metal music telling her she was probably a decent distance from the bar. But that sense of dread and panic didn’t lessen as she walked along as best she could in the too big shoes.

She knew she was probably drawing attention, she could see people walking along, their faces blurred and barely distinguishable from one another. She walked as close as she could to the edge of the sidewalk near the buildings, her arms folded around herself as though she could make herself smaller and less noticeable.

“Phone, phone, I just need to find a phone.” She muttered to herself, alternating between looking at the ground to make sure she didn’t trip over anything and up around to try and find...Something. She didn’t even know what she was looking for.

Maybe some kind of big sign that said, ‘This way to your team!’. As she walked, all that kept racing through her mind was the same questions. What happened? Where was she? Where were her friends and Dave? Were they okay? Had they been drugged and dumped?

What happened?

Her skin was starting to break out into a cold sweat, her breathing was starting to come in short huffs and despite how close her arms were tucked to herself; she could feel her fingers and hands growing cold and shaking at her sides.

An overwhelming sense of fear and confusion welled up in her chest and she eventually stopped walking, leaning against the brick of some building and curling in more on herself. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes as her breathing turned into shallow gasps, her chest tight and throat parched.

“Where are they?” She asked herself with a soft sob. “Where are they?”

The downtown district came into view, blending from the rundown neighborhoods of Mountain View into more businesses than houses. Queen realized walking around like a priest in public brought as many stares as it did warm smiles, most stares quickly averted and some doggedly aggressive. He tried to remember when he had seen a priest just shopping for toilet paper and could not recall it, maybe they just didn’t go around in their uniforms.

He mused on this as he hit the button of a crosswalk, still unsure where he was going but on the other side he could see another Holiday gas station. The first two he tried did not have a payphone, well one did but the receiver had been smashed and hung in two pieces from the steel cord. Queen jogged across the street, the rosary beads bouncing against his chest and kept his eyes out for anything strange. His anxiety was trying to crawl up and take root but he’d had black outs before, maybe someone had roofied them but he did not feel the hangover side effects.

He stepped inside with the bing-bong of the chime and the cashier looked startled and then nervous. The collar again. Almost as bad as a badge. Queen smiled benignly and asked,in his fake Irish accent, “Do you have a phone I could use, lass?”

The woman at the counter stuttered and blushed, “Uh, yeah. You could use ours, Father.”

He thanked her and took the old landline phone from where she pushed it over the counter. She stared at him a little longer then began doing a cigarette inventory, glancing over her shoulder every few moments.

Queen dialed Donnelley’s number, but it went to voicemail and he turned his back on the cashier and whispered, “It’s Billy, what the fuck happened. Did we party after getting out of Noatak? I don’t remember shit and my phone is fried. I’ll try calling again.”

He glanced over but the woman was thankfully busy with a customer and he tried remembering Poker’s phone number. It was one he rarely called unless he had to and his mind felt a little hazy, memories of fog and mixed with a dead cop and Avery and the Shaman speaking of things that made him shudder and almost cross himself.

“Fuck it,” he hung the phone up.

“Father?”

He turned, forgetting a moment priests didn’t drop the F bomb. “Oh, sorry. Do you have fresh hotdogs?”

“Honestly...I wouldn’t touch them, I’m about to finish my shift so they’ve been there for hours.”

Queen raised his brows then went to the aisles, picking up two packs of Little Debbies that were on sale and a large cherry coke Slurpee. A sugar rush but it was cheap energy.

Once he left, a cup cake between his lips and continued towards the center of town. He strolled along noticing a rise in bars and he passed a pool hall with a huge set of neon moose antlers over the door. It was tacky as fuck and he loved it. As he turned away something down the street caught his eye, a flame of color bright in the sun.

Queen moved, taking a drink from the large cup as it dawned on him. The floof of red hair, the small stature but the clothes were all wrong. The strange look of too large boots and the straight cut hem of pants that did not fit right and a long men’s shirt. Like a little hobo clown leaning against the wall.

He blinked, whatever had knocked him out and got him into a priest outfit might be still in his system. As he got closer he could see the delicate pretty features he recognized.

“Ava?” he called her name, now moving quickly and elbowed a man out of the way who cussed at him in some language he didn’t understand or care to. “Ava!”

Queen approached her, trying not to laugh at her outlandish appearance.

Ava blinked as she heard her name, her head snapping up and looking around as hope surged in her chest. She pushed away from the wall as recognition clicked. “Queen?” She called out, looking around until she saw a figure running toward her. She couldn’t make out the features, but the build was right.

Excitement and relief flooding through her she started to run toward the figure. “Que-!” Her shout was cut short as the large boots tripped over themselves and sent her sprawling face first on the sidewalk.

Queen winced at her fall and hurried over to her, setting his large cup down and picked her up by her shoulders. He examined her face, she had a scrape on her chin from the fall but otherwise seemed alright. “Jesus Mary and Joseph,” he said in the phoney accent then dropped it for his more familiar Florida Panhandle drawal. “Ava are you alright? What the hell are you wearing?”

He helped her to her feet and shook his head, looking at the boots. Relief to finally see one his own filled him and he laughed, giving her a hug, squeezing her against the rosary beads. “It’s good to see you,” he said, then released her.

Ava hugged Queen back tightly when he pulled her into the embrace, her anxiety melting away at being in the presence of a familiar face. “It’s good to see you too.” She sniffed, looking up at him and finally able to make out his features now that he was close enough. She opened her mouth to launch into a tirade of question, but paused and tilted her head to the side like a confused cat.

“Why...Are you dressed like a priest?”

“I heard the Village People needed a sixth,” he replied dryly then shrugged, “I have no idea, honestly. I just...was sitting in a confessional booth at Saint Anthony’s church. Dressed like this. I mean, I’ve had some wild nights and woke up in strange places but this takes the cake.”

He remembered and said, “Speaking of, you hungry?”

Queen removed from his pocket a slightly squished pack of Little Debbie zebra cakes and handed them to her. “I found...well, the wallet of the priest, too. In the pant pocket. He was kinda broke. What about you?”

Ava sniffed again, gently wiping at her scraped chin with the sleeve of her shirt. She reached for the cake and winced as she moved her left hand to do so. She took it with her right hand instead. “I...I don’t know. I woke up in a dive bar, it might have been a biker bar?” She frowned as she thought back to the experience. “I was in a bathroom and I was wearing...This.” She motioned to the clothing on her body.

“Well, not exactly, I had to make alterations so it would fit but I was wearing the clothes of this biker guy.” Her frown deepened as she looked up at him. “But his phone and wallet were still in the pockets and, um, well,” She took his hand and gently tugged him down to whisper in Queen’s ear. “His gun was still there too and I...took...it.”

Queen raised his brows and gave her a conspiratorial smile after she whispered in his ear. Looking at her still very close he had to remind himself of her reaction in the Camaro and his private promise to himself out of respect to Dave. He pulled back, fighting his natural urge to push a little farther. “You want to keep carrying it or did you want me to?”

“Here, let’s get off the street,” he put a light hand on her back and guided her to one of the alleys. “That’s a hell of a place to...what did you say, wake up?”

Queen rubbed his beard, giving the short hair on his chin a tug as he thought it over, “I guess that’s how it was, just waking up. Coming to. And you were wearing that? Fucking...what the hell is going on. I know you didn’t go party with bikers and strip and then borrow one of their clothes and his wallet…”

As he said it outloud he could hear how mad it sounded and he shook his head. “This is nutter butters, Angel.”

Queen took a sip of his slurpee then offered her a drink. “What’s up with your left arm by the way, I see you favoring it?”

Ava looked down at her arm as she tucked the pastry into one of the pants gaping pockets to eat later. “Oh, um,” She flushed as she lifted up her arm. “I...panicked and crawled out of the bathroom window so I didn’t have to go through the bar.” She pulled the sleeve back and winced, noticing the wrist was starting to grow red. “I fell on my wrist and shoulder because I climbed out head first.”

She looked around to make sure they were alone and she shifted so Queen was blocking her from sight. “Here,” She lifted up the shirt enough to reveal the gun and holster tucked into the belt. “My eyes are useless right now, I don’t have my contacts in and my glasses were nowhere.” She removed the gun and holster from the pants, revealing the pink bullet scar on her lower stomach the holster had inadvertently been hiding. “You should take it, it’s a .38 revolver.”

Her face grew concerned, but grim as she looked up at Queen. “Were...Were we drugged?”

“Lost both contacts too?” He watched her raise her shirt, trying not to stare at her pale flat stomach then noted the scar but said nothing. “.38 revolver, good ol’ Saturday Night Special. Thanks, I’ll take care of it.”

He untucked the priest’s shirt and put the holster and gun against the small of his back, snug between the belt and his skin. Queen clicked his tongue against his teeth at her question, “I don’t know, Angel. It’s a good guess but how does it explain us wearing other people’s clothes and having their IDs? Some high strangeness going on for sure. But let’s work on something we can solve.”

Queen rubbed his hands together briefly, “Like that arm of yours and your vision. There’s a Walgreens up the street. But uh, that dude have any money in his wallet? I got about seven bucks left after the snack. I should have looked for the collection plate but it got weird and I had to book it quick out of there.”

“I tried calling Te- Donnelley,” he said, then shook his head, “Just went straight to voice mail. But we can keep trying once we find another phone.”

He looked her over, “You might even be better off walking without those boots, probably more a hazard but it’s up to you. It’s not a far walk.”

Ava looked down at the boots and reached down to untie the laces. “Yeah, I need to get rid of these, I just didn’t want to walk around barefoot in the alleys. I have to be able to get some flipflops at Walgreens right?” While she was undoing the boots, she reached into the sock where she had stashed the money and pulled it out.

“Um, here,” She stood up and held out the folded bills to him. “Between the wallet and the emergency money in the boot, I’ve got 114 dollars.” She wiggled her feet and pulled them out of the boots, sighing in relief to no longer have the heavy weight on her feet.

She reached down to pick up the boots. “Do you want these? If they’re your size? They seem like good boots or should we make a homeless man very happy?”

Queen took the money but counted out the fourteen dollars and handed it back to her, “Never be without at least a few bucks.”

He put the rest in the wallet and tucked it in the back pocket. “Not with these slacks, those boots would throw off the whole look. I kinda like the aesthetic, very clean and minimalist. Hold onto those though, we could use them for I don’t know, smashing a car window.”

Queen looked at her with the cut jeans hovering around the falling socks and huffed a laugh. An idea came to mind as he flashed a grin at her, his eyes twinkling with the familiar impish gleam,“It’s not far so, if you want I can just piggy back you over. I’m no Ghost but you’re pretty small, even I could carry you a few blocks. If not, just mind your socks and don’t trip.”

Ava blinked up at him in surprise. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Queen.” She smiled, though the weight of everything that happened weighed it down. “I appreciate the offer though.” She hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to give him another hard hug.

“I’m really glad to see you, Queen.” She said, her voice growing soft. “I was really scared and confused. I’m still pretty confused, but I’m not as scared now.”

Queen shrugged, the rejection taken in stride, “I’m just that kinda guy.”

He smiled at the hug, that was good enough but understood her fear and anxiety. He had not let his mind rest too hard on the details of what had happened but he had seen enough in his work with the Program to know that they just didn’t wake up with costumes on. There was always a price and whatever happened, whatever had been asked it had cost. Just how much he was not certain and he would not voice his concern to Ava. Instead, Queen pat her back, “I can imagine, I’m guessing you never got black out drunk. We’ll get it fixed, you’ll see.”

Queen glanced down at her, then gave her a slight squeeze. “We’ll find Dave. And the rest.”

He let her go and gave her hair a ruffle, “We need to control that, too. It’s too humid this close to the water. Can you see enough to follow me? Maybe hold my sleeve or back of my shirt if you’re having trouble. Let’s get going.”

Ava’s eyes brightened at the mention of Dave as he pulled away, before growing concerned and wondering if the same thing had happened to him. “Yeah, okay.” She bent down to pick up the boots. “Oh, um, also,” She cleared her throat. “I have cigarettes in my pocket. I know you smoke so you can have them if you want...I also took the dude’s weed.”

Queen gave her a look of appraisal then spoke in the Irish lilt, “Ah, tis a sin to be smoking the devil’s lettuce, lass. Ya better hand it all over to good Father Patrick to take care of proper.”

Ava smiled and giggled at the accent, reaching into the pocket and pulling out the pack of cigarettes which also contained the weed. “Sorry Father, I’ll say ten Hail Mary’s to make up for it.” She held it out to him.

“Do so, and don’t be forgetting a couple of Our Fathers,” he replied.

He took the Marlborough cigarettes and put them in the front shirt pocket then opened the bag of weed to take a sniff. Decent but not good, probably local stuff. He put it in his pocket and asked, “You wouldn’t have found his lighter, too?”

Queen took that too and immediately lit a cigarette and took a drag, “Not as good as my Kools, but it’ll do, thanks.”

With a nod of his head, he gestured to the alley exit, “Let’s get going.”

Ava nodded, took in a breath and followed him out of the alley...///

>...///

Another car honked and this time Laine did not even turn around, she just stepped over and waved them along then flicked her middle finger at the middle aged male driver. It had been the fourth since the truck to try honking and slowing down, one even bold enough to ask her how much. She longed for her gun and badge and a pair of actual shoes.

“Not interested,” she said as he tried slowing down. Her feet ached after walking a mile or so down the road where it finally met a highway. She had no clue where she was going, Laine realized she could be walking into the wilderness of Alaska in flip flops and no jacket. Maybe she could have taken the ride, she had the knife and the knuckles but after the near miss with Thumper and the strange flashes of unsettling memories she did not want the risk.

Laine felt a sharp pain and stopped, moving off the shoulder to remove the sandal and pick out another piece of gravel. She took a breather and from where she was, she could see Diamond Blvd just ahead where it crossed the parkway she had been following. A Costco, blessed civilization in one direction and a couple of gas stations in the other. Slipping her foot back into the shoe, she started walking towards the intersection.

Red light.

Cop on the other side of the intersection. He couldn’t tell where he was looking on account of those fucking cop shades, and after the time Donnelley had just had, he could be looking at him. He forced himself not to stare at the cop and looked elsewhere. His eyes scanned the road, looking at pedestrians as they walked and continued their lives not knowing he’d just killed two people and stole one’s car. “How the fuck did I get here?” He muttered to himself.

He looked around again and then heard someone honk. He looked at the traffic signal and noticed it had turned green. With a light touch on the gas he set the Toyota rolling along again to the next red light in the streets. Out of habit, he scanned again, eyes locking on one pedestrian. Sure, her clothes were odd, but those hips. He couldn’t stop his mind from going there even after his wake-up. He forced himself to stop checking her out, immediately feeling like he was betraying the memory of Laine. And then he squinted at her. Before he knew it, he was staring at her. Another honk came from behind him, but he paid it no mind.

The cars behind him swerved around him as he refused to go with the green light. As the woman got closer, sure as shit, it was Laine. He rolled down his window, not having any witty or smartassed thing to say, and not being in the mood for one, “Laine?” He yelled, “Laine?”

The honking at least was not towards her this time as she walked quickly across the crosswalk, hips swinging with the movement. Her head was tilted down, watching that she did not trip over the cheap rubber of the flip flops. When she looked up to check the light she heard it. Her name.

Stopping in the middle, she froze and looked around then towards the source of the honking. That red beard and scar, his blue eyes visible from even where she was. Laine smiled, “Oh shit, Donnelley? There you are!”

She ran forward to get out of the road, regretting it immediately as she forgot she wasn’t wearing a bra. Fuck it.

Laine ran to him, happy to find someone from her team but even better it was Donnelley. In her rush one of her flip flops snapped and fell off her foot and she limped over to where he was parked and without hesitation hopped into the passenger side seat.. “Hey, am I glad to see you, where the hell did we all go?”

Buckling up, she looked over at him, what he was wearing was not the tactical gear he had on last she remembered.

Donnelley depressed the gas pedal and made it just before the yellow light had turned red. He took his moment and tried to decide to tell Laine what had happened, asked her if she knew anything. But he knew she wouldn’t. He swallowed, was this a dream? Was he really dead and this was what the last few firings of his synapses brought. He shook himself from his doom and gloom musings, “Anchorage.” He said, still not believing it somewhat, “How did we get here?”

“Anchorage, I thought so,” she said, digging into the purse and pulling the last two Merits out and offering him one. “I don’t know, I woke up in someone else’s bed. At like noon.”

She lit her cigarette with the cheap disposable lighter, the clear colorful plastic ones that always stopped working before the fuel ran out. It took her a few strikes before getting a flame.

“I don’t even know when I woke up.” Donnelley said, before looking over and seeing the offered cigarette, “Oh, Jesus fuck, thank God.”

He snatched it out of Laine’s hand and shoved it between his lips, lighting it and taking in a huge drag. He rolled down his window and blew it out, “Goddamn, that’s worse than Queen’s fuckin’ Kools.” He chuckled, and then the memory of him dropping like bricks after his brains sprayed out the back of his head flashed across his mind, “You haven’t… have you seen anyone else?”

Laine grinned a bit at his sentiment then furrowed her brow, “Jesus, Donnelley. I was wearing some woman’s underwear and sleeping in her bed. I didn’t see her at all but nothing of mine was there. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know...I don’t think I did anything. Then this dude showed up pounding on the door and I grabbed what clothes would fit me which is why I look like I just rolled out of a thrift shop donation bin. I had to punch him in the teeth to get past...I think he was her pimp. I got the hell out of there.”

She took a drag and said, “I brought her purse, I’m going to try and find her if we can. Maybe she knows...something.”

The niggling fear in the back of her mind, the shock on Thumper’s face when he saw Laine rather than the woman he was looking for. “These do suck,” she agreed, wanting to think about something else. “You’re the first I’ve come across, I tried driving away in her car but ran out of gas back down the parkway and that’s why I was walking. Her phones were fried and that smell...you know, the electric burn smell. I swear I smelled it when I woke, I thought there might have been an outlet fire, that apartment was pretty rough. But it wasn’t.”

She looked at him, flicking her cigarette with her thumbnail a few times, “You don’t know when? I saw the clock by the bed, it was just after twelve. Where did you wake up, those aren’t your clothes. At least I’ve never seen you wear that.”

“I…” woke up with She-Ra behind me and we immediately set to killing each other. And then I killed someone just for seeing the aftermath, stole his truck, and now we’re riding in it with his kid’s car seat in the back… “was drivin’.”

“I’m pretty sure the smell was there too. Power steerin’ was out in the car, had to ditch it because it wouldn’t turn over.” Donnelley lied easy, “Now I’m in Anchorage… lookin’ for y’all, I guess.”

Laine looked at him for a long moment, narrowing her green eyes slightly, “Just like that I guess. Donnelley. I woke up wearing some hooker’s thong with her pimp knocking at the door! What the fuck is going on? If this turns out to be some need to know bullshit I swear…”

She stuck her cigarette between her full lips and felt her hand trembling as she sucked on the nicotine to calm her nerves that had been fraying as since she woke in someone else’s sad little life. Laine leaned away from him, pressing her elbow against the window sill of the door, the wind whipping her short dark hair as the smoke streamed out.

“I’m tryin’ to figure this shit out too, okay?” Donnelley snapped at her with some measure of annoyance to be yelled at, but he understood. He didn’t know what in the hell was going on, but the fact remained no one else but him seemed to remember what had happened before. “I’m just goin’ to set us North and we’ll look for a- a payphone, or some place that’ll let us use their phone.”

“I don’t know how we got here anymore than you, Laine.” Donnelley said, taking a hard breath and then another drag off his cigarette...///

>CHEVRON GAS STATION
>10SEP2019
>1300...///

“I’m stopping for gas here, how much cash do you have?” Donnelley turned to Laine.

“Apparently, Sam Teague doesn’t believe in paper money.” He showed one of the wallets on his person, then the other, “Gregory Miles only has ten bucks.”

Laine had remained silent for most of the trip, her temper slowly cooling as they traveled. After the strain of the experience and uncertainty she lashed out, the man that usually had answers had nothing. She mentally flipped through the clues and tried unsuccessfully to piece together the time before waking in Alasie's bed.

She jerked her head when he spoke, looking at him for a moment as she registered he spoke of two men. Whatever that meant, she didn't pry this time, stubbornly putting up that wall.

"Good thing my girl worked for cash," Laine said, reaching for the wallet in the purse and counted out sixty dollars. "Here. Buy a better lighter, too."

She handed the cash but held it a moment, looking at him. "I'm really glad you found me. Walking in flip flops for any distance other than to the pool sucks."

Her eyes sought him, the tension still there but softening. "Can you get me a Snickers, I'll pump the gas."

“Yeah, sure.” Donnelley took the cash, not saying anything about Laine’s trepidation at handing it over. He made his way over to the convenience store, opening the door to hear Waylon Jennings on the store speakers and the door chime as he walked in.

“Hey there.” The attendant said, disinterested in who he was talking to as he thumbed through a magazine.

Donnelley prowled the aisles for a Snickers and snatched two up. Walking back to the checkout counter, he slid them across to the attendant who eyed them and then him, “Anything else?”

“Pack of American Spirits, black. And, uh,” Donnelley clucked his tongue as he plucked a red Bic lighter from its place on the display, “One of these.”

“Uh.” The attendant scanned the items as Donnelley handed about thirty bucks over.

“Can I get this on…” he leaned back to look out the glass doors to see where they were parked, “On two, please. What’s the date today, by the way?”

“Don’t own a phone? Brand new, they do everything.”

“Lost mine.” Donnelley frowned something dark. “You got one I can use?”

“Out of luck, Bud.” The attendant looked at him for a second before sliding his items over in a plastic bag, “The tenth.”

“Of?” Donnelley quirked his brow.

The attendant quirked his own, “September. Man, you alright?”

“Probably not.” Donnelley grabbed up the bag and left, walking back to the truck. He sided with Laine at the pump and then brought one of the Snickers out of the bag, “Here, you’re not you when you’re hungry.” He smirked, reciting their catchphrase.

Laine waited with the nozzle in the gas tank, watching for the pump to click to zero to indicate it was ready. She leaned against the car, squeezing the nozzle as Donnelley approached.

She took the candy bar and gave him a little sheepish smile.

Laine set the lock on the handle and then turned to him. "Any luck calling someone?"

She reached for the sanitizer mounted over the windshield wiper fluid and rubbed her hands together before wiping her hands on her sweats then tore into the Snickers.

“Didn’t have a phone,” Donnelley said, opening the driver door and taking a seat as he opened his own Snickers, “SOL on that front.”

He bit into the Snickers and talked around it, “I don’t even know what the fuck our next step would be.”

They were both silent for a few moments, Donnelley quietly chewing while watching the numbers on the gas gauge rise. He looked at Laine, a flash of her dead eyes as she lay on the ground before he looked away and then back at her, “How much do you remember?” He asked quietly, “From before?”

Laine was toying with the broken flip flop, it was nearly useless. She needed clothes and shoes, the nights were going to be getting colder. They still had enough money and if carefully spent it could last while they looked for the others.

She glanced at him, it was unusual to see him so lost. He always seemed to know what needed to be done or at least it appeared that way. Laine waited as the gas pumped and kept eating the candy bar, giving herself some time before going back into the SUV. She looked at it, her gaze pulled to the back and the child safety seat strapped in the back. Something cold prickled up her spine again, the clues that were plain as day but her mind did not want the conclusion she was piecing together.

Dragging her gaze from the back seat she looked at him, dressed like a redneck but not his version. She thought about what she had remembered, it was not much. When she woke, there was the electrical burning stink still in her nostrils but anything else in the recent time before that was just bits and pieces.

“Let’s see,” she said, “I remember us going to Noatak, I remember the incident with Yutu and how that turned out. I remember speaking with Ipitok and then…”

Laine took the last piece of candy bar in her mouth, chewing hard as she thought about the most fragmented flashes of memory. “A woman showed up, Agent Jung, she was freezing, like she had been caught out in a storm. I remember being afraid of what...what I don’t know, I just remember feeling very worried when I saw it was snowing. I think we left the house but everything’s just a haze after that.”

She shrugged then looked at him, “Doesn’t seem very helpful, what about you?”

Donnelley shook his head, “‘Bout the same.” He lied. He’d tell her. Sometime. Maybe when they found the others, if there were others. If they found a quiet spot, others or no, he’d tell her when the day ended. “Just the Op. The tundra, then Noatak. Charles goin’ down when Yutu started shootin’.”

“The vision…” He muttered, looking off and thinking about how he’d seen it happen before it did. Was this how Ava felt any time she had her dreams? He swallowed, shaking his head slightly and looking back to Laine, “Then takin’ Ipiktok and leavin’ the house to meet CORAL NOMAD. That’s it.”

“Somethin’ happened, Laine.” Donnelley shivered as he looked back at the gas meter, remembering Laine’s dead and empty eyes, “Somethin’ bad.”

The gas meter stopped at 30 dollars and he hopped out to replace the nozzle in the machine. Closing up the gas tank, he slapped the lid shut and got back into the driver seat, cranking the keys and watching the needle rise to half full. As they left, he had no more words to say, and he didn’t like the silence. He turned up the radio and listened to the dated country music that crooned out of the speakers. Greg liked Country. Greg liked Country and had a kid he was going home to. Greg was never coming home. He heaved in a breath and pressed himself into his seat, growling softly. “We need a fuckin’ phone.”

She slid into the passenger seat, pulling the shoulder belt over her chest. “Want me to try?” Laine said, shifting the strap between her breasts, “I might be able to convince him to lend it.”

She reached over to put her hand on his, brushing her thumb against his skin. Laine said nothing, just holding his hand for a moment. The sensation of his warmth and the light pulse on his wrist was reassuring and Laine squeezed a little harder.

“I think you’re right,” she said, her voice huskier than usual. “I think...I don’t want to say it but if we’re here where did they go? Maybe we were drugged and placed but...you said you were driving when you came to? That doesn’t make sense. And you had two wallets, that’s different from my experience as well. We need to find the others, they have to be here. Somewhere.”

“Dave’s resourceful.” Donnelley nodded as he smiled for the first time all day, just holding Laine’s hand. He squeezed her hand gently in reassurance both for himself and for her, “I’m sure Ava’s okay.”

If Laine was alive, Ava had to be. He hoped she was, and that they’d all find each other somehow. It was a modest city and there weren’t many hiding places. Still, it had its dangerous parts like any other, and if Ava or Dave weren’t careful… his mind didn’t dwell too hard on that. “We’ll try somewhere else.”

Laine leaned against the center console and looked down at her broken flip flop dangling from her foot. “We could just drive around, maybe we can spot them like you did me. Check places they might go, like gas stations or...bus stops?”

She jiggled her foot, the pedicured black polish gleaming, “We both woke up in strange clothes, maybe if they did too, they’d try to get something else. Maybe thrift stores?”

Laine thought about Thumper and worried over Ava, “I hope so, I’m sure about Dave but Ava? If she had any situation like I did...well, she’s been trained right? She’ll be fine.”

Her voice carried the weight of the worry, their team scattered like chaff in the wind by some unknown force. “I just wish I could remember something before waking up in that apartment. I figured she was a night owl, she must have been sleeping in. Maybe…”

Laine trailed off, hunting for Alasie Creech was down on her list of missing person priority. “What do they say about being lost in the woods? To sit tight and someone might find you. What about the Program, do they have any protocol for being lost in a city you’ve never been to or remember going to?”

She huffed a laugh and glanced at him, “Can I get one of those Spirits?”

“Oh, yeah,” He took the pack from the plastic bag, driving with his knees while he unwrapped it. He took one out and turned it over, taking another out and placing it between his lips, offering the pack to Laine, “Check a Walmart, maybe. Might find Dave. Either way, we’ll find a burner phone. Something cheap, just so we can call someone.”

“Good idea,” she said, taking the cigarette and letting him light it before settling back, “I need some real shoes, too. Just something cheap that won’t fall off my feet. And a jacket, it’s fine now but it’ll get cold later and I’m half dressed.”

She took a drag and blew it out, “My luck I woke up in a petite woman’s apartment, not a lot of choice in wardrobe. But let’s do it, maybe we can ask around. Contact the locals to put up a missing persons case?”

The hopefulness about the idea faded as she recalled how stubborn some places were about taking adult missing persons cases, dragging it out when the most critical time passes. And it was something they could even do, if the Program would care. Fuck them, Laine thought as she sucked on the cigarette hard enough to make her cheeks hollow, a sudden feeling of anger towards the faceless higher beings that put them in Noatoak hit her. And the not so faceless.

“I don’t think the Program would like their agents being looked for by the entire Anchorage PD… if they even give a shit.” Donnelley muttered the last part. The more they drove deeper into Anchorage the more the place looked like a SeaTac, but further north. Whores, pimps, drug dealers. Hell, they might find Queen just walking around right here. “Let’s just make a trip to Walmart.”

>...///

>Carr’s Pharmacy
>10SEP2019
>1300...///

Queen tried on another pair of sunglasses, gazing at himself in the little strip of a mirror on the display. He was beginning to warm to the look of the priest’s clothes on him, form fitting and black, the stark white collar a contrast to his colorful tattoos. Not to mention the looks he got from women, a titillating blend of holy and handsome, the forbidden fruit. He grinned behind the Rayban knock-offs and took them, cheap sunglasses always had their uses.

The limited clothing offered at the pharmacy was poor quality and overpriced, the sweat shirts so thin they wouldn’t keep out a strong breeze from a desk fan let alone a late summer Alaskan evening. The temperature would drop after the sun went down and neither of them had a jacket and Ava needed shoes and clothes that fit her.

He went to the girl at the makeup counter and smiled. She gave him a heated look then saw the collar and her expression turned from interest to confusion. “Can I help you?”

“Ah, lass, I was wondering if you might know where the nearest second hand or thrift store was?” Queen asked, slipping into his Father Patrick persona. “The Lord provides but the Lord is frugal.”

The girl smiled a little, then took a piece of receipt paper and wrote down the directions, “That’s the Goodwill downtown, they have a good selection. A lot of winter wear, you know. Getting to be that time of year.”

“You are a dear,” he said, then looked over the heavy makeup covering a flush of acne on an otherwise cute young face. “You know you should scrape off that whore’s paint. You’d be a much prettier lass without it.”

Queen winked and she flushed red, turning to look in the mirror at the bright coral lipstick that did not suit her skin tone.

He strolled back to where he left Ava trying on the generic glasses and he poked his head around the tall display rack, “Find anything that helps?”

Ava turned to him with a pair of small, perfectly circular black rimmed glasses on her face. She blinked up at him through the glasses. “Yeah, these work okay for things close to me.” She said, turning around to look down the aisle with a frown. “Further away, I can’t see shit.”

She turned back to him and shrugged. “It’s better than nothing though.” She held up a pair of cheap sandals, still attached together by a plastic tag. “I found these, they had slippers which would be warmer but these were cheaper and, well,” She frowned. “We need to be careful with the money we have.”

"Forget that, just buy some socks and panties here. I got directions to a thrift store, it's not far. It's hard to find non-prescription glasses to see far, but take whatever helps," he said, then looked at the socks that had fallen around her ankles, the bottoms black from walking outside. "On second thought, you might want the sandals for now it's still a bit of a hike."

“That’s probably a good idea.” She adjusted the glasses on her face and pushed them up to rub at her eyes. “My head is clearing up at least,” She lowered her glasses and glanced in the direction of the pharmacy. “There’s no chance of me getting my medication here, I don’t know how long it’s been since I last took it.”

Queen paused, raising an eyebrow, “Medication? You got some chronic condition or what? Restless leg syndrome?”

He flashed a little smile for her to know he was teasing but still had a concern in his pale eyes, “I can tell you it’s not been too long, even if those newspapers said it was the tenth. And I don’t remember it being the tenth when…”

He furrowed his brow, the line between his brows forming. They had not discussed too much of what they recalled before ‘waking’ as she called it, in the strange places in a stranger’s clothing. Queen knew his stash was gone but was not feeling the effects from any withdrawal yet. “I mean, I uh...do you feel like you’ve missed your medicine for a few days?”

“It’s the tenth!?” She said in a hushed exclamation, turning to him with wide eyes. “We were in Noatak on the seventh, how did we lose three days!?” She shut her eyes and took in a deep breath, panicking was not going to help them here. “Sorry, sorry,” She said, shaking her head pushing the glasses up to rub at her face. “I’m okay, I think, it usually takes a few days for me to start feeling...Icky.” Ava frowned again. “But, it has been a few days.”

Queen put a light hand on her shoulder, leaning down slightly, “Look, between you and me, I’d be feeling like shit, too if so much time passed between...doses. I don’t though, so something wacky is really going on. But look, we'll figure it out, we’ll find the others and everything will be alright.”

He glanced around, a few shoppers lingering near the pharmacy counter. “What’s your prescription for?”

She relaxed a little at his reassurance, taking a moment to collect herself before answering, “I take Klonopin for anxiety, nightmares and sleepwalking.”

He knew the drug and it wasn’t for lightweight anxiety caused by being introverted and awkward. It wasn’t even something he indulged in as it was more rare and stronger than the Xanax and other brands of calming bliss in a pill.

“Well, you’re rolling with the big benzos now aren't cha?” he teased but was already going over what he recalled about the medication. “Yeah, you’re not getting that without an ID and prescription that’s for sure. You don’t take anything else? Xanax or estazolam or anything?”

Queen reached to toy with the rosary around his neck, it would not really matter, all those scripts were hard to get without a doctor’s note and ID. Sometime maybe he could get with time and his contacts but they were far from Florida, about as far one could get and still be on the same continent. He mulled it over and thought of himself, the withdrawals from the opiates and cocaine, all the Xanax he’d tossed back like tic tacs to deal with THUNDER’s shit. It was coming, the storm was delayed, not absent. And the reason he had even headed towards downtown in the first place, the shittiest neighborhoods always had the guys that hung out on the street.

“Look, I gotta plan but you’re gonna have to get cool with a lot of stuff real fast,” he said, meeting her gaze.

Ava blinked up at him, furrowing her eyebrows together in confusion. “Um, okay? What are you going to do? Does it involve the priest's uniform?”

Queen considered it then shrugged, “I’m not sure yet, we’ll see how it goes. Playing it by ear. But look, I’m gonna try to get you something that you can take but it probably won’t be Klonopin. Not in this town. We’ll both get set up, I just need to find the right guy. Let’s get our shit and get out of here.”

Ava's baffled expression only grew, her gaze growing mildly pensive as she studied Queen. “O...kay. I trust you know what you’re doing.” She said, giving him one last look before turning to go pick up a couple more things from the aisles.

Queen smiled, a hint of sadness flickering through his sea colored eyes, “I’m glad you trust me with this. I am after all your friendly, neighborhood DEA priest.”

He took her things with him to the front, waiting for whatever else she would bring as he asked for a pack of Kools and he picked up a plastic folded map of Anchorage. Queen watched the price adding up, fucking overcharging for the convenience of not going to a Walmart. The total was almost a third of their money, leaving them with about seventy dollars.

He handed Ava the bag with her underwear and new socks and sandals, waiting while she made a run to the bathroom to put some on under the baggy cut jeans and oversized t-shirt, the faded Harley Davidson logo just recognizable on it. He shared some trail mix with her as they walked to a bus stop, now with a map he had a better idea of where they could go.

The northbound bus pulled up and the driver gave Queen the once over in his priest shirt and tattoos and the waif he brought along with him. With a slow shake of his head, he said nothing as they dropped their dollars in the machine.

As Queen watched the neighborhood turn seedier, he kept his sharp gaze out for the telltale lingering knot of men that seemed to be waiting for nothing. He saw women like that, strolling no doubt and he knew he was close. Once he saw advertisements for check cashing and payday loans and a directional sign for a nearby RV Park he pulled the chain. It was a place to start hunting.

He glanced at Ava after they stepped off the bus and he turned to her, “Stick close, let me do the talking. And trust me, no matter what I say to them.”

The street was a collection of strip malls across from the airfield complex and beyond it a variety of RV parks and small apartment complexes and rental homes. He tucked the map in one of the bags and pulled off his short sleeve black shirt and the stiff collar, stuffing them into the bag as well. Leahy had been an undershirt guy and Queen now looked much less holy in the wifebeater and rosary, the full sleeve tattoos on display now.

The variety was a chaotic mix of color and black and white, spiderweb reaching over his right shoulder and below it a laughing devil with a top hat and old english lettering that said HHF, FHH and on the other among the duller black tattoos was a bright red heart with an arrow piercing it, a classic with the scroll that said “Mom” wrapped around it. It was all filled in with decorative art, creating a full canvas on his skin that was starting to spread down his fingers and up his neck and already crossed his chest and back.

Queen shook his long hair out, running his fingers through it to make it look less tidy and greasier, the cheap sunglasses completing the look. He took the pack of Kools and removed one, putting it between his lips but not lighting it. He roughed up his beard and looked at Ava, flickering a dimpled mischievous grin, ”Do I look like trash enough?”

Ava had been quiet the whole trip, watching the scenery pass and turn from the somewhat respectable downtown to something...more insidious.

Her mind started to put the pieces together and a knot of anxiety started to take hold in her chest. Her arms were folded tightly over her chest as she watched Queen strip off the priest uniform and posed his question.

She looked at him with clear uncertainty and no small amount of fear and worry. “Queen...You don’t have to do this. I feel fine right now, I’ll be okay for a few days, even without my medication.” She said, her voice soft and almost pleading with him.

Queen saw her worry and it felt unfamiliar, he was so used to the bravado of THUNDER that her concern confused him for a moment. He shook his head, "Ain't no thing, Angel. I did this all the time in my day job. Besides, you…"

He hesitated, she'd figure it out sooner or later, innocent or not she wasn't stupid. His expression shifted from gleeful anticipation to a more introspective look.

"You ain't the only one that's gonna be feeling bad once our systems catch up with whatever happened," he said quietly, "And I've been at this long enough to know I don't want that if I can help it. I'd be useless and I can't take care of you if I'm useless."

Queen flashed her a smile, "Come on, think of this like an adventure. You're playing an urban tourist."

Ava looked away, as though a suspicion she wasn’t even fully aware of had been confirmed. A number of emotions flickered across her face, concern, fear, a touch of disbelief and frustration at herself for being so oblivious.

Chiefly what weighed down her expression was a look of disappointment and sadness. She didn’t say anything in response to Queen, her arms folding tighter around herself.

Queen watched her register it all then took the unlit cigarette from his lips, tilting his head slightly as he gazed down at her. Shame and anger twisted in him, she was there judging him. It had been sometime since he had a teammate look at him that way. They all knew and some shared, including and especially Donnelley.

"It's like that, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She looked up at him, her brow furrowing. “Like what?”

"How long you been in the Program? I've been doing this shit almost six years," he said, his voice uncharacteristically gruff. "Most of that with THUNDER. Doing what I gotta do to keep myself from suck starting my pistol so don't judge me if my shit ain't a prescription."

He turned his head, not wanting to see that disappointment, let her get angry or offended, that was easier.

“...Queen.” Ava said quietly, her eyes stinging with tears. “I’m not judging you. I’m just... I don’t even know.” She reached out and tentatively touched his arm. “I still think of you as my friend. I care about you. I know that.”

Queen held his breath, glancing at her glistening eyes and kicked himself internally. He could lash out at her, make her feel bad and guilty since she still thought of him as her friend. Twist the knife of his own crumbling mental health only propped up by whatever chemical he could put in his body that would bring him up when he needed it or down, but always numb. He looked at her again, there was something in her naive optimism that from the beginning reminded him. Beyond her cute face and his desire for her, that had passed now and it was front and center.

She reminded him of the only woman that meant something in his life, his mother. How his mom would look at him with the guileless blue eyes and ask about his work, how proud she was that he had a real career. She always found the bright side even in the darkest places, and Queen often wondered how much of it was for her or for him.

With Ava, she was that same lightness and Queen could not do what he needed to so he just muttered, “Look, I know it’s fucked up.It didn’t start...it was just to, you know, get through shit.”

He ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair and dropped it, looking down at his priest’s loafers. Queen had a feeling where the good Father had gone but he had said nothing about it. Another thing to bury up his nose. “I don’t ask you to approve it, it ain’t your world and I would never have brought you so close to it if I didn’t…”

Queen sighed raggedly and crossed his arms, “If I didn’t need to, I need it. I know what’s coming. I can’t go cold turkey and be useful.”

Ava looked up at him and finally nodded slowly. “Okay.” She said quietly. “We can’t really afford both of us being...less than functional right now. I’m half blind already.” She let out a deep and heavy breath before unfolding her arms and motioning to him. “Let’s go do what needs doing, I’ll be right behind you.”

Queen rolled his shoulders and shook himself, trying to rid himself of the tension and slip into a persona and told her, “Just do that, stay behind me, stay quiet and follow my lead. It ain’t nothing. And...don’t call me Queen. Just use...Billy, that’ll do. I’ll call you... Emma. But we shouldn’t need them, it’s just in case.”

He glanced over down the street, noting the couple of dudes that had not moved from their corner. “These guys smell like street hustlers, I’ve seen two busses pass and nothing. I’m going to chat them up, just stay close.”

Already a knot of regret was forming, he should have left her at a McDonalds and done this on his own. But finding her had been a small miracle, considering the strangeness of their arrival in random places around Anchorage. He thought about how much easier and fun it would be with Tex but who knew where he was, he didn’t answer his phone. He put that aside and focused on the buy, he had about forty bucks he was willing to part with for this, it would leave them with thirty. Skin of their teeth but if it was one place Queen thrived it was the edge.

Putting the cigarette between his lips and the sunglasses back over his eyes as he strolled over to the three men sitting around the curb near the bus stop.

“Sup, fellas, any y’all got a light?” he asked, motioning a flicking with his thumb.

The men, dressed casually in jeans and large coats, glanced up. The one sitting on the curb stood up, eyeing Queen as he took in the tattoos and then looked past him at Ava. “Yeah, sure,” he said, reaching for a lighter, “You’re not from around here.”

Queen had made no effort to mask his southern accent and he took the light, inhaling sharply on the Kools and grinned, shaking his head, “Nah, man. Florida. I came up for work on the boats.”

“A long way,” the man in the Canucks shirt said, he had a native look to him and was wary.

The man who offered him a light was wearing a hunting jacket over a t-shirt with the old mud flap busty girl silhouette printed on it. “Florida, why would you leave?”

“Man, have you ever been to central Florida in the summer? It’s swamp ass 24/7, besides I heard there was good money if you got a strong back and boundless energy,” Queen replied, his eyes dancing a bit at the end.

Canuck eyed him, “A little early for the boats to come back, usually its the end of the month.”

Queen just shrugged, “I ain’t the captain, hoss. We had a hull full of ice and fish, we came back. What else do you want?”

Busty Girl shook his head, “He just don’t trust us white boys.”

“I don’t trust strangers, Kev.”

Queen took a drag of his cigarette, ignoring the short stocky man in the Canucks jersey. He leaned in to talk to Busty Girl who was called Kevin. “Look man, I’ll be square. I’m tryna fuck that little piece I picked up at the bus station.”

He gestured to Ava who stood a few feet back then turned back to the man, “See? A runaway, but she’s into pills. You know, stripper shit. Xannies and oxys. Or whatever you got close to that.``

Kevin nodded and smirked, looking at Ava then to him, “She dresses goofy but she’s cute. I wish I could help you man, but I just got ice. You smoke?”

Meth. He held it for Ghost’s occasional use and sometimes he’d use if he had no coke but it wasn’t his first choice or even second. “Nah, I don’t wanna turn her into a fucking meth scag, I need her just..pliable. You know how it be.”

“Sure...but sorry, man.”

“What about coke?”

Kevin laughed, “Man, what kinda town you think this is? It ain’t Florida.”

The others joined in laughing and finally Kevin added, “Alright, look. You seem cool, so look, buy some of this shit from me and I’ll tell you who sells pills.”

Queen took a moment then shook his head, “I just got enough for the pills, but I got a boat load of buddies that have been hitting the pipe all summer and are gonna be needing to resupply for the winter season. I can send them here.”

Kevin rubbed his chin, the sparse goatee looked more like pubes than a beard. “Aight, sure. Lemme call him and see if he’s home.”

Ava watched the scene unfold, her hands shoved nervously into the giant pockets of her pants. She fingered the switchblade tucked in one pocket, the knowledge she had a weapon a comfort. Though things seemed to be going well, from what little she knew about drug deals.

Listening to Queen talk to the group of men was...disconcerting. It was a side she hadn’t seen before and even though she knew it was an act she was still uncomfortable to be standing there.

She pulled the little Debbie cake Queen had originally given her out of her pocket, desperate for something to do, to take her out of this situation altogether. She winced as she ripped open the plastic wrapping, the ace bandage wrapped around her wrist helping somewhat with the ache. She looked out at the street around them as she ate the ball of processed sugar masquerading as a pastry, reminding herself that this was the best option for them in their current situation.

“He’s there,” Kevin said, putting up the phone. “He’ll be waiting, he’s got all that prescription shit. His chick works at a Carr’s, got that hook up.”

“Nice,” he said,not caring how the man got his pills. “Where’s he at?”

“Not far, just go up Sitka here and take a left on 3rd, follow it and take Orca Street up until you hit East 1st avenue then take a right, head up til you see a Tesoro gas station then go up North Sitka. It dead ends at Karen’s RV. That’s where he got his trailer. It’s a blue and white one, uh...fuck, I forget the number but Taylor’s got a one of them spotted dogs. Like the Disney movie with the old bitch trying to make a coat. My kid loves that movie.”

“A dalmatian?”

“Yeah that’s it,” Kevin said, making a fist and hitting his knee. “Anyway, don’t forget to send your shipmates down here.”

“No problem,” Queen said, reciting the directions in his mind and he turned and went back to Ava.

“Remember these directions,” he said, repeating them to her. “We gotta walk.”

Queen put an arm around her shoulders and Kevin grinned, flashing him the double thumbs up and Canuck just scowled, going back to playing some game on his phone. The other guy hadn’t done a damn thing the whole time and hardly looked their way.

After they got a few blocks up 3rd Street, they walked past businesses and warehouses. Queen stopped and looked at Ava, “Good job back there. Sorry you had to hear all that, it’s just how most of them talk. A lot of stupid macho shit.”

“It’s...fine.” She said, her shoulders tensing in surprise as his arm wrapped around her before forcing herself to relax again. She threw away the wrapper from the Debbie cake in a passing trash can, the sweet sitting in the pit of her stomach like a stone. “We’re close to done, right?”

Queen let his arm drop once they were out of sight of Kevin and his crew. He lit a new cigarette and looked at her, “Well, to get the pills we both need, we gotta see this dude Taylor at the RV park. Look, if you really want I can have you wait for me at that gas station. Just stay inside and you’ll be fine. Drink some coffee, see if you can use the phone. I can handle this buy alone.”

He weighed the advantage of a second set of eyes and the fact she was a young, pretty female that was often a good distraction if he needed one but Ava was completely out of her element with him. Queen felt another stab of guilt at what he was exposing her to, with himself and just in the general area. Walking her through the rundown neighborhood known in Anchorage for violent crime and drug use.

He got them moving again and as they walked they came across the low but sprawling concrete building with eight foot fences topped with concertina wire. The Anchorage Correctional Complex or better known as the local jail. Queen said nothing to her about what that was and just pushed her to move along.

Ava pursed her lips at the suggestion, looking down at the sidewalk as she mulled it over. She didn’t want to leave Queen, part of her was afraid that if she let him out of her sight...he might not come back. And she’d be all on her own.

On the other hand, there was nothing she could realistically help him with by going to the deal. She also didn’t want to be around to hear...more of what Queen would have to say or do to get their respective medication. Whether prescribed or not.

She sighed, taking the cheap reader glasses off her face to rub at her eyes. “I don’t...think there’s anything I can do to help you, is there?”

Queen saw her reticence and breathed out smoke from his nostrils, “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or endanger you. I ain’t gonna lie, it’s not without some danger to go to a dude’s trailer you don’t know to buy illegal pills. But I kinda don’t want to leave you, we still don’t know what the hell happened and if anyone else is around or back at Noatak. It also helps put people at ease sometimes, when they see a woman, especially a pretty one that looks harmless. You’re an extra set of eyes for me, while I’m focused on Tyler or Tayler, Tailor? Whatever the fuck’s name is. Most likely, nothing will happen and we’ll get our shit and go.”

He raised an eyebrow, “If you really want to stay behind, I respect that. It’s not for everyone and I get that, I’ve already exposed you to enough bullshit for a day.”

Ava looked up at him and took in a deep breath, putting the glasses back on her face. “Okay, I don’t really want to separate from you either. So, I’ll go.” She rubbed at the shoulder she fell on and tried to fight down the rush of anxiety through her system. “If I’m going to be an extra set of eyes for you, what do I need to look out for?”

Queen smiled, that mischief filled smirk on his bearded face and nodded, “That’s good, you’re a down bit...chick. I’m teasing...uh, well.”

He rubbed the back of his neck then smoothed his shoulder length hair, Ava was not the kind of person to call that and he did not want her to take it bad. He meant well but forgot occasionally not everyone was hood trash.

“Mostly keeping an eye out for anyone that might pull a weapon to rob us. It’s rare but it happens but if this dude is a legit dealer, he’d have little reason to rob us and more likely to make the sale. It’s hardly even a risk but I try to cover all angles,”

She nodded, glancing to the small of his back where he had stashed the gun she’d gotten from the biker. “If I look like I’m hiding behind you, I can get to the revolver if we need it.” She pointed out to him, blinking in surprise at herself for coming up with that back up plan.

Queen smiled, a moment of soft affection in his sea colored eyes mingling with amusement, “No, let me handle it. I just need you watching out. Even if it’s outside, in case someone rolls up. We’ll take a look around when we get to it. You got anything else you can use as a weapon?”

Ava reached into her pocket and pulled out the large switchblade. “I have this. I can...menace someone with it?” She said with a small shrug, putting the knife back in her pocket. “I’d feel better if I had pepper spray or a taser.”

He tried not to make a face of doubt, then asked, “I take you never used one or maybe Dave showed you some tricks, he’s got that big ol’ buck knife he wears.”

“It’s alright,” Queen said then beckoned her to keep moving before they attracted attention. “Just keep it, but be careful. It can get turned against you if you hesitate.”

The walk was not very long, another fifteen minutes walking past homeless and junkies, Queen glaring daggers at any that tried to approach. There was a cluster near the FoodBank and the stink of stale beer was a cloud they had to walk through. Nothing he was not used to in the times he had to slum it but he kept Ava close at his side.

Finally they turned onto North Sitka and the big sign pointed towards Karen’s RV Park. It was surprisingly scenic along the waterway, a sprawling location full of tourists and locals, big nice modern RVs and some without wheels up on blocks in semi permanent residents. It reminded him a little of the trailer park his mom was at now, fairly clean but with a touch of poverty under the veneer. Just the place a guy might make good money selling pills to aging housewives and teenagers.

As they walked he heard a tinkling sound and glanced up, one rooted RV had a collection of wind chimes and the sunlight flashed off some of them. A sudden sick feeling knotted in his stomach and he felt uneasy, a sudden feeling that came and went as quickly as he could register it. He brushed his hair back, a tingling still there in his scalp.

As they wandered he spotted another planted RV painted a soft blue and had a doghouse cobbled together from scrap wood and a black and white spotted dog chained up. Around their designated ‘yard’ was a six inch wire decorative fence that circled half dead pansies that look like they had been stepped on a few times. There was a pair of molded plastic chairs sitting out with a cable spool table, a scattering of beer cans around it.

“This is it,” he said as they approached.

The dalmatian sat up, his soft black ears perking up and Queen whistled low and said, “Hey puppy, it’s alright.”

The dog stood and moved quickly to the end of its chain and wagged its tail while barking, sending decidedly mixed signals. He whined and jumped up, straining the collar but clearly starving for attention.

Queen reached out and the dog sniffed at him then barked, but turned to Ava and wiggled and whined.

“Hmm, well good choice,” he told the dog then glanced at Ava, “He likes you.”

Ava’s eyes brightened at the sight of the dog, smiling down as the dalmatian turned to her. “Oh hi pupper.” She said, holding out her hand to let him sniff her. “You are just the cutest little guard dog.” She cooed, reaching out to scritch his ears after he sniffed and bumped her hand with his nose. “You know, Cerberus means ‘spotted’ and I bet he’s as friendly as you.”

The heavy nylon collar was worn and had no tags, just the clipped-on chain that tethered him to the doghouse. The dog continued to bark and yelp until a loud, deep voice bellowed out the window.

“Goddamnit, Prince, shut the fuck up!”

Ava jumped up at the voice, backing away from the dog and closer to Queen out of reflex. “Cerberus is a better name.” She whispered up to Queen.

Queen smirked slightly at that and gave her hand a brush with his to assure her, “Yep.”

He mounted the steps and knocked, then stood back until the door swung open. A big bearded man stood at the door, he might have once been stacked like Ghost but he’d let himself go and was slumping towards fat. He wore a too-tight Grunt Style t-shirt, a peek of hairy belly showing above his heavy leather belt.

The man stared at Queen for a long moment then shifted his gaze to Ava and back again. “You friends of Kevin?”

Queen rubbed his nose and nodded, “Yeah, he called ahead.”

The big man gave him a once over, “You carrying? Gonna have to pat you down.”

“Ain’t no need,” he said, “‘Course I’m carrying, this is still America ain’t it?”

“Damn straight, but show me,” he said, watching him intently.

Queen lifted his undershirt to flash the inked flat stomach and turned to show the .38 tucked into his waistband. He bent to pull the black slacks up to show the socks but no weapons and turned out his pockets. “Satisfied?”

“Leave that gun,” he said, shifting his gaze to Ava once more. “She can hold it and stay out here. I just need one of yous.”

Queen nodded, forcing a smile, “Sure, bud.”

He turned to Ava, his back momentarily to the RV and removed the holster, taking his time as he whispered, “Take it, act like it’s the whole thing.

Ava looked him in the eye, not nodding her head but conveying she understood and would follow his lead.

She still had the plastic shopping bags and Queen made a fuss of putting the gun in one of them and dropped it down the front of his pants, the cold steel making him hiss at it touched his junk. It was a small snub nosed revolver and the priest’s trousers were not as tight as he normally wore his pants. If he walked carefully he could keep the gun in place.

“Alright, doll, just take a seat there,” the big man called Taylor said to Ava, “Won’t be long.”

Queen walked gingerly up the stairs and nodded at the looming man who did not step back from his door, forcing Queen to squeeze by. Inside there was little furniture but an old sagging couch and a very nice Lazy Boy. A woman sat at the table, she looked like she might be studying.

“Got a guest, Maggie,” Taylor grunted.

She looked up and stared at them for a moment, then stiffened, “Oh?”

“Customer, so get off your ass and get us some beers. He’s got a girl outside.”

“Why is she outside?” Maggie snapped, closing her text book and stomped over to the fridge. She pulled out four beers, opening them with practice. “You bring him in but not her?”

“Maggie, shut up.”

“I know why,” she said, her thin mouth twisting in a frown.

“Shut the fuck up, go keep her company if it bothers you so damn bad, woman,” Tayor snapped, snatching to of the beers from her. “Go on, fuck off outta my house.”

Maggie stared daggers at him then shifted to look at Queen, her lips curling in an ugly sneer. “Figures.”

She took the beers and left, letting the door slam.

Taylor handed the bottle of Budwieser to Queen, “Fucking broads, I swear. Give her a house, pay for her schooling, still ain’t fucking happy.”

He looked over Queen again and Queen found it a little more intrusive, more searching than wary.

“So, Kevin said you had pills.”

“Yep.”

“Can...you show me?” Queen asked, hoping this wasn’t the kind of dealer that wanted to hang out.

“Fucking Maggie,” he said again,” She better not be out there TALKING SHIT!”

He yelled it so it would be heard by the women in the small yard, the distinct accent now clear, Taylor was a son of Philadelphia or maybe north Jersey.

“Anyway,” the big man turned to Queen, “Got my stash in the bedroom, come on.”

The woman exited the RV, slamming the door and storming down the few steps. Her hair was dyed black, the chestnut roots starting to show as the wind from the river blew it wildly. Prince jumped up and barked, wiggling around but she ignored him, taking a plastic chair and slamming her ass into it.

“Here. Have a beer,” she said, thunking it down. Her face was hardened, but still there was a prettiness there behind the anger mask. “Sit down, Prince. Damn dog.”

She looked at Ava, crossing her legs and jiggling her foot, agitated. She wore tight jeans and Ugg boots, her dark green sweatshirt bore the mascot of the stylized Sea Wolf of UAA. “Can you believe that shit, I’m trying to study but he gets one...customer and it’s like...well, fuck me.”

“FUCK YOU!” she called back at his audible accusation.

She took a drink and turned to Ava again, “So what’s your story? I’m Maggie.”

Ava jumped as Maggie came storming out, blinking rapidly for a few moments. “Um, I’m Emma, just here for...well.” She shrugged stiffly, awkwardly trying to keep herself from blurting out ‘to buy drugs’. “Thanks for the beer, but I’m good.” She pointed over to Prince. “Can I pet him? He’s really cute.”

“Sure, knock yourself out,” Maggie said then chugged her beer before taking Ava’s untouched bottle. “Fucking Taylor got this dog for me for Christmas two years ago. Because I said the movie was cute, but that didn’t mean I wanted a dog. I knew I’d end up cleaning up the shit and taking him for walks. While his FAT AASSSSS sits around selling shit that I get for him because I got the goddamn job.”

She twitched a little and sipped the beer, then pressed her forehead with her hand that was covering the bottle. “He just pisses me off sometimes. Especially when he does this shit.”

Maggie glanced at Ava petting the dog, “So you’re cool with your dude doing that? It doesn’t bother you?”

Ava smiled down at Prince, ruffling his ears and laughing when he almost knocked her over in his excitement to play. She looked up at Maggie, listening to what she had been saying and feeling sorry for the poor dog.

She managed to calm Prince down enough to just sit next to her while she petted him and tilted her head to the side. “Does what bother me?” Her initial instinct was to think she meant buying the drugs, but that was a strange question to ask given the reason they were there.

Prince wagged his whip like tail and slapped Ava's legs as he curled his body around, excited to get attention and affection. He tried licking her face and settled for her hands until he was sure she was not going to walk away then he settled in to sit and lean against her leg. His big eyes kept looking up at her in his spotted face. When her attention shifted to Maggie, he put a big paw in her lap, as if to remind her that he was there.

Maggie rolled her eyes and took a drink, pinching her nose and she rubbed it. “You know, when he swings that way. Acting like a fucking fag, he knows I hate it. Why am I not enough? You know you know why he took him aside alone. I know his fucking type. Your man is his type.”

>...///

Inside the RV converted into a semi-permanent home, Taylor led Queen to the back room, having to shift his bulk to move sideways through the narrow doors.

“Sorry about Maggie, she’s a fucking cokehead,” he spat, “Can’t even take a few Adderall? Nope, too good for it. So I have to drive down to the damn base to pick up her speedballs.”

Queen perked up at that, “Oh yeah? Make that trip often I guess.”

He shook his head as he opened a drawer, keeping his eye on the slender tattooed man. “Nah, fuck that. I just get her enough that’s supposed to last her for a while but she’s been snorting up like she’s Michele Pfieffer in Scarface. Finals. She’s studying to be a pharmacist.”

Taylor opened the tackle box and put a display of dozens of pill bottles, all of them the amber or blue from a pharmacy. “No knock off shit here, my friend.”

Queen stared for a moment, the itch to snatch up the bottles and find what he needed pushed down. “So, how much for some bars? And you wouldn’t happen to have Klonopin.”

Taylor checked some of the bottles, “Huh, nah sorry. Is that shit good? Maggie might be able to snag some if you really want it.”

The burly dealer was looking at him intently and Queen now understood it, the hooded hungry gaze that kept traveling over his torso and lower. He was checking him out and mildly surprised, but Maggie’s reaction now made much more sense.

Queen cleared his throat, tucking his hands into his pockets, feeling the hard edge of the gun in the crotch of his trousers. “Yeah, I want it.”

Taylor perked up, raising a brow, “So, uh, 2 milligrams are $5 a piece, but that’s negotiable. Got some Oxycodone, you into that?”

Queen gave him a smoldering suggestive look, if he misjudged what Taylor was about then he probably would end up pissing off the big man but if not, he might make it out with the medicine and not be wiped out.

“I’m into whatever you got in there,” he grinned, “Especially if the price is right.”

Taylor stood up straighter, sucking in his beginner's gut, reaching to tug down the snug shirt but brushed the belt buckle. He groped himself and Queen smirked, he had judged his intent correct.

>...///

Ava’s eyes widened. “Ooh.” She suddenly felt a crushing shroud of guilt settle on her shoulders as she stroked Prince’s head. “Uh, they could not be doing...that, right?” She said to Maggie, her eyes darting nervously toward the trailer door.

Prince whined and panted, his pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as Ava stroked his sleek fur. He was a lean dog and ribby though he had a food dish with some brown dry pellets in it. He pawed at her again when she spoke, picking up her emotion.

Maggie drank from the beer, narrowing her eyes, “Ever since Taylor did some time, he’s been like that. Maybe even before when he was in the Army, who fucking knows. He didn’t tell me about it until I caught him. I fucking caught him sucking some dude’s dick, some guy that he used to go ‘fishing’ with.”

She looked at the now empty bottle and hurled it against the ground, it struck a stone and smashed, leaving broken glass scattered among the wilting pansies. “How’d you find out about yours? Or does he even swing that way?”

Maggie laughed bitterly and toyed with the engagement ring, “He’s in for a big surprise then.”

Ava felt her skin grow pale and she looked again to the trailer door. “Sh-should I be worried?” She asked Maggie. “Taylor isn’t going to...hurt him, is he? If he says no?”

“You should be worried about yourself,” Maggie said, picking up the second empty and toying with it. “Don’t worry, Taylor’s clean at least, I make sure of that. But I don’t know about your dude, he looked a little janky with all those tattoos, no offence.”

She looked over at Ava, “And what are you wearing? Does he have you dress like that or...whatever.”

“Taylor...I...huh, maybe,” Maggie pondered, shrugging. “I don’t know, he’s never hurt me but then he doesn’t fuck me like he used to.”

Maggie leaned forward, her hazel eyes almost a shade of gold in contrast to her tanned skin and dyed black hair, “Between you and me, Taylor might look like a big grizzly but he’s the fag, he likes it in the ass. Tries to get me to do it but fuck that, God gave me an innie.”

She laughed at her own vulgar joke and wiped away a tear, smearing her eyeliner.

Ava shifted uncomfortably again, her heart starting to beat faster with concern for Queen. She didn’t hear anything coming from the trailer, no sounds of distress or a struggle. She looked back at the door. “Should we...Knock?” She asked. “Check on them?”

>...///

Taylor had his pants around his ankles and was now stroking himself, still holding in his gut to keep the power build appearance. “Lemme see yours now,” he panted, sitting back on the bed. “I got some condoms.”

Queen was shirtless, standing in front of the bigger man, having let go of him to tease at his zipper, “You sure?”

“Yeah, I got poppers,” he said, biting his lip under the beard.

“Alright, close your eyes and open your mouth,” he said in a low growl.

Taylor eagerly complied, his tongue extended in anticipation and Queen felt a ripple of distaste, this cocksucker just figured he’d just suck and fuck for pills. Maybe he would but not this day. Queen unzipped and took out the .38 and shoved the barrel into the man’s mouth, clacking against his teeth and cutting his gums.

“Don’t fucking move,” Queen snapped, “Try grabbing me and your brains will be all over your bed.”

Taylor stared with fear and fury, the veins standing out on his neck. Queen hushed him and said, “Ah, don’t. I don’t mind killing you, to be honest. I’ve killed a lot more less deserving you fucking asshole.”

Taylor looked into Queen’s eyes, the pale flat color told him he was speaking true. “Where’s your bitch keep her coke?”

“Hunhphh,” he gurgled, the barrel getting shoved harder into his mouth. “Fuuggh.”

“Kitchen? Bedroom? Bathroom...ah, yes bathroom. Classic,” Queen said when he nodded at the third one.

“Now, I’m going to take this gun out of your mouth, if you yell, if you try to get up or anything other than what I ask you to do, I will shoot you. Understand? Good.”

Queen did not want to shoot the poor dumb bastard, the shot would draw attention and the death was unnecessary. He pulled back slowly, then said, “Get the money out of your stash, I want at least 2 grand, you can keep the rest. But I’m taking that box and the coke.”

Taylor stared at him then grimaced a bloody smile, “You fucking li-”

His words cut off when Queen stepped forward, cracking the short hard barrel against the big man’s temple, gashing his scalp open causing a gush of blood down his bearded face. Queen reached back and pistol whipped him across the jaw, hearing a crunch that had to be molars. Shoving him back against the bed, Queen straddled his chest and struck him a few more times until Taylor slumped. His jaw was slack, blood trickling from his temple and mouth.

Breathing hard, Queen swiped his hair back and tucked the gun into his waistband. The big man was breathing but the dent in his temple was likely serious and Queen moved fast. He grabbed the tackle box full of pills and then he jerked open drawers and dug around, finding a roll of bills and a loaded Glock 17. He put the gun in the small of his back and the money in the tackle box.

“Poor dumb bastard,” he told the unconscious man. Before he left, he ripped the cables from the wall and used them to tie his wrists and ankles. It was not perfect and he could loosen them up with some time but it was something.

Queen peeked out of the room, no Maggie. He glanced out the window and saw her with Ava. “Shit,” he muttered before rushing to the bathroom. He lifted the toilet tank and found the floating plastic box, inside what felt like half an ounce of coke. Tucking that in his pocket, he found Taylor’s leather bomber jacket and threw it on, it hung from his narrow frame almost as bad as the t-shirt Ava wore.

He looked out the door and thought about how he would deal with Maggie. Time to see if you’re ride or die, bitch.

Queen yanked open the door, and flew down the stairs, using the revolver to cold cock Maggie in the back of the head. “Ava, run, go towards the river!”

Maggie snapped forward, her forehead bouncing off the wooden table and slid out of her chair into the dirt. “Asshole!”

She rubbed her head and Queen aimed a kick at her jaw, trying to knock her out. His priest’s loafer was no steel toe boot but she was a small woman and it was enough to send her reeling, sprawled on her back. When she did not get up, Queen motioned to Ava, “We gotta go, move.”

Ava jumped up from her chair when Queen came bursting out of the trailer and started assaulting the woman. “What the fuck dude!?” She exclaimed as she started to make a run for it.

She looked over to Prince, trying to chase after her and she gritted her teeth, running toward the dog house. She unclipped the chain and started to book it with the chain leash in hand. “Fuck today, fuck today, fuck today!”

Queen whooped like the southern boy he was and waved Ava on, “Bring him along, let’s boogie, Angel.”

He ran carrying the tackle box and glanced back to make sure Ava was close with the spotted dog eagerly charging forward to drag her along. The chaos that he had ignited fed his adrenaline almost as good as a bump and he quickly jumped a four foot fence that separated the property from the down slope to the water’s edge.

Queen turned and held out a hand, “Can you get over it? Don’t worry about the dog, I’ll haul him over.”

A man stepped out of his RV, a tourist from the looks of it and saw them fleeing. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Mind your business, sir, you’ll be happier for it,” Queen said, the glimpse of the revolver tucked into his pants and bare chest was enough for the man to scramble back into the RV.

“He might tattle, so let’s go take a cruise,” he said, helping Prince make it over the cyclone fence. “You good?”

Ava dropped over the other side and looked at Queen with wide eyes. “No! But I don’t think we can talk about that right now!” She said, reaching down to pick up Prince’s chain.

Queen laughed at that and led her down to the creek, it was not too wide at this point and he recalled from the map it flowered towards the sound, widening and becoming more scenic. He jogged down the side of the creek, then finally spotted what he was looking for. Small boats like they had back in Miami for cruising the canals, just wooden hulls with an outboard or oars.

“Here, this one,” he said, putting his tackle box on the bench seat then reached for the chain as Prince splashed into the water and hopped in, wagging his tail at the excitement after the two or three years chained in one spot.

Queen turned and offered his hand, he could scoop her so she would not get her feet wet but the image of Dave and his buck knife came back so he reached down to pull the boat in another foot or so, holding it in place. “We’ll go down the creek aways, they probably assume we have a car or beat it back to the bus.”

Ava clambered into the boat with Queen’s help, sitting down in dumbfounded silence while holding onto Prince’s collar to make sure he didn’t jump out of the boat. “What happened? Are you okay?” She asked, her panic over the situation giving way to concern after what Maggie had told her.

Queen pushed the boat off, feeling the tug of the current that flowed westward and hopped in, ignoring the wet socks and shoes and moved to sit near the back. He reached down and looked for an oar, finding a single one and he struck out, rowing until Karen’s RV park vanished around a bend.

He smiled, satisfied with himself and slid the oar back and looked at Ava, “This is Ship’s Creek, looks like we’re up it with a paddle. And hopefully a motor.”

Queen half stood and tilted the motor, squeezing the primer bulb to get the fluids going. He replied over his shoulder, concentrating on getting the old motor to wake up. “Well, he had a different idea of how I might pay for those pills. And you know, I might be a lot of things but I ain’t a whore. So I robbed him.”

Queen shrugged and glanced at Ava, a gleam in his sea colored eyes. He leaned back over the motor, “I didn’t kill him or anything if that’s what you’re worried about. Just knocked him out, tied him up. Took his gun and money, the pills. We’re set, Angel. You got the bags, right?”

“Um, yeah.” Ava sighed, picking up the bags and holding them out to him, Prince laying down partially in her lap. He clearly didn’t get a lot of exercise and that had been a lot of excitement for the pup. She stroked the top of his head. “...Queen I stole a dog.”

He cranked the key over a few times and finally the motor caught, it was a lightweight two stroke but it would get them along quickly with the current. Queen laughed, glancing at the little redhead and the dalmatian dog. “You sure did,” he said, “Is that your first property crime?”

Queen paused from steering and grabbed the priest’s shirt and pulled it on, leaving off the collar. He handed the stolen jacket to Ava in case she got cold or needed a cushion to sit on, it was warm and pleasant out in the sun.

Settling back, he shifted the motor so the boat propelled itself down stream, keeping to the middle of the creek that narrowed in places though it seemed deep enough. It chugged along, leaving a stream of blue smoke and they passed such scenic views as parking lots and a huge scrapyard. But even in the drab urban landscape Alaska peeked through.

The afternoon September sky was brilliant blue, without a trace of haze or snow. The summer greenery was still on display and passed by willows and other trees he could not identify. The waterway was surprisingly clear and as he steered them he saw flashes of silver and rose. Late season salmon were still pushing up stream, occasionally jumping and splashing as they did.

Prince would raise his head at the splashes but was otherwise content to snuggle against Ava and enjoy her attention and seemed not to care that he was drifting far from his home. Queen reached for a cigarette, lighting a Kools and enjoying the victory of relieving the streets of Anchorage of narcotic prescriptions.

“Agent Patrick, you still got it,” he muttered to himself around the filter clenched between his teeth.

Before long, the creek widened and grew more shallow and he could see up ahead bridges spanning across, to the left was a dock and several picnic tables all occupied by families and fly fishers looking to snag one of the salmon. Queen slowed the engine and made his way towards the shallow edge of the creek.

“This is where we get off,” he said, picking up the tackle box. “Anyone asks, we’re just here for fishing but I lost my rod in a bad cast.”

They walked by families having lunch in the last of the northern summer. Some people waved at what they assumed as a couple out to enjoy fishing and walking their dog. Prince was charming, excitedly barking and bowing at other dogs and children, tugging Ava around as he did.

Beyond the scenic point, there was the sign for a Comfort Inn, the same one he had seen on the map he bought that had all the tourist need locations for the downtown area. “Might need to count that money and see what kinda room we can get. If they take dogs that is. Then, we go looking for anyone else from Noatak that might have popped up, if any.”

Ava nodded along, gently tugging or whistling Prince back to her when he started to get out of hand. The poor dog was starved for attention but that made him eager to please and listen to her.

“We can maybe drop him off at a shelter while we’re looking?” She suggested, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. “I really didn’t think the whole thing through, I just knew I couldn’t leave him there.” She reached out to ruffle up the Dalmatian’s ears. “No I couldn’t, you weren’t happy there. You deserve a nice happy home because you’re the best boy.”

She looked back up at Queen. “We need a phone, try to call Donnelley or Foster, anyone.”

Queen glanced down at the dog, reaching to stroke the spotted fur and rub the floppy ear as Prince panted happily after his romp. “We need a phone first, a cheap burner phone, one of those prepaid things. Then we’ll figure out what to do with the dog.”

He glanced around then beckoned her over to the last picnic table before the scenic view park ended. Queen set the tackle box down and opened it enough to fish out the roll of bills. “Let’s see what ol’ boy was stashing. Probably had more than one spot.”

The coke in his pocket weighed at his attention but he would not take a bump yet, not with Ava there. Straddling the bench seat, he kept the money close to him as he counted so as not to attract attention. They were all fifties which amused Queen, who the hell used fifties anymore but those who never touched ATMs.

He finished counting and sorted in the smaller bills from what Ava had given him. “I think we’ll be alright, Angel. We got just over a thousand now. We can get a room maybe, get something proper to eat and figure out what to do with the dog.”

Queen took two fifties out and folded them up, tucking it down into his shoe and then another two fifties and a twenty and handed them to Ava. “Just in case, I don’t want us to get separated but I don’t want you broke if it happens.”

Ava’s eyes widened, glancing around nervously to make sure no one was hovering nearby and taking the money. She puzzled over where to put it for a moment before reluctantly putting it in her back pocket and hoping it didn’t fall out of the cavernous jeans.

“Okay, we have money, that’s good.” She rubbed her hands together, trying to ignore the origins of that money and focus on the problem at hand. “So, should we go get that prepaid phone first or go secure a room for the night?”

“The room can wait, we need the phone and some food,” Queen said, glancing towards the Comfort Inn. “We’re near downtown, there’s no shortage of motels. We still need to get you some better clothes but we can use the daylight hours to keep looking.”

He locked the tacklebox back up and glanced at her, “We can get one of those phones at any pharmacy or Walmart.”

Ava nodded, her stomach cramping with hunger now that she didn’t have adrenaline pumping furiously through her system. “I would be up for some food.” She said, rubbing Prince’s head as it rested on her lap. “Sorry buddy, we’ve got some more walking.”

The White Spot Cafe was just south of the fishing area, a moderately priced restaurant after Queen and Ava did a quick backtrack from the overpriced seafood place near the river. Without a smartphone for an Uber and with the dog, the bus was out of the question, they walked.

Prince was happy as a clam, wagging his tail and pulling Ava along when he wanted to follow a smell. It was clear the dog had little training or socialization but he was friendly and eager to please.

The cafe had a few tables on the sidewalk and Queen took a seat, offering to hold the dog while Ava went inside and ordered them some food. “I don’t mind what you get me, I’d eat just about anything right now.”

Ava nodded and made her way inside, almost walking on auto pilot as she stared up at the menu. It was...strange, but it felt like she was developing a means to cope with everything that was happening. Her mind was grabbing at whatever task she could focus on in the moment, keeping herself going by jumping from one manageable problem to the next and ignoring everything else that was piling up at the back of her mind.

When they finally settled for the night and she had nothing left to distract herself with...she didn’t know what would happen.

Maybe that was why she had such a strong impulse to take Prince. A nice baked in distraction.

“Can I help you?” The teenager at the counter asked and Ava snapped herself out of her thoughts, realizing she was just standing there and staring blankly at the menu.

“Um, yeah, I’ll have…”

Ten or so minutes later, Ava walked out of the cafe with a tray filled with baskets of food and one large bowl of water. “Here you go buddy.” Ava said, setting down the water bowl. “I’ve got some plain sausages for him to eat too, but he needs to drink first.” She said, moving aside the basket of three plump sausages. “I got a tuna melt and some fish and chips, which do you want?”

Queen reached for the fried halibut and put in front of him, “You can’t wave french fries at me and not expect me to bite.”

He picked up the ketchup and gave it a shake, watching Prince drink the water in sloppy gulps. “Can’t beat fresh fish,” he said, digging into the food.

After a few bites, a young man stepped outside the cafe and brought two plastic cups full of lemonade. “You forgot your drinks, Miss.”

He glanced at Queen and edged back and returned inside. Queen looked over at Ava, “How are you holding up, I know it’s been a little much today.”

“...I honestly don’t know.” Ava answered with a frown, studying her tuna melt for a few moments before taking a bite. “I think I’m just kind of...numb? To it now?” She said, her eyebrows knitting together. “Like I’m in survival mode or something.”

Queen stuffed two fries into his mouth and chewed, watching her as she replied. His cheap sunglasses were back on his face and he hid his gaze. “Yep, probably. It’s been a day. You just gotta keep acting and never stand still, a moving target is harder to hit.”

He sighed and picked up a piece of the fried fish, a thick cut of local halibut. “It gets exhausting though, unless you get some help.”

The dark glasses masked his eyes but the angle of his gaze was at the tacklebox sitting at his feet. “Like the song says, I get by with a little help from my friends. Wherever you find it, Angel. And with whoever.”

Ava studied him as she chewed, taking the time to mull over the words before looking down at her food. “Yeah.” She said quietly, picking up her lemonade and taking a sip. “Let’s eat and...get to finding our friends.”

Queen went back to eating for a while before he was unable to resist, he said, “You got Dave, dontcha?”

Ava blinked at the question before a small smile appeared on her face. “Yeah, yeah I do.” She took in a breath. “I hope he’s okay, I’m sure he is but, still, I hope he’s okay.”

Queen smirked slightly, his expression still guarded. “I remember when we first met, I knew I’d called it right the way he was always aware of you. He’s a good man and seems to have a good heart.”

Let’s see how long it lasts in this line of work. But he kept his mouth closed on the cynical remark. He tossed a fry to Prince who snapped it up and begged for more, even after eating the reindeer sausages. “He’ll be alright, probably worried sick about you though.”

Queen stood up and wiped his hands on his napkins, there was little left on his plate and his glass was empty. “I’m gonna go inside and try to use their phone, call a taxi. We need to get to a Walmart and time is ticking, the days get short real quick up here. I don’t know when sunset is but I don’t want you caught without warm clothes.”

He left her there but took the tackle box, stepping into the cafe.

“Excuse me,” he said to the teen behind the counter. “Mind if I use your phone? We need a taxi.”

The boy scowled and looked at him then at the door, “Sorry, phone’s out.”

“It’s out?”

“Yep.”

“Well do you have a cell phone?”

“Why should I lend it to you? Surprised you junkies even had money to buy food here. Must be a nice change from the soup kitchen,” the young man sneered, suddenly brave without the cafe full of customers in the midafternoon

Queen raised his brows then glanced around, “What’ll it cost me for you to call a fuckin’ taxi for me and my girl? And they need to take dogs, too.”

“Ten bucks,” the kid said.

“Fuck you, here’s five and do it while I wait.”

The counter boy took the five dollar bill and dialed up the local cab company. It was not long before a cab pulled up, a yellow one that had seen better days but the driver was a smiling native looking man with a round face and thick love handles.

“How’s it going? Is that dog friendly?”

Queen nodded, “Sure is, a real prince.”

He opened the back door for Ava and the dog and their bags and took the passenger seat for himself.

“Where to, Mister?” the driver asked, punching buttons on his meter.

“Take us to your finest Walmart,” Queen replied, clicking his shoulder belt into place.

Ava stretched out her legs as Prince laid down and contentedly panted in the seat next to her. Her feet were killing her from all of the walking, the running and then more walking. It was a relief to sit down and get herself driven to a place. The sandals she bought at the pharmacy were hardly supportive and her calves were burning.

She watched the buildings roll by, stroking the top of Prince’s head when he rested it on her lap. Her mind played over the conversation with Queen, frowning as she thought back on his tone and expression. Perhaps the strain of the day was just starting to settle on him, not to mention whatever had happened at the trailer.

On top of the stress brought on by the general strangeness of their circumstances, he had to drag her around like...A lost dog. Having to ‘take care’ of her because she was borderline useless. No, not even borderline. She was useless in this setting.

She took the glasses off her face, rubbing at her eyes and fighting a sniff. Keep it together, damnit. She scolded herself, shutting her eyes and leaning her head back against the seat. You can do one thing to help make this easier and just keep it to-fucking-gether.

>...///

Donnelley stood in front of the meager selection of pay as you go phones and their cards. It didn’t take much sussing out to decide which one. There was a cheap Motorola smart phone for fifteen dollars, and a cheap card with just enough minutes for a few quick calls for twenty. He grabbed the card and turned to the counter, “Hey,” he called out, raising his hand, “Hey, ‘scuse me?”

Neither of the employees turned around, two Native girls talking and snickering over a conversation he felt he wasn’t supposed to hear. He waved again, starting to get a little annoyed, “Hey, excuse me, please.”

One of the employees turned to him when they heard him, “Yeah?”

Donnelley pointed behind him at the phones, “Can I get some help here?”

The employee sighed and trudged over to him, a young woman who looked to be at the tail end of her high school career. Native, long black hair put up in a low bun. She looked at the phones and it seemed like watching an actor just before they slipped into a role, plastering a friendly smile on her face, “Which one were you looking at?”

Donnelley looked at her for a moment, not buying the fake smile a single bit. He’d have liked it more if she just didn’t smile at all, “The Motorola.”

“Oh, of course! Just give me one second.” She looked up at him and giggled and then trudged back to the service counter, bending down and rummaging through a few boxes before retrieving the phone he was looking for, “Here you go, sir!

Donnelley walked over to the counter and slapped down two twenties, sliding them across to her, “Here you go, ma’am, thank you so much for your wonderful service!

“No, thank you for choosing Walmart.” The employee beamed up at his own exaggerated fake smile as she took the two twenties. They stared at each other smiling their most passive-aggressive, friendly smiles while she grabbed Donnelley’s change.

She handed over a single dime. Donnelley leaned in close, reading the girl’s nametag, “Thank you, Amy.

“No problem, sir.” Amy smiled back, her narrowed eyes more cutting than friendly.

Donnelley turned around as he grabbed the phone and it’s card off the counter, spotting one of the managers strutting down the aisle way across from the electronics section. He smirked. He walked away from the electronics service counter and up to the manager, a blonde woman in her fifties with some pooch around her waist and a face that maybe once was beautiful, but now just smelled like cigarettes and cheap makeup. Amy watched from the service counter, poking her friend to look as well.

The manager’s jaw dropped as she listened to Donnelley’s story, “And Amy and her friend were talkin’ ‘bout this here scar cross my neck. I don’t know what kinda delinquents you folks employ here, but I didn’t do no tours in Afghanistan protectin’ our great country from them Taliban to be treated this way.” He feigned offense and his best thick Texas drawl, “If’n I did somethin’ to offend her, I’m truly sorry, but all’s I was doin’ was askin’ for her to help me with these items here.”

He sighed, shaking his head, “I just wanted to call my son and daughter n’ tell ‘em…” Donnelley forced some hurt into his voice, “That daddy’s home, and he’s okay.”

Amy watched from the service counter as her manager marched her way. The last thing she saw before Donnelley disappeared down another aisle way was his smirk and dark eyes. “That asshole…

“My office, Amy, right now!

>...///

Laine sat on the little bench with the mirrors as she tried on cheap sneakers, trying to keep the cost down around twenty dollars. She had a jacket from the discount rack, the fake fur trimmed hood and fleece lining at least seemed promising. She found some leggings that would fit properly and a pack of socks, cheap white ankle socks that could be shared with Donnelley. Everything was rapidly adding up with their limited funds and she kept a constant tally in her head.

She put the shoes back and walked in her bare feet to pick another pair that were on sale and ugly as fuck but at least not a broken flip flop. Laine opened the pack of socks and put some on, then the shoes. They fit and would do, simple gray off brand walking shoes with a bold orange stripe along the side.

She put the flipfops in the box and kept it so it could be scanned but wore the new shoes, popping off the tags, fuck the police. Next would be some toiletries and Laine gathered her clothes and the shoebox, holding them against her chest.

Donnelley found her when he almost bumped into her coming out of the shoe aisle she was in. He made to step back and apologize, but seeing it was Laine he smirked at her, “We need to stop meetin’ like this, people’ll talk.”

Laine smiled a little, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear, “Seems I’m just drawn to rugged redheads.”

She moved a little closer, though her items kept them apart, “Find a phone? We need some toiletries but this is all adding up. I thought Walmart was supposed to be cheap.”

“Yeah,” he held up as shook the box and card held in hand, “Forty bucks right here. Let’s go get some teeth shit then.”

He looked around at the other aisles and led Laine towards the toiletries section, on the hunt for toothpaste and brushes. There was a feeling he had, like the hair on the back of his neck standing on end and he looked about. He figured it might have been that asshole Amy waiting in the shadows to stab him in the neck with a shitty Walmart knife from the kitchen aisle. As they finally made it to the toiletries aisle, Donnelley still felt it. He watched Laine scanning the shelves for cheap toothbrushes as he scanned the other customers milling about.

“Kids toothbrushes are usually cheaper, I’m not tryin’ to impress anyone.” He offered to her, eyes still searching for whatever threat his body was reacting to. This wasn’t just his normal hypervigilance, this was something more.

Laine bent over to find the cheap brands and found a double pack of small toothbrushes and took a travel sized toothpaste of the name brand, not wanting to scrimp there. It was annoying to play it so close to the dime with just the basic necessities but Donnelley seemed to know where to find the bargains.

“I guess we can’t be picky,” she put back the little overpriced tube and took a generic one of a larger size. “At least I look the part of a Walmart shopper. A perfect cover.”

She stood up and struck a quick model pose in the too small sweatpants and the Betty Boop t-shirt. Laine could tell he was distracted but he had been since she found him. “I guess this is good enough.”

Putting the toothbrushes by the 3-1 body and shampoo wash she hefted the pile and said, “You really can’t come in here and not use a basket.”

After they checked out, she ducked into the restroom to put on the cheap bra and the leggings. Laine paused before throwing the teal sweats into the trash can, a guilty feeling creeping over her. This could be evidence. She glanced around but the stalls were empty and she shoved the sweat pants under the used paper towels.

She met Donnelley near the exit, the great blast of air conditioner hitting her as they walked out. Laine turned to look out at the parking lot, a sudden tingling along the back of her neck. She looked over her shoulder then back out, the feeling of being watched was one she trusted, it had helped her avoid dangerous situations before. But she saw no one that stood out, leaving her unsettled.

“Alright,” Donnelley said, “Let’s get back to the truck.”

Though he didn’t take the first step, instead just standing in place at the edge of the curb, looking into the cars, at the people walking to or from the Walmart. He felt threatened, but he couldn’t tell who was watching them. It could’ve been one of the others. Not Queen or Ava, but TRIDENT. Just like She-Ra had sprung to action. He reached over and slipped his fingers between Laine’s. Just like She-Ra, whoever else was after them he’d kill. “Just follow me to the 4Runner.”

Donnelley began walking back to the car, making as straight a line towards it as he could, walking fast. As he scanned the parking lot again, he caught sight of someone trailing them from the other row of cars, matching their pace.

Donnelley's reaction reinforced her sense of wariness. She clasped his hand tight and followed him, walking quickly with the red purse bouncing in her hip and the Walmart bag in her free hand. She caught a sense of movement between the cars, a man. She did not recognize him but something about the set of his shoulders and jawline frightened her and made her stomach knot up.

Gripping Donnelley's hand she hurried, almost jogging now. "I don't know who that is, but I'm afraid," she said quietly, the sensation of fear and anger turning inside her.

“It’s okay, we’ll be okay.” Donnelley didn’t stare, only keeping him in his peripherals and glancing at him every few seconds. They finally got to the Toyota and Donnelley reached into his pocket, clicking the key fob and unlocking the door. “Just get in the driver’s seat. If anythin’ happens, just drive.”

Donnelley glanced sidelong at her, giving her a reassuring smirk, “Over him, if you can.”

Laine reached into her purse, pulling out the brass knuckles and pushed them at Donnelley. "Here," she said, "I have a folding knife, too."

She reached for it and glanced up seeing the man moving closer through the cars. "Shit, he looks Russian. Those tattoos…"

Laine scrambled into the truck, sitting rigid as she gripped the steering wheel. "Be careful, Donnelley. He's not looking for spare change."

Her heart was pounding and the sense of deep fear and loss washed over her as she looked at Donnelley.

Donnelley passed the keys to Laine and exchanged them for the brass knuckles. As Laine slipped into the driver’s seat he closed the door, turning away from Laine and looking to the Russian. He balled his fist tight and stood square with the bigger man, “Too late for you to walk away?”

The Russian said nothing, just reached into his pocket and withdrew a pocket knife, flicking it open so the small three inch blade could be seen. Donnelley guessed that was his answer. They stepped closer and closer to each other until the Russian struck out with the knife intending to stab at him, but Donnelley turned to the side, pushing the Russian’s head bouncing painfully off the roof of another car and then planting the brass knuckles right into his teeth. Donnelley could hear them shatter against the hard brass and the Russian stumbled back, swiping wildly with his knife and spitting blood.

Donnelley threw another tight hook at the Russian’s face, eyes hateful and roaring his anger out, but he slipped Donnelley’s punch to his right. Donnelley turned to face him again, stepping to his right away from the other man’s knife arm. As quick as he could, Donnelley charged, growling for violence. The other man stepped back and saved his ribs from taking the brunt of Donnelley’s furious blow, Donnelley’s brass knuckles only roughly impacted and scraped off his stomach, still eliciting a grunt from the Russian.

Laine could see the fight, the Russian with his knife as it flashed in the sun. Donnelley drilled him in the mouth but it did little to stop the man. She felt a deep dread when she looked at him and it only took the next swing and miss and Laine was throwing the truck into reverse.

“No you fucking don’t,” she hissed, stomping on the gas.

She reached over the back of her seat, turning to look out the back window at the Russian, trusting Donnelley to get out of the way. Gunning the engine, she tore backward from the parking spot. A deep and visceral hate erupted from deep in the pit of her chest as she met eyes with the Russian in her rear view mirror for the briefest second.

The Toyota’s bumper struck the big Russian, his head cracked off the corner just above the tail lights, knocking him down but Laine didn't brake. He fell under the tire and the weight of the SUV bore down on his torso as it passed over him. When the truck passed over the bump, Laine put it back into drive and the tires spun and ran back over the Russian, blood now pouring from his mouth and nose after his chest was turned to hamburger meat under the tire.

Donnelley stumbled back and watched it happen, leaning to rest with his back against another car watching Laine end the Russian in a spectacular fashion. He rested there for a couple seconds even after the Russian had stopped breathing, but shook himself from his stupor and grabbed the man’s folding knife. He folded the blade back into the handle and slipped it into his own pocket and hefted the body, knowing they’d need to get rid of it somewhere.

>...///

The yellow cab pulled up outside the entrance of the Walmart and Queen was contemplating taking a bump of the coke in his pocket in the bathroom. The baggie in his pocket beckoned at him and he kept touching the lump under the black cloth. His priest collar was back in place, he had fixed it in the drop down mirror and ignored the sidelong looks from the driver.

“That’ll be $26.50,” the cabbie said but Queen’s attention was caught by movement in the parking lot.

His attunement to violence was sharp and he spotted two men from the corner of his eye, squaring off to fight but not like normal pushing and shouting. These men were fighters and the flash of ginger hair and a scarred face made Queen freeze. He lifted the cheap sunglasses to get a better look but he was almost certain he recognized the stance of his friend.

“Fucking, Tex.”

Queen grinned, reaching in his pocket and found a fifty dollar bill and tossed it to the cab driver, “You never saw us, bud.”

The priest’s shirt rode up as he bent to leave the cab, the gun in his back waistband flashing and the driver pointedly looked away and through the windshield.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning to Ava and the dog, “Stay down and keep an eye out, if you see anyone running towards them or me… warn us.”

He hesitated then gave her the Glock 17, a gun he was certain she knew how to use as it was close to the federal issued 19. Without another word, he dashed away, the .38 in hand, held close to his side as he ran towards the brawl.

Ava’s eyes widened when she heard Queen utter the name Tex. She sat up straighter, heart racing with excitement and relief that another of her team was there. She couldn’t see well what was happening in the distance but she could make out the way the blurred shapes were moving that it wasn’t good.

She turned to Queen when he handed her the Glock, grimacing with fear but taking it anyway. She took one of her $50s as Queen got out and tossed in the front seat as well and reached down to snag the tackle box Queen left behind to tuck under one arm, carrying the plastic bags in her grip. Then she took a breath and darted out of the taxi with a newly rejuvenated Prince happily following after her; the gun held low at her side like Dave had taught her.

Queen closed in but as he was going to take aim at the big tattooed man flashing a knife, a Toyota 4-Runner slammed back against him and made sure he was not getting back up. He paused and recognized the female driver with short dark hair, then slowed his stride, tucking the gun back into his waistband.

“Figures I’d run into you fighting in a Walmart parking lot, you goddamn redneck.”

Donnelley looked up at the familiar voice, seeing a priest standing before him. His eyebrow quirked as his mind worked at piecing together who he was looking at, all the while he was frozen midway in the act of hefting a dead Russian to cover up a vehicular homicide. His jaw went slack and he muttered out a quiet, “What the fuck…
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Queen held his arms outward, palms up, the silver crucifix on the rosary winking in the light. His sunglasses were still in place but that impish grin appeared in his bearded face. “Blessing upon ye, me lad. You have served the Lord in his brutal ways.”

Dropping his arms, he turned and called out, “Angel, come on out!”

“Sup?” he asked Donnelley as he turned back, reaching up to push the sunglasses onto his head, holding back his long hair. He looked at the body and then back at Tex, “Who’s your friend?”

Ava poked her head out from behind a nearby SUV, her wild red curls a beacon in the sunlight. She couldn’t make out fine details with her vision but she recognized the hair and build of Donnelley.

She smiled broadly as she stepped out from behind the car, jogging her way over to join Queen and Donnelley with Prince tiredly but happily trotting along behind her.

Donnelley looked at Ava and then back to Queen, closing his slack jaw and shaking himself from another stupor, “Just help me with this bullshit and get in the goddamn car.”

Donnelley went back dragging the big Russian towards the cargo door of the 4Runner. He dropped him for a second, his limp head smacking on the pavement with a dull thud as he opened the cargo door, “I got arms, get his legs.”

The two of them hefted the dead Russian who was almost as big as Ghost into the back of the 4Runner. Donnelley wasted no time in getting into the front passenger seat while Ava and Queen piled into the back with the dog. The last occupant he wasn’t even going to ask about, “Go, anywhere. Just drive.”

Queen opened the passenger door to the back and saw the baby seat strapped in. He reached and unbuckled it, yanking it free and tossed it in the back on top of the body they had shrouded with a throw blanket found in the bed of the SUV.

“Ladies and dogs first,” he offered as Ava and Prince got in and he followed suit.

“Well, Agent Laine,” he said, “Nice driving.”

Laine only looked at him in the rearview mirror, a cigarette now between her plush lips. She flicked her gaze over to Ava and her green eyes warmed, “Good to see you guys.”

She shifted the Toyota into drive and straightened out, taking a look out the window as people started to gather at the entrance of Walmart looking and pointing their direction, “Shit, that was a performance,” she muttered as she drove towards the driveway.

“Still got that map, Angel? It’s in the bags,” Queen asked, settling back. “Oh, and that Glock, better let Tex have it.”

The smile had gone from Ava’s face as soon as she saw the dead body. An icy chill went down her spine but she quickly hopped into the back seat with Prince, setting down the bags and tackle box on the floor.

She tried to ignore the heavy scent of blood in the air as she dug out the map. She passed Queen the map and stared down at the tackle box seated on the floor.

She reached over and opened it, shifting through the bottles in search of the Xanax, her hands starting to shake as they grew cold.

He noticed her getting into the box and set the map aside after giving Laine instructions to head south to get on the parkway so they could make it out of town faster.

Queen leaned in and took the bottle from Ava’s hand, “Nah, you wanna start with the lower dose. Since you never had it and are still on that other shit.”

He took a bottle of 1mg Xanax and opened it, giving her one. “If you don’t feel it, I’ll give you a second.”

Shaking some out for himself, he popped them like Skittles and handed the bottle without a word to Tex, tapping his shoulder. “Made a pit stop, just the essentials you know?”

He took the Glock from where Ava left it on the seat and handed that over to him as well, grip first. “That’s got a full magazine, one chambered.”

Laine was smoking hard and glanced at the bottle that was passed forward, “What the hell is that?”

“Xanax, Doc,” Queen drawled as he crunched the last bitter pill. “Figured we earned this.”

She glanced at Donnelley, then went back to watching the road as she came to a light. “Maybe later,” she murmured, her senses still alert and she tried not to relive the feeling of the SUV bumping over the Russian’s body.

Ava nodded at Queen, swallowing down the pill in silence and leaning back in the seat. Prince got himself comfortable by laying his paws and head on her lap and she rubbed his head, distracting herself while waiting for the Xanax to kick in. They found two more of their teammates, whatever else happened, that was a good thing.

“Gimme one of those.” Donnelley asked of the cigarettes. When Laine passed him one he lit up, rolling the window down just a couple inches. Without a word, he popped one of the Xanax and chewed it, tasting the bitter and fighting against grimacing. “Find us somewhere quiet.”

“We need to talk.”

>40 MINUTES LATER...///

>SOMEWHERE OFF SEWARD HWY
>10SEP2019
>1500...///

Donnelley sat in the front passenger seat with his face in his hand, two of his fingers clutching a lit cigarette that left a little tail of smoke rising off of it. He hadn’t said much since they’d dumped the Russian’s body down some backroad for wolves, bears, raccoons and flies to get to. The most immediate of their problems was gone, but the looming one still cast its shadow over them. Donnelley spoke without lifting his head, “I’d said I needed to talk to all of you.” Donnelley paused, “I’d ask you to believe me, but… well, maybe I should ask. It’s definitely the weirdest shit we’ve been through.”

His other hand held the activated Motorola burner phone. He’d refrained from typing in Foster’s number. This was the only chance he’d ever had for something like this. It’d be the only chance any of them would have too, and he wanted to make sure they knew their choices from here on out. He’d made his already. But he wasn’t going to make theirs. “When I say this, I swear it’s true.” Donnelley looked to Laine next to him, and then turned to Ava and Queen in the backseat, “Y’all understand? Are we crystal?”

Laine rested her forearm on the steering wheel, her attention on Donnelley. He had been uncharacteristically quiet and brooding, not since that first ride together in Blackriver when they had sat on the shoulder of another rural road. With the other two in the car, she hesitated reaching out this time to touch him but his distress was palatable and all of them were on the taut strings of anxiousness. She let her right hand rest against the console, close to his side.

The tension in her upper back pinched as he made his preamble and she nodded slowly, the flickering of memories flashing in her mind. Fog. Sarah Jung’s fear. Walking together with their weapons out. The cold.

Queen leaned forward, the effects of the Xanax coursing through him made him mellow and relaxed, ready to hear anything Tex wanted to lay on him. He had an inkling of trepidation but it floated on the chemical buffer.

“Sure, we trust you,” Queen said, reaching over the seat to pat Donnelley’s shoulder with a bro grip, “What’s up?”

Ava felt calmer than she had in awhile, at least for the first time since they left the BLACKBOX. It was a cozy feeling, one she basked in on the long drive while petting the snoring dog in her lap.

She was only brought out of her comfortable haze when Donnelley started speaking, blinking her eyes slowly behind the cheap reading glasses on her face.

“I woke up wearing a biker’s questionably clean underwear,” Ava said bluntly. “So the bar for strangeness is already pretty high. Whatever it is, I trust you. No matter how crazy it is gonna sound.”

Donnelley nodded slow, but that didn’t exactly make it easier. He sighed, “How much do you guys remember from before?”

Ava frowned as she puzzled over the question and her foggy memories. “The last thing I remember is us leaving Yutu’s house with Ipiktok and the SIREN agent, it was snowy and we were...walking for some reason. I don’t remember why we were walking. Things get a little hazy after I had that seizure and that dream.”

Queen shrugged, "I remember the shaman and gearing up. Before I woke up in a confession booth. I thought maybe we'd had a wild night but…"

He trailed off, tugging at the stiff collar.

Laine looked at him, then glanced at the others in the rearview mirror. "I don't remember much past leaving Yutu's home and taking Agent Jung with us. We were supposed to meet a plane I think? But it was so foggy."

Donnelley looked between all of them, took his moment. He looked away from them and back out the windshield at the trees around them. He’d have to tell them, “We died.”

He left that on the air for a moment, “We were double-crossed. ARTEMIS and SIREN were sold out to the Russians.” He frowned, his hands balling into fists, “Fuckin’ TRIDENT was in their pocket. The whole goddamn operation was bust. They killed us to get to Ipiktok.”

“And somehow we woke up from that. In other peoples’ clothes. I need you to understand something, about why I haven’t called Foster yet, or anyone.” Donnelley turned back around, craning his neck to look at those in the back too, “You don’t retire from this. Not until they don’t need you, or you get killed, or you take it into your own hands. This ain’t the FBI or the DEA. Even if I quit on the CIA, the Program would still have me in the lineup.”

“Dyin’ for this, livin’ like this, it ain’t for everyone. This is the only chance any of you are goin’ to get to walk away from all of this. Live some kind of life.” Donnelley held the phone in his hands, “As soon as I call Foster on this phone, everyone still in this car is back on-duty. And there is no goin’ back.”

He looked at each of them, searching their faces for any doubts, or resolve, “So?”

Ava’s eyes widened and her breath grew still in her lungs for a few moments as she listened and processed the information. They had...died? No, they had been murdered, but supposed allies.

As Donnelley posed his question, though she was still trying to understand the concept of dying and yet waking up 3 days later, she didn’t hesitate, “I’m not staying dead.” She said, looking up at him with eyes containing a mixture of confusion, pain but a spark of something else. Something not dulled by the Xanax she had taken. “I have my family, my parents, my grandparents! I can’t let them think I’m dead, it’d crush them. Not to mention Dave! I have to know if he’s okay!”

Queen stared at Donnelley in the rear view mirror, then looked out the car window, digesting what he had said. Had he really died and come back? As a priest no less. The universe did have a delicious sense of irony. He was officially dead, for this brief moment the Program did not own him. He dug in the front pocket for his box of Kools, “You mind?”

He asked Ava in a perfunctory way, then lit a cigarette, his thoughts racing. A chance to get away from the murder and mayhem of THUNDER. To go back to what? DEA and that bullshit, maybe start a new career and get clean. Queen took a drag on his cigarette, blowing smoke out the rolled down window.

“So a fresh start,” he said, seeking Donnelley’s eyes in the mirror. “What the hell else would I do with my life? Been runnin’ at this speed too damn long.”

Queen sighed and tilted his head slightly, “Ain’t nothing as exciting as this, besides. Ain’t no fight like it.”

He grinned but his eyes did not reflect it and he sank against the seat. Glancing at Ava, he said, “He means you wanna walk away from the Program? Get out now and you’ll not have to worry about them finding out you’re dead in some place by some means they’ll never be able to know.”

“I’m not walking away from my family or my friends.” Ava said firmly, looking to Queen with a frown. “I walk away from the Program, I have to walk away from them too. I’m not doing that.”

Donnelley looked at Queen in the mirror, a hidden pain in his eyes remembering him dropping like a stone and thinking for those last few seconds that he’d never see that mischievous smile on his handsome face, or those damn jokes ever again. He looked away from Queen and out the window, taking and lighting his own cigarette, “There doesn’t have to be any kind of fight at all, man.” Donnelley’s voice weakened at the last word, before he regained himself, “I seen you die once now, and it didn’t feel good. But, I wouldn’t have anyone else watchin’ my back out here.”

Donnelley locked eyes with Queen again in the mirror, “If you’re really sure about this, Queen.”

Queen smiled slyly, the cigarette between his lips as he looked at Donnelley’s reflection, “You know I cain’t quit you.”

He snickered a laugh, looking at Ava once more with her serious expression. His heart ached a little for what would probably become of her after a few years of exposure to men like him and the shit they had to do, what evil she would see and come to know.

He looked at Laine, knowing he’d watched her die too and it felt no better. The last thing he wanted to do was have it happen again, or watch her mind slowly chip away. He nodded at her, “What about you?”

Laine listened to the rest making their decisions quickly, determination and inevitability. Her stomach knotted at the idea that she had been killed, shot dead but she had no recollection of it. Except Donnelley, how quiet he had been, holding that back since he found her walking down the road in another woman’s clothing. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, feeling the nausea rising at the faint scent of blood still in the car or maybe it was just her mind playing tricks. Reminding how she had become a killer.

“I need a little walk,” she said, glancing at Donnelley, the indecision in her eyes.

Laine stepped out of the truck and made it to the treeline of the shoulder of the road before she bent over, spitting bile up as she had little else in her stomach. She stayed bent, her hands braced against her knees. There was a time she knew when to step back before she ruined herself. Behind her, one of the car doors opened and closed again.

The sound of footsteps in the dirt coming closer and the smell of a cigarette. Donnelley stepped closer to her and placed a soft hand on her shoulder, “I’m sorry I had to tell you that.” He said, not knowing what else to, “Whatever you decide… I understand.”

Laine wiped her mouth with the hem of her t-shirt then glanced down at it. His hand was warm as a chill ran through her. Holding the bottom of her shirt she asked, “Alasie Creech is dead isn’t she? Just as sure as that Russian.”

Dropping the shirt, she stood up straight, her hands trembling after getting sick. “I killed her, taking her place in some cosmic bullshit. I don’t know...Donnelley.”

She put her hand over his on her shoulder and squeezed it, then turned to face him. “I thought that I had faced the worst but I was always a step back.”

Laine searched his scarred face, his deep blue eyes, “I always knew when I should pull back before I lost myself, but this...how can I walk away from this fight?”

Donnelley pointed back down the road, “That way, probably.” He shrugged, looking to Laine as she pleaded for guidance on what she should do next. On what she should do, “It’s a lot to consider, Laine. I wouldn’t blame you if you walked away from all of this. From me.”

Laine closed her eyes briefly, the brief memory of her father settling in for the annual reading of Lord of the Rings. How he had admired the heroes of that story but it was far different in reality. The Program could destroy her, maybe not at first but little by little, grasping at the little things to keep her from falling into that void. Another sunrise.

She looked at him, the realization it would be to leave everything. “I don’t want to lose you,” she said softly, her green eyes searching his face. “Any of you but...Joey, I…”

Out of habit she looked around, then at him, “This war, it’s everything I swore to fight against. The evil that men do, and now the evil that exists in places I never imagined.”

“I think you might need me and I need you,” Laine said, then shook her head, the real word lingering on her tongue. “I want you.”

Donnelley looked at Laine, searching her eyes. Those same eyes he’d seen light up and make things seem like they were going to be alright. The same eyes he’d looked into so many times before and felt his heart flutter, “Laine, I know you took an oath for this, but… I never want to see you how I saw you in Noatak. I don’t know if I could be the same…” He frowned, looked away from her and took a drag off his cigarette, “It hurt me, Laine. Thinking that I’d never see you again and I couldn’t do a goddamn thing for you.”

He wiped at his face and took a breath, shaking his head, “I want you, Laine, I need you.” He looked at her, seriousness in his face and voice, “But I need you to be sure about this too.”

Laine wanted to touch him and hold him but they were not alone. She would trust Ava but she did not know Queen, not like Donnelley did and he made no move to fill the small gap between them. She swallowed hard, then nodded, “I won’t leave. Whatever happens, this is the good fight and I think if I turned away I’d never be able to live with myself. Leaving you, UMBRA. Who would make sure we had trail mix packed or make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

She smiled a little, biting her lip slightly as her eyes glistened. “Most of all, I need you to know how much I care about you. I died and never got to say it. I’m sorry you have to carry the memory.”

“Laine,” he smiled, looking at the Toyota for a second and then back to her, “I know you care. I mean, hell, the shit we do with each other…”

“Laine… I…” he looked to her, then away down the road, nothing but the wind and the trees and the gravel on the isolated backroad. He knew what he wanted to say, but he didn’t want it to be said now. But when then? He didn’t get to say it either before she’d died right in front of him, “I’m glad. I need you with me through this.”

She gazed at him, the same softened expression she reserved when they were alone. Laine nodded, stepping closer to let her hand brush his, giving him a little squeeze before moving past. She looked back at him, “Another night and another sunrise, we will see this through. As far as we can go.”

Laine wanted to kiss him but held back, turning to return to the SUV instead.

"I still don't think I can like killing people," Laine muttered, knowing that would be the thing to keep her up in future nights despite the momentary triumph of knocking down the Russian.

“Be an entirely different problem if you did.” Donnelley said.

>QUEEN/AVA TOYOTA

“Do you think she’s okay?” Ava asked Queen after watching Laine walk away, Donnelley going after her shortly after. She looked to him, a disquieted expression on her face despite the visible haziness from the Xanax in her eyes.

Queen watched Laine dart from the SUV to get sick and Donnelley followed after. He glanced back over at Ava then shrugged, "Dunno, everyone has their breaking point and I don't know her well enough to know if it's turning a man into road kill or learning she was shot and killed by traitors and somehow mysteriously brought back to life."

He waited a beat as he lazily smoked the rest of his near finished cigarette. "A real mind fuck that one is. I'm still tryna imagine being dead. Doesn't seem like any fun."

The several bars he had taken had made him sleepy and stoned, a pleasant numbness to the horror of the idea Tex had watched them all killed but now they were back. Someone somewhere had interfered with the laws of nature.

“Yeah…” She said quietly, looking down at Prince blissfully sleeping and unaware of just about everything. She rubbed at one of his ears.

“Why aren’t you taking the chance to walk away?” Ava asked after a beat of silence. She looked back up at him, the frown and creases of worry on her features. “After what you told me about why you need...well,” She nudged the tackle box with her foot. “You could leave, get clean and live a nice life... I could help you, too. Make a new identity and everything.”

Queen pinched the ember out on the butt of the cigarette, the little sting in his fingertips reminding him he was still alive. He considered her question for a moment, then leaned his head back against the headrest. He was still dressed like a priest, albeit there was a blood splatter on the black cloth now. Whether it was from Taylor or the roadkill Russian, he wasn’t sure.

“You know, I started out a lot like you,” Queen said, rolling his head so he could look at her. His sunglasses pushed his hair back and there was nothing obscuring the clear pale color of his eyes and the slight dilation of his pupils making them piercing.”I was on an investigation team, doing the intel and...well I got moved, I was more useful to them as someone that could find people that needed killing. And then I started doing the killing.”

He wanted another cigarette, another Xanax, maybe the cocaine sitting heavier in his pocket. “But you see I can’t walk away. Because that man out there, he’s my best friend.”

Queen gestured to Donnelley still out with Laine. “We’ve been to hell and back, no way I’d leave him to go squirrel away and try to live some safe anonymous life. Ain’t any different from you. I don’t want to leave my friends, I don’t want to have to never visit my mom unless I’m heavily disguised. I already know what it’s like to live a lie, for every day and every interaction and connection you make with people to be founded on lies and deceit. That you can never be honest and be who you really are.”

His thoughts flashed to the lies of his cover with the Hell’s Highest and one of his best friends, Easy, who still knew him as another person. How he had to keep quiet about certain aspects of his relationship with Joseph but he loved him without question. He lied to THUNDER about how he felt about them, he embraced it and hated them at the same time and like the chemicals Queen snorted and swallowed, he could never truly give them up. And his mother didn’t know anything of what he did now and would never if he had a choice in it.

Queen shook his head, “Nah, Angel. I appreciate your concern and offer but I won’t live another lie, I got too many already.”

Ava watched him as he spoke, her heart welling with concern at the same time she admired Queen’s dedication to Donnelley. She didn’t know the two of them were so close.

And his reasoning...well it was very similar to her own, even if she hadn’t voiced it fully.

She tried to reach over to touch his shoulder, but was stopped by the very heavy and very tired Dalmatian on her lap. She huffed and settled for giving Queen a smile. “Donnelley is lucky to have you for a friend.” She said, scratching Prince’s ears again. “And...I’m glad I’ll still be able to see you around.”

Queen smiled slightly at that, “Yeah he is and I’m lucky to have him. Makes a lot of difference in a world like ours to have someone you trust completely. Who you know has your back. And I’m glad to be around, Angel. I’m sure we’ll all see each other. We’ll see the rest, too. Avery and Dave. Maui...Ghost, Poker...They’re probably finding their own way right now.”

He glanced out the window to see Laine turn and stand close to Donnelley, close enough they brushed each other. Then she was moving back towards the SUV. He looked over at Ava, searching her face then asked, “You got that weed?”

Ava still smiled but tilted her head to the side curiously. “You had it last, I gave it to you with the cigarettes.”

Queen chuckled, flashing a self-deprecating smile, “Oh, yeah.”

Sitting up, he dug in his pockets, pulling out a bag but in it was tightly wrapped white powder. He shoved it back quickly, then found the other sandwich baggy with the biker’s weed, to conveniently prerolled for some party he would never make it too,“There you are.”

Laine opened the driver side door, climbing into the seat and slid behind the wheel. She glanced at Ava in the rearview mirror, “Sorry about that, I’m better.”

Ava met her eyes with her own dilated gaze and smiled reassuringly. “It’s alright, it’s a lot to take in. I’d give you a hug but, well,” She motioned to the snoring dog using her as a pillow. “Cerberus here has me pretty pinned.”

Laine raised her brow, the dog had not been unnoticed but now she felt like she could tackle that question. “Cerberus?”

Queen said nothing, busy searching for something in the tackle box at his feet. Laine looked at Ava, “I’m almost afraid to ask where you found the guardian of the underworld.”

“I...liberated him from...some not so nice people.” Ava answered slowly, shifting awkwardly in her seat and eliciting a grumble from said dog.

Queen was still digging around, now not wanting to look up. Laine looked from Ava to Queen’s bent back and back to her, “You stole a dog? Rescued, I mean. Of course.”

She frowned slightly, “And where did you get all that, Queen?”

He froze then glanced up, a slight grin on his bearded face, “I’m nothing if not resourceful, Doc.”

Laine looked out at Donnelley still on the burner phone and shook her head. She thought about punching Thumper and running over the Russian, what’s another crime or two among friends. “So, what do you plan on doing with the dog, Ava?”

“Take him to a shelter?” She said slowly, feeling like a child that had gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I acknowledge that the decision was not well thought out, but a lot was happening and they didn’t even really like him so...It seemed like a good idea at the time.” She wrapped her arms around Prince. “Plus look how sweet he is.”

Queen sat back and cleared his throat, not wanting to talk about how he robbed and beat a man for the drugs and cash with Laine’s sharp gaze on him. After giving Prince a pat he looked out the window, crossing his arms. “That sucks,” Laine said, “Just dropping him off at some shelter, he is a pretty boy. I guess he’d get adopted quickly.”

Prince thumped his tail, waking as another soft voiced person seemed to be paying attention to him. He glanced up at Ava, his expressive brown eyes attentive to her tone. He put a big paw on her leg, shifting his body on the bench seat.

Ava looked down into his large brown eyes and groaned, dropping her head forward. “I’m too high and emotionally exhausted for this.” She picked up his chain lead and opened the door. “I’m gonna take him out to use the bathroom, before we get going.” Maybe figure out what to do with him. She slid her way out of the Toyota, gently pulling on Prince’s collar.

After a brief stretch, Prince hopped down and Ava shut the car door, walking off toward the treeline for the dog to do his business. Hearing Donnelley’s voice, she looked over to him on the phone. Despite the buzz of the Xanax, she felt a sting of worry. Would Foster believe them? Would the Program even take them back? Or would they think they were something...inhuman.

Prince’s head perked up as well and before Ava could stop him, the excited dog was pulling her over toward Donnelley, his tail wagging and tongue lulling out. “Prince! No, heel!” Ava squeaked, trying to pull the dog back but he was far bigger than her and clearly never been properly trained.

“Foster, we just killed a guy and had to dump his body out here in the middle of nowhere…” Donnelley paused on the phone, “Yes, it’s really me… Oh, you’ll know I’m real when I break my foot off in your ass… Yeah, I’ve known you for almost ten years now… I swear to god, just call Sobel to come do his thing and we can fuckin’ prove it... Bye… Yeah, you too, fuckhead.”

Donnelley hung up the phone and slipped it into his pockets, just before he squawked and stumbled back as the dog caught him off guard, jumping into his shoulder in an attempt to get some affection from a new person. “Whoa, boy, come on. Down,” Donnelley chuckled as the dog was on his hind legs, tail thrashing, “Down, boy.”

Donnelley shielded his face from an onslaught of dog tongue and stepped back, letting the dog fall back to all his fours, “Well, that’s done.” He said, his smile fading some as he looked at Ava, “Are you sure?”

Ava tugged on Prince’s collar and patted his hind end, looking up at Donnelley in confusion for a moment. “Oh,” She breathed as she realized what he was asking. “I’m sure.” She answered with a nod. “Like I said, I have my family to think about and…” She trailed off her mind drifting to Dave, wondering what happened to him after they were betrayed and hoping he was okay.

She shook her head to focus back on the now, looking back up to Donnelley. “And, I have a thing I’ve been meaning to do and I can’t do that if I’m officially dead.” She studied Donnelley with a concerned frown. “How are you doing? I mean, I know we all...but I don’t remember it and you clearly do. I can’t imagine…” She trailed off, unsure if she was at a loss for words because of the strangeness of the situation or the pleasant cozy fog brought on by the drugs. “Do you need a hug?” She offered, trying to inject some lightness back into the air.

Donnelley’s smile returned as he looked away from Ava at the offer of a hug. He didn’t really know how he was doing, just been on autopilot this whole time and keeping himself occupied with the list of things he and Laine had to do to get the phone and her clothes. “I don’t know.” He shook his head, his smile fading away as he looked at Queen and Laine in the Toyota, and at Ava. His lip quivered and he closed his eyes, head hanging, “I don’t know.”

He couldn’t get it out of his head, in every quiet moment it filtered back in. The fact he saw it happen in a vision, and then witnessed it all and was powerless to stop it. Raging against it as it all happened in front of him, and then giving it all up when he knew everything was over for him. The last thing he remembered was trying to get to Laine as he died.

And then he woke up on that road. “I can’t fuckin’ believe it, Ava. I’m so fuckin’ sorry I did that to all of you, I’m so fuckin’ sorry for being a goddamn fuckin’ shitty…” He buried his face in his hands, “I let you fuckin’ die. I let all of you fuckin’ die…”

I died and my daughter don’t even know who the fuck her father is, damn it!” He shook with it, the grief and the anger, and the sadness. The weight of failure he never wanted to feel again since Chechnya. “I failed all of you and you ain’t even fuckin’ angry at me.”

Ava took a step back in surprise, seeing Donnelley break down in a way she had never really seen before. Nor did she think was possible for the man. She didn’t dwell much more on it, just stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, giving him as strong a hug as she could.

“You didn’t do anything.” She whispered to him. “It wasn’t your fault, none of us had any idea what was really going on.” She heard Prince whine and saw the dog sit next to Donnelley, looking up at him with his head tilted to the side. “It’s not your fault.”

Donnelley knelt there for a moment, just letting himself be held. He wiped the tears from his face and took a breath. No matter what he felt, he was the damned Team Lead, he couldn’t be like this. Couldn’t be seen broken down. The war wasn’t over for them still, despite all of them here being dead for three days, “Thanks.” He said, reaching over and squeezing Ava’s shoulder, “For everything. This team’s still a team, no matter what.”

He was forlorn, and then he snorted, smiling, “Gotta say that was some of the best damn sleep I ever got. Three days, shoo’.”

Ava smiled up at him and patted his arm. “Any time, that’s what teams are for.” She reached over and rubbed Prince’s head to reassure him everything was okay. While she didn’t quite have the level of gallows humor that Donnelley did about it, she still nodded along. “I was gonna let Prince here go to the bathroom before we leave to go...wherever we’re going.” She frowned up at him. “What is the plan now?”

“Well,” Donnelley scratched at his beard, “We sit here and wait.”

Laine watched from the SUV as Donnelley finally broke down and Ava was there to hold him. What she should have been doing if it had not been for her own constant worry about being caught. She glanced away, the heaviness returning and looked in the rearview mirror at Queen who was sorting through a bag of pre rolled joints.

“Got one for me?” she asked after a moment.

Queen met her gaze in the mirror, then reached into the bag and leaned forward. He handed it to her and gave her a pat on the shoulder. Laine took it and glanced at him, “Thanks.”

He struck his lighter and lit it for her, “It’s gonna take some time.”

Laine took a puff on it and tested the quality, it was good but then weed was legal so there wasn’t much of a chance of getting a bunch of stems. “It sure is,” she agreed, taking a deeper drag and held the smoke, slowly releasing it between her lips.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by KuroTenshi
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KuroTenshi

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>JOINT BASE ELMENDORF-RICHARDSON
>ANCHORAGE, AK
>13SEP2019
>0500


It had been a day or so since THUNDER and UMBRA were once again crammed into a house and told to wait. Poker and Donnelley had fought over the master bedroom, eventually culminating in a very intense arm wrestling match between the two that did bring up morale amongst all of them quite a bit. They were told all of their possessions left at the BLACKBOX would be flown in and would arrive today, Donnelley glad to have his things back finally. Sadly, the view from the master bedroom’s windows didn’t give him a good angle to see the sunrises, but he still spent the early mornings outside on the porch, just thinking and dragging away at his cigarettes.

Foster and Sobel had left them all to their own devices. Sobel had healed up quick, though there were concerns that an expenditure of that much energy again could lead to a brain hemorrhage if taken just a little farther than it was. Sobel didn’t seem to care. Foster disappeared to do whatever it was he was busy with for the past two days, which was fine with Donnelley. He didn’t mind not having daddy dearest around for a bit. They’d struggled on without him for long enough now. Donnelley was on the porch when the shipment of their stuff arrived. It was arranged neatly into bags, sorted by whoever had owned it. Donnelley had changed out of the redneck gear he was sporting after shopping in nothing but Cabela’s stores with Dave. Now he looked more like the security contractor type, could hardly tell him and Ghost apart save for the difference in muscle mass.

Looking at the folded up clothes he was wearing in Noatak though. He’d seen his own blood on his own clothes before, but he’d never held the clothes he’d died in. That was different. Almost unwelcome, and he left those clothes alone until he decided to go to the backyard. He’d started a fire in the pit there and thrown his clothes in. He’d gotten curious looks from Poker and Ghost, but it didn’t stop him. He listened to the sounds of waking and conversation inside the house as he sat in the backyard and watched the evidence of his murder or KIA status or whatever you wanted to call it just blacken and burn away. He took a drag off his cigarette and let it out, his old flask in his lap.

His sunglasses were on to cover the recently pouring eyes. He cleared his throat and took another drag, and another nip off his flask in another sunrise. His breath hitched in his throat again and he looked down with a heavy frown, tugging down the bill of the RealTree cap a bit lower.

Back in the living room Dave stirred, his eyes snapping open and awareness rushing in as it had been more and more lately. He didn’t wake up anymore. Instead he activated, coming to the world instantly ready to fight.

He looked around the room from his position on the couch, then turned, spotting Ava curled on the loveseat, Prince snuggled beside her. He smiled, feeling like he might laugh and cry at the same time just to see her lying there. Instead he rose, setting aside the AK he’d slept with, and after bending down to kiss her forehead and patting Prince he headed for the porch.

Dave spotted Donnelley and crossed to sit down beside him.

“Mornin’,” he grunted. He pulled out his Cope, snapped the can. As he loaded his lip and put it away he stared out at the yard, hoping he wasn’t intruding but unwilling to walk away.

“Mornin.’” Donnelley said after a spell of silence. He added another piece of wood to the fire, wanting those clothes reduced to ashes by the time he was gone from this house. He didn’t look at Dave, the two of them just sitting in each other’s presence. Donnelley had his eyes on those clothes since he’d started the fire, almost like he was expecting them to jump up and strangle him.

“How you holdin’ up?” Donnelley broke the ambience of birds chirping and the faint sunlight of a fledgling day.

“Shit’s weird,” Dave said. He looked off into the distance, his left hand in his pocket, his right resting on the butt of the Sig he still wore at his belt. “You guys comin’ back is...It’s a lot. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t be happier, really,” he added hastily. “But...Three days…”

Dave shook his head, pushing back memories of what happened in that barn. “I thought we were payin’ ‘em back...Thought all I had left to do was kill the bastards. An’ I did a lot of that. I dunno, man, I ain’t tryin’ to dump on you. Can’t imagine what it’s like for y’all.”

“Fuck it,” Donnelley glanced at Dave before he turned his head back to the fire, those glasses still hiding his bloodshot eyes, but nothing could mask the sound of his irritated throat from quietly choking back those pitiful half-sobs. Trying not to wake everyone else up.

Besides, listening to Dave would keep his mind from wandering back to that Jeep Liberty and Gregory Morales’ innocent corpse. He took a drag off his shrinking cigarette and shamelessly pulled from his flask, “Just fuckin’ talk, man. If it helps.”

Dave sat down beside Donnelley, then took a quick look back over his shoulder. Satisfied they were alone he shifted his weight, considering his words. Donnelley had been there, as the saying goes. Dave trusted him, and knew that the man had been through a lot of the same hell in his past that Dave was currently experiencing. Belyaev’s name was on the tip of his tongue, but he balked at the last second.

“I’m just not used to this...I dunno, the level of violence,” Dave said lamely. “When it happened in West Virginia, it was usually more sporadic, I guess? But since you guys...Well, since y’all died, it’s been a non-stop shit show. Hell, it’s been a shit show since we got to Alaska.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway. I’m just bitchin’, if you believe what Ghost says. That guy’s a fuckin’ machine.”

“Yeah, and I’m not Ghost.” Donnelley shook his head, looked at Dave and then looked back at the fire. Shook his head again, “I been places, man. Done things that ain’t ever goin’ to see the light of day. Take ‘em all to my grave.”

Donnelley nodded at the fire then, eating up the clothes he’d died in, hungry. “Neither of us are Ghost and that’s fine. Man’s not fuckin’ human.” He sighed, “You wanna try to be like him, go ahead. Or you can take a pull off this flask and talk to me like the friend I am to you.”

Donnelley slowly extended his arm Dave’s way and offered the flask he held to the other man. He wished he’d offered the same to Avery when he could, but he let his own damn emotions control the way he held himself. Now one of the last memories Avery ever had of him was him yelling at him in a hotel parking lot. He didn’t want to be that leader.

Dave looked at the flask for a moment, then took it. He took a large swallow, drinking despite the dip like a true Ozark boy.

“I cut a man up,” he said after, before he lost his nerve. “He uh...He was the dude we snatched up, Belyaev. Some Russian. But I blamed him for what happened, an’ I jointed him like a deer carcass. Real slow.” He took another drink, then offered it back. “It ain’t somethin’ Ava can ever know...I knew even while I did it that she’d hate it. She wouldn’t want it, even as revenge. But…” He sighed. “But it was what I thought I wanted, an’ I did it.”

Donnelley watched him drink and speak on what he’d done at that barn to get himself so red to the elbows and blood-stains on his shirt. He’d seen it, everyone who knew to look for it saw it, and probably even those who didn’t know what it was saw it. The eyes of a man who’d done something regrettable. Donnelley nodded, knowing well enough how THUNDER did things, and if Dave was with THUNDER, well. “You know, Laine asked me once, on our first assignment together,” Donnelley looked up at the lightening sky and remembered back to Clyde Baughman’s apartment, “She asked me if the wives or girlfriends or any of their family ever knew the kinds of things that we had to do for the Program.”

“I’m pretty sure I told her that even if we could ever talk to anyone about what we saw and did, they wouldn’t want to know. Not really. Not if they knew what was good for them.” Donnelley looked back down to earth, pulled off of his flask when he got it back, “I killed plenty. Some of them I wish I didn’t have to. Laine ain’t ever goin’ to know about it.”

“I wish I knew the cure to wakin’ up soaked through with sweat, the nightmares, the not bein’ able to sleep or just really not fuckin’ wantin’ to.” Donnelley shrugged, “But talkin’ to folk who understand helps. Even if they don’t give me instructions like say ten Hail Mary’s and whatever, it helps.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that, man.” Donnelley reached up and took his sunglasses off, letting them hang off the neck of his hoodie. He looked at Dave with bloodshot eyes, tired bags weighing down his eyelids, “I’m really sorry.”

Dave nodded as he spoke, and when he’d finished he reached over to grab his shoulder. Donnelley looked like he felt, and he couldn’t help the bit of guilt that crept into him at unloading his pile of shit on a man fresh back from the dead.

“I’m sorry for what happened to y’all,” he said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. Instead he gave Donnelley’s shoulder a squeeze. “You listened to me, so I’m down to listen to you. If you want. We got our li’l family back together, an’ we’re gonna see this shit through. But I’m here for you, same as you are for me.”

He gave Donnelley a final pat and then released him, stretching a bit to take some of the strain off his battered back. He felt like he’d been run through a machine, and after sparing a brief thought for what the shockwave of that explosion might have done to his previously concussed brain he shook his head, clearing the thought away. All things considered, an aneurysm might not be a bad way to go.

Dave leaned back, resting his weight on his hands, and simply watched the sky, content to either bring in the morning in silence or provide an ear as Donnelley dictated.

Donnelley scooted down in the collapsible picnic chair he was sitting in, shimmying down so his legs were closer to the fire and he was more laying than sitting. Silence resumed again and the two rough and tumble men just sat like that for a good while. He swallowed, looking at Dave, then back at the fire. It was like whatever it was was clamping his jaw shut. He had to fight it all the way up until finally, he just spoke it out onto the cold morning, “Avery.” He said, clearing his throat and knowing he needed to say more or it wouldn’t mean anything, “I wish I talked to him like this. I mean, knowin’ what I know now. Knowin’ what happened to him, I… I made him feel like a damn fool in that parkin’ lot, and those were most of the last words I ever left in his mind.”

“Maybe he had a good fuckin’ reason for bein’ so stupid drunk he woke up not knowin’ where he was. Shit, I been there.” Donnelley just shook his head and sighed, “I told Laine, Ava, everyone who woke up and found each other that I was so fuckin’ sorry for lettin’ ‘em go out like that… I saw the woman that I-...” He looked sidelong at Dave and stopped himself for a second, “The woman… that I care so goddamn much about go down and there weren’t anythin’ I could fuckin’ do to stop it.”

“And even now that we’re up and walkin’ the fuck am I gonna say? I’ll get you next time? Just trust me?” Donnelley snorted bitterly and shook his head, “No matter what, I can never take any of that back. Not for Laine. Not for Ava. Ain’t never goin’ to be able to say any of that to Avery.”

He shrugged, not knowing what else to do or say, “I don’t know. That’s what’s on my mind.”

Dave heard him out, feeling his guts twist as Donnelley echoed his own thoughts and feelings. The guilt was something he understood. Pari, wherever she’d wound up, had called him their protector early on, and he’d adopted that persona, taken that responsibility. Then he’d somehow been the only one of them to walk away.

“It’s heavy shit,” he said. “But...I know it.” He trailed off, unsure of what else to say. His own guilt had gnawed at him every moment of every day. “I know how that feels. I do. I ain’t sure what...We can say, or do, about it, you know? I ain’t a good talker. ‘Specially about stuff like this. Laine, she said we didn’t do anythin’ wrong, didn’t fuck up. But I get how you feel. Watchin’ it all happenin’, not able to do a goddamn thing except go after the bastards after they’ve already pulled the trigger.”

He tightened a fist, his hate for the Russians rising for a brief moment. He sat in silence, then looked over at Donnelley. His admission about Laine had confirmed some things Dave had only suspected.

“Whatever happens, you got my gun in the fight,” he said finally. “We’re gonna handle our shit. Them Russian boys started a feud, and I’m plannin’ on showin’ them how an Ozark man handles his shit.”

Donnelley looked at Dave with some renewed vigor. Feeling that same sense of brotherhood he’d felt just like before those three days he was absent. Looking at him and knowing the both of them were rearing for the fight. He smiled, placing his hands together behind his head to support it, “You know that sayin’, the one I’m thinkin’ about,” he huffed a chuckle through his nose, “Don't mess with Texas.”

He turned serious then, nodding as he looked off at the middle distance, “We’ll get ours from ‘em. Every ounce of blood owed.” Donnelley spoke low and mean through a dark frown, “At least that much I can promise.

>...///

Laine shared a room with both Ava and Bajbala, the girl’s room as it was called. A pair of bunk beds and she could not shake the camp feeling every time they stayed in a safe house. She had called bottom bunk, putting the smaller redhead in the one above her and letting Baj take her pick of the other.

It was still early when she woke, checking her phone and tossing it across the bed. She lay still, wanting nothing more to go back to sleep but the dream had been unsettling, the floating bodies had opened their eyes and stared down at her. Laine was not eager to go back to that so she sat up, swinging her legs over the bunk in the oversized man’s undershirt they had been given. Her foot bumped a bag and she reached over, flicking on the desk lamp, adjusting the shade so it would not be too annoying to Baj who was still asleep across from her.

Laine pulled the bag up onto the bed, eager to get at the clean clothes and have a shower before the rest of the household woke up. Maybe she would make breakfast for everyone like she had back in the cabin in West Virginia.

She pulled open the bag and her helmet rested on top. Laine blinked at it, not recognizing it for a moment then set it aside. On top of her personal bag of clean clothes was the neatly folded tactical pants and jacket, the gray under thermal shirt and leggings. They were dirty, the blood still staining them and when she held up the pants there was a ragged hole on either side of the upper right thigh. Dark stains ran down the whole leg and the jacket was no better, the collar and front had been soaked.

Laine’s hands began to shake, she had no memory of dying, only what Donnelley had told her. Seeing her lifeless and she had believed him but it still had not touched her in the same way holding the clothes did. Her practiced eye knew by the amount of blood that had been spilled and the locations of the wounds death would have certainly occurred without immediate medical attention. She looked closer, making sure they were hers and a pin on the jacket lapel made her take a sharp breath.

The little death’s head moth that Ava had given her was still pinned, the blood crusted on the brass and enamel. Laine bit back a whimper and pushed the clothes off her lap as if they had burned her. Laine wrapped her arms around herself as she trembled so violently her teeth chattered. The sudden and very real idea she had actually died and somehow came back, perhaps replacing another life, hit her with the force that knocked her breath away.

A scream was trapped in her throat, she did not want to fall apart in front of the team. She had to be put together, she was the head doctor anyway. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she fought with breaking down. Laine closed her eyes and took deep breaths, pulling herself back from the brink, not wanting to look at the clothes again.

The rustling of bags coming into the building had woken Bajbala. She felt safe there with the other two members of UMBRA. They seemed human, at least, and that was enough for her to at least kick off her boots. Hypnagogic thoughts faded with the hushed sounds of that humanity from the bed across the room, causing her to turn over.

“These beds... aren’t very comfortable,“ she whispered out with a freshly woken voice. It was filler, the anticipation of her new assignment the real culprit of discomfort. Her room-mate's eyes were still wet in the soft glow of the lamp. She knew that look, that posture. A woman feeling powerless or maybe confused beneath a sudden painful weight, Laine was in distress, her repression communicating more than she had security to show. Bajbala leaned up with an arm. Her dark hair hung free and tangled.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly. Above her, Ava’s bed was undone and empty, part of the blanket hanging over the edge.

The sound of the voice startled her, jerking her out of the rhythmic breathing and she shook her head, her short black hair brushing against her neck. Laine took another breath and rubbed her hands over her face, embarrassed now at being caught by the newest member of their team. She tried to force a smile but it failed and she shrugged, “I’ll be okay, it’s just...”

Laine glanced over at the woman, studying her in the dim light. They were around the same age and dark haired but that was as much as she knew they had in common, this Afghani woman and the daughter of middle class Californians. She shook her head again, then said, “They told you what happened to us? That we died and came back.”

Her hands trembled again, her gaze drawn unwilling to the pile of clothing on the floor beside her bed. “It didn’t feel real, I don’t remember it. But that, that’s a crime scene.”

She blew a breath out and rubbed her eyes, “Sorry, you had to wake up to that. I’ll be alright, it’s just a shock to actually see it...the uh, the clothes I was wearing.”

Bajabala could see her look to the clothes. The blood stains were deep and dark like the articles were drenched in a puddle, whoever wore them likely wouldn't be breathing. It was hard believing what they were saying, but Laine's trauma was undeniable.

"No, no it's okay. I've been in and out of sleep." She waved it off then sat up and climbed out of bed wearing her same sweater and slipped on her pair of jeans that were folded at the foot. She approached Laine almost tip-toeing, " I heard. I don't know what to think of it. You are alive, now." The middle-eastern accent slipped through her tired voice.

Bajbala knelt down by the strewn contents of Laine’s bag. "Is there anything you need from here?" She asked while handling the bag, hiding away the blood-stained items to spare Laine from the sight.

Laine ran her fingers through her hair and looked up as Baj approached, "You'll find out. This weird shit..."

She dropped her hands in her lap, watching them tremble and she clenched them into fists. She had died and come back, and thank whatever god was out there she did not come back like Mrs. Baughman.

Another shudder ran through her and she swallowed hard, trying to focus on Baj's question. "Yes, that's what I brought with me. I was looking for my clothes. I want to shower."

In the bag was everything she brought with her from Idaho, black jeans and t-shirts, panties and everything else. Her laptop bag, her work. Her cigarettes.

"Do you see a black pack of cigarettes in there? I need a smoke before I do anything," Laine asked.

"That's a good idea. Maybe I'll take one after." Bajbala said. She searched inside the bag looking wherever she'd suspect the pack to be. From some fold she felt edges and pulled free a wrinkled black carton, a lighter fell loose to the floor. Inside many of them were crushed and the thick aroma seized her nose.

"Here ya go," she handed both over with an apologetic smile.

She zipped the stuffed bag half closed and sat down from her knees, leaving one of Laine’s clean outfits roughly folded on top.

Laine gave her a weak attempt at a smile and fished out one of the black Djarums, then reached for the cheap Zippo lighter. She struck the flame and took a deep drag, the cloves crickling as she did.

"Shit, sorry," she said, glancing up at the ceiling and remembered where she was. "Just this one, I promise."

Laine smoked for a moment, the calm starting to drift over her like ashes. "Did you want one?"

She looked into the crushed box, finding one only slightly bent. Laine held out the smoldering clove cigarette between her fingers, "I always thought these would be the death of me."

Her voice hitched slightly and she pressed the cigarette between her lips.

Bajbala sat quietly on her knees for a moment letting Laine find her peace. Her fair skin warmed in the light and the creamy stream of smoke dissipated beyond even silkier black hair; much straighter than Bajbala's.

"No, thank you. I'm not much a smoker." She smirked aside, briefly looking towards the floor and grabbing beneath her legs at the side. "It's your first smoke in what, four days? You're doing alright for having died once already."

Laine laughed a little at that, how many bummed cigarettes she had already gone through. She owed Donnelley a carton by now over the time she had lost hers or forgotten. “Yeah, you could say that. At least my own,” she replied, tapping the ashes into her cupped hand to avoid dropping them on the floor. “This is a hell of an introduction for you, but I guess we all get our trial by fire in the Program. And we’re not all like...those guys, THUNDER. We’re a different sort of team, you know?”

Her thoughts flicked back to Dave and Donnelley and the interrogation and execution of Michael. Her own hands now bloody after she had backed up over the Russian, running him over twice for good measure. She twitched her lips and took another drag, “Anyway, welcome aboard. We’ll probably be briefed soon, I have to start compiling my notes and...and the recordings.”

The air seemed to waver around her and Laine felt light headed, thinking about everything that had come down before the ambush. Her memory of the conversation with Ipiktok was disjointed and came in bits and pieces, thankfully she had recorded it. She wondered about the old shaman now and where he had gone or if he was dead, too.

Her hands trembled again and she fought back against the anxiety that swelled up, the crashing of realization that occurred with such a trauma. With grief.

Laine looked at Baj, then smiled a little sheepishly, her green eyes still glistening. “I’m sorry, I’m just...I’m processing this whole thing. You know? It’s a process...grief.”

Her academic detachment was helpful sometimes and she rambled, “There’s just stages to it, we all go through it...pretty much. I was in denial I think, because I don’t remember getting shot. I don’t even have a wound or scar...it’s easy to just think of it abstractly.”

She pinched the black cigarette between her first two fingers and drew on it hard enough to make her cheeks hollow. Holding the fragrant smoke, Laine slowly released it in a thin bluish stream away from Baj.

“But those clothes, if I was looking at them at a crime scene I would determine the person that had been wearing them exsanguinated,” she said, “That they bled out. I can see it, I’ve seen it enough. Those are the clothes of a dead person.”

Laine met her eyes briefly, “Feels weird, to mourn yourself but still be alive. Feels a little selfish, considering some did not come back. But...yeah, it’s a process.”

She shrugged, her tattooed shoulders on display in the sleeveless undershirt. Laine’s gaze shifted to the window where the sky was just starting to shift from black to gray.

“So,” Laine continued, wanting to steer the conversation away from herself, embarrassed at the outpouring. “What’s your thing with the CIA? I’m afraid I’m only a lowly stateside Fed. This spy stuff is rather new.”

Bajbala followed her through each word and occasionally muttered and nodded, subconsciously noting features like her tattoos. The fair and dark agent had her wits, only needing an anchor to pull herself up from the depths she was facing. The clove scent of smoke saturated the room, not bothering her but overwhelming the sleepiness.

"Oh," the question caught her off guard, rousing her into a different mode as her eyes met back with Laine. "No, please," she chuckled, "I couldn't do what you do I'm sure. I… watch people. Listen to them. Lots of following and waiting" She said glancing away. "Talk to them if I'm lucky. Then, if I'm told, make sure the ones that don't belong go away." She struck a hand through her hair, setting it back over her shoulder. "If you know Donnelly well, I'm with his sister group, basically."

She already knew there was no security in privacy, what she had seen only meant that this was the end of her road. Bajbala breathed a little easier as Laine leveled out.

"What is it you do?" She asked.

“I am sure you did a lot of important work, dangerous work,too,” Laine said. The thought of this woman eavesdropping on the Taliban and risking more than just her life doing it was impressive. If she was running with American operatives and was found out… Laine felt the prickling up her neck at what might have happened to her.

“Yeah, I know him. I’ve been with his working group since…” she glanced up as if to recall and it felt like years but it had only been only months. “Well, shit, since late spring?”

Laine reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear, “Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess.”

She stayed quiet for a moment when Bajbala asked her the same question, her once intense focus on her job had taken a back burner since she entered the Program. She smoked silently then smiled a bit, “I am with the FBI, behavioral analysis.”

Laine met her eyes then continued, “Basically we study violent criminals and with that information we use it to create profiles of unknown subjects. I also have a doctorate in psychology…”

She rolled her eyes, the fresh memory of her meltdown now even more needling. Laine finished the cigarette and crushed it out, leaving the butt on her nightstand. “Before that, I was a field agent and worked mostly missing and exploited children, international trafficking, things like that. It’s unfortunately been a theme in the cases we’ve had. Missing girls and women, murder. And much more.”

Laine sounded like someone Bajbala could have used long ago. Now, there likely was no way to find the child she was looking for. No records, family, no one from that time may even be alive.

"That's intriguing!" She declared. "You would get along well with some people at the agency with those skills." She thought even more of what Laine had experienced with UMBRA previously. Her time must have been extremely busy even if it was less than a year.

Bajbala peered around the room for her own nonexistent bag. All of her belongings within the large purse tucked beneath her bunk or hanging. Whatever she had in the vehicle she was assigned here was gone, somewhere.

"Did they pull you into this with some gimmick too?"

“I do get along with at least one or two,” Laine smiled slightly.

The next question reminded her of why she was there, the memory of the green shadows of Olympia State park and that black slab where no light reached. “It was one of my cases,” Laine said, “Sophie Childress. A missing college student from Seattle who had been gone a few weeks and her body recovered in the state park nearby but it was not a typical crime scene.”

She itched for another cigarette as she recalled the events, “She was murdered, left naked and mutilated on a strange black stone slab. It felt so wrong, of course now I know more but at the time I tried to write it off as just a trick of the mind. But I learned...that stone was pure malice.”

Laine glanced at Baj, “Then I got a visit. And an offer with a burner phone.”

She fell silent for a moment, “I took the offer to join a team that was supposedly part of some federal clandestine investigation team. I figured itwas just another taskforce. We were cleaning up after a retired Program agent. And found clues to a cabin in West Virginia. But before we went, Donnelley and Foster gave us the the talk..”

“And here we are,” Laine said, waving her hand around the room. “We’ve been chasing Russians in West Virginia and now here in Alaska.”

"That's horrible, and it goes on." Bajbala acknowledged.

"The talk." She repeated. "Not much help that was…" She traced Laine's story with her imagination, noting the eerie and the black slab. It wasn't clear yet, but the mission in Pakistan kept coming back around and maybe there was a connection like Foster insisted. Then, she was brought on much the same way as Laine.

"I don't want to get ahead of myself, but if there are more Russians to deal with, I'm glad for the team change. Those THUNDER guys," she grit her teeth in a false shock, "that was a trip that couldn't have been longer." She pushed herself up from her knees and started to bundle up her belongings, giving Laine a short look.

"So, I need to get something done, you can shower first and I'll catch you in the brief?" Bajbala said, waving the phone in her hand and rolling her eyes about corresponding with her home station.

Laine nodded, her feelings about THUNDER were they were a necessary evil in their line of work and she avoided any personal interaction. Professionalism was enough for her.

"Right, of course," she said, taking the clothes Baj had laid out. Her gaze flicked down to the bloody remains of her old clothing. "I'll take care of that as well."

She left the woman and made her way to the restroom, she could hear the murmur of voices from the kitchen and smelled coffee. Laine shut the door behind her and turned on the water.

>...///

Whatever nightmare woke him, Queen did not remember it, just the sudden awareness of being awake and the sweat on his pillow told him he had one. What a blessing, not to remember. He closed his eyes, listening to the snores of Ghost. He always seemed to sleep well. [/i]Like a big psychotic baby.[/i]

Queen rolled out of his bunk and groped in the darkness for his Kools, putting one between his lips and the lighter into the pocket of his gray sweatpants. Still bare chested and barefoot, he wandered to the restroom to take a piss. After he was done, he washed his hands and face, looking at the bloodshot whites but he had seen himself worse. Water dripped from his sandy beard onto his chest and he reminded himself he should probably hit the weights once things settled.

As he returned he passed the living room and he spotted a floof of red hair poking out from one side of the loveseat. Queen grinned slightly, then it faded. He had not dared tell Dave or Donnelley about how he had taken her along for a dangerous venture to rob a drug dealer for much needed pills and cash, letting the story of Prince’s rescue stand alone. He sure as shit would never admit how he lulled the dealer into a position of vulnerability.

Queen’s lips curled at that memory, the fear in the much larger man’s eyes both thrilled and sickened him knowing he had put it there. He passed the living room and went back into the darkness of the men’s bedroom. He found the wonderfully Alaksan brand of tacky t-shirt he bought, the three wolves and teal and purple colors and pulled it over his head to hide the canvas of colorful tattoos. He put on the boots that had been returned, the clothes he had brought and those he had been wearing when he died still sat in the bag beside his bunk.

Once he was dressed, he went back to the living room. Ava slept alone on the loveseat and the dalmatian was curled on her, his head resting on her hip. Queen passed him and patted his spotted head. The dog blinked awake and wagged his tail slowly, yawning.

“Yeah, it’s early,” he murmured, pausing to look out the window into the backyard. A fire burned in the pit and he could see the backs of Donnelley and Dave passing the flask. Queen sighed inwardly, swallowing back unnecessary jealousy. Things change, that was always a sure thing and he could not remember the thing that likely kept them up all night.

He walked over to the kitchen, hearing the clicking of Prince’s claws on the wooden floor as he tagged along.

“Coming to keep this pitiful specimen company? You had a much nicer bed,” he muttered around his cigarette before leaning over to light it on the gas stove. Queen shuffled around the kitchen, putting coffee on then leaned back against the counter, smoking. He knew he should go outside but had no desire to interrupt the men by the fire.

Ava blinked awake as the warm weight that had been snuggled up with her disappeared. She lifted her head up, spotting the light on in the kitchen and seeing Prince walk off in that direction.

She laid her head back down, rubbing at her eyes and contemplating going back to sleep. She looked over at the couch where Dave had been but found it empty.

The beep of the coffee maker caught her attention and she uncurled herself to make her way to the smell of dark roast.

She walked in expecting to find Dave, but was surprised to see Queen leaning against the counter. Even without her glasses, she could recognize his build and features, blurry as they may be.

“Oh, good morning Queen,” She said around a yawn, reaching down to idly pet Prince’s head. “What time is it?”

When Ava entered the kitchen, the dog jumped up and began doing circles around until she pet him and he wagged his tail, whining for attention. Queen glanced up and smiled a bit, then turned to tap out his cigarette in the empty sink. “Morning, Angel. It’s just past fuck off o’clock. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

His pale gaze ran over her in the characteristically cute attire, a pajama set featuring the plump Pusheen cat. He tried not to linger over her chest under the loose shirt and flicked his eyes somewhere else, over the top of her head which was surrounded by a halo of red fluff. “Seems like we’re not the only ones up, if you’re looking for Dave. He’s outside talking with Donnelley.”

Prince whined again and pawed at Ava. Queen said, “I wasn’t sure where his leash was or I would have taken him out. Probably could let him run around the backyard, the fence is solid.”

He turned to check the coffee as it ran through the maker. Queen stretched to reach the cupboard, his shirt riding up and the tattoos of guns on his pelvic bone peeked over his sweats. He gathered mugs, most of them the diner style white but a few leftover personalized ones from whatever team had been there before them. He handed her one of those and moved to the refrigerator for the milk.

“How you holding up?” he asked, popping the milk open. “Get your prescription and all?”

“M’okay.” She said looking down at the mug for a few quiet moments before finally looking down at Prince. “I think you’re hungry, that’s why you’re in the kitchen. For breakfast.” She scratched his ears, setting down the mug on the counter and moving over to the cabinet with Prince’s dog food. “Prince, sit.”

Prince sat and wiggled in place as he anticipated being fed.

“That good?” he grinned at her sleep creased face. “Hey I was thinking maybe I could make breakfast for the gang.”

Queen went to the pantry and pulled out two boxes of Bisquick mix, “I can’t cook much but I do make some pretty good pancakes.”

Ava looked at him and smiled. “Usually that’s what Laine does, but I think she’d like being surprised.” She pulled down the medium sized bag of dog food and poured out some into the cheap doggy food bowl they picked up at Target. She packed the bag up and stepped back. “Good boy, go eat.”

She turned to Queen. “You don’t suppose there’s a waffle iron in here somewhere?” She said with a faint chuckle, rubbing at her eyes.

“That so?” he said, “I wouldn’t want to step on her toes.”

Queen grinned then and a wicked gleam flashed in his eyes, “She’s a little scary when she’s mad.”

He looked over at the pantry, “Waffle maker? I didn’t see anything like that. But trust me, the pancakes I make are my mother’s recipe.”

Shaking the box of premade mix, he smiled and went to find a large bowl. As he worked, he felt the tickling need rising in the back of his mind, crawling up his neck and the craving hit him. Queen thought about the stash under his bunk and found himself reading the instructions on the box of mix three times. Making pancakes was fun, but everything was more fun on cocaine. He had yet to try what he stole, trying to hold out to get some test strips but the distraction was growing and he had felt the withdrawal over the last few days.

He shook the box and set it down, rubbing his hands down the front of the wolves on his shirt. Queen glanced at Ava, the missing bottle of Xanax sprung to mind. Trying to distract himself, he asked, “So, did you ever get your prescription filled or...you trying something else?”

Ava looked over at Queen, putting the coffee decanter back after pouring herself a cup. “Um, no, they said they were going to be bringing our stuff by so I had to wait to get the prescription I had brought with me.” She explained, digging the sugar out of the cupboard and a spoon to dump into her coffee.

Her shoulders were tense and she busied herself with making up her coffee without creamer. “We should pour some coffee for Donnelley and Dave, I can take it out to them.”

Queen shifted his gaze over to her, side eying Ava as she made coffee. He picked up a mug that had a pair of polar bears on it and filled it with coffee, then a little milk. “That’s good you got your meds back, guess you won’t be needing that Xanax then.”

He turned and leaned a hip against the counter and smiled a little as he blew off the steam from the cup. Queen was trying not to laugh, it was sort of adorable that she stole it but at the same time a troubling action. Secrecy and stealing were red flags, he should know. He was DEA.

Ava dropped the spoon she was mixing with and looked back over at Queen in surprise before guilt and shame quickly shifted her expression. “I...I didn’t think you’d notice.” She said quietly, looking away and running a hand over her face.

Queen glanced around then leaned towards her, “Darlin’, I shoved a gun in someone’s mouth for that shit, I keep track.”

He looked her over, a mixture of amusement and something deeper glinted in his eyes. “Question is, why did you think you needed to steal it? It was my idea in the first place to help you. I wouldn’t deny you anything, but I’d at least get the chance to teach you how to use without hurting yourself. Use the Xanax, that is.”

Queen looked down into his coffee, studying it for a while before he added, “I won’t say anything about it. This is between you and me. If you want some for emergencies or when the Klonopin just isn’t enough, let me know. I’d have started you with .5 milligrams since you already use heavy stuff.”

Ava covered her face with her hands and leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know.” She said quietly. “You left the car to go to the bathroom, Laine and Donnelley were talking and the tacklebox was right there. I just...I guess I didn’t want anyone to know.” She sniffed and lowered her hands to wrap her arms around herself. “Because if no one knew, then it wasn’t…” She trailed off, shaking her head at herself. “I’m sorry.”

Queen set his coffee down and shifted a little closer to her, clasping his hands as he leaned an elbow on the counter, “Then it wasn’t real? If no one knows, then it’s easier to pretend it’s normal. And maybe you were worried about what they might think of you. What the doc or Dave might think.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, torn between the want to do what he knew was right and what the devil inside whispered to him. The addict, the adrenaline junky, the libertine in him, he could try and turn it to his favor. Queen pressed his lips together, jerking his head and shrugging his shoulders as if to rid him himself physically of that craving he felt earlier.

“Do you still want it?” he asked plainly.

“Part of me does,” She answered quietly, still looking at the kitchen floor. “Part of me doesn’t and is scared. I usually try to drink tea or watch something cute if I’m having a bad time and that usually helps. But, the Xanax worked better and quicker…” She trailed off and scrubbed her hands over her face. “I shouldn’t keep it.” She said, finally lifting up her head with a firm resolve to her expression.

It faltered after a second and she glanced to Queen. “Right?”

Queen only looked at her, the same trusting face that had turned to him for protection in Anchorage. He could push and pull her at this moment, he knew she teetered on the edge of something that would start her down into the hole he was in. And how it could be manipulated for his own gain. But it would be a betrayal of a magnitude he might not be able to live with. Whether from his own conscience or Dave’s buck knife.

He bit his thumbnail then shook his head, “That’s up to you, Angel. You know the answer without me telling you.”

She looked at him and sighed, her shoulders sagging as she came to her decision. “I have my proper prescription now...I don’t need it.” She said, whether she was saying it to Queen or herself was unclear. “I’ll give it back.”

She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a partial hug. “Thanks Queen, for talking to me.”

Queen drew a deep breath when she answered, relief that he did not expect washed over him. They both had passed the offers of a darker temptation and he smiled at her when she gave him a side hug. “Anytime,” he said, turning to look down at her, “I knew you would do the right thing. But if you ever...it gets hard sometimes. When you know how quick something might work but there’s a price. And I don’t want you to pay that.”

He nudged her gently, meeting her gaze, “It’s Billy, by the way.”

Ava blinked her eyes in surprise, then a smile started to spread across her face. “Billy.” She said, while looking at him. “I like it. It suits you.” She turned and gave him a full hug. “Nice to meet you Billy.”

“Thanks, my mom gave it to me,” he quipped, then he smiled when she hugged him. Queen put a hand on her back and held her briefly, glancing up to check that Dave or Donnelley wasn’t walking in. It was an innocent thing but he knew his own reputation. Pulling back gently, he looked down at Ava, “Just keep it between us, or you know...not around Ghost or Poker, it’s a THUNDER thing. Just call signs.”

She nodded as he stepped back, wiping at her eye and letting a deep sigh, her shoulders feeling heavy but at the same time, something inside felt lighter. “Right, okay, I can do that.” She nodded, looking over at Prince who was watching them with his head cocked to the side. “Done eating? I guess I should take you outside.” She chuckled, happy to put the topic of the pills she stole behind her.

“I should take some coffee out to Donnelley and Dave.” She said, glancing around for the extra mugs. “Dave takes his black and I think Donnelley does too...I might be the only person in this house that doesn’t drink it black.”

“Te- uh, Donnelley does take his coffee very straight,” he said, the twitch of his lips hidden under the coffee mug he brought up to them. “Like his whiskey.”

Queen lowered his cup, the coffee was decent and he held it so she could see the caramel color of the brew after he had put milk in it. “I think I need a little sugar.”

“At least you understand me.” She chuckled, passing him the bag of sugar. She poured some milk for her own cup of coffee and lifted up the mug, pausing as she noticed the writing on the side. It was a very cute white mug, with a black handle, some watercolor style flower painted on the ceramic below some black cursive writing.

“I don’t have my glasses on, but does this say, ‘It’s a throat punch kinda day’?” She asked Queen, holding up the mug for him to see.

“Why suffer when you don’t have to?” he said, adding a half a spoon of sugar, then a little more. He looked at the mug she held up and chuckled, “Yep, looks like it. Must have not been a morning person.”

He tasted his coffee and nodded, “Well, you gonna get their coffee. I might as well get to mixing this batter.”

Ava found herself tempted to keep the mug for fun, before chuckling at Queen. “It’s not waffles, but I’ll take it.”

>...///

Ava slid open the door to the backyard and Prince bolted out, galloping along on his long legs with his tongue out and his tail whipping around. “Um, incoming.” Ava chuckled sheepishly, stepping outside and shutting the door, three mugs of hot coffee carefully cradled in her hands. “I thought you guys might want some coffee, it's,” She shivered as the cold seeped in through the relatively thin layers of her pajamas. “Brisk, out here.”

Dave brightened when Ava came outside, his delight at seeing her plain. He hauled himself upright, knees cracking, and then reached to help her with the coffee.

“Hey, mornin’ sugar,” he said as he took the mugs. He kept the red flannel one for himself with a grin, passing the other to Donnelley, then leaned down to kiss her forehead. “How’d you sleep?”

She smiled at the kiss, happy to see him happy. “I slept alright, that loveseat is surprisingly comfortable; even with Prince taking up half of it.” She looked at Donnelley taking the last mug and said, “That was Queen’s idea, not mine. He insisted.” She inched herself behind Dave.

When Ava showed up through the sliding door to the back Donnelley was busy putting another piece of wood on the fire and shifting around the others. As time went on, it became less about erasing the traumatic reminder and more about keeping the ambience with Dave in his company. Donnelley watched them greet each other and he snapped his attention away when Dave kissed Ava’s forehead, feeling a longing for Laine who had still yet to show. He went back to laying in his slouching back in his chair and accepted his mug with a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He took a sip of the coffee and then looked at it when Ava had said something about the design. He snorted, nodding, “Funny.” He said, chuckling a tiny bit, “I’d go back to Dalhart before I step foot back here any day.”

“Thanks, Ava.” He added, raising the mug to her.

Ava smiled at him, walking over to the fire to take advantage of its warmth. “Queen is making pancakes, hopefully Laine won’t be too mad someone is intruding on her territory.” She said with a faint chuckle.

She looked between Dave and Donnelley, her customary glasses on her face after fishing them out of her bag of belongings. She could see the bone deep wariness in both their postures and her immediate question about how they were doing got caught in her throat.

After everything, how else could they be doing?

She looked down at her coffee and then at the fire, the flames reflecting in her glasses.

Prince trotted over with a tennis ball he had found, walking up to Donnelley and sitting down next to him with the toy in his mouth. Proudly presenting his find.

“You guys...doing okay out here?” She asked, looking up at both of them.

“Yeah,” Donnelley said, as if it was. As if Donnelley hadn’t been crying into the crook of his elbow all morning trying not to wake everyone up thinking on how he would’ve died a shit father. He smiled at Ava, “Yeah, we’re just enjoyin’ a fire.”

He held his hand out for the ball in Prince’s mouth and he dropped it slobbery into Donnelley’s hand. Unbothered, Donnelley tossed it to the other side of the yard and watched Prince sprint after it for all he had.

“Doin’ fine,” Dave said. He dropped a hand on the back of Ava’s neck and gave it a squeeze, then reluctantly stepped away. He’d caught Donnelley’s reaction. He was hyper alert these days, watching everything, and while it hurt that his shows of affection with Ava caused his friends pain, he wasn’t going to mention it.

Laine’s shower was brief and the change into her own clothes gave her a sense of comfort she had not expected. She no longer was in that gray area of existence, wearing the clothes of a dead woman or some pieced together things from the PX. Black jeans, Converse sneakers, and the David Bowie t-shirt and she felt at home again.

She left a fresh towel for Baj and hung hers up on the back of the bunk bed to dry. The clothes she had worn when she died were still there on the floor and Laine forced herself to pick them back up, to look at them. Just as she did with the first crime scene and child exploitation photos she had to face for her job. She had to bear witness.

Laine saw Queen making pancakes, they made eye contact and she tilted her head slightly, “Smells good.”

He watched her walk out the sliding glass door before turning back and flipping the golden brown cakes onto a towel covered plate.

Laine paused, watching her team. Ava and Dave, they had been inseparable since the reunion and she did not blame them one bit. It was another story for herself and Donnelley, always toeing that line especially with THUNDER in the house. She saw him slumped in his chair and tossing the ball for the dalmatian who seemed to revel in the play.

She crossed the patio to the firepit and said nothing, pulling the moth pin from her jacket and pocketing it before she unceremoniously began tossing her clothes into the flames. She saw bits of clothing still in there, the heavy seamed collars and cuffs the last to be consumed.

“Morning,” she said, throwing the last piece, the pants she had worn with the ragged hole in the leg and dark stained. She bundled them up and tossed them into the center, watching the flames catch the fabric.

Laine glanced over at Donnelley, meeting his gaze. His eyes were tired, bloodshot, and sad. There was such sadness in there she felt her chest tighten and she wanted only to curl up on his lap and hold him.

Donnelley almost flinched when the first article of clothing hit the fire and sent up smoldering ashes. The clothes caught but the flames receded a bit. Donnelley just reached down and squirted a stream of lighter fluid into the fire and watched it roar in delight at the sudden resolve it was given. His first genuine smile, and it only grew when he looked at Laine. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand, or jump up and hug her, hold her tight and just feel her skin and hear and feel her breathe against him. Instead he just swallowed that lump and held back those urges, “Hey, you.” His tired voice croaked, with whatever love he could muster into it.

Dave looked from Donnelley to Laine. He gave the dark-haired woman a smile and a nod, then put his hand on Ava’s shoulder.

“C’mon sugar,” he said. “It’s kinda chilly out here, you still got your hoodie right? Let’s go grab that.” He gave her shoulder another squeeze and gently urged her towards the house.

“We’ll be back in a bit, I wanna warm up too,” he said to Donnelley and Laine.

Ava happily went with Dave, eager to be out of the cold. She looked to Laine as she passed, though she was surprised by the burning of the bloody clothing, she couldn’t say she didn’t understand. She smiled at Laine, giving her a goodmorning wave before stepping into the warmth of the house with Dave.

Laine watched the fire jump and dance as the starter fluid hit it. She waved at Ava and briefly met Dave's eyes with a hint of an appreciative smile. Her hair was still damp and even as close to the fire she shivered as she looked back at Donnelley, hearing the weariness in his voice. His blue eyes told her something of what was going on in his head and heart.

She thought about making a joke they had destroyed evidence, her own murder but even her dark sense of humor failed her and Laine moved over to Donnelley's side. She stood close enough to brush her hip against the back of the chair, the scent of the body wash still lingering on her freshly washed skin.

"Hey, there," she replied, her voice more husky than usual and she moved to rest a hand on his shoulder. He might feel a slight trembling before she gave him a squeeze. "Watching the sunrise?"

“Like always.” Donnelley said, a small smirk in his voice, “Gotta make up for the three we… missed.

Donnelley leaned closer to Laine as she squeezed his shoulder. The moment grew quiet and he closed his eyes and sighed, turning his face to rub against her forearm. He got up from sitting and stood close to Laine, almost ashamed of how haggard he knew he had to look after not sleeping all night and having alcohol and cigarettes for breakfast. He searched her eyes and then looked away, “Dave and I, we… talked. And I said it to Ava, but…” Donnelley shook his head, “If that was it, Laine… if we just didn’t wake up like we did, I know my daughter would never get to know me, and there’d be so many things I wish I could’ve said to her.”

He paused, stepping a bit closer to her until they were almost touching, “And you.”

Laine gazed up at him, taking in the rough beard and the patch of scar tissue, and the fine lines that seemed a little deeper now. How much she wanted to touch him and assure him but held back. She glanced towards the house and then back at him.

"It just hit me," she said, then turned to the fire pit. "Seeing those clothes...and the damage. It...it was real. I might have never..."

She sighed and rubbed her hand over her forehead and through her short dark hair. "I'm so sorry you have to remember it."

Laine met his eyes, her deep green and his bright blue, the longing clear in the depths. There were things she had wanted to tell him, but fear had held her back. Now standing with him, her heart jumped and she murmured, "I just want to hold you so much right now."

“Me too.” Donnelley said, he reached forward and hooked one of his fingers around hers, “God, you have no idea how much I just want to lay next to you.”

His smile was there, but there was a sadness in his eyes, a gathering wetness. He chuckled and wiped at his eyes, muttering an apology. He moved his hand over hers and held it, walking away from the back patio while Prince looked at them leaving through the closed sliding door. Once they were away from any prying eyes in windows, he leaned into her and looked into her eyes. He chuckled, “I fuckin’ hate not just bein’ able to do this.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, eyes closing and his hands on her waist. Laine closed her eyes as well, a flush of warmth rushing through her body when his lips touched hers she reached to run her fingers through his shaggy red hair.

Her lips parted slightly against his, inviting him in as her pulse raced with excitement and the danger. She murmured against his mouth, "Me too..."

Laine finally broke the kiss, pressing up against him as she slipped her arms over his shoulders to hold him, "I've been wanting to just get to hug you."

Donnelley accepted the hug, slipping his own arms around Laine and nuzzling his face against her neck, taking in her scent and breathing deep. The soft feeling of her skin on his and just the closeness of their bodies. He could feel the horrible feelings of the past few days slip away ever so slowly as they held each other. He stayed like that for a moment, knowing what he wanted to say, because it just felt right in that moment. But there was still that fear in him, that it would send her running, or that he would ruin it like the rest of his romances. He muttered out, “Laine…”

She clung to him, the feeling of his strong body and the protection of his arms even to a woman like Laine was a deep comfort. Even more she felt the emotion they had not voiced, not dared entertain thoughts of for too long in fear it might show on their faces. The loss it would cause if they were found out. It all slipped back, into the cold fog and she nuzzled against his neck when she heard him whisper her name.

The words did not come, the ones she felt as sure as she had felt in the moments before their first kiss. Big strong operator CIA agent but she felt his fear and understood it, she had enough of her own self doubt and worries over repercussions. Her slim fingers ran through his hair and cupped his jaw as she met his gaze, holding him.

"I love you," she murmured, her smoke soft voice just audible to him.

He pulled back from her slowly, searched her face and his eyes settled on hers. Whatever they found, it was honest. He smiled softly, and chuckled, leaning forward and ever so gently kissing her, “I love you too.”

Laine smiled at his admittance, her eyes now glistening as she held him. It was out now, they could not put those words back and it may show now more than ever. A brief thought to how they could possibly sneak back to his master bedroom entered her mind but she waved it away. There were too many people in the safehouse and a couple she hardly knew enough to trust.

Instead, she kissed Donnelley again, hugging him close as she leaned back against the wooden siding of the house.

>...///

Ava set down her mug on the coffee table, sitting down on the couch and looking over at her bag with her belongings that had been put by the loveseat. She could hear Queen moving around in the kitchen, smelt the sweet scent of pancakes in the air and sighed. They were as alone as they were going to be.

She looked up at Dave and smiled tiredly at him. “How are you really doing Dave?” She asked, her voice soft but searching.

“I’m...Tired,” Dave said as he sat beside her. He scooted up next to Ava, slipping his arm around her waist and holding her against him. He sighed and smiled weakly. “Just tired, sugar. Things have been…”

He paused, then shrugged. “We all went through a lot, an’ it all happened so fast. I just wanna get away from here. From...Everything, just for a bit, ya know?”

She leaned against him as he pulled her in, resting her head against his chest and listening to him speak. “Yeah, I understand that.” She said, putting a hand on his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be out of here soon, I’m sure.” She looked up at him again and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Then we can go back to my place for a bit and you can go see your son.”

“I’d like that,” he smiled. He leaned down for a kiss, holding her close for a moment before reluctantly pulling back. “I’m lookin’ forward to spendin’ time with you. Just us, without all this shit goin’ on.”

“Me too.” She sighed, leaning back against him, her own exhaustion both physically and emotionally catching up to her. “Alaska is so pretty, but I think it might be ruined for me.” She said with a hollow chuckle.

A glint of metal caught her eye and she glanced up, seeing her St. Michael’s pendant hanging around Dave’s neck. She smiled and reached up to touch it, running her finger over the engravings.

“I took it from uh...From your personal effects,” he said. He cleared his throat. “The chain was a bit short, so I put it on a dogtag chain. But...I wanted somethin’ else to remember you by. You can have it back, if you want it.”

Ava felt tears start to well up in her eyes. “Oh, right,” She chuckled and pushed her glasses up to rubbed at her eyes. “I forgot for a second…” She shook her head, sniffing softly.

“Did I ever tell you how I got that necklace?” She asked Dave, adjusting her glasses back down to look up at him.

“Don’t believe you have,” Dave said. He reached up and brushed her cheek, giving her a squeeze to comfort her. His own heart twisted when he saw the tears in her eyes. “Ya wanna tell me now?”

“My grandparents gave it to me, the ones from New Jersey I told you about.” She sighed and leaned into Dave’s embrace. “When I was little I had nightmares off and on, but when I was 13 they were really bad. It was a hard year for me and my grandparents got me this pendant,” She reached up to touch it. “To wear when I go to sleep, so the Archangel Michael would watch over me in my dreams.”

She smiled at the memory and studied the pendant. “It...didn’t really help with the nightmares, but just having it as a reminder that they wanted me to be safe, even in my sleep...It helped when I was awake.”

Ava lifted her bright blue eyes to meet Dave’s. “I want you to keep it. I want you to be safe.”

Dave sniffed, swallowed hard, and put his other arm around Ava to pull her into a tight hug. He laid his cheek on top of her head and took a breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you, sugar,” he whispered. After a long moment he released her, then raised her face to his for another quick kiss. “We’ll be home soon. Get some time off. Just us. Just hang in there.”

“I know.” She smiled at the kiss, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I’m excited, Thor will pout for half a day for me being gone for so long. Then he’ll be attached at the hip for a week.” She sighed and touched their foreheads together. “I can’t wait and I’m happy that you’ll be there. However long you might need.”

“Good,” he chuckled. “We’ll get plenty of time to recharge.” He gave her forehead a final quick peck and then sat back, content to simply hold her while they lounged. “You think breakfast is ‘bout ready? I could eat.”

“You’d have to ask Chef Queen.” She chuckled, pointing over to her bag of stuff. “I do still want to bust out that hoodie, you know the one.” She flushed and smiled at him with a slightly awkward wink. “It’s soft and cozy.” Dave laughed, coloring slightly at the memories at the BLACKBOX, Ava wearing that hoodie and...Not much else. He gave her a quick squeeze and then let her go, pushing himself to his feet. He went to go check on breakfast and refill my coffee,” he said. “You can dig out your hoodie. Want me to refill yours?”

“That would be great, thanks.” She stood up with a stretch and wandered over to the plain military duffle bag. “Ignore the weirdly threatening writing on the side of the mug.”

He picked up their mugs, looked at hers, and laughed. “Throat punch...I’ll be back,” he chuckled, then headed for the kitchen with a mug in each hand.

“I said ignore it!” Ava called after him with a grin. She shook her head and unzipped the bag, finding the laptop bag first and instantly pulled out, opening it to give it a look over. She sighed in relief seeing everything was still there from her laptop, to her Switch and even her little sketch book. She smiled and fished that out along with a spare pencil, setting them on the coffee table.

Setting the satchel aside, she dug around in the duffle bag and found her fancy, English style coat neatly folded inside, her hiking boots and her other outfits. She found the hoodie she was looking for tucked at the bottom and as she picked it up she discovered an unfamiliar bag. It looked like a plastic trash bag, wrapped around a set of folded clothes and taped shut.

She picked it up, confused for a few moments before realization clicked. She looked toward the sliding glass door leading into the backyard, the glow and the dancing flames of the small fire Donnelley had lit. Her mind drifted to the sight of Laine, chucking her bloody clothing into the inferno and she felt her hands start to shake.

She shook her head, took in a deep breath and tucked the plastic wrapped clothes back into the duffle bag. She slipped on her hoodie and dug around until she found her prescription bottle. Without much thought, she twisted open the lid and swallowed back one of the pills, shutting her eyes and breathing for a few moments.

Then she tucked her pills away, picked up her little sketchbook and pencil and sat back down on the couch. The clicking of claws on the hardwood alerted her to Prince’s approach, even before he rested his head on her lap with an almost deep, rumbling sigh.

Ava smiled at the dog, giving his soft ears a scratch and opening her sketchbook, waiting for Dave to come back with their coffee.

>0900...///

Donnelley was standing at the back wall, arms crossed as they all filtered into the room. He watched all of them find their places, watching Laine. Bajbala was on her lonesome, being the odd one out still with no idea what she just got dropped into. Foster swept his eyes over all of them and waited for them to all settle before he spoke. The idle chit chat died down as they found their places and Foster began, “With the interrogation of Ivan Belyaev and the killing of his team, the GRU operations in Alaska have effectively been severely crippled or ruined. From what we can surmise from intercepted transmissions, the Kremlin is not happy.”

“Since he was not under Official Cover and operating clandestinely, they can’t really do anything about it. No legal leg to stand on.” Foster smirked, “That said, there is still the threat of moles inside the Program, and perhaps other elements of the US Government and intelligence community.”

“We have a list of names and locations from Belyaev, and Office of Intelligence and Office of Security is hard at work vetting all of these.” Foster crossed his arms then, looking from Donnelley to the others, “With the… betrayal of several Program teams by their own, security is a concern. Because of this, I’m folding THUNDER into UMBRA both for protection and to augment UMBRA’s capabilities.”

“Speaking of augmenting, I’d also like to welcome our newest member to UMBRA. Everyone,” Foster rose a hand in gesture to Bajbala, “This is Bajbala Shirzad, from the Special Activities Center at Langley. Along with Donnelley and Queen there, she’s well-versed at acting clandestinely in the interest of US objectives, and now in interest to the Program’s.”

“I understand that the CSAR mission in Noatak was not simple. None of us thought it was going to be, but…” Foster cleared his throat, reluctant to look at them now, “Hypergeometric anomalies around the town of Noatak, as well as the reserve itself were reported to me by Poker.”

“Whether or not Ipiktok Irniq’s activities there were the reason I’m… able to talk to some of you here is up for debate.” Foster looked at Donnelley, then away at the others, “The official story of what went down in Noatak is that the US Marshal Service, the ATF, and the FBI were attempting to serve a warrant on both Ipiktok Irniq and Yutu Aklaq. This resulted in the deaths of both Ipiktok and Yutu, as well as local tribal officer Tsarlis Inuksuk.”

“The Home Agencies of Agents Edward Ekewaka Fuaalau, callsign Maui, Avery Morales, Sarah Jung, and the rest will be notified of their deaths in the line of duty.” Foster’s voice was sullen and low, “They will be buried with full honors in their home states. A list will be put up, but as always, attendance at these funerals by active members of the Program are forbidden due to the clandestine nature of our work.”

“Please refrain from visiting until an appropriate time. I’m sorry for all of your losses,” Foster looked up at them, and Donnelley wouldn’t meet his eye, simply staring out the window bitterly, “It never gets easier. I know.”

Foster cleared his throat then, “Well, our flight back to the mainland US is scheduled for twelve-hundred. Now’s the time for questions. I understand there’s some Intel to be shared.”

There was a brief but serious pause in the room. Bajbala scooted herself onto a creaking stool ready to soak up the immensity of their situation. Prince took an obtuse pass at her. Besides his wagging tail he matched the grimacing Tex. She paid the toll with some scratching and pats behind his ears before he moved on, satisfied.

Ava stopped staring Foster down when Prince sat down next to her, resting his head on her leg while looking at Foster, a decidedly unhappy sound rumbling from his chest. She stroked his head, sparing a glance over at Donnelley before sighing and addressing the room at large, “When we encountered GRU operatives at Ipiktok’s compound, we recovered a number of their devices.”

Ava shifted, absently brushing at some of the white dog hairs clinging to her dusky rose sweater dress. “Like I told you,” She looked at Foster flatly, none of the usual spark of warmth in her blue eyes. “At the barn, I managed to de-encrypt their devices and discovered what appear to be official Russian government documents, likely their mission parameters. I copied them over onto an external harddrive that I’m sure the Program still has. They’re in Russian so they’ll need to be translated and then likely decoded. I have a copy on my laptop still so I thought we could also take a crack at it.” She finished, still stroking Prince’s head while the dog watched Foster intently.

“Thank you, Ava.” Foster smiled tightly at her for a brief moment before his face took on a more tepid expression. He looked at Donnelley, then the others, “I know this may come at a very inopportune time for many of you, but due to concerns about the safety of this Working Group, and some concerns that we are being targeted directly by foreign elements…”

“Working Group UMBRA is to be placed on administrative leave for an indeterminate period of time until the issue of security breaches is concluded.” Donnelley’s eyes turned from the window to Foster, and Foster could already tell there was a quickly spreading wildfire in them, “UMBRA is to officially stand down pending an internal investigation into the Program carried out by trusted persons. Any evidence and intelligence gathered in relation to UMBRA’s cases is to be handed over to be disseminated to the Working Group taking over the West Virginia case.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit, Foster.” Donnelley growled from his corner, walking a few steps closer until he was behind the couch that Ava was on, “What about my personal work with the Company?”

“You are also being put on administrative leave with the Agency-“

“Fuck that!” Donnelley yelled, “You motherfucker, you remember what happened there! I was close to something!”

“Iraq wasn’t sanctioned. You weren’t even supposed to be operating in that capacity, and you and Jason were effectively rogue actors!” Foster squared up with Donnelley, though he kept his distance, “This is an official order from the Director of Operations. Program and Agency. I’m sorry, Donnelley-“

Fuck you.” Donnelley snarled, gripping one of the cushions on the couch and squeezing down on it as if it was Foster’s throat, “Anzor Bekzhaev. I had him. He was still out there.”

“We are to stand down. That’s enough.” Foster said.

“Not for me.” Donnelley hissed, turning and exiting the room, going back to the backyard.

“Are there any other questions or concerns?” Foster asked after a heavily pregnant silence.

Laine looked at the notes in her lap, the drone footage on the USB, and the other pieces of evidence gathered from the cabin and Yutu’s home. She reached down and began stuffing them back into her laptop bag, the internal rage now burning masked by her composure but it was a very razor thin edge to the coolness in her expression. She zipped the bag up and slid it over her shoulder, her heart racing as she watched Donnelley snap and exit the house. A part of her wondered if it was her fault, if their relationship had been whispered about like every other damn turn UMBRA made. That would just be icing on the shit cake that had been UMBRA’s luck in their cases since they began.

She glanced at Ava, then Dave and to poor Baj, what an impression they had made. Laine stood up and looked at Foster, then turned to leave the room without a word.

Bajbala's eyes danced back and forth between the team, her frustration building with everyone else. It didn't take five minutes for the debriefing to crash. Bajbala turned green at the confrontation but swallowed the discomfort.

"I'm glad to be working with you all!" She said to the room, prickly. She dreaded the idea of being ferried back to Langley. Being a lab-room liaison for her peers wasn't her idea of fulfilling work and neither was four months of training.

Dave gave Bajbala an apologetic shrug. He figured this wasn't the best first impression. Throughout the briefing he'd held his peace, content to simply listen; going home sounded like a great plan to him.

At the back of the room Ghost loomed, leaning against the wall to take some of the weight off his wounded leg. The swelling had gone down on his face, though it was still an ugly looking mess of stitches and damaged tissue. As people began leaving he straightened, a growl building in his chest.

"THUNDER doesn't belong with UMBRA," he said, walking towards Foster, not quite disguising his limp. "I don't belong with UMBRA. I should be reading dossiers and getting a training plan together to rebuild my team, not babysitting nerds."

“You’ve got four months to read dossiers. I’m not putting you on guard duty.” Foster shook his head, “I’m as happy with this as you are, but what am I going to do with a three man Wetwork Team? Train them if you have to, unless you want to go crucify the Director onto his desk.”

Ghost's eyes narrowed behind his Oakleys and he growled. The thought was tempting; it would be more tempting if he could be sure that the 'Director' he knew was actually the Director, but with the nature of the Program the man might just be a smokescreen meant to take exactly that kind of attention off the real boss. He grunted and then turned, eyeing the rest of the room.

"If I'm stuck with all of you, then that's how it is," he said after a moment. His tone was hard but resigned. He was a pro, he could accept his fate, even if he hated it. "But listen up. I know Lucky and Tex can handle themselves."

He pointed at Bajbala. "You're still an unknown, but they trust your skills enough for field work. I'll make my own evaluation. As for you other two…"

Ghost turned his gaze on Ava, then to Laine.

"I'm not going out with people who can't hang. You've got four months to start on the basics. When I'm cleared for training, I plan to spin you up more. That won't be negotiable. In the meantime do what you've got to do to make sure you're at least physically fit enough to survive."

With that he left the room, brushing past Foster on his way out.

Ava took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose as the briefing dissolved. Not that it surprised her given everything that happened. She sighed and put her glasses back on, looking up at Dave and smiling slightly at him. She patted Prince’s head and stood up from the couch. “I’m gonna make some tea.” Her eyes landed on the new unfortunate addition to their dysfunctional little group.

She couldn’t blame Agent Bajbala for being frustrated. She was a professional and they were all barking at each other like junkyard dogs. She felt bad for the woman, though a part of her, a new little voice nagging at the back of her mind, was wary about trusting her.

“Um, Agent Bajbala,” She said, saying the name carefully to make sure she said it correctly. “Would you like some tea?”

Bajbala canted in Ava's direction and her eyes scried her thoughts. "Um-" she heaved a light chuckle then in a silvery voice she replied, "you know, I would love some tea."

She slid off the stool and shot Foster an awkward half-smile excusing herself and marching off to the kitchen with Ava.

"Yeah, just call me Baj."

“I can do that.” Ava smiled trying to hide her nerves as the two of them stepped away from the others, alone in the kitchen. She mentally kicked herself, the others were 10 feet away, there was nothing to worry about.

Prince trotted in after them, tail wagging and brown eyes bright as he went up to Baj for more pets. Ava smiled more easily as she filled a kettle with water and set it onto the stove to boil.

“I’m sorry about...everything.” She said with a sigh, rinsing the coffee out of the ‘throat punch’ mug. “We’re not normally this much of a mess, but...A lot has happened.” She said, frowning down at the mug as she dried it off. “But I don’t blame you for thinking we’re a bunch of assholes, we’ve hardly made a good impression.”

"I appreciate that Ava," Baj said, giving a warm smile.

The red-head was very pretty, even Baj couldn't deny the girlish charm that radiated from Ava and seemed to make the day a little less stressful. "I get it, there is a lot I don't know and every team has their day." She leaned onto the counter near Ava. Prince made small passes rubbing on her leg, where eventually she anchored him with heavy petting. "Everyone is an asshole in this work somehow or another."

"But, wow, these past few days. The mission from the start was off. I could have handled it myself without the mess I think." Bajabala's voice toned down to express the disappointment. She reached up into a cabinet and grabbed a mug, grey with no personality on its face.

"If I could get any of those targets ten feet from others, I could have put them down no fussing! Just nobody would know what hit them." She chuckled with a disarming smile.

Ava smiled awkwardly. “Ah ha, yeah, I bet.” She opened up the cupboard and started pulling out the small selection of tea she picked up at Target. “Here, pick your poison.” She said, selecting a honey lavender blend for herself.

There was a beat of awkward silence while the water boiled before Ava spoke again, “You worked with Dave, um, Lucky, while we were...gone, right?”

Bajbala pinched a green tea bag free from its little box.

"Lucky, yeah." She said, remembering the rage, the blood in his clothes. How he took off the Russian's head like he didn't have a second thought. Ava and him have been close the past few days, and she noticed. "Seems like a nice guy, troubled at times. Why?" She asked casually.

“Just, worried about him,” She said, glancing over to the living room to make sure Dave wasn’t about to walk in. “I want to make sure he’s okay. He’s...not his usual self in some ways.” The kettle started to whistle and she shut off the stove, pouring the hot water into her mug and then passing the kettle to Baj.

"I couldn’t tell you.” Bajbala said. A stream of steam swirled up when she poured from the kettle. “There was much pain in his eyes, the few times we spoke. He... I haven't seen hatred like that in someone since a long time ago.” She stirred the tea, hastening the darkening of the water. She offered up the most delicate expression she could, facing the twisted reality of Dave’s response to the betrayal.

“Whatever you’ve heard… Or have you heard anything? About the other day.” She blew carefully over the surface of the tea.

Ava glanced back out of the kitchen, her concern plain. “No, I haven’t heard anything. It’s been a little chaotic, coming back from the...Well.” She chuckled awkwardly, keeping herself from actually uttering the words, ‘back from the dead’. Part of her still couldn’t believe it, nor wanted to acknowledge it.

She dunked the tea bag slightly and cleared her throat, “What happened? The other day?”

Bajbala continued to blow on the tea, pushing down the anxiety of having to discuss this with Ava. It wasn’t her place, but Ava would hear it eventually and she may as well be prepared.

“Um, he took things a little far. Fortunately, we were all okay but I know what he did he’s not proud of. I think maybe it’s something you should talk to him about, he seems to need you. If there was anything I got from our chat it’s that he needs you.” She took a small sip and twitched at the slight burn to her lips.

“You are the girl right… I’m sorry, like he would have talked about you?” She chuckled uncomfortably while nursing her lip. She garnered the impression that Dave’s woes at the first safehouse were about a love interest.

Ava furrowed her brow in concern, wondering what she meant by ‘taking things a little far’. She reached up to absently touch her pendant, but her fingers touched nothing. “Uh, yeah, he probably meant me.” She said, letting her hand fall back to her mug. “We’re kind of...together.” She flushed and lifted up her tea to take a sip, uncaring of the hot temperature of the beverage.

“Great, I thought... I was mistaken! As long as you’re living he’ll be fine.” Bajbala reassured haltingly. Dave had a taste for something that lingers. Ava was alive but his new instinct and craving would be hard to rinse clean. Driven to protect recklessly; the drive stronger with each threat to what is loved.

“This could use some honey.” Baj looked into the swirling bitter tea.

Ava swallowed her tea hard at that, a sweat prickling along the back of her neck. “Uh, right.” She said, looking down into the amber colored tea. “We don’t have any honey. Sorry.”

She took another sip, the mellow sweetness of her own tea turned bitter in her mouth.

>...///

Laine shot a look at Ghost, her sharp green eyes sparking with heat that wanted an outlet. She glared at his broad back, the arrogance even discernible by the set of his broad shoulders, but he left before she could snipe at him about not wanting to be on a team with hitmen. In the back of her mind, she knew he was right about taking care of themselves. They had died once and come back, there would not be a second chance again.

Her attention shifted to Foster and the distrust that had developed over the months since West Virginia coiled hot within her. Once again, they were shoved away from the case after taking the bullets and the danger, just when they were getting somewhere and then betrayed. The leak was obvious, someone was giving their locations and information to the Russians, someone was using them as canaries in the mines.

SIREN and ARTEMIS might have died out there for the same reason, the memory of something Ipitok had told her, something she had never had a chance to follow up on. The man who had been found turned into beef jerky, he had turned on his own team before fleeing. Cursing inwardly, Laine turned her back on Foster, keeping her reports that he had not even bothered to give a shit about in the farce of a briefing.

Laine was at least glad Donnelley had finally come around to her suspicions and their evidence that Foster was not being honest with them and they had all agreed to withhold the information on the tracker given to them by Renko. It was their ace up the sleeve right now and she planned to try and keep it that way. She felt a heaviness in her chest, the same elation of the emotional exchange with Donnelley earlier reversed course and the crush of this sent her back down to where she had been as she sat with her death clothes and wept.

She left the room as Ava was inviting Baj for tea, ducking the invitation that was sure to follow. If Foster wanted to release them on leave, she was starting now, even if she had to walk to the Ted Stevens Airport.

Laine went to the women’s bedroom and closed the door behind her, jamming a chair under the door knob. She sat on the bunk, opening her laptop to bring up her notes. She slipped the USB into it that had the raw video of the drones and uploaded it. She went to work taking photos of the documents from Yutu’s room and the strange old parchment, getting as close to the details as she could and saved them to her laptop. Laine then gathered all the original documents and evidence and put them together to hand over to Foster.
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Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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No Angels...

Home Scene ft. J. Donnelley & Dr. Laine

>HILLGROVE CEMETERY
>SEATAC, WA
>14SEP2019
>1230...///

It was the type of day when clouds knit together and locked arms to deny the sun. Donnelley sat under it, eyes closed and sullen like seeing an omen. Dawant had called Donnelley while he was… away. Left a message telling him that he was wondering just where the fuck he was all this time. Staring up at the grey of the sky, he could’ve asked himself that too. This had all started because of Maria. And here they were worrying about Russians and international trafficking organizations, worrying about terrorists in Iraq. Worrying about each other, about who they could really trust. Worrying about everything except young Maria Vasquez.

Sitting on a bench among the headstones in Hillgrove Cemetery, wondering on the stories of each name carved into the stones. And thinking what a mercy it must be to not have your entire life emblazoned where everyone could see. Your name, when you were born, and when you died. That’s it. Maybe a quote about you. An idealized and romantic version of every tiny, hectic, tragic choking life. He looked at one, Charles Struthers’ last resting place. When people walked past his name, they probably imagined a sweet man who lived a kind life. And that’s better than knowing he was a raging alcoholic who died choking on his own vomit in a cheap hotel room after pushing everyone else away.

Or maybe he wasn’t. People tended to drape their own views over everything they see as they walk past it. He wondered what kind of funeral he’d have, and who would show up. If anybody did. Would Holly even know? Would Tilly? Donnelley shook his head and adjusted his cap, pushed his sunglasses up his nose a little further, and waited for the other two he was meeting here.

Laine stepped past the gate of the cemetery, the overcast sky pressing down over her. She tucked her hands in her jacket, the autumn wind tossing her dark hair as it blustered around the wide green expanse, the tombstones ranging from simple slabs to obelisks and angels staring with stone eyes.

She spotted Donnelley despite his sunglasses and hat, she knew by the set of his shoulders that it was him. Laine wore no covering, her face solemn and dressed in black she might just be a mourner. Reaching up, she brushed back the lock of hair that flew across her eyes, tucking it behind her ear as she approached him.

Maria rested here, among all the dead, and she was never gone from Laine’s mind. All their roads lead back to a girl murdered and how she got there and who put her there.

She walked up silently and stood with Donnelley for a moment, then looked him over. Laine had not dared speak much to him on the way home, the very scrutinizing eyes of the Program in the Air Force plane kept her away. Even now, she glanced over her shoulder before greeting him.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” she said, her voice neutral but her gaze was intent on his face, taking in his features behind the sunglasses.

“Just more time to think about… all of this.” Donnelley frowned, shaking his head and looking away from Laine for a moment, “Somewhere along the path we lost it.”

“Maria.” He said, looking back at Laine, “I wish it was simple.”

Laine tilted her head slightly, looking at him then at the headstone. “I remember when I thought it was. I thought it was another case like so many I’d worked, if I’d known then what I know now.”

A sad smile touched her lips, the burgundy lipstick highlighting the soft fullness as she pressed them tight. “I would have done things differently in West Virginia, I would not have been so blind. I think about her from time to time, where I failed. I still hate that it was taken away from us, I just hope...”

She swallowed back her fears, her paranoid thoughts of what was going on behind their backs. “I just wish they would let us be updated. I’m used to turning over cases after I’m confident on a profile of the unsub but this...just jerking it out our hands and left to wonder. I don’t like it.”

“What we saw in Alaska, there’s too many similarities to not have some sort of connection to West Virginia. It’s still about Maria in the end,” Laine added, “I haven’t forgotten.”

Her green eyes gazed past the headstone as she fell silent, her jaw tensing as she worked over memories in silence.

“I don’t give a shit what Foster says,” Donnelley frowned something dark, heavy brow knit together and his eyes narrowed behind his shades, “Or the Directors. She needs justice.”

He nodded down at Maria’s headstone, such a short amount of time between the two dates. Too short for anybody. The quote beneath it, my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but I shall go on living. “Pablo Neruda.” Donnelley murmured to himself, remembering how his High School love would pass him notes with different poet’s works on them as they passed in the halls, “Good choice.”

“You never struck me as a poetry person.” Dawant said, his footsteps quiet on the way to them. A voice that neither Donnelley or Laine had heard in a long time, and one that Donnelley had admittedly missed. The voice of someone who wanted to see this through for Maria, no matter the personal cost. He gestured to the squat man next to him, a stocky Latino man with slicked back hair and a full sleeve on either of his arms. A mustache drooped from either end of his lips and his dark eyes were ringed with sadness, “This is Armando Vasquez, Maria’s father.”

“Hello.” Armando nodded to Laine and Donnelley, offering his hand out for a shake, as Donnelley took it he spoke to him, “You’re the people looking for Maria’s…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Donnelley knew what he was going to say. Donnelley only nodded, “Yeah.” He said, a quick but tight and joyless smile, “Special Agent John Davidson.”

Laine met eyes with Dawant then Maria’s father, Armando. He had that same look, the deep etched grief and determination that she had seen before on parents of children taken. Even after years the waves of emotion would come, some fell to it and others pushed past and moved on, and some were like Armando. Holding the line and hoping for justice, anything to make some sort of amends to his murdered daughter.

She used her real name, this was her job, there was no pretending.

“Special Agent Heather Laine,” she said, “It’s...an honor to meet with you. Mr. Dawant, thank you for meeting us again.”

She shook Armando’s hand, meeting his dark eyes. The same eyes Maria had in her photo, deep brown but never so pained.

She glanced at Donnelley, then at Armando, “We are still working on some leads.”

“Well,” Armando sighed, eyes still on his daughter’s headstone, “I hope… that you’re close.”

“This is my little girl.” He frowned, looked at them with wet eyes, “She was the only one. Mi corazón, you know? You hope maybe one day she’ll just come home, that it was all a joke or she just ran away for the night with some friends… and then it’s years gone.”

Laine closed her eyes briefly, no matter how many times she heard that from someone it still hit her. It was a painful sensation and she was not even a parent, she still had trouble understanding how her colleagues who had children had managed to work in Unit 3. She nodded slightly, then looked at him, “I am sorry for your loss, I wish...at least she’s home and can rest in peace. It’s such a small thing but...now we focus on who did this.”

She glanced at the headstone, the tender age that Maria’s life was ended at and added, “Continue to share her story, her memories.”

Laine fell silent, this was always the hardest part and she tucked her hands into her jacket, shifting her gaze to Dawant.

Armando’s lip quivered and he cleared his throat, looking away and pretending to itch at his face. Donnelley knew how he felt, his own daughter around the same age was somewhere here in Washington. Losing her would be losing every good reason he had to watch the sunrises. “Can I, uh,” Armando sniffed and coughed into his fist, “Can I get some time alone with my daughter?”

“Of course, Mister Vasquez.” Dawant laid a hand on the other man’s shoulder and then nodded at Donnelley and Laine, “Let’s talk somewhere private, give the man some time.”

They walked some ways through the paths between the headstones until they’d gotten a fair distance from Armando. The three of them stood silent for a bit, Donnelley idly looking out at the rows and rows of headstones. Dawant cleared his throat, “So,” he said, “Where have you been?”

Laine stepped away from the grieving father, drawing a breath as she did. At his question, she glanced at Donnelley then back at Dawant. “We were sent to look into some other disappearances. Different circumstances but...”

They had no bodies, only Ipitok’s description of what happened to the women given over to appease the Wind Walker. A chill ran up her neck and she hunched her shoulders, “I don’t know what to say, other than we were taken off the case in West Virginia and given this other one. But we have not forgotten her.”

“I guess that’s fair.” Dawant said, “Can’t see why. Then again, I ain’t a Fed like you two.”

“I’m not gonna bullshit you, Dawant.” Donnelley looked from the headstones to fix Dawant with a healthy dose of anger, “It was taken from us.”

“The fuck? How? Why? How did you find out?” The more Dawant questioned, the angrier he got.

Donnelley could tell having cases taken away sparked something in Dawant, he answered with a shrug, “I knew because I was fuckin’ right there when they told us all to fuck off. Put us all on administrative leave. I’m only tellin’ you this because you deserve the truth.”

“I’ve worked with FBI before, they’re not known to just throw people off a case for no reason.” Dawant looked at between the two FBI Agents, the real and the fake, “They say anything?”

Laine shook her head, looking once again at Donnelley before she turned to Dawant, “Both cases, West Virginia and this last one, we’ve been taken off. We don’t know why and it’s very frustrating but we’ve not given up. It might be something with the higher ups that we don’t know about or...well, I don’t know to be honest.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, the anger and frustration over the arbitrary removal. The shady shit that had been going down since they found Maria. The leaks, the change in Foster’s attitude and then there was the shadow of Overman. She had not forgotten him despite only briefly having met him, he had set her on edge.
“I work with the BAU, normally we hand our cases over to other investigating agents or locals, but we don’t have them yanked from us and not allowed to follow up. There’s something strange,” she said, then paused, glancing at Donnelley. “We’re not giving up though.”

Dawant looked stunned, standing there and sighing at his speechlessness, “I heard that shit before.” Dawant snorted ruefully, “I ever tell you how I separated from the force?”

“Wayne Williams. We arrested him and sent his ass to prison for the murders of two white adults.” Dawant’s lip curled up in contempt, “I knew there was a few of them cops would go out on the town after their shifts and beat the shit out of homeless, hookers, anybody couldn’t fight them.”

“And I knew they tacked on the murders of those black girls and boys to Wayne Williams. I brought it up with IA.” Donnelley and Dawant Elmer eyes then, and then Dawant looked at Laine, “Guess what they told me.”

But he didn’t wait, “We’ll look into that, Detective. Thank you for bringing that to our attention, Detective. Now sit your black ass down and twiddle your fucking thumbs, Detective.” Dawant shoved his hands in his coat pockets, shaking his head, “Had my vision test scheduled by the Department with their doctor. Ocular degeneration, they said.”

“Let me go after that. Kicked me out the front door. Went to my own eye doctor,” he raised his brows, “Eyes are fucking perfect. Tell me what that sounds like. Go ahead.”

Laine crossed her arms and shook her head, her dark hair brushing the collar of her jacket. Her teeth ground together and she inhaled sharply, “Fuck those guys,” she muttered, they were the same as those who pushed aside the disappearances of troubled teens or sex workers, all those they could write off as less worthy of trouble. The ones Dawant spoke of were not anything unheard of in other cities and that made it all the worse.

“Sounds like they were covering themselves, their department,” she said, stating the obvious. The knot in her stomach as she thought about Foster grew, the unease she had felt since they had Maria’s case and everything that surrounded it taken from them and left in the dark, sent to Alaska to be murdered.

Her skin crawled and she hugged herself, then met Dawant’s dark eyes, “We were put on leave, told to forget about West Virginia, about everything that would be followed up by another investigation team. Yet we have no communication with them. No collaboration. It’s not normal, I agree Mr. Dawant.”

“You get close to something they don’t like, they’ll find a reason.” Dawant nodded, “And if they ain’t got one, they make one. I don’t know who’s in charge of all y’all, but… well, I don’t trust ‘em.”

Laine nodded slowly, unable to look at Donnelley as she agreed, “I don’t trust them either, I hate to say it but this but you learn to trust your gut. But I’ll continue working as I can but I’m aware someone is trying to hinder us.”

More than she would admit to Dawant and the feeling increased only after Foster dismissed them for a long break and said nothing to her even after leaving him with the documents and the USB of the footage. It was hard to reconcile the man with the one that had sat in the truck with her as they waited for Donnelley to show up or the one they had met over lunch with Detective Roy. She tried to tell herself that she did not know Foster, not like Donnelley did and perhaps it was just his way, that he had taken the training wheels off and now treated them like anyone else. But that doubt never left and it was only getting worse.

“I wish I could do more,” Laine added after a moment.

“So do I.” Dawant said, frowning, “I’m sorry, by the way. For what it’s worth. It’s not a good feeling, having this happen.”

“No, it ain’t.” Donnelley shook his head and looked away.

“I appreciate the honesty. Even though I’m going to have to establish rapport with some other people I don’t know shit about.” Dawant sighed, “Well, I don’t want to keep either of you longer than you’d like. Thanks for visiting, I know it means a lot to Maria’s parents.”

“Of course, it’s the least we can do. Put a face to this investigation for him, let him know that we… or someone’s on the case.” Donnelley shrugged, “Might help me if I was in his shoes.”

Dawant simply nodded, “I’ll see if Armando’s okay.”

Donnelley looked at Maria’s headstone where they’d left Armando, and the man himself was kneeling in front of it and uttering some prayer. Donnelley shook his head, knowing in the grand scheme of things, the only person who truly cared about Maria’s justice was her mother and father. And if it wasn’t true, Donnelley thought, then tell him why someone didn’t want him on the case anymore. Donnelley was in denial, but then he died, and now any doubt he had was burned away. Dawant was walking towards Armando and Donnelley followed, if only because his car was the same direction.

As they walked, Donnelley felt the first of the raindrops fall, and as they got closer to Armando and Dawant, the more the rain fell. Donnelley almost couldn’t look Armando in the eye, the only one of the four of them here the most personally touched by the case, and yet the only one the most ignorant to its dismissal. Armando waved Donnelley down from afar and he stopped, swallowed, pointing at himself. Armando nodded. When Donnelley finally got to Armando, Dawant nodded to him, “He wants to talk to whoever is in charge of the case. Just them.”

Donnelley looked to Laine, nodding, “I’ll meet you at the car, I guess.”

When the two of them were finally alone, neither of them spoke for a while. Donnelley noticed that the longer he went on with this case and those cases related in any way to the Program, there were more silences that just seemed to drag themselves out longer and longer, as if any conversation about the case were it’s death throes as it slid back into the oblivion of so many other cold cases just like it. The rain was coming down like a soft mist now as they stood, Armando not caring even though he was clad only in khakis and a t-shirt.

It was a little while that Donnelley had to wait until Armando spoke, “I’m from Juarez, Mister Davidson.” He began, “So I know how these things go. I’m not stupid. I grew up in the alleys, policia doesn’t really care about the narco crimes. They can’t do anything about it, and anyone who does dies.”

Donnelley looked at Armando, pretty confident in where this was going, but letting Armando lead him there anyway. He continued, “So I either need to bribe you for a name or accept that there isn’t anything anyone can do.” Armando looked at Donnelley, his eyes that of a father in need of vengeance, “Because, I have money, Mister Davidson.”

Armando and Donnelley shared a moment, Donnelley staring back into Armando’s eyes, until they softened again and he looked away at Maria’s grave, “But I can’t be that angry kid anymore, me sientes? I still have my wife.” Armando sighed and rubbed at his face, “You know, mi Abuela used to read me stories from the Bible. My favorite was always the Archangel Michael, the Angel of Justice, righter of wrongs, or whatever.”

“Had a sword of flame to burn away evil, you know?” Armando humorlessly chuckled, “Sometimes I wish I had something like that. Make sure they don’t get away with kidnapping and killing, rape, murder, ruining every life they fucking touch. If I can’t bring my Maria back, then I’ll make sure someone’s mother has to wear black and cry just like me.”

“Or just purify it all and start over, burn the whole world clean like Michael.” Armando hissed, a deepset frown and furrowed brows as he looked back at Donnelley, fists clenched. He was breathing hard and Donnelley only looked back and listened to him speak his feelings that he’d probably kept locked away from his wife. Armando unclenched his fists and bit his lip, shaking his head and looking away just as deflated as when Donnelley first saw him and muttered, “But, angels aren’t real, are they?”

Donnelley stood and stared down at Maria’s grave, remembering how he found her dumped in some clearing. Like meat. Compost. Food for maggots. The rain picked up then, and Donnelley shook his head, brow furrowed and his own dark frown, “No.”
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Some Time for Us...


>SHARPS ROASTHOUSE
>SEATAC, WA
>1400...///

Donnelley was quiet, the only sound in the car was an angry song yelling out its discontent at society turned down to a whisper. Wipers beat and screeched across the windshield as the rain poured out of the sky. There was a restaurant Donnelley had given Laine the address to, and it seemed like she’d made it first, sitting in her own rental car in the crowded parking lot. Donnelley parked his own car some ways away and walked to her passenger door, rapping a knuckle on the glass. When she disengaged the locks, he opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. He didn’t reach across to her like she did with him those months ago in West Virginia.

He just looked out the windshield and then shook his head, looking down at his callused hands, “Should I have said somethin’ more?” He asked, “Protested harder? Submitted some fuckin’ paperwork at least?

Laine waited in the car, watching the rain drops chase each other down the windshield, splitting around the still wipers. The music played without her listening and she was deep in her thoughts when the knock startled her. She jumped, green eyes in a pale face staring back at Donnelley from the otherside of the window.

She said nothing as he settled in, only reaching to turn down the volume of the rental’s stereo, her old mp3 player resting in the cupholder. Her own thoughts were not far from his and she waited a moment before speaking.

“Do you think that would have helped?” she asked, looking over at him. “You know how these things work, do you think protest and paperwork would have kept someone from having us killed?”

Laine shook her head slightly, “Whatever is going on, I’d be willing to bet there’s no other working group on this case.”

She brushed her hand lightly over her face, as if swiping at a spiderweb. “It’s like what Dawant said, how he was pushed out. I’ve seen it before or versions of it in local police departments like his and beyond. I would love to say the Bureau was not touched by such corruption but I highly doubt it.”

Laine sighed and leaned her elbow against the door, “Do you know what I did before going to the BAU? I’m sure you read my file, the diligent team lead that you are. Well, I worked at the LA field office for the first three or so years, I was on task forces dedicated to missing and exploited children and human trafficking, which I can tell you is a huge problem in and around Los Angeles.”

She pressed her thumb against her lips, “I don’t like talking about it because no one wants to hear about it. Those words like trafficking and exploitation, they do nothing to convey the reality of what it’s about. It doesn’t tell you about listening to broken parents like Armando begging for their children back. It doesn’t show you the fucking countless videos and pictures of children being raped and tortured. It doesn’t...it doesn’t convey the impact of listening to a six year old girl talk about how a man raped her and how strong she is because she is willing to stand up and testify in court because she doesn’t want that bad man to hurt other kids.”

Tears filled her eyes and she rubbed at them, mindless of the smudging eyeliner, “That was my job, to find the monsters and be the voice of those children. And after a while, I just couldn’t do it anymore. Because for every one we managed to catch and gather evidence and lock up, how many more slipped through the cracks, how many had connections and wealth enough to make it go away.”

Laine pressed her trembling hand against her thigh, “I moved to Unit 2 to get away from it, I’d rather face crimes against adults, as horrible as they are. I couldn’t take looking at another abused murdered child and feeling so fucking helpless against the tide of what caused it. A lot of it was organized crime, pedophile rings that do exist and aren’t just conspiracy bullshit but we can’t touch them because someone got elected and someone has too much money invested in some place.”

She shrugged, then shook her head, “People will kill to keep their crimes a secret, that I do know.”

Donnelley nodded. Gregory Morales. Just another name that kept him up at night, but so much more to whoever’s car seat that was there the day he died for helping the wrong man, “Yeah, they will.”

Donnelley took his own pack of cigarettes out of his hoodie pocket, bit one out of the pack and cracked the window as he lit it. He remembered the fight in the parking lot, leaving the Russian in the Alaska woods after fleeing a Walmart to get away from any cops unfortunate enough to be just doing their jobs that day. Remembered how Laine had run him over.

“Was that your first?” He asked, “In Alaska. The Russian in the parking lot?”

She was digging out her own pack, the cloves familiar and comforting and thankfully still available in Seattle hoodrat gas stations around SeaTac. Laine paused when he asked, rolling the black cigarette between her fingers. Her first was not the Russian, it was some poor Alaskan sex worker that got vanished so that she could return from the dead. But at least by her own hand, it was the Russian.

The memory of the sensation of the bumping tires made her stomach clench, as if in a dropping elevator. Laine put the cigarette between her plush lips, then looked at him for a light with a small nod of her head. He flicked his lighter and let the flame kiss the end of her cigarette, and he could already smell the cloves that would forever remind him of Laine.

“My first enlistment in the Army I never killed anyone. Weren’t any big enough wars for the unit I was in.” Donnelley shook his head, and stared at the drops running down the windshield of Laine’s rental. He’d pay for the smell of burnt tobacco they’d leave, his need for a cigarette had only grown since Hillgrove Cemetery. “It was my first couple months as a Deputy in Dallard County. Some guy in Dallas had taken a little girl and ran away with her. Me and Sheriff Gracy caught him racin’ southwest on the highway out of Dallas.”

“Chased him down in our cruisers all the way out there into the fuckin’ country.” Donnelley said, “It came down the channels that it was the girl’s father. Alcoholic, on probation after a DUI charge with assault. Mother was a drug addict. He led us all south to Hillsboro.”

“There weren’t any good guys in that scenario, other than what we all thought so highly of ourselves to be. Him savin’ his little girl, us stoppin’ a kidnappin’. I didn’t know all that about him and the girl, and the mother then, but I still didn’t want to do it.” Donnelley just shook his head and stared, “He knew he was done when he saw the roadblock on the way into Hillsboro. Opened his door and pointed a weapon. He was probably dead ‘fore he hit the dirt. Emptied my magazine.”

“Didn’t want to. Had to. Me or him, y’know?” Donnelley said, sighing and looking down at his lap, taking a hard drag on his cigarette, “I’m sorry you had to do that in Alaska. But you did that for me, and I owe you.”

Laine listened and watched him, his profile that was so familiar and dear to her. She took a drag and blew the smoke towards the cracked window. “I didn’t want to but I’d do it again,” she said, then glanced at him. “I would do it again for you. Hell...it bothers me but I don’t regret it.”

She balanced the black cigarette between her fingers and glanced at him. “I guess that makes me a bit of a hypocrite doesn’t it?”

Donnelley looked at her and shook his head, “No.” he said, looking away from her, “You’d have to do a lot more to be hypocritical with me.”

He cleared his throat after a moment of silence, taking one last drag and pinching out the cherry, putting the cigarette into a ziploc like he did. “Let’s go have somethin’ to eat. Make like we’re just a normal couple on a date and the only thing botherin’ us is the rain.” He tried a smile with her, reaching towards her hand, “How does that sound?”

Laine put out her cigarette and gestured for his ziploc, “You got me doing it now.”

She sighed, the heaviness of the day still weighing on her but smiled a little at his suggestion. “That sounds like something I need right now. At least one thing.”

Laine unbuckled herself then took his hand, her thumb grazing over the top as she said, “We leave this in the car, right? Let’s talk about other things, anything else.”

She unlocked the doors and let go of his hand, stepping into the misting rain. Laine waited for him offering her hand to hold as they crossed the parking lot. ”Think it’ll be alright?”

“Everythin’s fine, remember?” Donnelley took Laine’s hand with a smile, “It’s just us. That’s all I need right now.”

Once inside and seated, Donnelley wasted no time in ordering his usual. The Sinatra, a big square of frozen stone resting in two fingers of bourbon and a splash of bitters. Quick and to the point. He took his first sip and looked across the table at Laine, alone in the corner of the bar, “So, what’s the first thing you’re goin’ to do when you get home?”

Laine ordered a zombie, a fruity rum drink that was strong enough to make her feel fuzzy and push the shadows back. She held the half filled glass and considered his question. “Probably take a bubble bath and walk around my apartment naked. I love the team but I do miss living alone sometimes.”

Her green eyes flicked to him, “Not that I wouldn’t want certain company but after that, I’ll probably check in at the office and deal with whatever is waiting for me there.”

She took a sip, the tropical flavors defying the gloomy light from the windows. “Ghost offered to train Ava and I, so I suppose we’ll be doing that at some point. He seemed very put off by the idea we would be on the same team.”

Laine idly opened the menu that rested on the table, “Couldn’t hurt to be more prepared. I’m going to probably sign up for a personal trainer so I can get ready before I have to train with him. Just a wild guess that he’ll be merciless.”

“Just ask Dave. Me and Ghost put him through the rounds whenever we could.” Donnelley chuckled, “Shoulda seen his first time. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good neither. You’ll be fine.”

She stirred the cocktail with the swizzle stick and laughed a little, “I suppose it won’t be much worse than being back at the Academy except with those Oakleys watching everything.”

Laine took a sip, then muttered, “Well, he did give me pointers in weight lifting and wasn’t weird about it. Better him than Poker, I guess. He kinda gives me a bad vibe. I know he’s your old team leader just...you know, you get a feeling for how someone looks at you.”

She went back to the menu, “I don’t really have any grand plans past spending some time with you before going home.”

Laine glanced across the table at him, “What about you?”

Donnelley frowned in contemplation, looking up and away before he sipped at his drink and shook his head, “I don’t know. I guess I don’t have any plans either except for whatever you have for me while you’re here,” he smiled, chuckling a bit, “I guess since I’m on leave with the Company too… I’ve got some free time.”

His smirk drooped a bit, “Maybe I’ll… come visit you and Ava. Road trip, come bother my team across the country.” He perked up again, though he really didn’t know what he was going to do with himself with so much free time. The last time he had any time to himself he spent it doing drugs and fucking prostitutes, but that hardly held the same enticement ever since the case, “Yeah, I don’t know. I’ll think of something, you know I can find ways of gettin’ into trouble.” He smirked.

Laine raised her eyebrow, "Oh, you're going to let me be in charge of what we get up to while I'm here?"

A slow smile grew before she masked it by taking a drink. "I'd like it if you did visit, I wasn't joking about wanting your company. As for you getting into trouble, I have no doubts. Just make sure you can get out of it."

The waitress appeared, giving them a warm practiced smile, "Were you ready to order or did you need some more time?"

"I'll have the pineapple pulled pork with the proper greens salad and another zombie, thanks," Laine replied.

The waitress wrote it down and glanced at Donnelley, "And what would you like, sir?"

Laine tried not to grin and preoccupied herself looking at her phone until he was done ordering and the waitress gathered their menus and left. She finally looked across at him, her green eyes twinkling, "That's my line."

“Yeah?” Donnelley chuckled as he finished taking a long sip from his drink and winked at her, “I guess I can let you dictate what we get to do. I might like whatever you think up.”

Laine bit her lower lip and swirled the ice in her glass, "I think you might. First thing though we need to get a room. Another shitty motel or something else?"

“My place?” Donnelley quirked a brow. She’d invited him into her home, only felt right for him to return the favor. Besides, what he wanted to do would be better with some privacy, “Besides, motels around here are a special type of shitty.”

Laine blinked at his offer then smiled warmly, "Yeah, I'd like that. Much better than a shitty motel. Maybe we'll pick up a few things and cook breakfast together tomorrow."

The idea of even just a night or two of some sort of normal domestic bliss after the hell they had been through in Alaska was like water to a parched man. She wanted it more than anything right now just to stop and breathe with the man she loved.

Donnelley grinned wide at that thought of spending a night and having breakfast with Laine, “I’d love that.” He said, smiling at her and then finishing the last of his drink, enjoying the heaviness in his limbs and the subtle giddiness. He reached across the table and rested his hand on hers, “More’n anythin’.”

>...///

Laine drove behind Donnelley as he led the way to his house. In the backseat were some groceries and necessities from a quick stop at the store where he pushed the cart and she picked from the shelves. The rain had finally lifted, leaving the air cool and breezy, washing it clean.

She allowed brief thought to paranoia that the Program was watching and waiting to catch her and Donnelley together. But from what she had seen, a little daring was needed.

Donnelley took them down a few residential roads. It had been a few miles drive from the grocery store until they finally got to Donnelley’s home. Pulling into the empty driveway, it had just enough space for their two cars. “Well, this is it.” Donnelley smirked at the modest one-story. “My palace is out back.”

He chuckled, taking almost all the bags in the back of Laine’s car in one trip. It had been a habit both of efficiency and laziness since he’d been stationed in Fort Campbell, or moved to Seattle shortly after being discharged and the divorce that followed on its heels. But he wasn’t thinking about that now. The house inside was some kind of halfway between bare and lived-in. There were still a few pieces of furniture, a television. Though, most of the rooms that weren’t the master bedroom, the kitchen, or the living room were completely empty.

In one particular room, there was a large safe and a few gun cases leaning beside it. Donnelley only poked his head inside and told Laine he kept his guns and a few other things inside the room. Not much else. “I’m gonna slip into somethin’ a bit more comfortable.”

Laine followed him, carrying her laptop bag and her duffel over her shoulder as he carried the groceries. She looked over the front of the house, it was still in good repair but she could tell there was some neglect, that it had not been occupied for any great lengths at a time. She smiled as he led her through, “So this is Casa de Donnelley.”

As she followed him, she noticed the half empty state of things, a life cut in half and only one still remained here. Putting that in the back of her mind, they were here for themselves not anyone else. She admired the set of his shoulders and the flex of his triceps as he carried the bags all at once and dropped them off in the kitchen. Laine chuckled and shook her head, “Of course you have a room just for guns.”

When he left to change, she went to the bathroom to freshen up, digging through her duffel for a change of clothes and her toothbrush. Laine changed down to underwear, a pair of black boy cut shorts, and an oversized Smiths t-shirt that fell just to her hips and hung slightly off one shoulder. It was one she bought back in Idaho, at the little boutique close to the campus. It felt like months but it had only been just over two weeks since they left Muru with Sobel.

Laine looked at the mirrored medicine cabinet and the temptation to take a peek was strong. Pulling herself away, she stepped out of the bathroom, now barefoot and much more comfortable. She went back towards the kitchen to put away the perishables in case he had not.

She found Donnelley doing what she was thinking of doing, putting the last carton of milk away and then dumping the old one. It had a fair amount of chunks, speaking to the amount of time Donnelley had been away from this place. He smirked sheepishly at her as he did, the chunks making audible slaps into the metal kitchen sink, “Sorry. It’s, um,” Donnelley cleared his throat, “Been a bit since I’ve been here.”

Laine grimaced, “It’s cottage cheese by now.”

She touched the table top and noticed the dust, then went to get a paper towel and bent to look in the cupboard for a dust spray. “How long has it been since you’ve been home?”

Without a word she began cleaning the table, wiping it down. She leaned over it, reaching to get in the middle.

“When was the first time you called me? After our first adventure?” He said, smashing the carton and putting it into the recycling bin. He searched around for his fancy glasses and mugs, not exactly wanting to have to pass the bottle between him and Laine. She deserved some modicum of hospitality.

“You like mules?” He opened a pantry and finally found them, the amount of time he’d been absent let him forget a lot about this place, “Because I like mules.” He grabbed two of the copper mugs and left the kitchen to find his fancier whiskeys.

Finishing the wipe down, she looked over her shoulder, “When I called you from Seattle? I remember that, I think I woke you up. Still stirring over the Childress case, another one taken.”

She stopped herself then tossed the paper towel in the trash can and rinsed her hands. Laine put her hands on her hips, the shirt scrunching up to show off her thighs. “I do like mules, but you know what else I like?”

Laine smiled slightly, looking him over and bit her lip. She moved closer and watched his body as he moved, admiring his form. Her gaze settled for a moment on the still fresh scar of the bullet wound then moved down. Donnelley smiled to himself when he caught Laine staring, eyeing him like a piece of meat. He turned around with the two copper mugs in one hand, the bottle of Bulleit bourbon in the other, “Is it me?” He asked sarcastically, “I hope it’s me.”

She laughed, her green eyes gleaming as she looked him over again, “It is definitely you.”

Laine pulled a chair out and sat down, pretending not to feel the chill on the bare expanse of her legs as she crossed them. Propping her elbow on the table, resting her chin against her fist, she said, “Now let’s see the bartender skills.”

“Well,” he said, placing down the two copper mugs and the bourbon, “The most integral part of the mule, in my opinion, is the copper mug. Just ain’t the same without it.”

He eyeballed two shots into each of the mugs, “Oh, almost forgot,” he rushed back to the kitchen and then returned with two bottles of ginger beer, “And this too, splash of lime to go with it.”

“We forgot mint leaves, else I’d have some garnish and I could really woo you.” Donnelley snorted, passing Laine her mug and setting it down in front of her, “I hope I didn’t fall short of my reputation.”

He sipped at his mug and then added a bit more whiskey, “How’s it?”

Laine took a sip, tasting it then licked her lips, “Pretty damn good. I’ve never had it with whiskey.”

“I’ll excuse the lack of mint leaves since you’re cute,” she smiled and took another drink, “Thank you, by the way, for having me in your house. So, do I get to dig through your record collection or your photo albums now?”

“You know, flirtin’ with the bartender might get you some perks here next time you come around.” He winked, smiling at her as he took a big gulp of his drink and sighed. At her question, he shrugged, “Yeah, why not, I’ll let you judge me mercilessly.”

“Should be in a box in the bedroom, come on.” Donnelley waved Laine with him as he went. When they got to the master bedroom, Donnelley slid the closet door open, pulling two boxes out packed to the brim with records. “Have at it.” He chuckled.

Laine clapped her hands and picked up her mug to follow him back to the bedroom, “I will be without mercy.”

She stepped into the room giving the large bed a once over then turned to him pulling out the big cardboard boxes. A big smile grew on her face and she knelt beside one, “Is this the Black Flag album you stole from that car when you were a teen?”

Laine began pulling the records out so she could see the art and the titles, her eyes lighting up as she exclaimed, “Oh shit, tell me you have a record player. We’re playing some of these.”

She pulled out a familiar cover, “Got some Cramps, I love it. Oh shit.”

Laine picked up an album that was worn at the corners, fuzzy cardboard and teal color, “A first pressing of Minor Threat, badass.”

She continued going through them, selecting a few more and picked up a few more. “What’s this? The Funky Aztecs?”

Donnelley ripped his attention away from her very visible backside in the boy cut panties as she bent and reached going through his record collection. She might have noticed the consequences of her choice in attire down below his belt line. He shook his head and looked at what she was holding, chuckling, “Holy shit, yeah. Nor’ Califas, these guys had a song with 2Pac.” He said, looking at the cover art for their Chicano Blues album, “I can’t be punk all the time. I even have some Parliament in there somewhere.”

Laine slid it back into the box and hunted for the Parliament, leaning forward on purpose then glanced at him, a little smile appearing on her lush lips. The basketball shorts did not hide much. “I like a good funk,” she said, “And I like your variety.”

She looked over at him standing there and then shifted up to her knees, looking up at him, “I like those shorts, too.”

Raising an eyebrow she reached up and gave him a stroke down the front of his shorts then stopped, “So let’s drink and listen to your records.”

Donnelley bit his lip and moaned under his breath as Laine touched him through his shorts. He’d forwent the underwear again, and the two of them could feel all of it. He chuckled as Laine looked up at him, “I’ll get my player, make yourself comfortable.”

She grinned at his reaction and the sensation of him through the fabric. Laine sank back to her heels, then picked up her copper mug taking a drink as he went to get his record player. Her mind was getting a little fuzzy and she watched with a little smile on her face.

When he returned and plugged in the machine, she handed him a record and waited until he turned back around. The slight static, the warm crisp vinyl sound as the music from the Cramps Bad Music from Bad People started up. She curled her finger, beckoning him over.

Laine looked up at him, reaching to run her fingers along his waistband. “Just like being teens again, right?”

She ran her hand down the silky material, feeling him and kissed his stomach, feeling the gingery hair below his navel tickle her nose as she moved downward, then made a soft moaning purr as she rubbed against him through the fabric. “I’ve been wanting to touch you for so long, sir.”

He set his mug down as Laine fondled him through his shorts, watching her with a smirk and feeling himself growing with her touch. He lay a gentle hand on her cheek as he stepped a bit closer, what was behind his shorts dangerously close to her, “I’ve been wanting you to touch me for so long.” He bent down and locked his lips with hers in a deep kiss, pulling back and leaning close to her ear, “I love you, Laine.”

Without telling her, he grabbed her up with relative ease and then set himself on the couch where she had been sitting. Now, he smiled at her as she straddled his lap, no doubt feeling him and how hard he was beneath the shorts. It felt so right, and so freeing to be able to say what he felt. And being able to say it however he wanted without worrying someone was listening in at every waking moment. If there was one blessing behind the infuriating circumstances of being put on leave, it was being able to spend time like this with Laine. The woman he loved.

And fuck loud.

>...///

He reached over to Laine and gently pulled her on top of him. He smiled at the weight of her and the feeling of her slick skin on his own. He looked down at her on his chest, his blue eyes weighed down with exhaustion from how much Laine had worn him out.

“I love you, Laine.” He said softly.

When he pulled her over to him, she hugged him. They were both hot and sweaty but it was worth it to feel the intimacy that glowed between them.

Laine gazed down at him, smiling with an indulgent expression before kissing him. “I love you, too,” she murmured. “I love you, Joey.”

She pushed herself up, her breasts resting against his chest and looked him over, “It’s going to be really hard hiding this now.”

He shrugged and shook his head, “Let’s just be happy we don’t have to right now,” he said with a smile, leaning in and kissing her softly, “God, you tire me out in the best of ways, Laine.”

“I am happy,” she said, then grinned down at him returning his kiss, “You make me happy, and make me so wonderfully sore.”

Laine nuzzled against him and kissed along his collarbone then lower to the scar, kissing it lightly then lay her head against his chest. He quivered softly with a smile at the feeling of her soft, plump lips against his sweat-slick skin, and hugged her tight as she rested against his chest, “We’re like a couple of high school sweethearts, you and me.” Donnelley chuckled, then turned a tad serious through his smile, “Can I admit somethin’?”

She chuckled softly, “We are. Everytime we’re alone together I feel like I’m sneaking around to see my bad boy boyfriend and hide it from my parents.”

Laine glanced up at him, her green eyes warm with affection, “Of course you can.”

Donnelley chewed over his phrasing, rolling his jaw and grunting as he knew it would make things easier just to spit it out, “When me and Dave were talkin’ by the fire in Alaska,” Donnelley cringed a tad, not knowing how Laine would react, “He knows. I told him.”

“I just couldn’t keep it hidden.” He explained hastily, “Just seein’ him and Ava frolickin’ around with each other like that. It’s just… I was jealous. Hell, I’ll still be when we go back to the grindstone. I couldn’t keep it in, one part accident and… I don’t know.”

“I hate actin’ like we have a distance between you and me when all I want to do is hold you.” He said, looking away from her, “I’m sorry.”

Laine stared at him and closed her eyes, nodding slightly. She sighed then kissed the spot in the center of his chest, the ginger hairs tickling her nose. “You shouldn’t have done that but I can understand it. I hate pretending that you’re just my team lead. Sometimes I want to just hold you and I get so frustrated. Especially after what we went through. What you went through seeing it...remembering.”

She scooted up and kissed his lips lightly then more firm, “I don’t think Dave will tell anyone. At least not on purpose.”

Donnelley sighed, “Sure hope not.”

Donnelley stared up at the ceiling, wondering when the last time he’d slept in this bed was. Returning here for the first time was like walking into a mausoleum, haunted by a life that had ended eight years ago. He looked back down at Laine and smiled, hugging her close for a moment, “I’m so glad.” He chuckled, shaking his head at the giddy feelings that Laine always gave him, “I’m glad we met.”

Laine smiled at him, thoughts of Dave and their secret slipping away as he hugged her. “Me too,” she sighed, and reached up to brush her hand along the side of his face, “We’ve had our moments, but I knew you were worth getting to know.”

She kissed him then kissed his scarred cheek, laying against him for a while until she felt sticky from the sweat and his semen. Laine finally lifted her head, “I’m going to take a quick shower. I think we earned a nap.”

“Mind if I join you?” Donnelley asked.

Laine slid off the bed, naked and from his perspective he would see how he left her. She turned and curled her finger at him, beckoning him to follow to the bathroom.

>SEP152019
>1200...///

The nap turned into just staying in bed cuddling and watching Netflix until they fell asleep again. Laine woke first, leaving Donnelley snoring lightly as she went to start breakfast. She wore one of his old Black Flag t-shirt and a pair of black bikini panties with a cartoon devil on the front. She found in that drawer of faded band shirts she found a shoebox of cassettes. Most were hand labeled, mixtapes of a variety of genres but mostly punk and hardcore. She set it on the kitchen table while she cooked, breakfast never took long with quick eggs and bacon and putting blueberry bagels in the toaster.

Laine hunted up a dusty boombox and plugged it in, trying out the tape player. She was listening to a mix of familiar west coast bands as she sipped coffee and went through the others. Laine paused and picked one up, a familiar but much younger face among a group of other boys glowering into the camera in a black and white xeroxed flyer folded up and made into a cassette cover.

A grin spread across her face and she popped out the mix tape and put in the DIY recording and cranked it up. The low chuggy hard core began and Laine stood up, removing the bacon onto paper towels and stirred the eggs before turning off the heat and plating them. If the smell of food didn’t wake him then maybe a ghost from the past howling would.

It only took a few moments of the thick, chugging riff before Donnelley rounded the corner into the kitchen, pantomiming playing a guitar and bobbing his head. When the lyrics came in on the second verse, he growled along with a smirk as he closed in on Laine, “Kill them all! Slit their throats! Drink their blood! Make them ghosts! Make them pay, for what they’ve done! Don’t look back ‘til what’s done is done!

He laughed and grabbed Laine into a hug and then kissed her. “That is a one of a kind recordin’ of the band Reagan’s Grave.” Donnelley smiled and bobbed his head to the song again, folding his arms, “My best friend, partner-in-crime, and brother-in-blood Eric was the vocalist. Guess who was makin’ them head-smashin’ riffs.”

Laine turned when he entered the kitchen singing along and sweeping her into an embrace. She laughed and stuck a cube of honeydew melon towards his mouth.

"Let me guess I'm basking in the presence of the shred master himself," she said, the pleased expression on her face. "I found that little gem in a shoebox when I borrowed your shirt. So tell me about this Eric and Reagan's Grave. I love a hot guy in a band."

“Damn right y’are,” he said, leaning over and taking the honeydew into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, “Eric was my friend who got killed in Dallas. Me and him started that band with another one of our friends named Ernesto, he’s on drums.”

“We played a few house shows in Dallard County and left a wake of trashed basements and smashed forty-ounces wherever we went.” He smiled.

She smiled at his recollection, the memory of what he told her about the friend he lost was not forgotten. Laine served the food, bacon and eggs with blueberry bagels and cream cheese and some cut up fruit. After the night they had she was starving.

"That must have been a lot of fun while it lasted. Those types of backyard shows were always a blast," she said, setting the plates on the table and offering him a cup of coffee. "Do you still play guitar?"

“Not often. I probably forgot most of what I had.” He smiled sheepishly, watching her set the table, how she moved, how she looked in the morning light, “I could pick it up if I had the time.”

Donnelley frowned then, and then snorted, “I guess that’s one thing I got now. Time. Can’t even do shit for my day job.”

Laine came up beside him and handed him his coffee, her free hand tousling his ginger hair and noticed a fleck of ash among the fire. She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the head and moved to her chair. “In all honesty, you could use a little vacation, but I understand. Idle hands and all that devils work.”

She smiled a little at him then winced as she sat down, shifting slightly so she leaned and crossed her legs. “I do have to get back to my day job but after that visit with Dawant yesterday, I’m not done with Maria’s case. Not by a long shot.”

Picking up her fork, she eyed him, “I promise I won’t go getting in the other working group’s way, but I have resources of my own with the Bureau. We might not have the original files or the physical evidence to look at but I’ve saved most of everything I could have photographed and written down. Once I get back to Virginia, I’m going to talk to Ava about making us some sort of secure cloud storage. Just in case.”

Her serious tone lightened as she began to eat, “But look, that’s not now. Today, I want to spend a day with you. Show me your motorcycle, play me a song. A walk on the beach? Anything but what we’ll be dealing with soon enough.”

He chuckled at Laine’s reminder that this time was for them, and them only. He sipped at his coffee and sat across from her at the dinner table. He had to sit there for a moment, not remembering the last time he felt so right staying in this house and sleeping in that bed. He could always fall asleep so easy, and wake up so contentedly with Laine next to him. “A walk on the beach sounds good, go over to Ruston Way and see the sights.” He smiled, “It’s a nice day out, could take my motorcycle there and ride the waterfront.”

Laine grinned, “I get to ride on your bike? Hell yeah.”

She leaned back and chewed the bagel, “I love a bad boy who plays in a punk band and rides a motorcycle. That sounds like a good plan, you know. I’ve never been out here other than for work so I would love to see the sights.”

He winked, “It’s a plan then.”

>1700...///

The sun glinted off the water below in the green waters of Puget Sound. Donnelley had laughed when Laine first smelled something off on the air when they approached Tacoma, and he explained that’s just how the city smelled ever since he could remember. The Aroma of Tacoma, the citizens had taken to calling it, turning the acrid stench the city had sometimes into something endearing. By now they hardly noticed it as they sat on the concrete outcropping facing the waves and the beach. The takeout boxes of fish and chips they’d gotten sat empty next to their beer bottles. “I remember when I first moved up here from Kentucky after my discharge.” Donnelley spoke before taking a drag off his cigarette, “Couldn’t fuckin’ stand the smell when we came here.”

Couldn’t stand a lot of things. Him and his wife couldn’t stand each other, and they’d tried to stay together for Tilly, but it worked out about as well as anyone would expect. Even if they’d moved away from Fort Campbell, moved away from the constant reminders of what his military service had brought him after Afghanistan and Pakistan, he couldn’t move away from himself. It took a year to figure that out. He looked at Laine and then smiled, reaching a hand over to place it on her thigh. This wasn’t about anything else but him and Laine, “Just give it some time and you’ll start to miss this smell.”

Laine wiped her mouth after taking a sip of the local brew, Mac & Jacks Serengeti Wheat which went well with the fried fish she drenched in lemon and malt vinegar. She inhaled then scrunched her nose, “What is it? It’s almost sulphurous. It doesn’t have the same stink as LA, it’s actually worse.”

She chuckled and raised her brows, “I don’t think I would miss it, but it’s certainly memorable.”

Following his example, she lit a clove cigarette, the strong spicy scent blotting out the rotten egg backwater stench. “It is a nice view though, a lot different than our beaches.”

When the wind shifted the scent of the ocean came with it, the salt and the rich scent of life. “I like all the trees here,” Laine said, “They just feel so old.”

Donnelley nodded, “Yeah, I don’t really know what it is either. Always chalked it up to low tide or somethin’, but I was never really sure.” Donnelley chuckled, taking another drag and breathing it out onto the winds, “A lot of history here if you know where to look.”

“That it could be,” she agreed, shifting to sit closer to him and put her cigarette between her fingers, letting it smolder. “You know, in California, they don’t seem to dwell on history too much, it’s always what’s next. What’s the next big thing. Maybe it’s an LA thing, but for a place where the sun sets, it is always looking ahead. Probably to its own detriment.”

Laine leaned back on her free hand, looking over the green and gray landscape, the cold ocean lapping at the stoney beach. She watched the water, secretly hoping to see the dorsal of a killer whale but so far nothing but a bald eagle that had soared overhead before heading out over the sound.

“You know, you should visit sometime. I know I’ve mentioned it before,” Laine said, bringing the clove cigarette to her full lips and glanced at him.

Donnelley shrugged, “I dunno. Y’think a simple country feller like me’d be able to make it in that there concrete jungle?” He smirked sidelong at Laine and then chuckled, shaking his head, “Yeah, I could. Maybe you could show me around?”

She chuckled and shook her head, “Please, I love the idea of corrupting a small town boy. But yeah, it’d be fun, there’s a lot to see. Sometime we will but first I’m owed a trip to Dalhart. Yeehaw.”

Laine raised her foot, now clad in a Converse sneaker but she still was holding onto the cowgirl boots she had bought in Idaho and kept a secret this whole time. A gleam in her eyes appeared as she looked at him, “You think a city girl like me could make it in that rough and tumble frontier town?”

Donnelley grinned, “Yeah, I got my six-shooters just in case we run into any bandits or Comanches.”

Laine laughed, “You and your arsenal of peacemakers.”

She learned back to admire the view, something about water meeting earth that always made her feel more calm. Laine spent countless hours of her youth on the coasts of California and later on Virginia beaches and waterfronts. The Puget Sound was different from both of those, with the distant snow capped Rainier and the pebbled beach with logs of driftwood that made convenient benches.

“I was thinking,” she said after a moment, “Maybe giving Ava a call and see how they’re doing. I’ll bet you they’re cozied up in some hotel room. But then I also worry about treading on their time, I’m enjoying it just being us.”
Laine smiled a little sheepishly, looking away from him, “I got to be a real mother hen, it’s annoying.”

Donnelley snorted a laugh and took another drag, speaking through the cloud of smoke, “Let’s just enjoy this for now. Just us. We don’t get this often.” He said, looking at Laine and leaning in to kiss her, “I want as much as time as we can get for me to say that I love you.”
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by KuroTenshi
Raw

KuroTenshi

Member Seen 10 mos ago

>RESIDENCE INN
>SEATTLE, WA
>14SEP2019
>1250...///


The smell of rain was fresh in the air as a gentle mist fell over the parking lot of the Seattle hotel. Ava let Prince wander around and sniff to his hearts content, the dog happily wagging his tail and flopping his tongue out as people walked by. Some stopped to admire the adorable dalmatian while most went about their day, exiting or entering into the hotel.

Ava held her phone in her hand, staring down at the black screen. She looked over her shoulder, smiling as she saw Dave waiting in line to check them in. She had made the reservations before they left Alaska, under a different identity; just to be on the safe side.

After everything that happened, they couldn’t be too safe.

She looked back down at the phone and sighed. She had checked over all of their devices before they left the safehouse in Alaska, except for Agent Baj’s devices. They had just met, it didn’t seem right to ask to snoop through the woman’s phone. And she had just been added to the Program as a full agent. There was no way she was involved in the leaks...She hoped.

Ava knew her phone was clean but still part of her was hesitant. Afraid. Paranoid.

Shaking her head she took in a deep breath and unlocked her phone. She pulled up her contacts and called up Mrs. Grier, guilt curling in her stomach as the phone rang.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end was soft, the accent a gentle refined Virginia drawl. “This is Diana Grier.”

“Um,” Ava said, walking over to a nearby bench and sitting down, Prince following along on his leash. “Hi...Mrs. Grier. It’s me, Ava.”

A moment of silence before the warm voice came back, a slight strain to it when she spoke again, “Ava! Oh my word, that’s you. I’ve been worried, are you alright? It’s been so long, dear.”

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry!” Ava said, feeling her throat start to tighten with emotion. “Something came up and then things got complicated and I couldn’t call you or anyone and I’m so so sorry.” She said, sniffling. “I’m okay, I’ll be home soon. I’m sorry to make you worry.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs Grier said, “As long as you’re alright. Thor misses you as do I. I know how these things can be, don’t you worry about me. Just take care of yourself and get home. We can have tea and I insist on having you over for dinner when you return, there’s nothing worse than traveling and having to cook right after. Oh, and your house is fine, I’ve kept an eye out.”

A pause in the rush of words as Mrs Grier took a few breaths, “Ava, I hope everything went well for you, whatever you were doing.”

Ava’s eyes began to well up with tears, her mind flashing back to the mission, to Ipiktok, the visions...Her death and everything that happened after. “Um, it didn’t go...great. But I’m okay and so is my team, that’s what matters.” She rubbed at her eyes, looking down as Prince sat down next to her and put his head in her lap.

She sniffed and smiled. “But, I would love to have dinner with you.” She rubbed Prince’s ears. “Would it be okay if I...brought a guest?” She asked, turning to look behind her and seeing Dave’s back through the glass doors at the counter now. “Well, technically two.” She scratched Prince’s head. “But one is a four legged friend and the other is a two legged one.”

Mrs Grier listened in silence, letting Ava tell what she would. “I’m sorry it didn’t go well, these things happen but you’re right, what matters is everyone comes home. And of course, my dear. Any guest of yours is welcome, no matter how many legs.”

The warmth rose in her voice, “Was there anything in particular you would like me to make or does your friend have any dietary needs such as being a vegetarian or not eating a particular item?”

“Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about that with him.” Ava chuckled, looking back fondly over at Dave. “He’ll eat just about anything you put in front of him, but he’s a southern boy so he might like some southern comfort food.” She said, gently kicking her feet back and forth as she flushed. “You’ve probably seen him around my house a few times. Tall, brown hair, kind of a scruffy beard and lots of flannel.”

“I do recall a fellow matching that description,” Mrs Grier said, “I was wondering if you’d ever introduce him to me. It’s quiet unlike you to have a guest...such as him overnight. Not that it’s my business, I was concerned as he didn’t look like someone you work with...at least not someone from the office. But regardless, dear, bring him. I will make the most comforting of Southern meals and put at least five pounds on you.”

She paused then added, “As for your four-legged friend, you’ll need to introduce Thor. He’s become quite comfortable with Daisy. You should see them, they share Daisy’s bed now.”

“Awe, he does!?” Ava smiled warmly and looked down at Prince, who looked back up at her and started to wag his tail. “I knew Thor was a big softee.” She stroked Prince’s head with a chuckle. “Oh, Diana, you're going to love Prince. He’s a two year old Dalmatian, he’s very sweet and, uh,” She ducked into her shoulders slightly. “I can’t really keep him...I was hoping you could help me find him a good home?”

“A dalmatian?” Mrs Grier repeated, then stayed quiet for a moment. “No, I suppose you don’t have time for a dog. Let me make some calls, dear. I have some friends that work with animals, maybe they can help. Now I am very curious to hear at least about how you came to pick up a dog on your travels for work.”

“Oh,” Ava balked, remembering the robbery in the trailer park and her mad dash with Queen to the river. After impulsively stealing their dog. “He was just a stray we found on the job and you know me, I couldn’t leave him on his own.” She thought quickly and said, “He’s a Disney dog, but I thought Pongo from the movie was too obvious and he’s very charming sooo,” She smiled down at the dog in question. “I called him Prince. I almost went with Cerberus, because it means spotted, but I’ve already got a cat named Thor. Figured I probably hit my allotment for naming animals after mythological beings.”

Mrs Grier listened and there was the sound of a tinkling of tags and she said, “He sounds very lovely, dear. And you don’t have to worry about what someone thinks of the name of your pet, it’s special. However, I suppose that will be up to the new owner. Oh, someone is here to say hello.”

There was a faint sound and Mrs Grier’s voice murmuring, then finally she spoke up, “He’s being fussy but Thor says hello.”

“Awe, I miss you Thor!” Ava called out with a sigh. “I’ll be home soon and give you lots of treats. I promise.” She looked up at the overcast sky. “And I mean that Diana, I’ll be home soon.”

“We look forward to your return, Ava. And to meet your guests,” Mrs Grier said, a hint of humor in her tone, “Especially being formally introduced to that handsome fellow that looks somewhat like a lumberjack.”

Ava laughed. “I think you’ll like him, he’s a good man.” She flushed and smiled to herself. “I certainly like him. A lot.”

It was obvious Mrs Grier was smiling as she replied, “I am so happy to hear that, my dear. I certainly look forward to having y’all over. Just call me the morning you leave so I can make sure to have enough time for something slow cooked and utterly fattening.”

“I will, I promise.” She said, smiling into the phone. “Thanks Mrs Grier, I swear I’ll make this up to you.”

“Ava, you don’t need to worry about making anything up, just get home safe,” Mrs Grier replied, “I should go now, I have to feed these rascals before they start rioting. Have a safe trip, we’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks again Diana, you’re the best friend a girl can ask for.” She sighed and patted Prince’s head. “Bye, I’ll see you soon.” After Mrs Grier bid her own goodbye, Ava ended the call, setting the phone down on her lap and letting her shoulders relax. “Well...That’s one call down.” She chuckled down at Prince.
Dave stood a respectful distance away, the key in his hand. He’d caught the end of the conversation, his heart swelling when Ava said how much she liked him, and when she hung up he walked over and slipped his arms around her.

“Got our room,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

Ava started before relaxing back into Dave’s arms with a smile. “Thank you.” She said, looking back up at him. She looked down at her phone and heaved a heavy sigh. “I need to call my parents next and my grandparents.” She slipped her phone into her coat pocket. “But, I want to do that in the room. It’s chilly out here.” She smiled at him. “We finally get to be alone.”

Dave’s heart quickened and he gave her another kiss, this one on the forehead. “We can go on in,” he said. He’d wanted to get her alone, truly alone, from the moment he’d seen her walking out of that barn. Now he found himself reluctant to let go, wanting to hold her to him just a little longer. He gave her a final squeeze and released her.

“C’mon,” he said. “205, you take the key.” He passed it to her and then stooped to pick up their bags, turning his face away with a laugh as Prince shoved a nose towards him.

“Hey, hey,” Ava laughed, gently tugging Prince back. “Stop trying to make me jealous.” She said to the dog, flipping the card in her hand as she walked to the entrance. “So I thought we could get settled in the room then maybe order something?”

“Pizza? Chinese? Oh, what about Italian?” Dave followed along behind Ava, beaming. “Actually know what? I’ll let you pick, I’m wantin’ anything that ain’t freeze dried Army food or Queen’s pancakes, so I’ll be happy.”

“I’ll scope out the local restaurants.” She chuckled as they walked. They traveled the halls, either in companionable silence or friendly chatter as they rode the elevator to the second floor. Ava noticed Prince was starting to drag his feet a little.

“Hang in there buddy, almost to the-ah!” She perked up as she spotted room 205. “Here we are!” She slipped the card into the slot, the light on the door handle turning green and she swung it open. “Pretty nice.” She said, unclipping Prince’s leash from his collar and letting him explore the room.

“It is,” Dave said. He looked around, taking in the simple but friendly decor as he set their bags against the far wall. He closed the door, locked every lock, then reached beneath his shirt to remove the holster for his Sig, which he set on the nightstand on the close-side of the bed. He’d had to pack it away to legally check it on the plane, but the moment they’d left the airport he had slipped into the first bathroom available to arm himself.

Now he set down in easy reach, and removed his boots before laying back on the bed. Dave reached a hand towards Ava, beckoning her to join him.

“C’mere,” he said, smiling.

Ava smiled, removing her dove grey coat and hanging it over the back of a chair seated in the corner. She sat down on the bed, went about removing her own boots then let herself fall back onto the soft sheets and mattress.

She looked up at the ceiling and let out a long sigh. “After everything that happened, this hotel room is 5 star luxury to me.”

Dave chuckled, rolling onto his side so he could see Ava. He studied her, taking in the curve of her neck, the line of her jaw, and he reached over to stroke her cheek.

“The company helps,” he said, brushing his knuckles against her soft skin.

Ava turned to him with a gentle smile. “It really does.” She said, turning her head a little more to brush her lips against his fingers. “Dave…” She reached up to catch his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry about everything you went through.”

He felt his heart break at her words and shook his head, shifting closer and pulling her into his arms.

“No,” he said softly. “It wasn’t your fault. And everything is okay now.” He gave her a soft kiss. “Everything is okay.”

She shut her eyes at the kiss and let out a breath, shifting herself closer to him. “Back together again.” She said, trying to inject some lightness back into her voice.

He smiled and held her tight. “Together again.”

Dave held her body to his, feeling her warmth, her firmness, smelling the scent of her hair and perfume. He shifted his weight so he could kiss her again, more slowly this time. They hadn’t had a real moment alone since their reunion, always surrounded by the others or just a room away. Now, alone together, he found his body responding as well as his heart. He deepened the kiss, pulling her body full-length against his as his hands ran over her sweater dress, searching her curves.

Ava sighed against his lips, returning the kiss enjoying the feeling of their lips pressed together. She could feel the strength of his body, the warmth of his hands as they ran over her and pressed back against him, wrapping her arms around him as well.

She suddenly felt a rush of emotion, a deep craving that she didn’t know she had been missing. It had been so long since Dave and her had gotten a chance to hold each other, after everything that happened to them in Alaska, she realized how starved she was for this physical contact. This comfort and how close it had been from being taken away from her. From them.

She felt tears start to prick at her eyes, but she kept kissing Dave, not wanting to end this simple moment of being together.

As the kisses grew more heated Dave ran his hand down her flank, gently tugging the hem of Ava’s sweater dress higher. His hand slipped beneath it to rest on her hip and he nuzzled her cheek.

“I want you,” he whispered, then kissed her throat. “I need you.”

She shivered and her breath hitched as his lips brushed her skin and she felt the bristle of his beard. “Me too,” She whispered, running her hands over him with equal fervor. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said. His voice was husky with both desire and emotion, and he moved his hand higher, to run his calloused fingers over warm flesh, the ridges of her abdomen and ribs...

>...///

She breathed heavily as the high of the climax started to fade and Dave collapsed on top of her, her arms and legs still wrapped around him. She felt the wetness on her cheek, but she didn’t know if it was her tears or Dave’s. Perhaps both.

She turned her head and buried her face into his shoulder, holding him tightly. “I’m here.” She whispered. “I’m here.”

“I know,” Dave whispered. He held her tightly. The physical contact was now his priority, and he lay there for a while, holding her close. Finally he sighed, pulling back to kiss her cheek and then looking down at her. He smiled and stroked her cheek, wiping her tears away. “I’m here, too.”

She smiled up at him, leaning into the hand before turning inward to kiss his palm. She relaxed her legs from around his waist and reached up, cupping his face in her hands. She opened her mouth to say something before shutting it. Instead she shut her eyes and pressed their foreheads together.

Dave smiled, rolling onto his side so they could lay together without his weight on her. He kept their foreheads touching, his arms settling gently around her.

“Just wanna lay here awhile,” he said softly. “If you’re okay with it.”

“I’d like that.” She murmured, opening her eyes to smile at him. She fought back a yawn and snuggled up against him. “Maybe we can take a nap. That ride on that military plane was hardly relaxing.”

"Never even liked flyin' on the nice planes," he said, his voice foggy with a sudden fatigue. "Flown more since all this started than in my whole life before."

He played his fingers gently up and down her back, enjoying the soft, smooth skin.

"I think a nap sounds real nice," he said. "Wanna climb under the covers?"

Ava nodded, fighting back another yawn. “I need to clean up a bit,” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “You go on and get the covers warm.” She said before reluctantly pulling away from him. She sat up with a stretch, looking over to the small sofa in the room and chuckling seeing Prince passed out on it.

She stood up and made her way to the bathroom, uncaring about her state of undress.

Dave watched her leave, a grin spreading as he drank in her naked form. Then he climbed beneath the covers, sighing contentedly.

There was the sound of running water for a minute or so, then it shut off. The light in the bathroom turned off and after some shuffling around, Ava crawled beneath the covers and snugged herself up against Dave. She pressed her head to his shoulder, dressed in one of the thick, comfortable flannels she had pulled from Dave’s suitcase.

She settled against him and sighed, shutting her eyes and murmuring, “Goodnight Dave.”

His arms went around her automatically and he drew her close. He kissed the top of her head and then settled in.

"Goodnight, sugar," he whispered, then closed his own eyes and waited for sleep.

>...///

>1825...///


He woke slowly, his eyes bleary from the first full night's sleep in what felt like weeks. As the dim room eased into view he shifted on the bed, reaching automatically for Ava. His hand touched empty blankets and his heart stopped.

"Ava?" He sat upright, a rush of adrenaline filling him as he looked at the empty pillow beside him. Just a dream. Ava was gone. Shot dead before he could move and burned in a secret oven with nothing but a lie and a headstone over an empty grave. He felt his throat catch and he looked frantically around the hotel room, a crushing grief settling on his soul. Gone, gone forever because he couldn't save her.

Dave climbed from the bed and froze as he spotted her suitcase, still where they'd put it the night before. His relief washed over him and he sat back down on the bed, hanging his head and breathing hard, his hand going automatically to the medallion he still wore. He felt the tears coming and let them, putting his face in his hands and taking slow, deep breaths. She was here. She was still with him.

There was a muffled voice on the other side of the door before it swung open, Ava standing in the doorway and juggling a paper fast food bag, a tray of drinks, the room key card and Prince’s leash.

She perked up seeing Dave awake and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey! Good morning or evening, actually-“ She cut herself off as she noticed his demeanor and the tear tracks on his face.

She shut the door with her foot and dropped Prince’s leash, letting the dog trot up to Dave and sniff him. “Are you okay?” She asked Dave worriedly, setting everything down on the hotel room table.

Dave sniffed loudly, reaching up to wipe his face, suddenly embarrassed. He reached down and scratched the top of Prince’s head, his ears burning.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he said. “I uh...I’m okay. Just...Didn’t know where you went.”

Ava frowned at him, walking over and sitting down next to him. She reached out and took his hand, looking up at his tear streaked face and shameful expression. “Dave,” She said quietly. “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, looking down at the floor even as he squeezed her hand.

“I just..I woke up, an’ you were gone,” he said quietly. “I thought you were still gone. Just...Just for a minute. I thought I never got you back.”

Ava’s throat tightened and she leaned against his arm. “I’m sorry Dave.” She said softly, brushing the back of her fingers of her free hand up and down his arm. “I should have told you I was stepping out.”

“It’s okay,” he said. He put his arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze. “I’ll get better. I figured out what was goin’ on before you got back. Ain’t your fault, sugar.”

Ava sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Still,” She said. “I don’t like the idea of you being scared or thinking…thinking I wasn’t here anymore.” She looked up at him and touched his face, rubbing at his cheek with her thumb. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” He gave her a weak smile and then a kiss. “I’m okay. Promise.”

She returned the kiss but continued to lean against him and hold his hand.

After a minute or so she looked up at him. “Well, I got us some food, just some burgers from a place down the street.” She patted his bare knee. “Why don’t you put on some pants and we can eat.”

Dave shot Prince a look, noting the dog edging closer to the take-out bag.

“That sounds good,” he said as he stood to collect his jeans. “You eat my burger we’re gonna have us a fight, boy.”

Prince looked up at Dave, tail wagging happily.

Ava chuckled and stood up, ruffling Prince’s fur and ears. “Don’t do it Prince, he’s not joking.” She smiled, looking over at Dave herself. “You know, since we’ll be here for a few days, I was thinking we could go check out a hiking trail around Mount Rainier.” She said with a small shrug and a smile. “Since we didn’t get to take that hike in Alaska.”

“I think that sounds fun,” Dave smiled. He’d pulled on his pants and then returned to his seat on the bed. “I’m always down for a hike. That somethin’ you’d wanna do tomorrow? It’s kinda late, I figure we eat, then maybe watch a movie an’ then go to bed.”

“Yes,” Ava said quickly. “It’s way too late to be going hiking.” She turned to Prince with her hands on her hips. “Now, Donnelley isn’t here to sneak you table scraps, so don’t expect any from us young man.”

Prince looked up at her with his backside wiggling, simply happy to have her attention on him.

“I’m glad we understand each other.” Ava grinned, grabbing the bag of fast food and the drink tray. She joined Dave on the bed and passed him the paper bag. “So, what do you feel like watching?”

Dave grunted. He’d dug into the bag the moment she handed it to him and, finding the larger of the burgers, had already sunk his teeth into it by the time Ava had started speak. He chewed vigorously, reaching out to rub his bare foot against Prince’s shoulder.

“I dunno,” he said when he was capable of speech again. “You know I ain’t one for watchin’ much TV. I’m happy with whatever you wanna watch. Oh, and thanks for gettin’ food. Feel like I’m starvin’ to death.”

“You’re welcome, I woke up because I was so hungry.” She reached over to pick up the tv remote on the coffee table and flipped on the tv. “And I’m 90lbs on a good day so I thought you would be twice as hungry.” She winked at him as she dug a fry out of the bag. “I got you the biggest burger they had.”

She ate her fry and sighed. “Ghost has his work cut out for him.” She said, poking at her small bicep.

Dave snorted and reached over to poke at her bicep as well.

“I’unno, I think ya look pretty good,” he grinned. He sat up straighter and flexed his own arm. While he’d lost weight in the last few days, he was still a tightly muscled 170-something, with the kind of lean but strong construction that came from physical work and time spent roughing it in the outdoors. “But if you want, we could both probably use a bit of a train-up.”

He chewed for a moment, then took a drink and cleared his throat. “You...Wanna come to my place at some point? While we’re off? We could get up in the mountains, do some shootin’ and maybe some high-elevation workouts. And we could start runnin’ while we’re at your place.”

Ava perked up as she pulled out her own burger and smiled slightly. “Yeah, I would like that. I get to see how the Mountain Man lives.” She let tv rest on the Andy Griffith Show as background noise and looked down at her food. “Would…I be meeting your son too?” She asked, looking to him before sinking her teeth into her food.

Dave nodded slowly. “I’d...Hafta talk to his mom about that, but yeah. I’d like you two to meet. You’re part of my life. A big part. So you’d be part of his, too.” He felt a sudden anxiety at that idea, despite knowing that Kaliah was far from unreasonable.

Ava swallowed hard. “Right, yeah, that makes sense.” She said, looking down and fiddling with the paper around her burger. “Do you think he will like me?” She asked Dave slowly, her nervousness plain.

He reached up and took her chin, raising her gaze to his. “He’ll love you,” he said firmly. “I know he will.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and then, very slowly and with constant eye contact, he raised his burger and took a comically large bite.

Ava snorted and smiled, laughter dancing in her eyes again. “You’re such a doof.” She said, leaning forward and kiss him on the cheek even while he chewed. “But I love that about you.”

Dave beamed around his full mouth, though his heart skipped a beat at her words. In response he cupped her cheek briefly as he chewed his way through the unreasonably large bite. When he’d finished he took a breath.

“I’ll give Kaliah a call tomorrow,” he said. “Probably a bit late now. We’ll run it by her, then work everythin’ out, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled, a tentative one but a smile nonetheless. “I guess this means that you have to meet my family now.” She furrowed her brow. “That’ll be weird, especially after all the times I told them I wasn’t interested in dating.”

“You ain’t even 30,” Dave snorted. “Nothin’ weird about a smart girl focusing on a career instead of lookin’ for a boyfriend, especially these days.” He grinned. “I just got lucky.”

“Hey, I’m going to be 28 next month.” She sniffed, taking a bite of her burger. She swallowed. “Legally anyway, we don’t really know when my birthday is.” She shrugged.

“Well, then legally we gotta celebrate,” he said as he finished his burger. He began gathering the trash and putting it into the bag. “So that’ll be fun to plan!”

Ava perked up and smiled. “That would be fun to plan.” She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s the 26th, pretty close to Halloween.” Her eyes brightened with an idea. “What if we had a costume party? We can invite the others so it’s a team thing, blowing off steam after…everything.” She grimaced and ate another portion of her burger.

“I think that’d be fun.” Dave felt a flush of joy as he saw her eyes light up. Her excitement was infectious, and simply seeing her happy made him happy. “We can dress up, do the party thing with cake an’ stuff, then maybe watch some movies?”

“Sure!” She smiled again. “But cheesy bad horror movies.” She said with a frown. “I don’t really like horror and considering our jobs…I think we can all use some B grade horror stories to laugh at.”

“I think that’s fair,” he nodded. He stretched, then lay down on the bed, positioning himself so he could lay his head in her lap. “Maybe some of them goofy ones, from the 50s. The black an’ white monster movies?”

Ava blinked down at him, surprised but happy by Dave laying his head down on her lap. She smiled and nodded. “I think that would be fun.” She leaned back slightly as she finished off the rest of her burger, crumpling up the wrapper and stuffing it in the paper bag to throw away later. After wiping her hands off on some napkins, which also went into the bag, she turned her attention back down to Dave.

She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair, gently playing with the tufts of brown locks. “You look comfortable.” She chuckled. “I...like this. This is nice.” She said, her smile growing warm and affectionate.

“I like this, too,” he smiled up at her. She wore the same sweater dress she’d worn earlier in the day, minus the leggings, and between her stroking his hair and the warmth of her thighs under his head, he found himself suddenly feeling...Content. A sort of dozy, domestic contentment, one that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He caught one of her hands and kissed it.

“This is nice,” he echoed quietly.

She smiled at the kiss, an unexpected but strong surge of emotion welling up in her chest. A feeling of happiness, warmth and overwhelming affection as she looked down at Dave, seeing him finally relaxed after everything that happened.

“It is.” She murmured with a soft sigh, pulling her hand away from him so she could go back to stroking his hair.

Dave lay back for a while, enjoying the intimacy and quiet of the moment. Eventually he rolled onto his side and kissed her thigh.

“You know,” he said after another kiss. “It’s gettin’ kinda late. But you ain’t supposed to go to bed right after you eat.” He bit her gently, teeth grazing the firm, warm flesh of her thigh before looking up at her with a quirked eyebrow.

Ava flushed and grinned down at him, shaking her head in amusement. “You aren’t tired after earlier?”

“Never too tired for you,” he said. He kissed her again, closer to the hem of her dress. “Why, are you tired?”

“Well, you can be an exhausting man at times.” She giggled, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. “But, I think I can muster up the energy for another go.”

“Good.” His voice was muffled, his next kiss high up on her inner thigh. “Then lay back and relax, sugar. Just relax.”

She flushed brighter, but smiled as she shifted and laid herself back down on the bed, taking in a breath and shutting her eyes to relax and enjoy.
Hidden 3 yrs ago Post by Leidenschaft
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Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead

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>9LB HAMMER
>SEATTLE, WA
>TUE, 15SEP2019
>1830...///

Donnelley shifted into gear and listened to the roar of his Indian’s engine as he accelerated past the green light, the vintage bike having turned some heads on their way. Even as they rode, he could hear the cacophony of motorcycles being revved somewhere off in the distance, where their destination was. While Donnelley wanted to treat all of them to a nice night in Seattle, he didn’t want to take them to a chain place that was not dissimilar to any other location flung across the states. There were a few dive bars that Donnelley frequented around Western Washington, having had time to visit quite a few of them in the past.

This particular one was not a hipster hotspot, but neither was it some of the dens of debauchery he’d been to. At least not outright. They could have whatever fun they could think of here without worrying about pissing off some nasally twenty-somethings, or worrying about getting drugged. The 9lb Hammer lay in wait for them and he slowed his bike until he walked them into a suitable parking space some distance away from the bar itself. He was dressed in jeans, his leather riding boots, and a thick flannel under his denim vest with patches aplenty adorning it, his Special Forces tab and the beret flash of 5th Group sewn onto the denim and displayed proudly. He wasted no time in checking his phone and then lighting up a cigarette.

He looked Laine over with hungry eyes, “Damn, you look good.” He said, chuckling, “You got a man?”

Laine moved her hands from his waist and reached up to smooth her short dark hair down after the wind tousled it all over. She took a survey of the parking lot, then looked at him in his patched vest and dark sunglasses. She slid from the bike, brushing her hands over her jeans and tugging them subtly. They were snug black jeans with holes ripped open in them where the fishnets showed through.

Over the cropped halter top she wore Donnelley’s leather jacket, it hung loose on her frame but was very warm between her bare skin and the damp cold of the evening. The boots she wore were new, she planned on stashing them at his house since she forgot to bring her Docs everytime. Her outfit was not becoming of an FBI agent or a psychologist, but nights like these she was just that gothy chick with a nice figure.

“I do got a man,” she said, giving him a sassy little toss of her head, then snapped the lapels of his leather jacket. Laine curled a finger in the large ring hanging from the choker she wore and gave it a tug, giving him a sly wink.

Donnelley’s grin grew and he growled at her, biting his lip. He stood up and kissed her deeply, his hand on the small of her back before he sat back down on his bike. A pedestrian was looking over at them and their behavior as he passed and Donnelley gave him a kissy face. He took another drag off his cigarette and looked to Laine, “Think they can find their way here through the city, lover?”

Laine chuckled at his response, her green eyes twinkling after the illicit kiss as she scanned the parking lot. She loved riling Donnelley up, seeing and feeling him react to her. But now they were in public again, she reminded herself and soon would be with their teammates.

"Dave had a good sense of direction I'm sure he'll be fine," she said, "9lb Hammer, that's a distinct name. Any idea how that happened?"

“Ever heard of John Henry?” Donnelley asked, his brow quirked and he puffed on his cigarette, “Old railway man beat a steam powered hammer in a contest to see how many railroad ties they could beat in. Man versus machine, man versus nature, man versus whatever - the tenacity of man triumphs.”

Donnelley snorted at his musing, “As for why this place has a name like that?” He shrugged, “Never thought to ask.”

Laine raised an eyebrow at that, "Didn't he die right after? I half remember the song."

She huffed a soft laugh and lay a hand on his shoulder, giving him a brief squeeze at his sentimentality. She slipped her hand away quickly when a car turned up the driveway but it was just an old Toyota with a bunch of young punks stuffed into it.

“But, he did win.” Donnelley chuckled, his grin widening at Laine’s brief touch.

Dave was watching out the window as the taxi he and Ava had ordered pulled into the lot of the bar. He was dressed for the Seattle weather in a black T-shirt and lightweight Carhartt jacket, his pistol and Buck knife both concealed inside his waistband. He had his ‘Hat-hat’ jammed down over his shaggy hair and he grinned over at Ava as they pulled to a stop, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

“Go on,” he said to her as he dug out his wallet. “Lemme pay the man, an’ I’ll catch up with ya.”

Ava peaked around him at the bar and visibly grimaced. “I am not dressed for that place.” She said, pressing her forehead to Dave’s arm.

Laine had told her to dress ‘comfortably’ and ‘cute’ and it appeared that both of them had forgotten their drastically different tastes in style.

She had dressed herself in a nice, warm, robin's egg blue sweater dotted with white puffy clouds, a simple white skirt with soft pleats and her grey thermal leggings and hiking boots.

Her hair was pulled over her shoulder in a braid due to the humidity in the air. And to complete the look was a white beret, with a pair of triangular cat ears. She had picked it up in Idaho on a whim and wore it with Dave’s encouragement.

She looked up at Dave, her chin resting on his arm. “Do you think I’d stand out too much?”

Dave looked at the people around them as the man took his money. There were a few on the unusual side of things, but not many.

“I think you’ll be fine,” he said. He waved the change back at the man as a tip and then opened the car door, reaching down to help Ava from the taxi. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I think you stand out everywhere, just cuz you’re so damn pretty. But don’t stress, I’m here with ya.”

Ava flushed at the compliment but smiled. She gave his hand a squeeze before hooking their arms together. “Thanks Dave.” She said, taking in a breath and straightening herself. “Well, shall we go find our friends?”

“Sounds good to me,” Dave grinned. He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her towards the bar, scanning the parking lot for their friends.

Laine was watching the taxi pull up and the well built man in the Carhartt jacket looked familiar but she was certain when the fluff of pastel emerged after him. She grinned but stepped away from how close she was standing with Donnelley beside his Indian.

She walked forward and waved at them, her appearance certainly not what they had seen but the black was a dead giveaway. Laine smiled, playing with the zippo in her hand covered by the cuff of the leather jacket. “Hey guys,” she called out as she walked towards them, “Cute sweater, Ava.”

Donnelley remained behind her, his arms hanging over the handlebars of his motorcycle. He took a drag and got up, swinging his leg back over his machine and walked over to where they were all gathering. In the short space between him and them, he considered how much space he should leave between him and Laine, and how much eye contact they should share. How big should he smile at her and how often should he look into her eyes?

He shook his head at that, knowing Dave knew, and apparently didn’t care. It was also unlikely anyone from the Program was watching their every move. When he got to the others he smiled and nodded, “Howdy, how’s y’all’s commute?”

Ava’s eyes widened as she looked over Laine’s outfit, surprised to see the normally put together and professional FBI agent in something more...Grungy. She blinked her eyes and smiled at the compliment, brushing her hands over the soft fabric. “Um, thanks, I got it back in Idaho and my sweater dress was...dirty.” She said, glancing up at Dave before looking away with a smile and a small blush. “So, I thought now was a good time to bust it out.” She chuckled, adjusting the beret on her head.

She turned to Donnelley as he approached, less surprised to see their Team Lead in something out of the ordinary. She smiled and waved.

Dave joined her, walking up and offering his hand to Donnelley with a grin. “Cab driver did all the work,” he said. “We just got to hang out. Kinda jealous of your ride, though.”

Laine tried not to smile at Donnelley, looking away and down, then at Ava’s beret. “Meow,” she said with a wry grin.

At the comment about the bike, Laine could not help but smile, it was a pretty cool bike and riding behind him had been thrilling if rough. It was intimate and closed the world to just them even as they whipped down a highway with the wind in their hair.

She tucked her hands in the pockets of her holey jeans, pushing down and exposing the top of the fishnet pantyhouse underneath. She considered lying, saying she too had taken a cab and got dropped off earlier but decided to just leave it.

Donnelley chuckled at Dave’s compliment, looking back at the bike in question, “Yeah, she’s a beauty. Older’n me.” Donnelley looked back at all of them and shrugged, “Used to be my dad’s, tried to keep it as original as possible. Not many nineteen-fifties Indians on the road no more, so y’know.”

He glanced at Laine still in the leather jacket that was almost painfully obvious didn’t belong to her, “She turns a few heads.” He chuckled to Ava and Dave, cracking a joke, “This place ain’t the seediest bar I could find, but it’ll have to do.”

Ava’s eyes widened at the mention of the year of the bike. “You have a nineteen-fiftie Indian!?” She asked with bright eyes. “Can I look at it?”

“Yeah, well, come on over.” Donnelley chuckled at Ava’s sudden excitement and led her over to the bike.

Laine stepped aside as Ava zeroed in on the bike, now standing near Dave. She glanced at him, his hair and beard grown long since their time in Idaho and Alaska. Mountain man indeed. “How’s it going?” she asked, feeling suddenly self conscious as she knew that he knew what Donnelley had told him. “Enjoying this time off?”

Dave nodded a greeting to Laine as she approached. He watched Ava fawning over the bike with a smile.

“Yeah, it’s been nice. Just...Havin’ time together,” he said. He sighed and looked back to Laine. “How ‘bout you? Enjoyin’ the downtime so far?”

"It's nice, you know," she agreed, rocking on her heels in the heavy boots. "Not having everyone around, I mean not you guys but just...I know I've got a lot waiting for me back home. Going back to work after all this and trying to focus on my day job. So, I'm just trying to enjoy this free time and not worry too much."

She glanced at Donnelley and Ava talking about the bike and looked at the ground, the pitted asphalt and tiny shards of broken glass. "Just blow off some steam before going back to the real world. I think I might get shit faced."

“No reason not to,” Dave laughed. “Ain’t like you’re drivin’. Hell, I might catch a good buzz myself, since we’re gonna be takin’ a cab back. Been a while.”

"I remember that moonshine, think they have anything close?" Laine asked, a grin forming on her face.

Dave laughed. “No chance.”

“Let’s find out,” she said, reaching out to give him a tug on the sleeve. She turned to the two by the bike, “Alright, enough fawning. Let’s get drinking.”

Ava looked away from admiring the engine on the motorcycle, after listening to Donnelley explain what parts were original and what ones had to be replaced with all the fascination of an excited school kid. “Uh, you guys will have to do my drinking for me.” Ava chuckled. “But it’s been awhile since I had a Shirley Temple.” She said, walking up to Dave’s side with a grin. “It’s a great bike.”

“It is a pretty great bike,” Dave said. He put his arm around her waist. “I think Laine’s thirsty. An’ I could go for a whiskey, myself.”

“Somebody say whiskey?” Donnelley quirked a brow and smirked, “Come on, let’s go get us a booth and then I can whoop Dave’s ass at Buck Hunt.”

The bar inside was low lit, an amber glow from the overhead shaded lights and the neon beer signs, a strand of red Christmas lights scorched crimson over the small bar tables against the wall. It was over half full, people ranging in ages from twenties to forties, most dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts, some dressed in full punk gear and others with heavy biker boots and unpatched vests.

The clanging of a pinball machine drew Laine’s attention as she stepped in, the body heat from the close quarters had her taking off the warm leather jacket and hanging over one arm. Off to the left there were arcade games as advertised and in the room beyond there were pub tables and a lone pool table currently being run by college age kids in funky meme t-shirts and one girl with a purple fauxhawk.

“Nice place,” Laine said, the people looking over at them but she did not sense hostility, but it was early and no one was drunk yet.

One of the waitresses passed by, her long hair in a high ponytail and she wore hot pink plastic frame glasses, “Hey, guys. Seat yourselves, I’ll be by to take your order or you can get drinks at the bar.”

“Y’all wanna get us a table while me and Dave get drinks?” Donnelley asked.

Laine took Ava’s arm, guiding her out of the way of two big burly men that looked like bikers but they had none of the patches of an outlaw MC who followed them into the bar. They nodded and excused themselves, heading to the bar.

“We’ll grab a table by the wall over there.”

She gestured to the ones opposite the bar and close to the games.

Ava eyed the games with interest as she followed Laine’s guidance over to the table. She focused back on her friend and smiled, wrapping her arms around her and giving her a quick friendly hug. “You look like you’re doing better, I’m glad.”

Laine was surprised and grateful for the hug, embracing Ava with a tight squeeze. “I do feel better, what a couple of days off can do, right?”

She glanced away and gestured to the tall pub table with the tall stools. “Need a boost?” she teased as she pushed herself up into the seat. “How’s it been with Dave, how’s he doing?”

Laine looked over at the men at the bar with the other crowd waiting on the one server. It might be few before they returned with drinks.

“Better, I think,” Ava said, hopping up onto the stool as her face grew thoughtful. “We went on a hike on Mt. Rainier today, poor Prince was passed out in the hotel room when we left to come here.” She chuckled and smiled. It dimmed slightly. “It was a really good day, but...The night before.” She hesitated and glanced over to Dave at the bar.

“Nightmares?” Laine asked, looking at Ava, “It can be very hard on survivors, even if things turned out for the better, he had a few days to grieve a great loss.”

“There is that, but,” She looked back at Dave before turning back to Laine. “I...left the room, when he was still asleep, to take Prince to the bathroom and get us some food. He woke up while I was gone and thought...That I was still…gone. That I never actually came back. He said it was only for a minute, but...That had to have been an awful minute.”

Laine also looked over, following her line of sight and glanced away from Dave to Donnelley, his familiar stance and frame she could recognize anywhere. She tried not to look too long. Laine glanced up at the chalkboard menu that she could hardly read from this distance and finally said, “I can imagine. That panic of waking up and thinking he was back in Hell.”

She toyed with the chain around her neck and then dropped her hands, looking at Ava. “Do you want my professional opinion?”

“Of course.” Ava answered without hesitation, the concerned frown deepening on her features. “I want to help Dave, however I can.”

Laine clasped her hands in front of her and leaned forward, her deep green eyes meeting the bright blue of Ava’s, “He needs you. He needs to spend as much time with you as he can, physically, emotionally...I saw his face when he saw you were alive.”

She smiled a little, her eyes starting to glisten at the memory. “He blames himself, both of them do. And it’s not their fault, but they’re men and they feel they failed to protect their...well, he feels he failed to protect his woman. You know Dave. I think that you might not mind spending all that time with him.”

She reached over and opened her hand to her, “I know it’s hard for you, too. Seeing him hurt and panic over you. Don’t blame yourself for it, ok? Now, as pleasant as that all is, he’ll need to talk about it. Sometimes we can’t tell the ones we feel closest to everything in our hearts out of fear of hurting or worrying them.”

Laine found herself looking past Ava towards the bar but pulled herself back to the young woman in front of her.

Ava looked at Laine, then reached out to take her hand. “I can do that.” She said quietly, with a small smile. “I want to do that. Alaska was...pretty fucking bad for us too.” She said with the smile fading from her face as she started down at the table, squeezing Laine’s hand. “I want to spend time with him too.”

“I know it’s probably new for you,” Laine said, a teasing smile appearing on her face, “I’m sure you and him will help each other. Though I do want to offer my help for either of you, should you need it. Not just as a friend but as someone that’s had a couple college courses that need to get used.”

She shrugged a little and squeezed Ava’s hand, pulling back and she reached up to toy with the ring on her choker absently. Laine looked back over at the bar, more people had arrived since they sat down and it was getting crowded. “Hey, you ever play pinball?”

“A few times.” Ava smiled and let go of Laine’s hand. “And, thanks Laine.”

Laine ran a hand through her dark hair and ruffled it, “Anytime, of course. We’re a family now, aren’t we.”

“After a couple drinks, we’ll hit that pinball machine. So...I know you don’t drink so I’m apologizing ahead of time for dealing with me drunk,” Laine said, then snorted a soft laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, just consider me the designated sober person.” Ava chuckled. “I’ll make sure everyone gets a cab if they need it. Especially can’t have Donnelley riding home on that motorcycle.”

“Bless you,” Laine snickered, then said dryly, “And yeah...you know I have a feeling he might be stubborn about that. Just a hunch.”

“I can be very persuasive.” She said, then mimicked a sad puppy dog expression.

Laine rolled her eyes and laughed, “Yes, you win. I might have a couple tricks up my sleeve in getting him to cooperate.”

She gave Ava a sly look, she was wearing a sleeveless tank top she wore now exposed and her tattoos on display since the leather jacket hung off the backrest of the pub stool. “So how’s the dog? Do you still have him?”

“He’s good! He’s back in the hotel room, completely exhausted after the day of hiking.” Ava chuckled. “I left him a bowl of water and the tv on, but he should be fine while we’re here.” She reached into the pocket in her skirt and pulled out her phone. “I have pictures, do you want to see?”

“Of course, he’s a cute dog,” Laine said, leaning over her crossed arms to see the phone. “A hell of a find.”

“Yup.” Ava said with a clearing of her throat.

>THE D-BOAHS...///

Donnelley watched the single bartender at work as she buzzed around the patrons at the other end of the bar, making them all the fanciest drinks Donnelley had ever seen. He figured she’d appreciate that Donnelley, and most likely Dave, would have simple drinks in mind. The two of them stood side by side watching the bartender work. As Donnelley looked around at the other patrons, he felt a bit like a sore thumb, like the only wolf among a pack of sheep. The only bars he’d gone to besides today were the ones he and Queen would hit up, where you were equally as likely to find someone to fuck as fight.

But tonight was supposed to be happy. No thinking about Alaska, or West Virginia, just about whatever they were going to get into tonight. He forced on a smile even though he knew all these people brushing past his back would get old real quick if he didn’t get his drink soon. Loud bars and crowds had never felt the same after all those years in dangerous places. The only things keeping him in check was standing right next to him and sitting at a table on the other side of the room. He looked back at the table in question and his eyes fell on Laine, the sight of her almost sapping his anxiety away.

“You doin’ better now we got some time off?” Donnelley asked, glancing back to Dave to start some conversation seeing as they’d have to wait some time before the bartender was freed up, “I know I am... kind of.”

Dave rested on his elbows, back to the bar, watching the crowd mingle around them. He found his gaze returning again and again to Ava, and he smiled when Donnelley spoke.

"Definitely doin' better, man," he said. "For the most part. Shit's still weird, but… It's gettin' better."

The bar was a far cry from the country dives he frequented in Arkansas; he wasn't sure he'd seen so many facial piercings in one place before. Still, the other patrons seemed easy-going enough, and the pistol in his waistband and knife snugged to the small of his back were reassuring. He idly wondered whether any normal Joe would ever intimidate him again.

He shot a sly look at Donnelley. "How are things with you two?"

Donnelley chuckled, sucked at his teeth. A shrug and a cheeky smirk were his only answers for a bit, “Ain’t had a better couple days in a while, tell you what.”

“What y’all been busyin’ yourselves with?” Donnelley asked, he chuckled, “Since I steered you from wastin’ your money anywhere within a couple miles of the airport, I guess.”

"Went for a hike," Dave said, visibly brightening. "Hard hike up the mountain, picnic, then a nap in the sun and a slow walk down. Wore the pup out so he shouldn't wreck the hotel room while we're gone. Otherwise just takin' things easy. Sleep late, watch movies in bed. That sorta thing."

“Yeah, that sounds real good, man.” Donnelley smiled at Dave, sincerity in his eyes for the man’s happiness. After the time they’d all had in Alaska, they were due for some. “I’m real glad. Me and Laine, we cruised down Ruston and watched the water. Played some of my old records at my place and just kicked back.”

He had a guilt in his smile then, remembering everything he and Laine had done behind closed doors, but also what he’d told Laine, “I told Laine what we talked about.” He said, “‘Least some of it. Told her I told you about me and her.”

Dave tensed at his words, relaxing only when he realized that Donnelley was talking about their relationship. Not what he'd done in that barn.

"What'd she say to that?" Dave asked. He turned, focusing more of his attention on Donnelley now, though he still kept an eye on their surroundings. "She seem alright with it?"

“Well,” Donnelley chuckled at that, seeing Dave’s face expectantly waiting for the answer, “Yeah, she ain’t mad. Ain’t ecstatic neither.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but it caught in his craw for a second, “It just ain’t, uh, professional. I told her that, bein’ honest, I look at you and Ava and… a Company man like myself gets jealous.” Donnelley shook his head and shrugged, scratching at his beard. “I think it’s the normalcy. I don’t know.”

"Sorry, man," Dave said. He winced a little. "That's shitty. I guess it's easier for us, I ain't exactly professional as it is. I'm probably a bad influence."

Donnelley shook his head and waved Dave’s concerns off, “Don’t give me that, man. Just don’t be, you know, tongue wrasslin’ front of Foster or anybody.” He laughed, “Me and Laine are fine. Ain’t hurtin’ us none, you two ain’t who we’re worried about seein’ us.”

Donnelley shrugged, “Anyhow,” he said, “What you got planned for four whole months? I don’t know if I’ve ever had this much time to myself. Gotta be careful else I’ll end up in a damn most wanted list.”

"Gotta see my boy," Dave said firmly. "Otherwise… Gotta get some trainin' in. For both me and the lady." He looked back over at Ava and seemed to shudder. "The way things went down… I gotta get better. Harden myself up, man."

“Yeah.” Donnelley said, turning to look in the same direction at Laine. As cold as it was to put it this way, his second chance. His first love he corrupted and got sent to live with family out East in Kentucky or somewhere, the second had enough of his apologies and took his daughter with her. It had been some time, time enough for Donnelley not to make the same mistakes he always did, for him to be better, and to treat someone right.

And how many times had he stared into the blackest parts of humanity, how much had he hardened himself against anything and everything to the point where pulling a trigger was easier than falling asleep between then and now, “Just make sure you still recognize who’s in the mirror by the end of it.”

“Hello!” Donnelley flinched at the barkeep’s voice, turning to her to see her eyeing the both of them flirtatiously, most likely giving it her all for big tips, “What can I get you boys?”

Donnelley chuckled and smoothed his hair back as he looked the attractive waitress over, a modest bust, but hips and thighs that could kill. If he were a younger and singler man he might’ve tried his luck and had as much fun failing as he could, “Well, I’ll be havin’ me a whiskey sour. My friend here…”

>...///

When the men finally returned from the bar, Laine gave a fake clap and looked at Donnelley and said dryly, "I thought I was going to have to go remind you we had a table."

She took the cherry vodka sour from him with a hint of a smile. He had remembered from the first time they had drinks together.

"I'll get the second round," she said as Dave and his whiskey settled in and a Shirley Temple in a tall narrow glass was placed in front of Ava.

Laine took a sip the sweet cherry of the grenadine mingling with the sharp alcohol, the two drinks were nearly alike but hers had vodka, house brand by the burn.

“I remembered,” Donnelley feigned anger mirroring Laine, a small hint of a smile on his lips as he sat down next to her. He tapped his temple, “Got a mind like a steel trap, I don’t forget nothin’.

He took a long sip of his whiskey sour and smacked his lips. He’d made it a double, “Anybody wanna make their drinks a little stronger, I picked up some shots on the way.” He opened his vest to show the inside pockets filled with more than a few of the little bottles they handed out on plane trips, “Pick your poison.”

“That steel trap better not get rusty,” Laine said then reached over to pick two, a Malibu rum and a Grey Goose vodka shot.

“I’m good.” Ava said, smiling over at Dave as she took a nice long sip of her Shirley Temple. “I really am going to be the designated sober person tonight aren’t I?” She grinned over at Donnelley. “I’ll make sure to take care of your bike.”

Donnelley tipped some more of the whiskey sour down his throat and wiped his mouth off on his flannel sleeve. He laughed at Ava, “In your dreams, missy.” He chuckled good-naturedly at Ava, “Where’d you get your love of motorcycles from?”

“My grandfather was a mechanic and he liked working on cars and bikes even after he retired.” She answered with a shrug and a small smile. “I ended up liking it too so it was something we bonded over. My grandmother got me into baking so I spent equal amounts of time covered in engine grease or flour.”

“I respect that.” Donnelley frowned appreciatively, nodding, “That’s some honest work right there. Computers, engines, ovens. What can’t you do?”

Dave grinned and reached over to put a hand on Ava’s shoulder. He had a glass of Number 7 sitting on the table, neat like Grampa took it to this day.

“I need to train her up on plant identification, ‘fore she tries to walk through anymore poison oak,” he said. He squeezed her shoulder to take any sting out of the words. “She ‘bout let Prince drag her straight through a patch of it. It’s alright though, I stopped her before either of ‘em got hit and we’re plannin’ on some outdoorsy trainin’ when we get back.”

Ava flushed in embarrassment. “I can identify flowers pretty okay.” She mumbled before taking a long sip of her drink. “A tree just looks like a tree to me.”

“We’ll get ya learned up,” Dave said brightly. “It’ll be fun. I won’t even make ya crawl through it.”

A flashback to SERE School played through Donnelley’s head as he snorted, sipping at his drink, “Sounds grand.”

“Ah, the great outdoors,” Laine said, knocking back the mini Malibu and grimacing at the sweet coconut taste. That had been a mistake. “I love nature, when I can watch it from my bed on TV.”

She shoved the empty bottle in her pocket, then added the extra vodka to her drink, “Ava’s pretty well rounded, I want her on my team during the apocalypse.”

“I really think Dave is probably the better choice for an apocalypse scenario.” Ava snorted.

“Long as the apocalypse happens outside a city,” Dave shrugged. “Probably all better off stickin’ together. We can take on the rest of the world.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Laine said, giving their mountain man a warm smile and then knocked back the double vodka.

“I work better alone.” Donnelley said in his deepest, cheesy action hero voice before knocking back the last of his whiskey sour. “But I’ll make an exception for y’all.”

Laine rolled her eyes and laughed, feeling the pleasant fuzzy warmth from the first drink. She ate the cherry, plucking it off the stem and popping it in her mouth. “I don’t have any of those survival skills, I can cook but...” she frowned and looked brightened. “I could make some really cool DIY post-apocalyptic outfits.”

She laughed, then slid off her chair and said, “I’m getting a second round and some quarters.”

Laine sauntered up to the bar, leaning on it and noted the bartender’s appearance then shot a look over her shoulder at the table. No wonder it had taken so long. She smiled anyway, her lips feeling a little numb.

“Can I get a Long Island Iced Tea, two shots of whatever whiskey rednecks like the best and another Shirley Temple?”

“Sure thing, doll,” the bartender said and set to mixing the drink.

“Oh can I get ten bucks in quarters?” Laine slid the bill over the counter.

A man around Laine’s age perched himself on a stool next to Laine at the bar. He was wearing a leather jacket not dissimilar to Donnelley’s, though considerably less rugged. His medium length hair was slicked back and a pair of aviator shades were pushed up his forehead. He smiled at Laine, trying subtly to give her a once-over, but it was obvious enough to the woman. His friend behind him was dressed much the same, though a couple inches taller with a shaved head and short beard.

When the bartender left to fetch Laine’s quarters, the longer-haired man chuckled, “I take it you’re not a regular? Haven’t seen you around before.” He said, “I’m Seth. You know, you wanna hang around with me tonight, I can show you a couple places.”

Laine turned when he spoke but she had already spotted the swoop in from the corner of her eye. She looked him over then smiled politely, “Two strange men and me? Sorry. I’m here with someone...with friends.”

She gestured back to the table where Donnelley and Dave sat, Ave perched between them. “I appreciate the offer,” Laine said, the vodka still making her feel in a buoyant mood. “Nice sunglasses.”

Laine giggled then took the Long Island Iced Tea, sipping from it. The bartender returned and Laine began stuffing the quarters into her pockets of her tight jeans, trying not to drop any.

A couple bounced onto the floor and Seth got up from his stool, giving Laine another smile as he bent down and retrieved them, “We can be friends too.”

Seth offered the quarters to Laine, but another man’s hand roughly snatched them out of Seth’s palm. Donnelley, standing there and somehow making a friendly smile look menacing. The scar on his cheek helped, “Thanks, hoss.”

Donnelley turned to Laine and put a hand on the small of her back, nodding to their table, “Go ‘head, me and Dave are ‘boutta shoot us some bucks.” The Texan in his voice was busting through the levee now that alcohol was in his veins. “You need me to get you another drink while I’m here?”

Laine felt the heat of the iced tea after taking one drink and looked at Seth who did not get the message. She bit her lower lip, feeling the numb fuzzy sensation and was about to turn him down again when Donnelley appeared.

“I got you guys whiskey,” she said, trying to gather the drinks, her long ago experience waiting tables kicking in. “But yes, I’ll have another.”

She smiled at Donnelley, the warm affectionate grin she had only used in private with him. She was not drunk yet to forget and caught herself, turning to go back to their table with a more neutral expression.

Laine made it back to the table, sliding the shot of whiskey in front of Dave and another Shirley Temple to Ava before sliding into her chair. She sized up the drink in front of her, then looked over for Donnelley, leaving his shot beside the empty glass.

Back at the bar, Donnelley leaned against the bar top, resting on his elbow. He smiled at Seth, and Seth smiled back. Donnelley slapped down a hundred dollar bill on the table, a bit more forcefully than needed, “Buy you and your friend here some drinks on me.” Donnelley nodded, “And I’d really appreciate it if you and Stone Cold Steve Austin back there left me and everyone at my table the fuck alone. Please.”

Donnelley walked backwards, giving the both of them his kissy face before he turned and went back for the table, a smile plastered on his face before he picked up the shot Laine had gotten him, “Where were we?” Donnelley asked, “I remember Dave was about to tell us a story or somethin’.”

“Well, I have quarters,” Laine said and stood to empty her pockets to leave them mounded on the table. “Everyone can grab what they want. I have my eye on that pinball game. Then maybe some pool if the table clears.”

She took a long sip of her iced tea, then turned to Donnelley, “I had that handled, you know.”

Laine reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, then murmured, “But good looking out.”

Ava’s eyes went over to the claw machine over by the pinball game, before looking to Dave with bright eyes and a grin.

Dave followed her face and then laughed.

"I take it you're gonna be spendin' a few quarters at the claw?" He said. He picked up his shot, waiting for the toast.

“Only 5 dollars worth.” Ava said, picking up her own glass. “That’s my rule with claw machines, I don’t play past 5 dollars if I haven’t won anything.” She grinned. “But I usually win, I’ve done research.”

"Girl, that's half my quarters," Laine teased, "You better use that big brain to figure out the trick to snatching plushies."

She chuckled and raised her tall "tea" glass, looking at Dave expectedly.

Dave clanked his shot glass against the Long Island, downed it, and then thumped it down on the table. "That's the good stuff," he sighed. He gave Ava a nudge. "C'mon, let's go check out that claw machine before I go shoot some bucks with Donnelley."

Ava reached over and scooped up about 2 dollars worth of quarters. “This should be enough.” She beamed, hoping off down the chair and taking a long drink of her Shirley Temple. Then she grabbed Dave’s hand and walked with him toward the claw machine.

Donnelley watched the both of them traverse the bar towards the claw machine, hand in hand. Donnelley watched Ava, how happy she seemed now. He remembered blaming himself for everything, but watching the two together, especially after the talk he and Dave had by the fire… he felt his heart warm a bit at that. He looked over to Laine with a tender smile, a feeling of calm enveloping him in her eyes. Just for tonight, and the past few days, there was no war. There was no fight to throw himself into. Just her.

“I love you, Laine.” Donnelley said, “A lot.”

Laine smiled around her straw, finishing the sip of her drink. She leaned in, looking into his eyes and said in a low voice, “I love you, too.”

She grinned and lightly bumped his boot with hers under the pub table, “But I’ll still kick your ass at pool.”

Donnelley laughed and slapped the table, a big grin on his face, “Oh, okay. It’s fuckin’ on, lil’ missy.

Laine sucked the last of the long island iced tea out of the glass and set it down, “You just wait.”

The college kids had cleared out and Laine rushed to smack a stack of quarters down. She waved at Dave while Ava was focused on the claw seeking some plushie that caught her eye.

“Alright, cowboy,” Laine said, selecting a cue that did not seem too warped, then chalked the tip. “Your break.”

“Get ready to be humbled.” Donnelley winked at Laine, licking his teeth and then lining up his shot.

>...///

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Donnelley watched Laine float around the pool table sinking the pool balls in ones, and at one point a couple twos. And it was the third time he’d tried to beat her. He threw his hand out and mouthed a swear at Laine, “Jesus Christ, when the fuck were you gonna tell me you were a prodigy, woman?”

Laine bent to line up the last shot, the eight ball banking and rolling smoothly into the far corner pocket as she had predicted. She smiled at his exasperation and took a sip from her second iced tea, now feeling loose and buzzed.

“I told you right now, I was going to kick your ass. I hope you do better in Big Buck Hunt,” she said, leaning on the pool stick with her hip canted. Laine walked past him and said in a low voice, “Saddle up tonight, I won.”

She winked back at him, teasing him for his cockiness earlier, and sipped her tea as she waited for him to gather the balls and put them in the triangle, the loser’s duty.

“We should make a scam outta this. I can be your fall guy.” Donnelley smirked, glancing at her as he retrieved pool balls from out of the pockets, “Won’t even have to try that fuckin’ hard to make it convincin’...”

“I’ll just wear a low cut shirt, that seems to distract you,” she chuckled, sipping her drink. Laine gazed at him, her green eyes glassy now as she grew more tipsy. “Well, it’s good to know we’ll have a side hustle if this whole thing doesn’t pan out.”

She wanted to go up to him and kiss him, biting her lower lip slightly instead. Laine took a deep breath and handed him her drink, “Excuse me.”

Laine felt that looseness when she walked, glad she wore boots and not high heels as she was buzzing and feeling good, a sure sign she needed to slow down. As she went past the other couple at the claw machine, Laine tapped Ava on the shoulder, giving her a little smile, “Bathroom buddy, want to make a run to the ladies room?”

“Sure, just give me 5 more seconds…” Ava said, her eyes on the literal prize as the claw dropped down and closed over a plushie of a very chubby fox. There was a pause before the claw gripped the fox and started to lift it out of the prize pit. “Ha! I got it!” She laughed, pumping her fists up in the air as the claw dropped her prize into the chute.

She bent down and retrieved the chubby fox, holding it to her chest with a grin. “I shall name him Chunk.”

Laine clapped as the fat fox dropped, her mood unusually bubbly, “He’s adorable, look at his tiny legs. Let Dave watch him, I need to go and I don’t wanna go alone.”

She glanced over her shoulder, Seth and his big bald friend were still at the bar, drinking on Donnelley’s dime. Laine shrugged it off and held her hand out to pull Ava along.

“Oh, sure,” She passed the fox over to Dave. “Be right back.”

It wasn’t long after Donnelley finished fixing the pool table that he joined Dave next to the claw machine. He wasn’t exactly drunk, but Donnelley wasn’t sober, and after the loss against Laine he was fixing to win something. Donnelley eyed the fox in Dave’s hand and smirked, “Nice.” He chuckled, “This your plus-one? She’s kinda foxy.”

Dave was a few deep himself, though he’d been sticking mostly to beer after the initial whiskey. He kept eyeballing the people who passed, judging the quality of the various tattoos and trying to figure out if any looked like the shitty ink he’d seen on the Russians they’d killed. Still, the grin on his face was genuine and he held up Chunk when Donnelley spoke, turning the toy.

“You know me, man, I got a weakness for redheads,” he laughed. “Laine done kickin’ your ass at the table?”

“I’ll slip you a fifty if you never talk about that fiasco again.” Donnelley smirked, folding his arms and putting his back to the row of arcade games similarly to Dave, “Between you and me, I was not lettin’ her win. Woman’s got a future in pool if this whole thing don’t work out.”

“Shit, I’ve knocked around some balls before,” Dave said. “Might hafta give it a go, see if she can beat a mountain man.” He glanced at the beer he held. “After another drink or two. I ain’t at pool-shootin’ levels yet.”

>..//

Laine swayed out of the stall once she finished and went to wash her hands, she was still grinning as she sung Happy Birthday under her breath. Once she was done, she looked at Ava and grabbed a paper towel. “Alright, look.”

She ducked her head and looked under the stalls then back at her, “I got something I need to say, to tell someone or I’m gonna bust.”

Laine grabbed her shoulders, leaning in closer with the faint scent of booze on her breath, “It’s just between us...our group. Can we keep it that way?”

Ava looked at her with a mixture of amusement, curiosity and a healthy amount of confusion. “Sure Laine, I won’t say a thing.” She said with a small grin. “What’s your big secret?”

Laine took a deep breath, her green eyes shone like wet glass from alcohol and emotion, “I love Donnelley.”

It came out in a rushed whisper then she said again, “I love him and he loves me, oh shit. It’s not supposed to happen but it did. And I’m happy an we're like, together.”

She sobbed and laughed at the same time, biting her lip. “I’m sorry, I’m drunk I know.”

Ava blinked and stared at Laine with her head cocked to the side, the gears visibly turning in her head as she processed the information. “You...And...Donnelley?” She repeated slowly, as though putting together the components for a complex math equation.

“When did...I’ve never...What?” She asked, her expression completely befuddled by the confession.

Laine stared at her, expecting not that answer and then she laughed, “Oh my god, of course...”

She hugged Ava, squeezing her arms around her smaller frame, then let her go. “Never change. But yeah...we’ve been sorta seeing each other, on the downlow. It’s not exactly professional for a supervisor to date a subordinate. At the Bureau it might get someone transferred or formally disciplined...”

Laine ran hand over her own shoulder, brushing down the black inked scene of the beach at night, picking up the chain that acted as a strap for the tank top. “And we’re in love. So, there it is. He told Dave before we left...it’s fair you know, and I wanted to tell someone. Because I’m really fucking happy.”

She wiped her eyes and laughed again, “Jesus, those long island ice teas.”

Ava returned the hug without much thought, still processing the information but she focused back on Laine. She saw the smile on her face, the way her eyes lit up and the tears of happiness glistening in them. Of course, a lot of the energy and giddiness was on the alcohol, but that still originated from genuine emotions.

She smiled and hugged Laine. “That’s great Laine, that’s really great! I’m so happy for you two! Screw what regulations and professionalism says. We need whatever happiness we can get in this line of work and I’m so, so happy you two found that in each other.”

Laine sniffled and took a deep breath, “It feels really good to say out loud. We been feeling some kind of way for awhile but...you know, things.”

She wrung her hands and shook her head, glancing in the mirror saw the smeared eyeliner giving her racoon eyes. “Oh brother. Well, I’d love to say screw it. But truth is, I don’t want to endanger the team so...well, once we’re back in the field we’ll keep it cool.”

Laine rubbed at the black smudges making them a little worse then gave up, “But fuck it, not now. I’m happy. He’s happy. You and Dave seem very happy!”

She hugged Ava again, leaving her arm around her shoulders, “Alright, I’m done with my weird happy breakdown. Also...he doesn’t know I told you but he’ll be glad to know he doesn’t have to act like we’re just friends around you two.”

“You guys really fooled me, that’s for sure.” Ava said, running her hand over her braid. “But I guess I’ve always been a poor judge on that kind of stuff. The first time I met Queen, I didn’t realize he was flirting with me until he practically told me to my face. Same with Dave! I didn’t know he liked me until he asked me out.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “Is that an asexual thing or am I just bad at picking up certain social cues?”

Laine dropped her arm and shook her head, “I don’t know, but it’s probably more that you’re not looking for it. The asexual thing but we did try hard to not show it. I don’t know if we were as successful with everyone else as we were fooling you.”

She grinned and pulled the door open, holding it with her hip so Ava could walk through, “So, consider this a double date I guess.”

Laine followed her out, using her thumbs to slip up the straps of her tank top that threatened to start creeping down her shoulders again. “Damn things, I think I stretched it out beating Donnelly’s ass at pool.”

They passed the bar, Laine regaling Ava about the victory and she paid no mind to the men still drinking there.

Unbeknownst to Laine and Ava, they were respectively being eyed up and dressed down by Seth and his bald friend. Donnelley could see it from across the bar, having been watching the doorway into the ladies’ room and waiting for Laine and Ava to exit. His eyes were drawn to Seth, the obvious leader. As often happens, Seth noticed Donnelley too, and gave his own kissy faces back at Donnelley. Donnelley’s eyes narrowed, and if he hadn’t had to piss something mighty, he’d have left it alone.

He stared at Seth’s smirking face all the way up to the men’s room door, where he stopped and hooked a thumb in his belt loop, “The fuck did I tell you, boy?”

“Maybe you could slide me another hundred.” Seth chuckled, a big shit-eating grin from which his infuriating voice slurred out of like shit from an ass.

“Yeah, you can get it after I shove my cock down your throat in one of the stalls.” Donnelley smirked and gave his own kissy faces at Seth’s scowl as he slipped into the bathroom laughing to himself.

Dave was loitering with Chunk and his beer, watching the crowd and enjoying his time not being shot at. He brightened as the girls left the bathroom, waiting for them to arrive before giving Ava Chunk and a kiss on the forehead. He watched Donnelley leave and followed his exchange with the two men from a distance.

“Laine, you didn’t pay with a card, did ya? Used cash?” He asked, his eyes on Donnelley.

Laine smiled at the affection between the two but it faltered when Dave asked about the way she paid.

"Cash, of course," she replied, glancing up at him. "Don't worry."

“Alright, cool,” Dave said. He gave Ava’s shoulder a squeeze and shot her a reassuring smile, noting the two men at the bar getting up and heading towards the bathroom after Donnelley. “Well...You guys get packed up just in case, cuz I think ol’ Donnelley might’ve got himself into some trouble.”

He slammed back the rest of his beer, dropped the bottle on the table, and headed for the men’s room, rolling his neck and shaking out his hands as he went. A couple of weekend tough-guys were about to bite off far more than they could chew.

Laine sighed when she spotted the recognizable bald head of the taller of the pair vanish into the restroom. “Damnit,” she muttered, watching Dave take off after them and headed towards the pool table, “I’ll get my quarters.”

“Wha,” Ava straightened slightly with alarm, looking at Laine and the retreating Dave with equal parts confusion and worry. She looked down at Chunk. “I don’t suppose you know what’s going on?” She made the plushie shake it’s head. “Yeah, me neither.”

>...///

Donnelley was pissing in relative peace, and had been for the past twenty seconds. It always amazed him how much liquid the human body could hold. From behind him, he could hear two individuals step into the bathroom, and from the sound of their clothing and boots, he could tell it was those two assholes at the bar. Deadset on causing trouble, they probably were planning to beat him up and leave him in a stall. Donnelley knew this, because had he had Queen with him instead of Dave, and neither of the girls, well… they would’ve done it to Seth and his bald fucking Igor.

“You know that offer wasn’t serious, man. I’m not gonna do that kinda stuff inside a place like this.” Donnelley said as he slipped himself back inside his jeans and zipped up. He turned around with a shit-eating grin on his face, “But, if you meet me somewhere outside- oof!”

Donnelley’s head snapped back, but lucky for him, Ghost’s helmet headbutts and sparring with Poker always involved harder impacts. His nose trickled a bit of blood though, and Donnelley touched the tip of his finger to his nostril to confirm, seeing it come back red. “Alright.” Donnelley nodded, the good humor gone.

The door flew open, driven by the weight of a very unhappy mountain man. Dave took in the scene at a glance, noting the blood on his friend's face and the aggressive posture of the barroom thugs. The bald one had time to register annoyance at Dave's sudden appearance before he yelped in pain, courtesy of Dave's heavy hiking boot crashing into his shin. Then Dave was on him, his fists swinging and fury in his eyes.

Seth only had enough time to hear the door come crashing open and the opening act of his and his friend’s ass-whoopings before a heavy kick to his knee made a sickly, audible pop echo in the tiled bathroom. Donnelley had a wild grin as he watched Seth squawk and flail back onto his ass, almost tripping Dave up in his own fight. Donnelley bent over and grabbed up a fistful of Seth’s collar, cocking his arm back and then sending a fist crashing into his chin.

Baldy was leaning against the wall, held there as much by the sheer aggression of Dave's assault as by his own will. He'd managed a half-ass swing that had knocked Dave's hat askew and another wild elbow that would probably leave the mountain man with a shiner.

In exchange Dave was rocking him with every dirty strike he knew, keeping a shoulder in baldy's chest so he could hammer short, hard punches into his solar plexus, kidneys, and liver. A groin strike finally doubled him up and Dave rode him down the wall, now methodically kicking him in the face until he went to cover it before driving his toes into his thighs and kidneys to open him back up for another headshot.

"Ain't so tough alone, are ya boy?" Dave snarled. "Not so fuckin' tough alone!"

Donnelley’s assault was cut off by Baldy’s bulk knocking him aside from Seth, giving the other man time to try to stand. Adrenaline was in Donnelley’s veins now and by the time he’d somewhat righted himself another punch smacked into his ear, making him stumble again and swear. He had his arm up and chin tucked just in case there were more punches coming, and Seth came on strong again. Donnelley tucked himself in tight at the waist to receive a kidney punch that only connected with his ribs.

He responded in kind, ducking a wild hook that a toddler could’ve slipped and coming in close, two low hooks one after the other hammered into Seth’s side, one to the kidney and then his ribs before Donnelley pushed off his back leg and drove his shoulder into Seth, butting him against a wall. He stomped the heel of his boot into Seth’s toes and then sent hard knees into the inside of Seth’s injured leg’s thigh to add insult to injury there, all the while mixing in some shoulder strikes, smashing his shoulder against Seth’s chin and knocking the back of his head into the tiles.

A few more kicks, surgically delivered to the groin and the chin, saw the bald punk out of the fight. As he lay moaning in what Dave suspected was his own piss, Dave turned his attention to Donnelley and his foe. He watched the rest of the show, leaning against the wall with a booted heel on baldy's belly, catching his breath as he put in a dip.

"You 'bout done learnin' that boy his lesson?" He asked as he prodded the Cope into place.

“Let me see,” he called over to Dave, and then spoke into Seth’s ear, “You done learnin’, boy?”

Seth rested his head against the wall, breathing hard through a split lip that had already started swelling. When Donnelley stepped back, Seth only wobbled in place before carefully setting himself down on the sticky floor tiles with his bald friend. Donnelley heaved in a breath as he checked his nose again, still bleeding. “Figure we better clear out. I need a cigarette after that anyway, tell you what.” He chuckled, then clapped Dave on the shoulder, “Seriously, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Donnelley took his own advice and hurriedly strode out of the bathroom and over to the two women that had accompanied them here. Hoping Dave was on his heels, Donnelley put a hand on the small of Laine’s back and nodded for the door, speaking through a carefree smile that didn’t match the hurried words, “Let’s go, we gotta go, we gotta go.”

Dave flashed Ava a smile as he joined them. He winked at her and took her hand, falling in with Donnelley and Laine.

"Gonna head on down the road, sugar," he said. "Couple'a boys have made us feel unwelcome here."

Ava’s eyes widened. “What happened to your eye? Did they hit you?” She asked in concern, picking up her purse and tucking Chunk underneath her arm.

"Yeah, we had a lil' tussle. They were tryin' to jump Donnelley," Dave said. "It's alright, though, we handled it and ain't nobody hurt serious."

Laine grimaced at the sight of Donnelley’s bloody nose but made no attempt to stop him when he began pushing her towards the door. She glanced at him, “How bad do they look?”

“Oh, they’re fine,” Donnelley smiled, wiping away some blood from his nose again, “Just a friendly little disagreement.”

Laine shot a glare but held her tongue, for now. She hustled out the door, walking too fast and swaying a little but the pleasant drunken buzz was rapidly fading.

Donnelley caught her glare and smiled sheepishly, like a boy who’d gotten caught stealing from the cookie jar, “Everythin’s fine, lover.”

“I have unspent quarters,” she said, raising a brow as she pulled on his leather jacket. “We’ll talk about it later, let’s just get out of here before they call the cops.”

Donnelley turned to Dave and Ava, offering both of them a smile. For Dave, the two of them shook hands and then clapped each other’s backs, and he and Ava parted with a hug. It was a short round of hurried goodbyes and Donnelley made sure to voice his thanks, and his apologies for having their good time cut short. Donnelley would’ve been lying if he’d said the fight, especially with Dave by his side, wasn’t part of his fun. As Dave and Ava retreated off into the night, Donnelley and Laine hopped onto his motorcycle and made their way back to his house.

Donnelley had an idea of how he’d make it up to Laine for her unspent quarters.

>SEATAC AIRPORT
>WED, 16SEP2019
>0615...///

Donnelley and Laine sat in the quickly shrinking line for pick ups and drop offs at the SeaTac Airport. They’d smiled at each other every so often as the conversation died down. The reality that they’d be spending some more time apart set in little by little as they got closer to the airport until it was all they could think about. Donnelley depressed the gas pedal on his Bronco, the lifted four-wheeling rig guzzling gas all the way to the airport and looking like a mighty sore thumb among all the small commuter cars.

He pressed the brakes again and they came to a halt for the umpteenth time in the line. He looked over to Laine and smiled again, “Guess this is it now.” He said, “Ain’t gonna start cryin’ are you? Might make me cry, and I’m an ugly crier, don’t know if you knew. Fair warnin’.”

Laine watched the drop-off getting closer and she turned to meet his gaze, reaching to touch his hand on the gear shift. “Well, I’m pretty when I cry,” she said, the teasing smile and glint in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Because I’m not going to say goodbye.”

She left it at that and leaned over, putting her head on his shoulder, then gave him a swift kiss on his bearded cheek, “I’m only going to say, I can’t wait to see you again.”

Laine settled back into her seat, her fingers fumbling around with the buckle. The truth was she felt the tightness in her chest and pit of her stomach, almost like being homesick. She would miss him and likely cry over it once on the plane.

The closer they edged the more restless she felt, Laine had no option but to go home, work expected her in the office tomorrow. It felt surreal going back to the mundane world, especially after being resurrected.

“You always know what to say.” Donnelley smiled, though it was weighed down some with the clenching in his chest. He’d miss Laine, and no matter how much he didn’t want to, he had to let her go back home. Funny thing, there was a point in time where he was satisfied with all of them living their own separate lives. Now they had been intertwined and tangled so tightly that Donnelley could only think about when they’d meet next. “Looks like this is your stop.”

When they got to the appropriate space Donnelley merged out of the lane, then looked at the woman he loved. He had a sad smile on his face, and if Laine looked close she might see his eyes starting to mist over. He got out of the car with her and opened up the back, retrieving her luggage for her. They stood opposite each other in silence for a few moments until Donnelley realized he was almost holding Laine’s luggage hostage. He rolled it over to her as he looked off to the side, almost like if he didn’t see her disappear beyond the door and into the crowded airport it wasn’t really happening.

“Keep in touch,” he said, looking to her with a lopsided smile, “Okay?”

Laine smiled at that, hopefully she knew what to say at times when words were needed. A psychology degree still did not give a person tact. She could see his eyes, the emotion and the tears held back and looked away. If she allowed herself to start they would both fall apart. Taking a deep breath, she unbuckled her seat belt and slid from the jacked up Bronco. While he gathered her suitcase she put her laptop bag over her shoulder and gathered herself together.

She wanted to hug him tight and not let go but Laine knew she would fall to pieces and this was not the time or place. She took the suitcase, her fingers brushing over his as they exchanged looks before he glanced away.

“Always,” she said, “I’ll annoy you because before you know it we’ll see each other. You’re coming to Virginia soon I’m sure.”

She tried to smile but her throat grew tight. Laine nodded and forced herself to turn around and then looked back to see him one more time as she called over her shoulder, “See you later!”

The walk through the glass doors felt like she was treading through sludge, like those dreams where no matter how hard you try to move everything pulls you back. Laine went through the check in and stood in line, every once and awhile glancing at the doors though she could not see out and the Bronco would be gone.

Laine pulled out her phone as she waited and texted him, “Check your pocket.”

>...///

Donnelley stood and watched her leave, his Docs almost glued to the ground and deeply-rooted. He would’ve stood and waited there all day if the honking of a horn didn’t rip him out of his own little world of grief. He sheepishly waved and hurried back into his Bronco, putting it in gear and merging back into traffic. The drive home was somehow so much longer without Laine in his passenger seat and he simply sat in his driveway while his music played. It was several minutes before he decided to check his phone and saw the text, Check your pocket.

In his jacket pocket, she left a simple note torn from a memo pad with a bold heart drawn in pen and their initials in it. “I love you 4 ever” scrawled under it in her doctor’s handwriting. A teenage love note if there ever was one. He snorted out a laugh that shook his shoulders and he was one part embarrassed how juvenile they were with their love and one part endeared to it. As his laughs died down he took a deep breath and blew it out, fishing out his cigarettes and biting one out of the box.

He lit the end of it and sighed, looking at the note again. He smiled and wiped a moistening eye on his coat sleeve before texting back, I love you too.

Once inside his house he simply stood in the living room and looked around. It wasn’t as dusty as it once was thanks to Laine spot cleaning wherever she went. When he walked into the kitchen to grab his whiskey there was another pang of loneliness in his chest. The house seemed altogether too quiet without the sounds of their lovemaking or their conversations, their laughing. He shrugged off his coat and left it draped over the back of one of the couches, plopping himself down in another and turning on the tv, setting the bottle of whiskey down on the coffee table…///

He awoke with a start, sweat beading on his brow and dragging in air as he frantically looked around his living room to see nothing had changed. No threats, no guns pointed at him. It was the same dream, or one of them. Staring into those children’s eyes in Libya, and what he was forced to do. The nightmares were right on schedule, he grimaced. With Laine gone, he didn’t have that security blanket that was her presence. He reached for the whiskey bottle until his phone buzzed to life, his personal one. He looked down to see a name he hadn’t seen on his caller ID in a good, long while. He took two long swigs, one after the other and hissing with the burn. He accepted the call and held it to his ear, “...Hello?”

“Joseph, it’s Holly,” she said, her voice sounding like she would rather be doing anything else than this. Like maybe pulling a good tooth with pliers. “Do you have a minute?”

“For?” He asked, his own tone already taking on that age-old snark and resentment they seemed to have for each other. Years of unaddressed problems in a failed marriage will do that.

“It’s about Tilly,” Holly said, then paused, somewhere in the back of her mind knowing he hated that. Just like when she would tell him ‘we need to talk later.’ She grit her teeth and sighed, “She’s been asking about you.”

Donnelley quieted then, holding his breath and searching for something to say. Whether to be goddamn ecstatic or feeling some amount of dread. Dragging the man he was now across that threshold didn’t seem like the grand return into Tilly’s life that he’d imagined. He frowned and shook his head, that old anger creeping back up after imagining Holly dripping poison about Donnelley into his daughter’s ear, “I think we both knew this was comin’, Holly.” Donnelley spoke, “So, what’s she askin’ and how’re you answerin’? Ain’t makin’ me out to be too much of a rotten fuck, I hope?”

"I certainly knew it was coming," Holly snapped, "She's asking about you, who you are and where you are. Questions I've answered as truthfully as I dare. She knows you're an alcoholic, she knows about your PTSD, I've had to explain the incident at school several times as she's grown older and make it age appropriate. But most of all..."

Holly paused, the accusatory tone in her voice only fading slightly. "Mostly she wants to know why you never call or write, why you've never visited. Why you don't want to be her Dad. The same things she's asked since we split up. I've explained that it isn't about her, it's...that I kept you away, for her protection. That you had issues with alcohol and anger. She's been blaming me for years anyway, I might as well take it. It's not like she doesn't have a father, Mark is her father and a damn good one. But lately she's asking to see you. To meet you again. And not in the same way she used to use you against me. I think."

Donnelley snorted ruefully, shaking his head and looking out his window at the darkening sky. How long he had been asleep was still a mystery to him, “So, you goin’ to ask me over? Or tell her I just couldn’t make it because I’m too fuckin’ drunk.” Donnelley almost snarled, looking at the whiskey like it had been sneaking past his lips for years on its own. He lied, but taking solace and some imagined superiority knowing he was functional and not like those assholes face down in the alleys, “I cleaned up, Holly. You wouldn’t know that because you’re too busy pretendin’ we never fuckin’ met past makin’ sure I’m still alive for child support, but I’m pretty fuckin’ better.

“But if I’m goin’ to answer any questions it’s goin’ to be me speakin’ directly to her. I’m not lettin’ you control her opinion of me.” Donnelley spat, “You really told her that? That I didn’t come around, because I’m still a fuckin’ alcoholic?”

Holly made an irritated sounding huff, "Don't give me that shit, you're damn right I keep up on that child support. I didn't make her on my own and that kid has dreams. Expensive dreams, let me tell you. We do alright but you'll be paying your part for the next year and eight months. After that ..."

She let it fade off, then sighed, "Yes. Because you are an alcoholic, Joseph. You drank yourself stupid when you got home and wouldn't deal with your issues. If you're better now...I'm very happy for you. I hope you are. I don't wish you ill but I had to tell her something. Would you rather her keep thinking you just couldn't be bothered to reach out to her? That whatever was going on in your life was more important than her? She blamed me for a long time that I kept you away, I was the bad guy and it wasn't fair. I had to explain once she was old enough."

Another pause before Holly said, "So...she wants to see you in person. Mark and I talked about it for quite awhile before we came to an agreement. If you're willing to come here and with our supervision. And sober."

Donnelley frowned deep and had to keep himself from cutting into Holly. Instead he closed his eye and drew in a breath, “Of course I’ll be sober.” Donnelley swallowed again, trying to keep his anger in check and not play into those old memories Holly had of him, “I’m not goin’ to ruin my daughter’s request for somethin’ that stupid.”

Donnelley got up and looked around his pockets for his cigarettes before eyeing his jacket and retrieving the box from there. He saw the note from Laine and his anger sank back somewhat. He put one of the cigarettes between his lips, “So, when am I bein’ expected?” He asked more calmly.

"I can schedule it for this Saturday evening, she's back in school and it would be best for her to have a day to ... recover before going back," Holly said, "I don't know how she's going to take seeing you. She's excited but scared, as you can imagine. She ...she has a lot of ideas of how it'll be. But honestly, she has no idea."

"I just don't want her to be hurt again," she sighed, "I know that you want what is best for her."

“I do. We both do.” He said, walking into the garage and closing the door behind him. He sat down on a step stool and lit his cigarette, “She’s old enough to ask for the truth, she’s old enough to get it. And I’m not wantin’ to hurt anybody.”

He pursed his lips and took another drag, exhaling smoke before he spoke again, “Can we just all be passed that. A lot’s happened. I don’t want either of us bein’ the bad guys in her mind.”

Holly could hear him smoking, she had given it up years ago but damn if she didn't crave one. "Alright, Joe. We'll put it behind us for her sake. Especially if you're doing better. Mark and I agreed that if you accepted then we'll have you over for dinner and then if Tilly wants to, you both can spend some time alone talking."

She did not sound very enthusiastic but like a wary mother bear grumbling.

"This Saturday, dinner is served at 7 sharp," Holly added.

“Okay.” Donnelley nodded, though Holly couldn’t see it, “I’ll be there.”
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Leidenschaft Relax, only half-dead

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>BLACK DIAMOND, WA
>19SEP2019
>0600...///

Early riser. Always had been. Just felt right that way for Mark Grier, son of a Navy Officer who ran his household like the seamless operation of a ship when Mark was just a kid. He didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps into the military, though sometimes he’d wanted to, instead he dedicated his time towards college. At the end of it all, he’d become “the computer guy” for an aerospace company. He managed the entire computer network of gray haired, fat men that had too much money thanks to Boeing, Airbus, and even the DOD. Not that it was a horrible job. It had helped buy this fancy house whose garage he was currently working out in.

He lay in a puddle of his own sweat, looking up at the ceiling and thinking. Holly had said she’d called that man, the one she hadn’t seen in ten years. If Mark was insecure, he’d ask Tilly why she was even bothering wondering about who her birth father was. The few times Mark was able to talk to her about it, she said she’d only remembered snippets of living in Seattle with her mom and Joseph. Dad as it was back then. What Mark was now. He sighed, getting up and removing his sweat-soaked shirt, making his way through the house and back upstairs to see if Holly was awake yet. He stopped by Tilly’s door and heard the faint sound of some punk band leaking through headphones. It must have been blaring for her. He walked on, opening the door to his and Holly’s room.

Holly was almost awake, hovering in that gray area between the two states as her body decided whether it would like to be nauseated or not. Most of the morning sickness had passed but there were still those mornings when she spent it hanging over the toilet. The rising uncomfortable feeling slowly went away as she sipped from the bottle of water. When Mark entered, she had just flopped back down, her dark blonde hair tousled.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she muttered then sat up, planting her hands on either side of her hips. Her slender form was clad in a loose satin nightgown that fell over her rounded stomach. She was showing at four months, a good sign she might make it but Holly dared not think ahead so much. During this ordeal of trying to get pregnant she had become uncharacteristically superstitious. Like speaking the name of some ghost, she refused to anticipate anything more than another month at a time.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she stood up with a grunt and stretched, arching her spine but took care not to fully extend her arms or torso. It could be bad for the baby. Holly looked over at her husband then smiled crookedly, “I was going to take a shower but you look like you need one more than me.”

Mark smiled wide at the sight of his wife and her new swelling belly. He walked towards her, dropping his shirt haphazardly on the floor to kneel before like some altar of worship. He placed his hands gingerly on her stomach and kissed it, “Let’s shower together.” He rose to his feet again and gave Holly a peck on her lips.

He went for the bathroom first, not waiting for Holly to answer. The feeling of being sweaty wasn’t one Mark liked all too much. He dropped his shorts and boxers, looking at himself in the mirror. He slightly flexed his pecs and then went full in and struck a cheesy bodybuilding pose when he saw Holly looking too. The calisthenics and kettlebells were paying off, “You like what you see, cutie?”

Holly brushed his sweaty hair when he kissed her belly, smiling at his tenderness. Without answering she followed him to the master bathroom, picking up his clothes as he dropped them to tosse them in the swinging door of the built in hamper. She slipped her nightgown off and did the same, laughing softly at his pose.

“No,” she said, then grinned, “I love what I see.”

Cheesy humor aside, he did look better and she thought maybe him focusing on his health had helped get her knocked up. At least the sex had become better. Holly stepped forward, catching sight of her profile in the mirror, still heart stopping was the convex curve of her stomach after so long. She leaned in, reaching past him to crank up the hot water comfortable in their shared nudity and closeness.

“Help me shave my legs,” she said, “You’re not too manly for that are you? With all your muscles.”

Mark snorted, “Oh, anything for Holly. I live to serve, my dear.”

Mark planted another kiss on Holly’s lips and then searched the drawers. Not finding it within the first five seconds of looking netted the inevitable question, “Where’d you put the razors again?” He asked, rifling through a drawer, “Unless you want to use my clippers. Do we need to yet?”

“Clippers? You ass, I don’t need those,” she said, “Top drawer, the pink disposables. This belly is starting to make it hard to bend, you know, gracefully.”

The last thing she wanted to do was overcompensate and faceplant in the bathtub, she had become clumsy as her pregnancy advanced which according to the books was normal. She hated it and took extra precaution, stepping into the hot shower slowly and turning with her hand braced against the wall. The water soaked her blonde hair dark and she sputtered, wiping her eyes as she waited for him to enter.

As he did she reached for the shampoo and offered to get his hair while he faced the shower head. “Have you talked to Tilly?” Mark asked while Holly squirted shampoo into his hair, “One of her friends is having a sleepover in a few days. The Ryans. Should we let her go?”

Holly rubbed the suds, massaging his scalp and she raked her nails lightly against his scalp, “They seem to be sane, I think it’ll be fine. I’d like her to have more girlfriends. She’s always hanging out with the boys at the park, which is fine but you know. I’d just like her to learn to like doing her hair or something, she never lets me touch it anymore.”

Holly sighed and leaned against him, her arms around his shoulders, “I used to braid her hair and she’d wear the cutest sundresses. Now I can barely get her to not wear a hoodie in the summer. It’s 80 degrees outside for god’s sake.”

“And boys that age. I know how they are,” Mark hissed, “I was never like that… I think.”

Mark nodded, thinking it over. Their daughter’s choices in attire or music, or interests were never something he associated with ‘girliness’ or ’femininity.’ As a father he didn’t want her prancing out the door with little left to the imagination, but Holly was right. “I don’t even know how to broach that subject with her. She’s sixteen, everything’s always you wouldn’t understand and leave me alone, dad.

“She’s changing.” Mark sighed, “And what she asked you about… Joe.

The warm water rinsed the shampoo from his hair and she kissed the back of his neck when he brought up Joseph. She did chuckle and murmur, “I’ll have to ask your mother next time how you were at sixteen.”

She ran her hands down his stomach and rested her belly against his back, “As for Joseph, it’s always troubled her I think. She loves you, you’re her dad but so is he. For all the hell he put us through he always loved us. He just...he’s damaged. And an asshole. I understand why she’s wanting to know why her biological father hasn’t bothered to keep up with her. It has nothing to do with you. Tilly’s not a little girl anymore, I can’t keep explaining it away with excuses. He needs to tell her why and I’m terrified of how it’ll hurt her.”

Holly hugged Mark tight, feeling his soap slick skin, “I can’t protect her from the world like I would want to, like I tried to.”

“You’re right.” Mark said, soft, feeling Holly embrace him. They stayed like that for a bit, just them and the warm water, “I hope she knows I’ll be here for her if the truth hurts that bad. I never liked him, but this isn’t about us, you’re right.”

>...///

Tilly sat in her room, jamming to Gang Green, another cool old band she found on Youtube. She was drawing, hunched over the paper and the violet prisma pastel was moving in short strokes. Sure, she had the drawing program and the touch pad but sometimes a girl just needed to feel the physical nature of the pencils and paper. She bobbed her head as she continued to fill in the color of the octopus arm, the tentacles surrounding the human skull, some curling around the eyehole and mouth.

It looked rad. She smiled at her work, a rare expression on the teenage girl. Her long blonde hair fell forward like a curtain as she finished off the suckers and sat back, looking at it from a distance. This would look cool on a skateboard, she decided.

“Tilly! Breakfast! I don’t want to climb the stairs again so get down here!”

Her mother again and Tilly sighed, putting away the pencils and set the paper between the covers of an art portfolio. She grabbed her Vans and laced them up, pulling them tight. Tilly wore jeans and a band shirt, today’s flavor was Trash Talk. Tilly snatched her hoodie, the back emblazoned with the Bouncing Souls heart and crossbones logo.

She swung around the bottom bannister, and marched into the kitchen. “Bacon? I said I wasn’t eating bacon anymore.”

Holly looked up as she pushed the bacon from the pan onto the paper towels. “Well, the funny thing is that there are like two other people that live here, kiddo. And we like some bacon.”

Tilly made a wry face then leaned to give Mark a quick hug, “Hey, Dad. You shouldn’t eat it either, it’s really bad for you.”

She sat down, scooting the chair up to the table with her hand on the seat. There were pancakes, the bacon, and fresh fruit. Holly was really going all out today. Tilly swung her feet and hooked them behind on the cross bar of her chair. As she helped herself to the strawberries and cantaloupe, she looked up at her mother, “So, tonight right? We’re still down to cook right?”

Her worry manifested itself in the need for reassurance, Holly knew, she remembered the little girl asking if Daddy was going to be ok. And she would answer that Daddy was just needing a nap, when he was shit faced drunk and had been up for two days in fear of nightmares. Holly pushed a smile to her face, “Yes, I’ll be there to help but this is your thing, Tilly. Don’t stay out all day and come home expecting me to have done it.”

Tilly leaned back, brushing her long hair away from her eyes with her free hand, “I know...I was just checking. You sure he likes Italian?”

Holly gazed at her daughter, she could see Joseph in her, the bright blue eyes and sun freckles, the way her lips turned in a smirking smile before she said something smart assed. She sipped her coffee, “You don’t worry about that, everyone likes Italian.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she agreed, cutting into the pancakes. “It’s no big deal anyway, if he doesn’t like it. I’m not worried about it.”

Holly glanced at Mark, Tilly had been on edge about what to make since she had agreed to call him and he accepted the invitation. The teen switched between anxious concern to aloofness as quick as an oscillating fan turned. But her mother was not fooled, she knew this whole visit was stressful and tried to keep assuring her but in her heart she feared Joseph would let her down again.

Mark finally put his phone down, work emails about work on a work phone had replaced work emails on a work computer at work. Even after scoring a position he could work remotely from and spend more time with his family came stipulations and a ball and chain. He’d heard Tilly telling him to avoid red meat and pork for the six-thousandth time this month and plucked a strip of bacon off his plate. Crispy, just like he liked, and he crunched it between his teeth while looking at Tilly, “What was that about bacon, dear?” He smiled at Holly, “Is there still some left for Tilly?”

“Oh,ho ho so funny, Dad,” she mocked him, poking a fork in a cube of melon. With a wry smile, she added, “Excuse me for caring that your heart doesn’t explode.”

She had eaten bacon a month ago but after learning about what nitrates did to the heart she had become insistent on her parents dropping bacon and lunch meat. “It’s not like I’m asking for us to be vegetarian,” Tilly reminded them, “Besides, pigs are super smart and cute.”

She added the last bit almost like an afterthought but Holly knew better, Tilly had a soft heart for animals, ever since she was a kid. And despite her cool aloof skater girl punk thing that she had become she was still an empathetic girl with a big heart.

“I’m gonna go to the mall and then skating with the guys,” she stated rather than asking but then said, “So, did you ever decide about Emma’s sleepover?”

“Emma seems like a very nice girl, and her parents seem normal,” Holly said, glancing at Mark. “No reason we should say no. I want you to have a good time. Get your nails done, we used to give each other manicures. And we’d do makeovers…”

“Ew, Mom. You’re making me not want to,” Tilly said, rolling her eyes.

Mark snorted, “Come on, kid, it’ll be fun. No one’s asking you to stick with the girly stuff.” His tone took a tad more serious air, “Tammy called me about Jacob, one of the boys you hang around with. She said she grounded Jacob because he was fighting behind the Community Center with another boy.”

Mark stopped chewing and looked at Tilly, “Please, don’t tell me this is the caliber of people you’ve decided to spend your High School years with.” Mark forked some eggs into his mouth and chewed just a bit before swallowing, “Not to mention that Mitch kid and him smoking pot.”

Tilly’s eyes widened as Mark spoke about Jacob and she leaned forward, “He had a good reason for knocking the snot out of that boy. He was being a real douche.”

“Tilly,” Holly said automatically, “Language.”

“Well, sorry Mom but that guy was talking a lot of shit, like he was saying that girls had no place on the ramps and…” Tilly hesitated, the whole situation had been bad but Jacob had stood up for her and the other girl that hung around with them. “He said something really offensive and Jacob let him have it. He beat the hell out of him.”

She smiled a little, then brushed her pale hair out of her eyes, “It was kinda cool.”

Holly took a sharp breath, “I understand it might seem deserved, but fighting isn’t the answer. Violence just leads to people hurt and more violence.”

The unspoken example hung above them and Tilly nodded, “Yeah, I know.”

Holly waited a bit then said, “And this boy, Mitch? Smoking pot?”

Tilly ran her fingers through her hair, and shrugged, “I don’t smoke it, so why should you care?”

Holly glanced at Mark then back at Tilly, she stood up to take her plate to the sink and tapped Tilly on the head. “Because it can be an influence.”

“Trust me, honey. It’s a thin line to walk.” Mark tipped his head towards Tilly, “We just want what’s best for you. Don’t do anything that might compromise your chances at college.”

Tilly toyed with a piece of over syruped pancake, “I guess, and I’m not going to screw it up. I really want to go to college, you know that. I don’t just do things because people want me to.”

She realized the slip before she could catch it but ducked her head, finishing the last bites.

“So when do you think Joe Dad will get here?” Tilly asked lightly.

“Your mother has set it for dinner. Maybe 6, I have to ask her again.” Mark said, glancing over to Tilly and feeling the same nerve she might. He was nervous too, almost wanted to skip his workout this morning, “I told your mother this, but I’ll tell you too. I’m always going to be here if…”

Mark struggled to find the correct words. He realized there probably weren’t any, he settled for a lame, “Well, I’ll always be here. Always have been. I love you, Tilly.”

Tilly watched her step dad struggle with the awkwardly emotional moment and she felt her face redden. She shrugged, swiping her long hair back from her face, “I know, Dad. You’re my dad but so is he, I didn’t ask mom to call him because I thought...you know, I thought you weren’t being DAD enough. I just…”

She hunched her shoulders, her face still fresh and young, not one for makeup her features were pale. “I want to know things,” Tilly tried to put into words the desire to know her biological father, other than the faint childhood memories and all her mother’s stories.

She stood up suddenly and hugged Mark, “Alright, that’s enough. I’m gonna go skate and probably swing by the mall.”

Holly had waited while they spoke, the tension there brought once more by her ex. She stepped over to Tilly and side hugged her, “Do you need bus money?”

Tilly cupped her hands together, her blue eyes widening, “Can I ‘ave some more? I kinda wanted to buy something for D...Joe. Just like a little thing.”

She squinted and pinched her fingers together. Holly chuckled and sighed, “I’ll get my purse. Where’s your allowance.”

“I bought that pencil set off Amazon,” Tilly admitted.

She came back with some cash and watched her daughter stuff it in her pocket and grab the skateboard leaning against the wall near the door. “Got my phone,” she said, pulling it out from her pocket. Tilly tried to duck out before Holly caught her. “Your helmet and pads, young lady. Now.”

Tilly growled, “I hate the helmet, I look like a dork.”

Holly crossed her arms and Tilly sighed dramatically then snatched her gear to put it on.

>1730...///

Agent Orange’s Bloodstains and the loud roars of a motorcycle’s engines filled the peaceful forested backroads. Trees passed in a blur of green and wind buffeted Donnelley’s bandana covered face. The drive from Seattle had been easygoing, and he’d felt confident, talking himself up the whole damn way. Now that he was at the mouth of Holly and her husband’s long driveway that led down to their large house and plot of land, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe a younger Donnelley would rev his engine and speed back off and away, but Tilly was the one who asked him to be here. Whatever he and her mother had spat at each other years ago, none of it was Tilly’s fault.

As he sat idling at the end of the driveway, he’d made his choice. He ambled down the stretch of asphalt and cut his engine after walking the bike behind the cars. One a BMW, the other a Mercedes. The house looked nicer than the one in Seattle, nicer than one he could afford. It was two stories, and vast. If they’d have shown him a picture of it back when he was in the trailer park he’d have called it a mansion. He wondered if he could go back to the apartment in Turkey now that he’d seen a house like this. He immediately went to wondering just what the fuck Mark did for a living. At least Tilly had a good home though. That’s what mattered. And at least he’d been able to clean up as nice as he could. He’d shed the denim vest with the Special Forces patch and the shitload of band patches, leaving it with his helmet on his bike, that trusty Indian motorcycle.

At least the beard did some to cover up the burn scar on his cheek. With that, there was no hiding. He could dress nice, put on the last button up shirt and pair of slacks he had that weren’t bloodstained or reeked of gunpowder and sweat. But that scar. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and reached to the doorbell, his finger hovering just an inch away. He forced himself to press his finger into it and crossed the point of no return. Mark was the one who opened the door. He looked at him and Donnelley could tell his eyes were looking for something on him to pick at. Judge. Donnelley had done a lot, and he did enough judging of himself already.

But he understood, no matter how much that look made him want to smash his fucking head in. He had to remind himself it had been years, and no emotions were worth ruining Tilly’s day. Plus, opening up his front door to a man like himself, Donnelley didn’t know how he’d feel about that. “Hey, Joe.” Mark said, flat.

A ghost of a smile, the bare minimum of what was required. Donnelley returned the same, and then offered his hand to the other man, “Hey, Mark.” They shook, firm, but noncommittal, “What’s, uh, what’s for dinner?”

Mark didn’t answer, simply shutting the door behind him and leaving the two of them alone. Donnelley’s heart pumped hard, a part of him wondering if Mark was putting his foot down, drawing a line in the sand to stop with this crazy fiasco in the making before it blew up in everyone’s faces. “I need to ask you something.” Mark began, his voice firm, “No funny business, okay? We eat dinner, we chat, you get to see my…”

Donnelley’s eyes narrowed, already feeling his hands begin to tighten, his temper flaring before Mark continued, “Your daughter. Tilly. You get to see Tilly.” Mark stood his ground, a slightly smaller man than Donnelley, but standing up to someone who looked like he did took some bravery. Some courage, some love, “We’ll all get together and you and Tilly can talk-“

“Tilly and I can talk alone.” Donnelley struggled to keep his voice from becoming a growl through his gritted teeth, “The only reason I’m here is for her. She’s the one that asked. She’s the only one who gets answers.”

“She’s my daughter too, Joe.” Mark said.

“I was there when she was born. I held her in my hands the first time she ever cried. I’m talkin’ to her alone.” Donnelley stepped closer, and still Mark didn’t show a sign of being nervous, “She deserves the truth. Not some sugar-coated bullshit I have to coo to her with you and Holly breathin’ down my fuckin’ neck.”

Mark and Donnelley stood opposite each other then, both not speaking, staring into each other’s eyes. Not backing down. After some time, Mark nodded. He turned his back and opened the door, stepped inside and left it open for Donnelley, “Why don’t you come inside, Joe.”

Donnelley smoothed his dress shirt down and took a breath, calming himself. Already, he didn’t like Mark. The inside of the house matched the rich tastes of the outside. Modest chandelier in the entrance, a stairway in front of the door that led up to the second floor. There was a living room to his right that Mark led him through and then the kitchen beyond. No sign of Tilly yet, but then he saw the other woman in his past life. Like a ghost made solid before his eyes, he looked at her back in disbelief while she was fussing over a stove and stirring something. He caught himself wondering if she was as beautiful now as she was back then and then stopped himself from staring, looking away and glancing at Mark. Luckily Mark was busy checking his phone to notice Donnelley’s looks at Holly. He looked from Mark to the table and the arrangements that had been made. He guessed his spot was the last there, Tilly and Holly at either side of him at the head of the table.

Holly could hear them and it took all she had not to whirl around to see Joseph, to see what life had done to him since she had seen him last. Or what he had done with himself. Instead, she stirred the Bolognese sauce, then turned off the heat.

The pasta was drained and drizzled with olive oil and Tilly was allowed to pick the wine from the shelf in the basement. She was still down there when Joe arrived and Holly was grateful for a moment to gather herself in his presence.

She turned around, Holly was dressed in neat casual slacks and a cardigan, a cute retro gingham apron covering her clothes that Tilly had bought her as a joke for Mother's day.

The apron hung loose, untied but as she pulled it off, the shape of her body under the clingy top would be revealed and there was no hiding her current condition.

"Joseph," she said, folding the apron over her arm. Holly's gaze strayed to his face, the shock of the burn scar had held her tongue. Despite the ginger beard, it was quite visible and drew attention. She blinked, trying to recover from staring at it and forced herself to meet his gaze.

A history of a lifetime in those blue eyes but a past life, nothing she wanted anymore. Holly smiled tightly, "Thank you for coming. Tilly should be up any moment."

A hundred questions filled her mind but she put them down, they would at least have a pleasant dinner before accusations and excuses flew.

She stepped a few feet closer to him, close enough it was obvious she was doing a smell check for whiskey. Holly breathed deep and eyed him, "She helped make dinner so I hope you like it."

“Holly…” Donnelley was taken aback seeing that her stomach had swelled. The one thing that could mean. He had to remind himself that Holly was Mark’s wife now, and had been for almost a decade.

“Thank you for havin’ me.” Donnelley gave his own tight smile as Holly hovered next to him, no doubt doing the old trick of making it not look obvious she was smelling him for alcohol. Only difference this time was he was the guest. He hadn’t had a drop since he’d gotten to the house in Seattle, made sure he didn’t even eye a bottle. There were a lot of them, “I’m sure it’ll be delicious. You two were always the better chefs.”

He tried at some warmth for a change, ease some of the tension he’d felt building. He looked at Mark and saw him doing a great job of trying to ignore the tepid reunion. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling awkward at just standing there, “Should I… do you need my help with anythin’?”

Holly looked him over again, he had tried to dress nice, at least he wasn’t wearing that ragged old vest. Tilly somehow managed to get his eye for fashion without him even being here. The pictures were there though and she wondered if that's where the girl got her fascination with that music in the last few years. The thought flitted away when he asked to help and she kept the ironic acid from leaking too much.

“No, I don’t,” she said too quickly, then tried to soften it. “Why don’t you take a seat, I’ll get Tilly.”

With a glance to Mark that lasted for a brief moment but said that she was on edge and trying her best for their daughter, Holly went to the basement door and called down, “Are you stomping the grapes yourself?”

“I just don’t know which one.”

“Tilly...he’s here, just pick one,” Holly said, “He won’t care, he’ll drink it just the same.”

It is booze after all.

Tilly felt a thrill of excitement and worry when she heard that her dad was there. She snatched a bottle of red with an unpronounceable but distinctly Italian name and ran up the stairs. Despite Holly asking her to change into something more presentable, the girl was dressed in jeans and sneakers though she had changed her shirt after a shower. It was a favorite of hers, a vintage JFA tour shirt that she found at an independent thrift shop on a trip to Seattle she made that she had not told Holly about. Instead, she had passed it off as an Etsy purchase when Holly asked.

Tilly bounced into the kitchen, her blue eyes flickering around nervously as she gripped the bottle with both hands. Holly nodded at the table, and the girl peered over the breakfast counter at the ginger haired man. He looked older, grizzled with a beard but the same profile. Taking a deep breath she kept the bottle of wine as something to hold onto as she stepped awkwardly around the corner, her long blonde hair falling forward as she lowered her head a bit with a sudden shyness.

Donnelley’s heartbeat quickened, almost jumping out of his mouth and onto the table when he heard Tilly’s footsteps. It was the best kinds of nervous, Donnelley being happy for the first time to have to hide his hands and wipe his palms on his pants when no one was looking. When she finally came into view, his eyes widened, his mouth almost agape. She’d grown so damn much, and immediately the weight of ten lost years pressed down on his chest to the point he had to look away from her and clear his throat, blinking away wetness.

“Um, hey, Joe...Dad,” she said, looking back up at him. Her eyes widened at the sight of the scar and she blurted out, “Jesus, what happened to your face?”

Tilly caught herself, blushing, “Sorry. Um, I hope you like…wine.”

Planting the bottle on the table beside him, she stepped back, no longer having a prop to occupy her hands she folded her arms.

Donnelley’s breath hitched in his throat when Tilly commented on his scar. He was used to it, sometimes. Other times, not so. But he took it in stride, seeing her turn red at the unexpected choice of words and not wanting to make it seem like she’d ruined his mood. After all, she’d made it. She could slap him in his face and he’d just be happy that at least there was some amount of justice for the absence. But there were other ways. “I, uh,” he looked up at Holly, her gaze could’ve burned through to the back of his skull to see him touch another bottle after only five minutes of being under the same roof, “Yeah, I’ll have a glass. Just one.”

Tilly looked at him, the same frank and examining gaze he might have had at her age. She wanted to ask him so many things, he did look happy to see her even after her blunder over saying something about the scar but it would wait. Instead, she gave a hint of a smile and turned to Mark, “Hey, Dad, do you have the bottle opener? I didn’t see it downstairs.”

At Tilly’s calling out for Dad, Donnelley reflexively opened his mouth to say something before seeing she was looking at Mark. He shut his mouth and took his seat next to Holly’s, across from Tilly. The two of them hardly looked at each other, Donnelley making out like the shade of paint on the walls was the most interesting choice he’d seen. Every so often, he’d glance at Tilly just to take her in. Until now, she’d been forever eight years old, and to see her as a young woman was as beautiful as she was, but also as painful as anything Donnelley had felt before.

Tilly took her seat, not ready to hug or even shake hands with her natural father, not yet. Holly noticed it, she had not known how Tilly would react if she would run up and hug him or smack him. But she should have known, it would be this, the aloof pretend to be cool with everything attitude, like nothing bothered her. Holly knew better, Tilly could be a sensitive girl at times and this age it was magnified.

Holly went to the kitchen with Mark who was getting the wine opener and said softly, “What do you think?”

She spoke as she tossed the sauce with the spaghetti so he could carry it out and she would take the salad.

“Well,” Mark raised his brows, not knowing exactly if it was going good or not, simply that Joseph hadn’t threatened to choke him yet. From their conversation at the door, he might’ve. He gave Holly a reassuring smile as he found the corkscrew among a hundred other kitchen implements, “All things considered, everything you’ve told me. It’s going okay so far.”

He took the pot in his hands, “But, really. I hope she gets what she asked for out of this. I told Joe as much.” He said, a very, very egregious oversimplification, “Let’s have dinner and we can all chat, okay?”

Once the food was on the table and everyone served, and had begun to eat, Tilly watched Joseph from the corner of her eye with his wine. She and her mother had water and Mark had a full glass of the Sicilian red.

They ate in silence for a while, the oppressive weight seemed to grow until Tilly finally asked, “Mom said this is how we used to make spaghetti. That it was the first thing she showed you how to cook.”

Holly swallowed and almost choked as Tilly brought out the memory of their earliest years. She glanced at Mark then at her daughter, “Tilly why don’t you tell Joe about that camp you went to over the summer.”

Donnelley looked up from his plate as he chewed, locking eyes with Holly and then looking at Mark. Holly was busy trying to forget they were ever married and Mark was looking at Donnelley expectantly. He swallowed, clearing his throat softly and making sure he could speak. He took one last look at Holly before his eyes returned to his plate and he twirled another morsel, “Yeah, easiest thing she could teach me.” He said, he smiled at the memory, “You weren’t even born yet. When she saw my idea of food she took me for some uncultured savage. Pretty soon we were cookin’ from every kinda book you could imagine.”

He felt nervous, speaking about their marriage at first, their history, but the more he talked the easier it became. Until he almost had to shut himself up, “When you were old enough, we’d let you pick what book and what out of it we made.” He was smiling now, cheek to cheek, “‘Course, you’d usually just make us have mac n’ cheese and chicken strips.”

His smile faltered just a tad when he looked up at Holly staring at him, before she looked away and suddenly didn’t have the time for him, looking at Mark. “But, yeah. First thing she taught me to make.” Donnelley finished, his voice not as jovial, “So… Summer Camp, yeah?”

Tilly listened attentively, but noticed her mother’s discomfort. She ignored it for a moment, smiling a little as she said, “I do love chicken nuggies.”

She leaned forward, poking at her salad, “Well, I mean it’s kinda nerdy but we have this naturalist club at school and they had a two week camp for marine science. We learned how to kayak off the coast, how to do water samples, and we studied tide pools but the coolest part was we got to sleep over in the Aquarium. And they did this whole thing about the intelligence of cephalopods which was really the actual coolest thing.”

Her rare display of enthusiasm made her blue eyes sparkle, “So octopus and squid are really smart, like ape smart. They can solve problems and use tools. And we’re over here eating them with marinara sauce.”

Holly looked at her with pride, it was something that finally interested the girl that did not have anything to do with punk music, skateboards, or video games.

“It would be tits to have an octopus as a pet,” she said, “I’m just saying.”

“Language.”

“Sorry mom, but still, I stand by that statement,” Tilly said.

“I don’t think just anyone can have it as a pet.”

“I know...I haven’t even got to get a dog,” she muttered, swiping the garlic bread against the plate.

Donnelley heard Tilly talk about her two week trip, the excitement in her voice, the glint in her eye. The more excited she grew talking about what interested her, the more his smile grew. It was still just so odd to see the girl he’d only known as a child growing into her own woman, her own opinions, interests. He looked down at his plate and kept his chuckle to himself when she’d used some colorful language at the table, prompting her mother to rebuke her. He reached to his glass of wine and took a small sip, replacing it, “That’s good, I’m glad you’ve got somethin’ you’re passionate about. Makes me happy knowin’ you’re already smarter’n me when I was sixteen. My high school never did anythin’ like that.” Donnelley snorted, “The town your mother and I came from was ‘specially small. Stand on one end and jump to the other, almost.”

“Seem to have come a long way though,” Donnelley said, looking over at Holly and Mark, sprinkling some politeness into his voice, “Doin’ well for yourselves. You don’t mind me askin’, what do y’all do?”

Holly stiffened slightly when he spoke of their hometown and now her upgrade in social status. Asking what they did when he was the one that vanished into the ether for a decade. She could only imagine what he was up to, if he was still in the Army or if he’d moved on.

“I do mind,” she said, “Maybe you should tell us what you’ve been up to?”

Tilly widened her eyes and shot a look at her mother. “Mom it’s just a qu-”

Holly put her hand up, the surge of protectiveness and hormones mingling with the resentment of years, “I’m interested what’s kept you so busy. But if you really want to know, Mark does very well in IT for a big contractor, I was doing client care until a year ago. Nothing so exciting like jumping out of planes.”

Donnelley and Mark caught eyes then and that was the first time the entire night it looked like they’d both been caught off guard by Holly. Donnelley wanted to curl away from Holly when she even quieted Tilly. And then he felt that twinge of anger again, like he was back in his younger years and the two of them were locked in an angry exchange of venom. He looked at his plate, absently twirled the morsel he’d yet to eat a few noodles bigger. When he thought he was calm enough not to sling some choice words for basically telling his daughter to shut her mouth, he spoke, “Well, I don’t usually jump out of planes anymore. Much boring now,” he said, wondering how to explain his years of absence while not breaking down the wall and revealing the dirty world of espionage and murder his life had become, “I work for a research firm, contracting for the State Department. Diplomatic stuff, mostly advisory.”

Holly felt her jaw muscles twitch as he explained in a shallow excuse that felt so familiar. She laughed suddenly, shaking her head, “Diplomatic? That’s perfect. You’ve never been diplomatic in your life. In fact this…”

She sat forward and pointed at the table, “This visit is the most diplomatic you’ve ever been. Diplomatic, advisory...is that some sort of euphemism like collateral damage?”

“Mom…” Tilly said in a small voice, reaching over to touch her arm. “Please.”

Holly heard her and felt her and she covered her hand with her own. “It must be damn interesting work, Joseph.”

Donnelley was white-knuckle gripping his fork as Holly went off on him. That little voice in the back of his head he barely used to listen to told him he deserved it, but there was a lot of other feelings that drowned it out. He opened his mouth, pointing his fork towards her with narrowed eyes, “At least let me fuckin’ try, just one goddamn-“

“Everyone!” Mark rose his voice above the growing others, looking from Holly to Tilly, then finally Donnelley. The fire in the two ex-spouses rising only to lower as the two of them seemed to transfix their poisonous stares on him, “Holly, baby, please. Let’s just take a few minutes if we need to.”

Holly let go of her daughter’s hand, leaning back in her chair and rested her hand now on her swelling belly. Her glare finally pulled away from Joseph’s scarred face, behind all her anger she wondered how he had got that and how close to death he had been. She and Tilly may never have known what happened to him, he might have just vanished completely from their lives.

Tilly could not look at any of them, her fork now laying on her plate. She took a deep breath, her long hair falling forward to hide her face as it often did. Without a word she pushed back from the table and walked out of the dining room.

Holly called to her, “Honey…”

She did not respond but climbed the stairs to her room and shut the door, it had been the same. Just like when her father had left the first time. The yelling, the verbal darts, the pain that had never healed the absence. And she had asked for it, begging her mother to invite Joe over. The girl sat on her bed and put her elbows on her knees, her fingers combing through her pale hair as she put her head in her hands.

“Fuck this,” she muttered, pressing her face against her palms to keep from crying.

Back downstairs, Donnelley sat, not able to look at Holly or Mark. Part of him felt like this was his fault, like his presence just brought a depressive cloud that choked the lightness from the room in its wake. He sighed, sitting up and combing his fingers through his hair, stroking his beard. “I, um, I’m sorry.” He said, not able to stop himself from reaching for his wine glass and tipping back the contents of it in one go, not caring if they saw or not. “I’ll just be outside. Or…”

He swore under his breath, shaking his head and desperately needing a cigarette. He remembered he’d left them in the breast pocket of his vest still draped over the seat of his bike. As Donnelley left, Mark looked to Holly, “I should go talk to her.”

Holly watched Joseph walk out, running away again, she thought bitterly but felt the weight of sadness pull at her. She sighed and rubbed her stomach, then smiled a little at the feeling of a fluttering kicking. She gazed at Mark, “I’m sorry. He just…”

He didn’t wait for Holly’s answer, simply turning for the stairs and climbing them quietly until he got to Tilly’s door. He rapped his knuckles on the wood of her door, not forcefully, but just loud enough she could probably hear, “Tilly, it’s dad.”

Tilly sat in unusual silence, letting the quiet press down until it roared in her ears, like being under water. The knock startled her and she lifted her head, tossing back her hair. It was Mark and she sighed, not wanting to talk about it but she finally relented, “It’s open.”

She lay back on her bed, the plushie squid she got at the aquarium tucked under her head. The walls were covered in posters until the purple paint she had insisted on using when she was twelve was hardly visible. Her door opened and Mark peeked his head inside, “Hey,” he said, tentatively stepping inside and closing the door behind him, “I’m… I’m sorry. I know how much you wanted this and…”

He didn’t know what else to say, settling for taking a seat next to Tilly on her bed, at her feet.

Tilly sighed then crossed her arms over her chest, “I did...I still do just that Mom. She got so angry and I know she has reasons. It’s just that...I want to talk to Joe, I want to know things and her screaming at him isn’t helping. But I don’t want her to think I’m like...taking his side, because I’m not.”

She sat up, her small frame curled defensively inward, “I don’t want her to think I’m picking him over her or you. I just…”

Tilly sighed and looked over at the wall of posters, mostly bands and album art, a few of her own drawings, art projects from school. Her old skateboard with the wheels removed and dozens of photos with Mark and Holly or her friends and cousins. The latest with her kayaking in a wetsuit, grinning with double oar held out over the water.

“I want to know why he didn’t want to know me. I need to know. If it was just the shit with Mom or…”

She swallowed hard, unable to look at Mark who had been there since she was nine, “Or maybe he just wasn’t interested. I dunno. Kids can be dumb and boring.”

“Baby, please, no.” Mark said, incredulous at the insinuation that his daughter, that his Tilly was even anything close to dumb or boring, “Of course he wants to know you. He wouldn’t take time out of his… work, to come see you if he didn’t want to know you.”

Mark looked down at the carpet. He wasn’t taking Joe’s side either, but he’d seen the way he looked at Tilly when she came into the kitchen. It was the same way he looked at her the first time Holly introduced him to her. He used to think Joe was as much of an asshole as Holly told him he was. Maybe he was. But he still couldn’t get that look out of his head, that love in Joseph’s eye at the first sight of Tilly. “He loves you.” Mark said, matter-of-factly, looking at Tilly, “And mom loves you, both of them do. They’re two strong personalities. You know…”

Mark frowned and glanced away, “I know how mom gets. But Joe’s still outside. I’m sure he’d love to talk to you.” He said, “Just you. He told me he did when he first got here.”

Tilly rolled off her bed, setting her feet on the floor. “I know, I remember how it was.”

She gave Mark a knowing look, then reached to hug him, “Thanks, Dad. I think I’ll go down there, let Mom cool off.”

Rising from the bed, she reached for a black and white cap and slapped it on her head and pulled her hoodie on despite the temperatures being in the balmy mid 70s. She looked at her desk then at him, “Here goes.”

Tilly jogged down the stairs, passing through the kitchen where Holly stood doing dishes and she recognized the cap on her head as the girl grabbed her skateboard and slipped out the door.

This time Holly didn’t yell at her to get her helmet but let her go do what she needed. Her heart ached and she prayed aimlessly Joseph did not make promises he could not or would not keep. She plunged her hands back into the warm soapy water, scrubbing hard at the pan.

A flitting figure in baggy clothes and long pale hair came flying out, jogging down the driveway and the familiar smack and hiss of a skateboard being dropped and jumped on would be heard. She rolled past him and did a sharp turn at the base of the driveway, kicking the tail down so the nose pointed in the air. Tilly rested her hand on it, holding it against her leg as she watched him smoking, her blue eyes shaded under the cap.

Donnelley heard her, then watched her roll along before hopping off her board and kicking it up to stand opposite him. The two of them stood in the dusky dimness of the driveway. Donnelley didn’t know what to say at first, part of him really didn’t know if he’d get this far after her mother had started with the yelling. As he took her in, he noticed the cap on her head, the white pattern on black, it was the same one he’d given her before the divorce. Before Holly and Tilly moved out. He took another drag off his cigarette after swallowing the lump in his throat, and nodded at her, a small smile on his lips, “Hey, kid.” A lame start, but he figured something needed saying, “I’m… sorry about what happened in there.”

He looked away from Tilly for a moment, suddenly nervous. He mustered up the courage to look at her again and looking at her eyes… they were so much like his own. There was so much he wanted to say, to apologize for. But he wanted to let her ask the questions instead of feeling awkward with her father prostrating at her feet, “You kept the cap.” He said softly, his smirking smile almost in juxtaposition with his moistening eyes.

Tilly reached up and adjusted the cap, pushing the bill so it stood flatter not unlike her upended skateboard. “Yeah, it’s a cool hat,” she said, then pressed her lips tightly together, the slight dimple appearing on her cheek then she breathed out. “It’s my favorite.”

She looked down at her board and kicked a wheel so it spun, “It’s my dad’s hat. Mom said you were a skater, too.”

She glanced at him, “And she says you listened to the same racket I do. But like...I mean, I didn’t tell her but I kinda remembered that a few years ago and started looking into it online and I found songs I liked. Then learned about it and here I am, a super cool girl.”

Her voice held the sarcasm that his responses often did and the little smirk showed her dimple. She dropped the board and pushed off, skating in a wide circle as she let that sit between them. That she had been desperate to feel closer to him so she had researched what he liked at her age, when she had been fourteen and in the throes of puberty, wanting to know who her real dad was. She felt a pang of guilt about that, not for Joe but for Mark. Still, the music and scene had stuck with her and she loved skateboarding. Tilly swerved closer to him then tried an ollie, getting the first part but her foot hit the pavement, not quite landing it. She blushed slightly then shrugged her shoulders in the large hoodie.

Donnelley watched her as she circled him, head moving from one shoulder to the other and back as he smoked on his cigarette, “You are.” He said, smiling as he watched her go round and round, “A cool girl. Really.”

He watched her try at the ollie, and if it wasn’t for the fact he hadn’t been on a board in years he would’ve offered to try at it and teach her. He chuckled softly as she looked away from him and blushed at her blunder, “I was a skater. One of the only ones in that little town your mom and I grew up in.” He said, looking up at the sky over the trees, “Listened to a shitloa-... er, a lot of punk too. Gang Green, Agent Orange, Crass… you know.”

He snorted, “Used to have hair about as long as yours too.”

Tilly put one foot on the board, moving it back and forth as she listened with rapt attention. “Mom doesn’t really talk about her…y’alls hometown. She said it was the armpit of Texas and she’s glad she left.”

Her exaggerated Texan word she had picked up from the times Holly drank too much or got upset and the dusty Panhandle drawl came out. Tilly smiled a little, “I listen to those and like Suicidal Tendencies, Black Flag, JFA, Trash Talk...man if you have all night we can compare lists.”

A nervous little half smile touched her lips, he wouldn’t have all night, just the few hours. When he mentioned his long hair she grinned, “No way, I don’t believe you. Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Donnelley smirked.

She tilted her head, trying to imagine her scarred bearded father her age with a smooth face and long gingery red hair. “That’s kinda rad.”

Her smile faded slightly, looking again at his face. She had her questions she wanted to ask but those were heavy and this was kind of fun, like meeting a new friend at the skatepark but only much more. “What was the first band you ever saw?”

“Are we talking famous or not?” Donnelley asked, “First band I ever saw was my best friend’s at a house show for someone’s birthday. Dude’s who owned the house were straight edge, but didn’t really care if you didn’t push drinks at ‘em.”

Donnelley smiled and laughed softly remembering that night, wondering whether or not to tell Tilly that it ended with the cops crashing the show. “First big concert? I actually saw Suicidal Tendencies. Seen Black Flag too, got a bloody nose from some other kid in the pit.”

“You go to shows?” Donnelley asked.

“This is punk, fuck famous,” she said then caught herself, her hand cupping over her mouth. Holly would have death glared her for that, Joe only smirked at her. Dropping her hand, she said, “Mom and Dad have let me go to a couple of festivals since last summer, mostly the bigger names in the nicer venues. Youth Brigade, Rancid, NOFX but they kinda suck, and Subhumans, I got to see the Distillers, I love Brodie she’s the queen. Oh and Bouncing Souls.”

She turned and showed the back of her hoodie then swung herself back around, “Mom of course dropped us off but it was cool like the first one I saw was Youth Brigade but man, they’re more like the Middle Age Brigade now.”

Tilly chuckled at her own joke and met his eyes, “But it was cool that they still tour. I want to go to the local shows, the real sh...stuff. But Mom’s like not having it.”

She paused, an almost sly look on her face as she considered telling him how she and her buddies skipped school and took the bus down into the depths of Seattle downtown to see The Accüsed play their possibly final show. Holly and Mark didn’t know about it or she would have been grounded. Tilly held back, shuffling her skateboard again then pushed her long hair behind her ear.

Donnelley shrugged, “Maybe I could take you some time.” He said, looking at Tilly and immediately regretting it. Already, he was worrying if his obligations would take him away from Tilly once more. Or even if he’d be able to anyway, if Holly would let him see her again. He glanced away, “If you’d like.”

Tilly lifted her gaze, a smile appearing briefly, “You mean it?”

She looked at him then back down at her board, stepping onto it and bouncing to do something against the nervous energy. “I’d like that but...you don’t have to, you know?”

The girl stepped off the board again and popped it up, catching it in her hand. Her hope teetered on her mother’s reminder of not having too many expectations of his promises. “Of course I’d like it but, why now?”

She tucked the board under her arm, looking at him directly, “Why haven’t you come to see me and take me places or just talk to me? You could have written a letter or something.”

Tilly felt the emotion she had tried to keep in check threaten, her throat tightening. She turned away from him, moving over to the curb and plopped down, her ass half on the sidewalk and curb with her legs extended, the board across her lap upside down. The deck design was immediately recognizable as a Vision brand with the bright colors twisting with black fragmented Gator spirals.

Donnelley frowned at that, pursing his lips. He took the last drag off his cigarette and pinched out the cherry, stashing the butt in a plastic bag. She was right, and she had every right to ask that. He looked at her across the way from him, sitting alone on the curb and felt his heart skip a beat. He had to ask himself the same questions Tilly did, but he knew the answer. He wasn’t ready to have her when he and Holly did, and in the days he was running with the Wetwork Teams like GRANTOR and THUNDER, he wouldn’t want a man like him around Tilly.

Was he even ready now? Was anyone ever ready? He swallowed his fears and crossed the distance between where he leaned against his bike and where Tilly sat, bathed in the streetlight’s orange glow. He sat down beside her, his legs crossed at the ankles and his elbows resting on his knees, “Tilly…” he began lamely, not exactly knowing what would come after, “Your mother and I… there’s reasons why we aren’t together anymore. I was gone a lot when you were younger, I don’t know if you remember.”

Donnelley sighed, “I don’t want to sugar coat anythin’ or feed you a line of bull…” he sighed again, he hadn’t had to police his language for a while, deciding his daughter was old enough at this point, “Feed you a line of bullshit excuses and hope that patches everythin’ up so I can have my cake and eat it too.”

He looked at her, “You’re one of the smartest I’ve ever met at your age, I wouldn’t insult you by makin’ it out to be anythin’ else than what it is.” Donnelley looked away again, wringing his hands and pursing his lips, aching for a drink again, “What I do… it keeps me busy. And I know there ain’t much empty spots in your life for me now that you got Mark, but I…”

“I want to give you that chance I never was. Watch you find yourself and be just as happy as you are for it and not shame you over it.” Donnelley shrugged, not even knowing if he was making sense, “I wasn’t… I was a fuckin’ asshole, Tilly, and I didn’t want you growin’ up with that for a dad, and I’m happy that Mark seems to be doin’ a great damn job.”

“I was just scared, Tilly.” Donnelley’s lip quivered, “Scared I wouldn’t be good enough. Scared you wouldn’t even remember me, or need me, or want me. Hell, I was scared just pullin’ up to this place. But I did it. Because, I knew you wanted me to. I think I’m finally in a place in my life I realize what’s important and I don’t want to be my father.”

He pointed at his bike, nodding toward it, “That was his. We never talked much after I left Dalhart.” Donnelley sniffled, wiped at his eye just before a tear could leave it, “Then a year before he dies, he tells me he’s got somethin’ for me and tows his old motorcycle into my driveway like that makes up for all the goddamn stupid shit I had to go through.”

Donnelley looked down at his shoes, grinding his toe into the concrete and shrugging, “I want to mean somethin’ to you.” He said, running his fingers through his hair, laying himself bare to someone wasn’t something he ever did. And here he was, not even Laine could pull it all out of him. It took a sixteen year old girl awkwardly asking who the hell her father was and asking to be accepted by him. He added quietly, “And I can’t blame you if you ain’t so keen on the idea of me still. But that’s the truth of it.”

Tilly almost interrupted him when he brought up the divorce, it was not about him and Mom. It was clearly better they were not together and Mark was good for Holly and for herself. But it did not mean she didn’t long for her birth father and his attention and love. She listened, absently spinning one of the wheels flicking it back and forth then turned to watch his face when he said he had been scared.

It had taken her a year to ask her mother about calling him, she had written dozens of letters to Joe but without an address she had thrown them away rather than mailing them. It hurt thinking about where her father might be, maybe he had another family and didn’t want to bother with the mistake of his first.

“I just didn’t think you wanted me,” she said finally, with a sigh. “I get that you didn’t want to be with Mom, and it’s better you’re not but I’m not Mom.”

Tilly looked at him, “I remember when you had that fight with the security guard at school. Mom said you were an alcoholic and couldn’t deal with the things war left in you.”

“Man, I just...it really made me feel like shit that you never called me or anything,” she blurted out. “I thought I wasn’t good, I just wanted you to like me and care.”

She swallowed hard, reaching up to remove her hat and looked at it. “I used to cry for you and Mom...sometimes she’d just get mad. Mark...he’s a good Dad. But he’s not…”

With a guilty blush Tilly glanced at Donnelley, “He isn’t you, I still need you, Dad. I still want you to...you know, to give a shit about me. I never thought about it from your side to be honest.”

Her shoulders sagged, the hoodie drooping as she did. “I feel bad because Mom and Dad are great but I wasn’t happy. I guess I’m kind of an asshole, too.”

Donnelley chuckled, looking over at Tilly. He gazed at her for a few seconds and smiled, “You’re not an asshole.” He said, playfully butting her arm with his elbow, “I give so many shits about you, Tilly, you have no idea.”

He looked away from her and at his hands, toying with them. He sniffled again and cleared his throat, “I saw you in the kitchen for the first time in years and,” He huffed, smiling, “It was like looking at you in the hospital for the first time ever. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter, Tilly, and… I’m sorry for makin’ you feel like I could ever forget about you.”

Tilly sat in silence, nodding her head at what he said. She examined the hat and folded the brim up as she mulled over his words. She huffed a laugh, shaking her head, “I doubt that, I gave Mom a hard time. I used to blame her, you know, that you weren’t around. We’re doing better now but a few years ago...it was tough.”

She turned to look at Donnelley, “Yeah, it’s tough to imagine someone still thinks of you when you don’t hear from them but I get it. Look, don’t be too mad at Mom right now. She’s a hormonal mess, this whole pregnancy thing.”

Rolling her eyes she said, “I’m just glad it happened so I don’t have to hear about schedules and cycles.”

She gave an exaggerated shiver, then smiled sadly, “This is their third try. First two didn’t make it, it sucked.”

Tilly put the hat back on and looked over at the house then at him, “But anyway, when do I get to ride your motorcycle? You could start making it up to me.”

A dimpled grin appeared on her face, the sunshine coming out from behind a cloud. Donnelley laughed, looking at Tilly and then the motorcycle, “I have every intention of doin’ just that.” He said, “I don’t think your mom would appreciate me takin’ you on a ride this late, least of all your neighbors. It’s an Indian Chief, 1953. Dad- my dad- your grandad, he tried to keep it original as possible.”

He looked back at Tilly, figuring she didn’t quite have as much of an interest in the history behind the machinery as he did. “Uh, yeah, though. Next time I’ve got some time I’ll come over and we’ll hurl ourselves down these backroads.”

He looked at the house, how big it was, how much money it had cost to live in. Tilly was in an entirely different world than him when he was her age. He could understand why Holly wanted this for her. Donnelley would too, and he did want that. But he could understand Tilly not seeing it that way, “About your mom. Holly. I hope you still don’t blame her.” He said, shaking his head, “She and I both want what’s best for you. You said it yourself, it’s best for you and for us that we aren’t together.”

“I ain’t mad at her though. I know she’s tryin’ to make sure I don’t… I don’t hurt you… again.” He said, frowning down at his shoes, “Hormones or not, I know where she’s at with me right about now.”

Tilly looked over at the motorcycle, what the story behind it was and then back up at him. "That would be pretty sweet."

She shrugged, reaching to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. Tilly said nothing about not being mad at her mother, she finally spoke, “Do you think you will actually come back and teach me how to ride the motorcycle? You won’t forget when you get busy with advising?”

Donnelley looked over to Tilly with some sadness in his eye. He frowned just a bit and shook his head, retrieving his personal phone from his pocket, “I know what you mean, but I ain’t never forgotten you. I just… got busy with advisin’.” Donnelley sighed, “But, I promise you, Miss Tilly Grier. I will call you as often as I can… right after I get your number.”

He smiled, handing the smartphone over to his daughter.

Tilly took the phone, quickly tapping in her phone number and address then took a selfie with a little ironic half smile that still made her dimple appear to add as her contact image. “Yuck, I hate taking pictures,” she said, hovering over the delete button.

“What if I wanted it?” Donnelley raised a brow, smirking a bit, “Ain’t that what dads do? I got all your old ones.”

“I always make a weird face, drives Mom nuts,” she chuckled then shrugged, “If you want it you can take a picture.”

She glanced at him, “Yeah? I was a cute kid, I dunno what happened.”

Donnelley snorted, looking at his daughter and scoffing at her comments, “You’re still a cute kid. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He shrugged, “‘Sides, you got your looks from me, and I’m damn beautiful.”

Tilly’s voice was dry but also tinged with insecurity. “Sure, you can keep it but can I have one with you?”

He chuckled, smoothing down his shirt and his beard, running his fingers through his hair to comb it, “You can have one with me.”

Tilly put her cap back on and smoothed her long straight hair behind her ears before stepping close to him. She leaned in as she held the phone up, tilting her head towards him with a close lipped dimpled smile. Her hair smelled like bubble gum shampoo and she was tall enough to have her head against his shoulder. “Say...skate or die!” She grinned then, flashing her teeth that had almost invisible braces across them.

“Skate or die!” And Donnelley had the same smirking grin as he held up his devil horns as Tilly took the picture. He did try to find some flattering angle that didn’t show his scar.

Tilly looked at his phone and at him, an amused smirk on her face but her cheeks glowed pink with delight, “You’re such a dork, Joe Dad. But this is cool, can you text that one to me.”

After a moment of hesitation she said, “Thanks.”

Her gaze lingered on his scar then she glanced awkwardly away, scuffing her sneaker on the sidewalk. “Mom’s probably watching through the blinds.”

“Yeah, let her watch.” Donnelley shrugged. “Joe Dad… I’ll take it.”

He smiled to Tilly, “Should get back inside. Probably should go soon, got some… advising to do tomorrow.” Donnelley frowned a bit at the prospect of throwing himself back into the fire so soon after, “Plus, I don’t want your mother to think I’m influencin’ you badly or anythin’. Showin’ you how to make pipe bombs or somethin’.”

Tilly rolled her eyes, “She probably would.”

After a pause she said, “You know how to make that stuff? Not that...I’d ever want to learn.”

She glanced around then stuffed her hands in her hoodie front pocket, “Mom said you were like some secret forces or special forces? Is that what you do, advising like teaching them to make bombs and stuff?”

“We’ll, um,” Donnelley cringed just the smallest fraction and chuckled sheepishly, “We’ll talk about that stuff… later. Your mom pretty much had it right, though, ‘least for a little bit. Jump out of planes, shoot at bad guys.”

“Did it all for you.” He said, and it immediately tasted like a bitter lie on his tongue.

Tilly said nothing to that, just looked at him for a long moment, her hands still in her pocket. “Sounds wild,” she finally said, then stepped on her board. “I guess you’re pretty good at it. I’m gonna take a ride around the block, tell Mom for me will you?”

Waiting only a few moments for him to respond, Tilly pushed off and went rolling down the smooth street, it had recently been repaved and was a joy to skate on. She drifted along the slight downslope, reaching into her pocket for her vape and took a hit, drawing in the flavor with the nicotine. The steam blew out, streaming the scent of mango and mint behind her.

She liked having Joe Dad around but the pain of missing him was hard to heal, he had been out being a soldier, ‘doing it for her’ while she had thought he didn’t want her. Tilly was not sure how she felt about it, why he couldn’t just tell her, something, anything rather than silence for eight years. Half her life.

Pushing off harder, she jumped the curb to dodge a car coming up the road, throwing him the finger when he honked.

Holly was watching from the windows waiting to see if Tilly might blow up on him but her fits of temper had abated over the year, the worst of it being between her 12th and 14th years. She was maturing and more liable to think about her problems than scream, that was Mark’s influence to be sure, she thought to herself. Rubbing her belly, she watched them take a picture together and felt a pang in her heart.

“I swear if he hurts her again, I will kick his ass,” Holly said knowing Mark was keeping an eye on her. She saw Tilly skate away and Joseph was left standing watching her.

“Give me a minute,” she said to him and went out the door and called from the porch like a Texan mom would, “Joseph?”

Donnelley turned around from watching Tilly skate down the road at the sound of Holly’s voice. He walked back towards the porch and stopped just short of the front steps, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, “Said she’ll be around the block, told me to tell you.” He said, voice not friendly, but not antagonistic, “You wanted to talk?”

Holly crossed her arms, glancing over her shoulder but Mark gave her her space. She looked at Joseph, her gaze guarded, "How did it go, how is she?"

Donnelley looked back over his shoulder as if he’d see her there, but she was gone at that point. He looked back to Holly, “She wants to make it out like she’s fine, but I know,” Donnelley frowned, “I’m just tryin’ at this… bein’ a… step-dad. I told her as much, but… I’m happy where she’s at, for what it’s worth.”

Holly had a flicker of sympathy in her eyes at that but it didn't last. "She's showing you what it took years to get to. It wasn't easy between the accusations of keeping you away to crying over you not loving her. Mark having to be in your shadow that was mostly made up of wishful thinking and daydreaming. She's had therapy, it helped with her anger issues she had a few years ago. You wouldn't know it now, she learned to calm herself. But there was times I would look at her and just see you. And it scared me."

She took a deep breath, putting her hands on her face then said, "Not that I ever had the best temper. She might be angry and hurt that you stayed away but she always wanted you. Please tell me you didn't promise her anything you can't keep."

Donnelley listened to Holly speak. She was right, he didn’t know a lot of things about his own daughter and it both hurt and made him elated to see how much she’d grown in his absence. How much of life’s misgivings and cruelty she’d skipped over and would never feel the sting of. Except for one, and that was all him. He sighed, shaking his head silently at first, “No.” he said, “No, I didn’t.”

He looked back up at her, “We exchanged numbers and took some pictures. I said I’d call. And I hope to fuckin’ God she knows I’m sorry.” He said, “I can’t take anythin’ back I ever did or didn’t do, but I told her I wasn’t goin’ to be like my father. You remember him givin’ me that motorcycle.”

He shook his head, knowing how little words would mean in something this tenuous as making sure there was one more sunrise and keeping his daughter happy. “Just let me try, Holly.” He said, and not being satisfied with that word, and knowing Holly wouldn’t be either, “Just let me do this.”

Holly took a deep breath, then nodded, "I won't stop you, I told her not to expect you to drop everything. But I will support you having visits. Here. And only if she wants it."

Donnelley nodded, “Fine. Of course.”

Holly glanced up at the blur of movement, Tilly skateboarding towards the house before pausing to grind the curb and land in the driveway. She saw them together and waved tentatively until Holly beckoned her.

"Hey, just needed to clear my head," she said, carrying her board. She turned to Donnelley, "I guess you're leaving soon?"

“Yeah,” Donnelley said, turning to Tilly, “Soon. I’ve still got my assignments to attend to, you know.”

Tilly nodded with a sigh and a shrug of acceptance, "Yeah, I know but can you wait a sec? I got something for you."

She grinned with excitement and dashed inside, the skateboard hitting the tile floor with a clatter. When she returned she had a little gift bag and a paper rolled into a tube.

Tilly handed him the bag, "Here, to replace the one you lost."

As he opened the gift bag she toyed with the paper. Tilly handed it to him, "And this, just something I did recently and ... well, I wanted to give you something I made."

Tilly cracked a dimpled grin, slightly embarrassed, "Maybe you can put it on your fridge."

Donnelley eyed the hat, a pattern not dissimilar to the one she was wearing. The one he’d given her as a parting gift before he and her mother split. He cracked a grin. Having matching hats with his daughter was exactly the amount of cheesy quirk he liked and he laughed as he put it on, wearing the bill to the back, “Thanks. I really like it, used to have one just like this.”

He adjusted his hat and took the paper roll from Tilly, unrolling it and looking at the piece of art. An octopus resting and curling about a heavily textured skull. The colors and shading, everything looked professional and his smile only grew when Tilly said she’d made it herself. He chuckled softly, “Goodness, Tilly,” he said, not knowing what to say about the drawing, or suddenly learning his daughter was so talented, “Tilly, this is… I mean, it looks so good. You… you are talented, Tilly.”

He stared at it for a few long moments, mouthing ‘wow,’ as he shook his head at the quality of it. He glanced at Tilly and then back at the drawing before rolling it back up, “Came a long way from crayons and colorin’ books, huh?”

Tilly blushed with pride then looked over at Holly, then up at Donnelley, “It’s pretty good, I’ve been practicing.”

Holly shook her head, “She’s been in advanced art classes since middle school, entering competitions. She won last year for a mixed media entry and placed second for digital painting. She is talented.”

“The art camps helped,” Tilly said, pushing her hands in her hoodie pocket, uncomfortable with the praise. “And I do some tutorials online.”

Her mother put an arm around her shoulder, “So modest.”

“Mooomm,” Tilly ducked out, then looked at her natural father. “I’m glad you like it, it’s kinda weird...but I like weird.”

Donnelley smiled at Tilly’s bashfulness, “So do I.”

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the heart to heart they’d had in the driveway, learning who his daughter was, who she’d become. He forced himself to, just a little bit, so he wasn’t standing there and staring at everyone like a dumbass. He stuck a hand in his pocket, the other still holding Tilly’s art, “I’d better go.” He said, looking at Holly and Mark, “Thank you, for dinner and having me over. It meant a lot…”

Mark smiled back, standing next to Holly with his hand on the small of her back. He offered his other hand to Donnelley, “Thanks for coming over, Joe. Tilly really appreciates it.”

Donnelley took the offered hand and shook it a couple times, returning his hand to his pocket. “Alright, well… I’ll be… around.” He said, then looked to Holly, “Thank you, really.”

Holly looked directly at Donnelley, her gaze like daggers but her words were in a polite tone, “I hope you appreciate what you’ve gotten into.”

She held his eyes, the tension between them strung there, Holly did not want to clean up after him again if he failed Tilly once more or take the blame. She gave a hint of a smile and softened her hard expression, “Take care of yourself, Joe.”

Donnelley had the same expression as they looked at each other. Like they were both remembering every little thing that had ever happened when they were together, and not quite liking how it all looked on them then. Or now. When Holly’s expression softened, so did his just a touch with a smile as hard to see as hers was. A smoldering remnant of the fire that had once been between them. Love, anger, everything. He nodded, just once, “Yeah. You too, Holly.”

Tilly tugged at her hoodie sleeves, her hands covered now as she hated goodbyes, it made her anxious. When the parents were done, she gave Donnelley a little wave, her slim fingers poking past the cuff of the sleeve. “Thanks for coming to see me, Joe Dad. Can I text you?” she asked, “Like just random stuff.”

Donnelley’s small smile grew a tad and he looked at Tilly, “I’d like that.” He said, “I’ll tell you next time I’m free.”

Donnelley turned around and made his way towards his motorcycle, every step away from Tilly- and Holly, admittedly- and every step towards the dangerous life he’d chosen was like another crack in his heart. Another pound on the weight crushing his chest. By the time he’d swung his leg over his bike and sat down, putting the denim vest with a hundred patches back on, there was a pain there. Like leaving little Tilly in her mother’s arms before going off to Afghanistan again. And just like those other times, he made himself hide it.

Tilly watched him leave, her blue eyes shining and she started to speak but her voice caught so she waved at him again. The emotions of the reunion were still running high and she wished he didn’t have to leave, there was so much more she wanted to know and for him to know about her. She bit her lip to keep from crying, that would do nothing but embarrass herself.

“Bye, Dad!” she called out, her voice breaking slightly and Holly put an arm around her, this time Tilly sank back against her.

Donnelley could see Tilly waving to him from his side mirror. He turned and waved back, not trusting his voice, just before bringing his leg up and kicking down the starter pedal. His Chief roared to life and growled as he rode down the driveway, turning onto the forested backroads. The echo of his engine screaming and slowly fading with the distance.

>1930...///

The forested backroads of Black Diamond and Enumclaw were too much like West Virginia for Donnelley not to notice. He rounded turns expecting to see something just at the edge of his Indian’s headlight. It had gotten to the point where he had to stop at a lone gas station, isolated at the edges of the gas pump awning’s lights with cigarette in hand. He took a hard drag and couldn’t help but to scan the empty parking lot, devoid of any other life but him. It was this hour he felt the most awake, when no one else was.

It was a silence like no other that night brought, no cars on the road, not even the birds sang at this hour. Even the highways were empty save for the sparse night owls and third shift workers. Donnelley closed his eyes and breathed deep, letting it out before taking another drag. His mind went back to the conversation with Dawant. If they can’t find a reason, they’ll make one. He remembered the unsanitized top secret documents they’d found at the murderer's shed, the mad babbling of Dulane before he cut his own throat. Like he was trying to lead them somewhere and tell them something only he could understand.

He shook his head, what did the Program have to be scared of from him and his team going too deep into Maria’s case? Into Blackriver? What did an absent county sheriff, a murdered girl, an Old Money family, and Russian Intelligence have in connection to each other worth killing for? He wasn’t just taken off the case, he was put on administrative leave, his entire capacity to follow up on the events in Iraq completely slashed and burned when fucking killing him didn’t work.

He swallowed, looking up with wide eyes, what if Clyde Baughman didn’t die of natural causes? What if… He retrieved his phone from his pocket. The one connected to his contacts within Delta Green. He needed answers. Maria needed answers. Donnelley was feeling pushed, and Donnelley never liked being pushed. He pressed the call button on one of the contacts and it didn’t take long for them to answer.

“Queen… Billy.” Donnelley spoke out into the cold night air, breath smoking on the breeze.

“I need a favor.
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