A/N Well, I'm back! Here it is, the fourth and final fic in my What Happened Next? series- quadrilogy if I'm being fancy. It shall be written in the same way I wrote Price Of Freedom, that being first person point of view with a different character's POV per chapter. Thanks soooooooo much to lepidopteron who is my fabulous beta. This story- not to mention my original work- wouldn't be half as good without her editing and helpful imput. Just because I'm lovely and I've decided to take on a challenge, there's also some Paulo/Li as well as Amber/Hex in this fic and Alex has a little romance too. Can't forget Alex! Hehehe. Due to the fact that this is first person, I sometimes have found it necessary to rewrite some of the events of the previous chapter at the beginning of the one after. Make sense? Basically it means that some events you'll read about twice, each time from a different character's POV and a different vantage point. Still confused? Don't worry, it won't happen for a while and then you'll see what I mean. So, hope you enjoy the first of my new Alpha Force fics as much as I've enjoyed writing it :) Prologue
The building was huge, almost as wide as it was tall. It perched between a block of offices and a newsagency, scowling out from beneath the dull grey paint that covered its exterior. This was a building that kept its secrets close; the outside bore no clues as to what was hidden inside, who worked there, what went on behind closed doors and concrete walls. It had been there for so long that the local people had almost forgotten it existed. It was just another drab building in an equally drab part of town. There was nothing special or memorable about it. It was just a building.
The lobby of the building was as posh and upmarket as the outside was monotonous and cheap. Seated on the black leather couch by the elevators was Lucas Hart. Mid thirties, average height, average weight, Lucas was about as memorable as the building. Lucas also kept his secrets close. An ex-criminal, Lucas had a vast amount of cash and priceless antiques. He'd hidden the wealth under different names, in different banks, in different countries. All untraceable, at least not back to himself, but all easy for him to access whenever he saw fit. It was the perfect set up and Lucas had retired, happy and content four years before. But old habits die hard; a motto which Lucas found suited his life perfectly.
Now though, seated on the very edge of one of the couches, Lucas looked anything but content. His fingers picked uneasily at the leather, his foot tapping away to some silent beat. A small mobile was clamped to his ear and the person on the other end of the line was the sole cause of his anxiety.
'You promised it would be ready, Lucas.' Lucas flinched. No matter how many times he heard his boss' voice, he still wouldn't get used to the rasping of it. It reminded him of sandpaper. An accident, his boss had said. A run in with some Americans who he'd crossed. Lucas hadn't wanted to know any more, hadn't wanted to hear the details of how his voice had been ruined.
'I know, sir, but we've hit a bit of a glitch.'
'A glitch? What sort of glitch? I'm telling you, Lucas, it better not be anything too bad or...' His boss trailed off, not needing to finish. Lucas understood exactly what he meant. He heard the unspoken threat as clearly as if his boss had shouted it at him.
His fingers dug into the leather. 'Yes, sir. I promise, sir. We've got some people onto it. It'll be fixed by the time you get back. I promise, sir.'
'Good.' His boss gave a harsh chuckle. 'I'm trusting you, Lucas. Don't let me down. I've been let down too many times before. Don't join that list of traitors.'
There was a click and Lucas lowered the phone from his ear. He took a few deep breaths and put the phone away. Now that he'd gotten rid of his boss, his fingers stopped digging into the leather, his foot stopped jumping and he began to relax. They'd fix it on time. Lucas bit his lip. They'd have to or his boss would make him pay.
Glancing at his watch, Lucas gave a small gasp and leapt to his feet, dashing for the doors. He was gone in a split second, forgotten by everyone who'd seen him. The only evidence of his visit was contained on the tapes of the security cameras and marked by the small indentations in the leather couch by the elevators.
Don't judge a book by its cover. The cover may be uninteresting, plain and safe, but the contents of the book might be life changing. World changing. Threatening.
Deadly.