A beachfront property was seized
in a drug raid by the US government
in an undisclosed location in
Southern California
It was turned into a residence for
Top undercover agents of the DEA,
FBI and Customs.
This house is actually know as…
Gladiatorland
**Beep beep** the sound of her alarm went off. Her slim, toned arms reached for it and shut it off. Pushing back the soft afghan that covered her lean and fit body she sat up in bed. With a quick rub to her sleepy eyes she swiftly swung her legs to the side of the queen-sized bed before standing on her feet. Quickly she got dressed in a pair of skinny denim jeans, black boots, a simple white V-neck shirt, her favorite black leather jacket and her FBI badge around her neck. To finish her look she pulled back her tight curly ringlets into a low ponytail and secured the ends with three bobby pins. She was ready for a drug bust.
"You got what I'm looking for?" A tall, well-built man with wavy brown hair and chiseled face asked the Mexican Drug Cartel, who was surrounded by his armed men – all positioned behind him like a protective blanket. It was around midnight and they were meeting in an abandoned warehouse on the waterfront.
"You got my money?" the Mexican Drug Cartel known as Carlito asked. His voice was deep and his accent strong.
"I have your money, half a mil is in this bag," the tall man, wearing the black fitted tee and jeans said, thrusting the bag forward. One of Carlito's men quickly caught it and then walked to an old wooden table a few yards away and immediately opened the bag and began counting the money.
Silence ensued as Carlito and his men stared down the lone man while the money was being counted. There were stacks of hundred dollar bills in $10,000 increments.
After what felt like forever, Carlito's man finally looked up and gave him a signal that the money was right.
"We have a deal, Shaw,"
**LOUD SHOUTS**
POLICE, POLICE, POLICE, POLICE!
Immediately, one of Carlito's men took a shot at Shaw but he dodged behind one of the rusty oil barrels and withdrew the handgun in his waistband. With the gun firmly placed in his hand he peeped around the barrel and took a shot at the armed man approaching where he was, successfully shooting him in the head. He quickly got up from his crouched position and swiftly ran to the other barrel that was standing perpendicular to the one he was hiding behind. More gunfire was sounded but none came from his gun.
With his adrenaline on high, mind clear and useful, he was able to skillfully navigate his way behind Carlito, who was trying to exit through the side door. With the cold metal of his gun against the back of his head he said, "You're under arrest for the illegal distribution of heroin."
"Mierda! Sé que erais federales," Carlito began rambling in Spanish.
"Yea, I'm the Feds and you sir is under arrest," Shaw roughly pushed him against the wall and a fast approaching uniformed San Diego Police Department (SDPD) officer quickly handcuffed him.
A few minutes later on the outside, Shaw was rubbing the back of his neck while looking on as the barrels filled with drugs were being confiscated. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw an FBI agent walking up to him.
"You ok, Grant?" The soft female voice of one of his colleagues asked.
"I'm good, Liv. Thanks for the backup." Fitz gave her a pat on the back that ended in a squeeze to her right shoulder.
"No problem, Fitz. Ready to get out of here? "
"I'm ready…" And they left; having already done their jobs they left the clean up for SDPD.
Back at the house Fitz and Olivia were greeted by Harrison, Huck, Abby and Quinn assembled in their Nantucket style living room.
"How did the bust go?" Harrison asked, sipping a cold bottle of Corona Extra.
"We got him and the drugs, hopefully he'll lead us to his boss," Fitz said, flopping down on the nearby couch and grabbing the beer out of Harrison's hand and began drinking from it.
"Hey! I was drinking that," Harrison complained.
"Now I am," Fitz snickered.
"You boys have no etiquette," Abby piped, shaking her head disapprovingly while getting up from her seat and they laughed. "Liv, can I talk to you?" She tilted her head towards the dining room.
"Sure…" Olivia trailed and followed Abby's lead.
"What's up?" Olivia asked, when they were in the dining area a few feet away from the others. She had her hands comfortably nestled in the back pockets of her jeans looking up at her friend.
"I need your help tomorrow. I finally got Torres to trust me and I'll need back up."
"Abby, I can't do that I'm supposed to be working on the Johnson case."
"But, I'm in. You know how long I've been trying to get in. I need you, please…" Abby clasped her hands together and pleaded. "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't need you."
"Abby…" Olivia groaned even though she knew that she was going to help her friend. After a long beat she finally conceded. "Ok, ok, I'll do it."
Next Morning
**Telephone ringing**
Fitz groaned in his sleep at the intrusion but the persistent ringing wouldn't stop. Eventually, he answered the phone before it went to voicemail.
"Agent Grant," he perked up at the sound of his director's voice.
"Here sir," he answered.
"You need to be at the airport at 1800 hours to pick up your new trainee."
"What?" Fitz boomed now wide-awake.
"You heard me. 1800 hours, I'll fax over his information," was the last thing he heard before the telephone line went dead.
"You got to be kidding me," Fitz mumbled, running his fingers through his wavy hair. Sighing exaggeratedly he got up from his bed and pulled on the discarded jeans on the floor along with the long sleeve T-shirt resting on the bottom railing of the bed.
After taking care of his morning business in the bathroom Fitz left his room and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
"Good morning," he greeted Olivia who was fixing herself a smoothie.
"Morning Grant, she returned, adding the yogurt and fruits to the smoothie mug. "Everything ok?" She asked, sparing him a glance to see his forlorn face.
"No. Beene just called saying that we're getting a new addition to the house. I should be getting the fax information any minute."
"Oh," was all she offered.
Meanwhile in Virginia, freshly graduated Agent Stephen Finch was recently told that he was no longer going to DC. Instead, his new mission was in San Diego. He was disappointed that he wasn't being sent to the capital. He'd had plans to streamline his way to the director's seat but those plans had been rerouted. Nevertheless, he was willing to go wherever he was needed.
Approximately three hours later he was on a commercial flight heading to the west coast. On his way over he mentally replayed the basic information he read about the six agents he was going to be living and working with.
Harrison Wright
Appearance: 5'8", African American male, medium built, dark hair and brown eyes.
Age: 28 years old.
Job Description: Customs Agent, for three years.
Quinn Perkins
Appearance: 5'6", Caucasian female, slender built, black hair and brown eyes.
Age: 29 years old.
Job Description: Drug Enforcement Administration, DEA Agent, for five years.
Huck (last name classified)
Appearance: 5'7', Hispanic male, medium built, black hair and brown eyes.
Age: 35 years old.
Job Description: Federal Bureau of Investigation, FBI Agent, for ten years.
Abby Whelan
Appearance: 5'8", Caucasian female, slender built, red hair and blue eyes
Age: 31 years old.
Job Description: DEA Agent, six years.
Olivia Pope
Appearance: 5'4", African American female, slender built, dark hair and brown eyes.
Age: 33 years old.
Job Description: FBI Agent, for eight years.
Fitzgerald Grant
Appearance: 6'2", Caucasian male, well built, dark brown hair and blue eyes.
Age: 36 years old.
Job Description: FBI Agent, for ten years. Also, the head of Gladiatorland.
Location: San Diego International Airport
Time: 17:58 hours
Fitz had arrived at the airport thirty minutes ago and was standing off to the side entrance of the baggage claim area where he couldn't be seen. He was wearing a nameless, black baseball cap to conceal his appearance. For the past twenty minutes he watched his new trainee. He was standing underneath the sign, as was directed by the message Fitz sent prior to his arrival.
Fitz was trying to gauge his persona and so far he noticed that Stephen was guarded, not revealing much. A trait Fitz himself didn't like but for Stephen, it would do him well for the job. Just as the clock struck six Fitz stepped out from the shadows and walked right up to the man. When he was in close proximity of him, he said, "Stephen Finch." And Stephen nodded, smiling slightly.
"Follow me," Fitz said before walking in the opposite direction.
Stephen kept up with his long strides since he was about Fitz' height. They slowed their steps when they arrived to Fitz' red jeep parked in the parking long on the east side of the building.
Stephen tossed his lone bag into the backseat of the jeep before hopping in beside Fitz. "It's a pleasure to be working with you, sir," Stephen spoke enthusiastically but Fitz didn't say a word. In actuality, he stayed quiet for the entire thirty-five and a half minutes ride, which perturbed Stephen but he didn't say anything.
Stephen marveled at the expansive beach houses that came into viewing after arriving at the sandy beach estate. They were high and statuesque, firmly standing against the tide that seldom becomes too high.
They came to a stop in front of one of the houses after a few minutes of walking. "This is it," Fitz said before walking up the staircase off to the side of the house and Stephen followed.
Stephen marveled at the inside of the home. The first thing he noticed was the floor lengths windows that let in an insane amount of sunlight, casting beautiful warmth and glow to the tastefully decorated house.
"There will be no guests passed this point of the house," Fitz stated startling him out of his thoughts.
"Do I make myself clear?" Fitz asked when he did not receive a response.
"Yes sir."
"Good." Fitz walked further into the room towards the kitchen and pointed at a circle on the wall. "This is our chores wheels, everyone has a day in which they're responsible for cleaning. This is not a frat house, so don't expect anyone to pick up after you and don't treat it like one.
"Yes sir," Stephen responded quickly. He watched as Fitz walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a box of orange juice and drank directly from it before returning it to the refrigerator.
Fitz burped audibly before saying, "and one more thing, no guns are allowed on this level of the house."
Stephen nodded, taking in the man that was a legend at the FBI Training Academy. He was slightly in awe of being in his present but in the back of his mind he expected him to be a bit different. He shrugged it off, though… and chalked it up to him expecting too much.
"Your room is the third one on the left as soon as you climb the stairs. I have something to attend to," Fitz said last before leaving the room without a second glance.
Stephen was looking around the house trying to take in, as much of it he could while he was home alone. After unpacking his suitcase he was tasked with nothing to do and since he knew where no one was, he simply roamed the newly familiar perimeters of the first floor – careful to not wander into unknown territories.
At the time he was sitting on the couch studying the local map on his phone to familiarize himself with the new location when he heard movements. He became alert and reached for the handgun in the back of his pants stuck in his waistband. With gun perched securely in his hand he smoothly braced himself flat against the wall as he glided across to see who it was. From the back he couldn't tell who the person was as they were clothed in an oversize jacket and wore a beanie, crouched over someone else's jacket pulling out their wallet.
He made the decision to stealthily move over to them. "Don't move," he said lowly, his heart hammering in his chest and his gun sticking out in front of him. He saw their shoulders stiffened and his did by reflex.
A few seconds passed and no words were spoken.
"No guns downstairs, newbie," a female voice chuckled and quickly turned around and knocked the gun out of his hand, rendering him armless.
Stephen recognized immediately that it was Agent Pope and he felt foolish for almost shooting her in the back. Before he could form his thoughts into words he noticed Agent Wright entering the room.
"Harrison, I'm taking back my $20 you borrowed," Olivia said, holding up the single bill for him to see before returning his wallet.
"Whatever, Liv… You gotta be the new guy," Harrison said approaching Stephen.
"Yes, I am. Stephen Finch."
"Harrison Wright, and I see that you've already met Olivia aka Liv." He proffered his right hand.
"I have," Stephen said, shaking his hand. The trio chuckled at the remembrance of the awkward introduction Olivia and Stephen experienced a minute ago.
"Welcome to Gladiatorland," Olivia piped up, shaking his hand firmly.
"Thank you."
Later that night Stephen had met everyone in the house. Unlike Grant the others seemed warm and friendly. Even Huck was warmer than Fitz although he kept mostly to himself. He didn't understand why Grant was giving him the cold shoulders when he seemed so laidback and chill with the others. You probably have to earn his trust, he thought and that was what he was determined to do.
When good nights were bid Stephen retired to bed and just when he was about to go to sleep his phone rang. He looked down at the screen and saw that it was the director's number and quickly answered.
"Director Peterson," he answered.
"Finch how's your stay so far? Are you settled in ok?"
"Yes sir," Stephen answered.
"Good, good… I called to officially give you your assignment."
Stephen was confused by his words. He thought his assignment was to work undercover with the other agents.
"What's that sir?" He asked, needing additional information.
"Your assignment is to investigate Agent Grant. Three years ago he disappeared and no one knew where he was. We need to find out what he's up to."
Stephen already felt like he was in over his head. Not even 24 hours on the job and he was already being tasked with investigating one of his colleagues. He inhaled deeply before saying.
"I copy that Director Peterson." And just like that their call ended.
AN: Like always I have no business writing a new story but I couldn't help it. So… I fell in love with the TV show Graceland. It's amazing… Anyways, Graceland heavily inspires this story. The plot is pretty much the same and I was thinking about doing a crossover but I dislike those, so that won't work.
So far I've partially laid down the groundwork for this story. Going forward you'll get more backstory into each character but for now you received a snippet into their every day life.
This story will mostly be drama/action filled with a touch of romance. I'm trying my hand at something new, a change from solely focusing on the romantic aspect of Olitz. Of course Olitz is endgame but in this story there will be more to it than their relationship, if that makes sense.
Again, this type of writing is all new to me so I'm just exploring and having fun. I'm not sure how long this story will run for but it will be more than a one shot for sure…
Onto the story, what do you think of it so far? Do you want to read more? What kind of guy you think Fitz is? Again, this story is heavily based on Graceland but not everything is, so of course I'll be changing up a lot. So for the people that watch the show I may not go the route you think I may. HA!
Anyways, hope you like it enough to favorite, follow, review and share it. We all want to see badass Olitz and here's your chance.
Disclaimer: my Spanish dialogues are coming directly from Google translate so most likely they're not 100% accurate.
PSA: Like always, certain characters those that will not be named are not allowed in any of my writing. NO THANK YOU!
Until Next Time,
XOXO
