Disclaimer: UC: UnderCover, its premise, its characters, and its episodes do not belong to me. Nor do the characters of ER, whom I borrowed. The only characters I do own are Joanna, Alicia, Aurora, and Marina Donovan, Valencia Cordoba, and the villain.
Author's Note: This is a semi-crossover with ER. That is to say, ER characters are in this, and the hospital featured is County General (since both shows are set in Chicago). However, there will be no ER pairings in this story. No Carby, no Luby, no Samka (I don't like Sam). The prime focus is on the UC characters. Other characters from other shows will be making an appearance as well. . .I'm hoping for 'Adventure Inc' and 'Due South,' but anything is possible.
Okay, now that's out of the way. . .on with the fic.
Prologue
One last task, and then he could retire. He wasn't sure what he would do yet, once he was finished. Travel, maybe. An obvious choice, but no less an option. He always thought about traveling. Maybe buy a boat, some property along one of the Great Lakes. Just one more job. Unfinished business. Something he shouldn't have left for twenty years, but other jobs came up. Other tasks. Other targets. He supposed he could have let it go. . .but he was a professional. He didn't believe in leaving loose ends.
Like he did with all of his jobs, he spent weeks and weeks doing research up to the time of the job. There were stake-outs, used not just for observation of the target, but observation of his surroundings. He wasn't entirely pleased with the surroundings for this job, but it was a rare time when the target was vulnerable. Unguarded. He wasn't just a professional. He was an artist. And he enjoyed frightening his targets before killing them.
He was one of the fortunate ones. . .to have a job he so enjoyed. He knew others in his business, who took no pleasure in the jobs they did. He felt sorry for them. What good was a job, doing anything, if you didn't enjoy what you did? A job, a career, a Calling, should make you feel like you were. . .alive. Yes. He saw his job as a Calling. Not everyone could do this job, after all.
Ahhhh. . .there they were now. Laughter reached his ears, and he smiled. Laugh while you can, he thought, laugh while there is time. You'll have precious little reason to laugh soon enough. The young family separated. . .the father taking the older daughter to the swing set, smiling indulgently as she begged him to push her. The mother carried the younger daughter to a small circle of young trees, not too far from the swing set.
The younger daughter was just a baby. . .eighteen months, two years old? Something like that. He couldn't see the mother's face. . .her long, dark hair obscured his line of sight, but he knew she was the right one. They both were. He studied them for weeks, for months even, following them from South Carolina to Chicago. Her back was to him. Totally unguarded. He raised his pistol. . .and froze.
The husband was looking in this direction. He slowed the swing, saying something to his daughter. The little girl looked up at her father, her small face screwed up in distress, but she did as she was told. He was still looking in this direction. The assassin felt his blood run cold. He had been made! Plans could be changed in heartbeat. Such was the case now. The assassin fired and the mark jerked back, then fell to his knees, before collapsing to the ground.
Screams erupted in the park, and he used the ensuing chaos to get away. Things changed at the last moment. . .but sometimes, change was necessary. And maybe, this would be better.
And maybe, it would be worse.
Author's Note: This is a semi-crossover with ER. That is to say, ER characters are in this, and the hospital featured is County General (since both shows are set in Chicago). However, there will be no ER pairings in this story. No Carby, no Luby, no Samka (I don't like Sam). The prime focus is on the UC characters. Other characters from other shows will be making an appearance as well. . .I'm hoping for 'Adventure Inc' and 'Due South,' but anything is possible.
Okay, now that's out of the way. . .on with the fic.
Prologue
One last task, and then he could retire. He wasn't sure what he would do yet, once he was finished. Travel, maybe. An obvious choice, but no less an option. He always thought about traveling. Maybe buy a boat, some property along one of the Great Lakes. Just one more job. Unfinished business. Something he shouldn't have left for twenty years, but other jobs came up. Other tasks. Other targets. He supposed he could have let it go. . .but he was a professional. He didn't believe in leaving loose ends.
Like he did with all of his jobs, he spent weeks and weeks doing research up to the time of the job. There were stake-outs, used not just for observation of the target, but observation of his surroundings. He wasn't entirely pleased with the surroundings for this job, but it was a rare time when the target was vulnerable. Unguarded. He wasn't just a professional. He was an artist. And he enjoyed frightening his targets before killing them.
He was one of the fortunate ones. . .to have a job he so enjoyed. He knew others in his business, who took no pleasure in the jobs they did. He felt sorry for them. What good was a job, doing anything, if you didn't enjoy what you did? A job, a career, a Calling, should make you feel like you were. . .alive. Yes. He saw his job as a Calling. Not everyone could do this job, after all.
Ahhhh. . .there they were now. Laughter reached his ears, and he smiled. Laugh while you can, he thought, laugh while there is time. You'll have precious little reason to laugh soon enough. The young family separated. . .the father taking the older daughter to the swing set, smiling indulgently as she begged him to push her. The mother carried the younger daughter to a small circle of young trees, not too far from the swing set.
The younger daughter was just a baby. . .eighteen months, two years old? Something like that. He couldn't see the mother's face. . .her long, dark hair obscured his line of sight, but he knew she was the right one. They both were. He studied them for weeks, for months even, following them from South Carolina to Chicago. Her back was to him. Totally unguarded. He raised his pistol. . .and froze.
The husband was looking in this direction. He slowed the swing, saying something to his daughter. The little girl looked up at her father, her small face screwed up in distress, but she did as she was told. He was still looking in this direction. The assassin felt his blood run cold. He had been made! Plans could be changed in heartbeat. Such was the case now. The assassin fired and the mark jerked back, then fell to his knees, before collapsing to the ground.
Screams erupted in the park, and he used the ensuing chaos to get away. Things changed at the last moment. . .but sometimes, change was necessary. And maybe, this would be better.
And maybe, it would be worse.
