Sweet mother of baby Jesus, this is even longer than last time, and I feel the need to apologize. It'll be worth it to get to the exam, but...damn. Anyway, before you begin, I'd like to say thank you to Haven126 for her invaluable help in this endeavor. Without her, this would not be possible. Okay, I'll stop talking. Enjoy!
Mac jumped when he heard his phone start ringing beside him on the bed, and he let out a slow breath before he answered it, putting the call on speaker.
"Hello?" he greeted the caller, turning his attention back to the notebooks scattered around him.
"Now, I am trying real hard not to be offended, here, Mac," the blond agent felt himself smile when he heard his partner's voice, "but what's this about you being involved in a shootout and not telling me about it?"
"Y'know, most people start their conversations with some variation of the word 'hello,'" Mac informed him with a small chuckle.
"To hell with your hello!" Jack scoffed. "What the hell happened?"
"Jack, would you sit down and let me talk?" Mac could hear Matty's demand, and could practically see the icy glare she was undoubtedly shooting at the operative. After a pause, she spoke again, "Mac, sitrep. Now. Starting with what happened at the Kinkade house."
"There were four assailants at the house," Mac explained with a sigh. "Three were there when we arrived, trying to get into Doctor Kinkade's safe, where she kept all her notes on her projects. Three were upstairs. Kyser and I went up to find Doctor Kinkade's room, and that's when the shooting started. They tried to shoot me through the door, Kyser pulled me out of the way. One more came in downstairs, attacked Ramirez, Bozer, and Riley. In the end, Kyser hit one of the guys upstairs with us, but all three got away, and Ramirez shot the one downstairs. Riley's running that one through facial recognition now, and Kyser and Bozer are on their way to the hospital to talk to Ellie, Doctor Kinkade's sister. Kyser got grazed during the fight, but it was shallow; he took care of it himself. We've got alerts out to all the hospitals, checking for anyone coming in with gunshot wounds. We also managed to, ah...'borrow' some of Nuvogenix's files. Riley's trying to crack those, too; hopefully, they'll give us at least a clue as to what's going on. We also got Kinkade's notes. I'm going over them now. Did you hear back about the projects?"
"My contacts insist that there was only one contracted project stolen, as far as they know," Matty told him. "They of course wouldn't tell me which project, but they did tell me that it was an environmental initiative."
"Hmm..." Mac shuffled the files and notebooks around. "Well, then, we've got a problem."
"What kind of problem?" the dread in Jack's voice wasn't easily missed.
"Well, from Kinkade's notes, I figured out what both of the missing projects were," Mac explained. The doctor's notes were very detailed, and properly labeled in the upper right corner with the project number. "One of them, the one that's contracted, is a plastic-eating bacteria, still in development, to be used on the ever-growing island of plastic in the ocean. According to her notes, it's still extremely unstable, much too potent and too resilient to be deployed, but they're making impressive progress. The other, as I suspected, is a bioweapon, and if it wasn't contracted, then Doctor Hart has some explaining to do."
"And by bioweapon, you mean...?" Matty pressed, some annoyance—Mac wasn't sure if it was directed at him or not—in her tone.
"I'm not completely sure," Mac admitted. "Her notes have huge gaps; they're just the ideas she thinks up and works through while at home, so most of what I'm looking at is out of context. I know it's bad, I'm just...not positive what it'll do. I'm thinking it's some kind of virus, but I'm not sure."
"Well, you need to get sure," Matty told him, her voice firm. "We'll keep an eye on Hart from here, make sure he doesn't go anywhere; he's gonna have to answer for this project."
"Think he'll run before we can get him?" Jack wondered aloud.
"Unlikely," Mac shook his head. "He's arrogant; thinks we wouldn't understand what the project was about even if we were looking at a detailed report. And leaving him in play lets us see if he's reaching out to anyone—like a buyer, for example."
"Y'know, Matty, since everyone's busy, I can go up there and keep an eye on the evil nerd if you—" Jack began, but Matty cut him off.
"Not a chance, Dalton," she said sternly. Mac felt a small smirk tug at his lips when he heard his partner groan in frustration.
"Keep us updated, MacGyver," the director ordered. "I don't think I need to tell you that the bioweapon is our priority right now."
"No, you do not," Mac confirmed. "We're on it, Matty. We'll send you everything we find."
"Clock's ticking," Matty warned. They said their goodbyes and hung up, and after reading through Kinkade's notes for another half hour, there was a knock on his door. Again, Mac jumped, his muscles tensing and heart leaping into his throat.
"Jesus Christ, Mac; calm down," he scolded himself under his breath, sliding off his bed and starting towards the door. "He's not coming after you here, and Murdoc wouldn't knock."
Still, the blond agent didn't relax until he looked through the peephole and saw Ramirez standing in the hallway. Only then did he let out his breath, roll his shoulders, unlock both of the door's locks, and pull the door open.
"Hey," Ramirez gave him an easy smile. "Riley and I were thinking about getting some Chinese food; you in?"
"Sure," Mac agreed. "Riley find anything?"
"No luck on the files yet, but she's working," Ramirez reported. "She did get an ID on the guy from the house; she just sent it to your phone. You have any luck?"
"One project is a plastic eating bacteria," Mac told him. "It's also the only project that was actually under contract from the US government."
"Really?" Ramirez couldn't help but sound intrigued. "And the other?"
"A bioweapon, like I suspected," Mac sighed. "I'm thinking maybe viral, but I'm not sure."
"And it's not contracted?" the other agent raised an eyebrow. "Man, I gotta say, I am already excited to arrest that asshole Hart..."
"You're not the only one," Mac laughed.
"Alright, text me your order," Ramirez sighed, checking his watch. "I'll call it in when we hear from Boze and Kyser."
"You got it," Mac nodded, then closed the door as Ramirez returned to his and Riley's room across the hall. He reflexively turned the deadbolt and flipped the bar at the top right corner, then turned, walked past the couch in the front of the room, past the first queen bed, and settled back into the bed closest to the window—the blinds on which being drawn, of course.
The tired agent rubbed his weary blue eyes and shuffled the thirteen notebooks around again. His eyes fell on a pastel blue, hardbound book at the bottom of the stack, and he picked it up and opened it. Flipping through the first few pages, he realized it was her journal, and he paused, not liking the idea of breaching the wounded woman's privacy. But, after glancing at the pile of notes regarding project 1232-K, he decided that there was no room for privacy when there was a bioweapon out in the world.
Still, to preserve as much of that privacy as possible, he avoided reading the entries at first and instead looked at the dates, deciding that he should start about a week before the attack and see if that would be enough to give him some insight into what was going on. He found the appropriate page and, with only another moment of hesitation, started reading.
How's Mac doing, really? Kyser read the text on his phone just as he and Bozer stepped off the hospital elevator. It was from Jack, and the medic felt himself smirk slightly.
Surprisingly better, he replied.
Are you sure? He seemed real out of it at the briefing.
Kyser rolled his eyes. Contrary to apparent popular belief, MacGyver can get his shit together when he needs to. Now, if you're done helicopter parenting, I've got a job to do.
The medic put his phone back in his pocket, continuing to walk down the hall. Kinkade's room was in the middle of the hall on the third floor around the corner from the elevator, a fact that Kyser was not at all a fan of. Though he wasn't expecting any trouble, he couldn't help but notice that the location was a tactical nightmare. No view of the elevator or stairs, far too many sightlines from the window, only one exit. He didn't expect any trouble, but if it came, they were screwed.
Kyser shook his head quickly to clear it. He was becoming as paranoid as Mac.
"I really don't know how long I'll be, Noah," Ellie was saying as they approached the ajar door. She had her back to them, staring out the window as she spoke with a trembling voice, watching the city below. "I don't want to leave...yeah, I know, but just because it won't make a difference doesn't mean it won't make me feel better...Oh, he does not. No, he doesn't; you're overreacting...Well, if they allowed dogs in the hospital, I'd keep him, but they don't."
Kyser reached up and knocked on the open door, alerting the scientist's sister to their arrival. Ellie turned to them and gave them a small, sheepish smile.
"I'll call you back, Noah," the young woman hung up her phone, turning her full attention to the agents. "Sorry; it was my boyfriend. I had him take my dog for the day when I got the call about Abby. He's convinced my dog hates him."
"So there is a dog," Bozer smiled. "We saw the bowls and bed when we came by your house."
"Yeah," Ellie gave a small smile of her own. "Titan. He's a pitbull mix we found literally on the side of the road a year ago."
"Cute," Bozer's smile became a grin.
"Ellie, this is Wilt Bozer," Kyser introduced them. "Bozer, Ellie."
"Hi," Ellie gave him a slightly forced smile before turning back to Kyser. "Did you find the safe?"
"Yeah," Kyser nodded. "Yeah, we did, ahm...unfortunately, we were not the only ones."
"What to you mean?" Ellie visibly paled.
"When we got there, there were several men already inside, trying to break into the safe," Bozer explained. "Probably the same men from the lab."
"What?" genuine fear made its way onto the young woman's face. "What—I mean...why were they...are they gonna come after me? After Abby? Should I have her transferred somewhere or—"
"Ellie, Ellie, it's okay," Kyser stepped in, cutting her panic short, his voice ever soothing. "I know you're scared, and you have every right to be, but we've got this under control."
Bozer glanced at him. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, either.
"Now, I've already called and had a couple officers assigned to guard Abby's room," the medic continued. "She'll be safe. And we'd like to escort you back to your house to grab a few things; is there someone you can stay with?"
"My boyfriend, I guess," Ellie sighed, her arms wrapping around herself almost as though she were cold. "Though I don't think I'll be leaving here much."
"The doctors say anything else?" Bozer asked curiously, his eyes full of sympathy.
"She's improving," Ellie told him with tentative hope in her expression. "She's still critical, but the fact that she's made it this long is making them optimistic. They think she might wake up soon."
"That's great!" Kyser grinned. "I'm glad. I have every confidence she'll wake up. And I know you want to stay with her, but given what happened, we can't let you go back to the house alone."
He stepped slightly to the side and raised his arm, gesturing for her to come with them. Ellie hesitated, looking over at her sister, then nodded slightly and headed out into the hallway, the two agents following close behind. Halfway to the elevator, they ran into two uniformed police officers, and Kyser smiled.
"Perfect timing," he commended them, checking them over, looking at their badges, and matching the names on their name plates with the names he'd been given over the phone, making sure they were the promised protection detail. They also matched the descriptions he'd been given for the two officers, allowing him to relax slightly. "You here for Abby Kinkade?"
Both men nodded, and Kyser turned and pointed down the hall.
"She's in room 347," he told them, then gestured to the young woman standing with them. "This is her sister Ellie. I'm Mark Kyser, and this is my associate," he nodded at Bozer. "Now, I'm sure you know the drill, but I'm going to remind you for Ellie's sake: No one is to be allowed into Doctor Kinkade's room unless it's me, Ellie, or one of my colleagues without checking their IDs under any circumstances. Doesn't matter who they are; doctor, nurse, or janitor, if their ID doesn't check out, they don't get in. Got it?"
"We got it," the taller of the two men nodded, giving Ellie a reassuring smile.
"Excellent. Then you have my number if you need anything. We'll be back in less than two hours," Kyser promised, and then they were walking again, taking the elevator down towards the parking lot. On the way out, Kyser checked his messages again, smiling and giving a soft chuckle when he saw the reply Jack had given him. It was short, only two words, and he sent an angel emoji in response as he slid into the driver's seat.
Just as they were pulling up to Ellie and Abby's house, both Kyser and Bozer got a text from Riley. The mystery man Ramirez had shot was Justin MacFarlane. He was thirty-four years old at the time of his death, and six years prior, he was dishonorably discharged from the Marine Corps for "conduct unbecoming." He then worked at as private contractor for several years before being fired for erratic behavior. After that point, he appeared to fall off the grid; Riley could find no paper trail on him.
"Everything okay?" Ellie asked from the seat behind Bozer.
"Yeah," Kyser confirmed, giving her a smile over his shoulder as he put his phone in his pocket. He decided that, for now, he wouldn't ask about Justin; he didn't think Ellie was directly involved in what happened, but she might accidentally tip someone off that they were onto them. "Everything's fine."
Bozer followed his lead, refraining from asking Ellie about the match, and opened his door, stepping out of the car. Kyser and Ellie mimicked him, and the young woman frowned, folding her arms tightly over her chest when she saw the caution tape up over the front door.
Before any of them could make a move towards the house, a blue pickup pulled up to the curb behind them, and they turned. Immediately, they saw and heard a dog barking furiously at the passenger window, and the driver reached over to open the door. The dog—a dark gray pitbull/staffie mix with a white chest, belly, and front left paw—instantly leapt from the cabin, bounding over towards the trio at a full sprint, his leash dragging behind him. Bozer and Kyser tensed for a second before Ellie knelt down and the dog ran right into her, wagging his tail furiously and licking her as he whined before rolling over for belly rubs.
"Oh yes, oh yes, what a good boy, Titan," Ellie cood, seeming at least somewhat truly happy for the first time since the agents had met her. "Yes, mommy missed you, too; yes she did! Oh, who's such a good boy? You are! Yes you are! That's my baby boy..."
The driver of the car parked and stepped out, walking around to meet them. He was young, though significantly older than Ellie; around Kyser's height of 6'1''; and had short, dark hair that was curly on top, brown eyes, and a strong jaw. He was muscularly built, wearing a dark gray t-shirt, jeans, a green flannel that was left open, and black work boots. Something about him—and, for the life of him, he couldn't articulate what—made Kyser's stomach churn instantly, but the medic kept his poker face.
"Hey," the young man greeted Ellie, barely giving Kyser and Bozer a second glance as she stood up, holding Titan's leash in one hand. The two hugged, then kissed, before separating. "I got your text; what happened?"
"Someone broke in," Ellie told him. "Apparently looking for something of Abby's. I just need to get some stuff; you didn't have to come."
"Yeah, but I wanted to," he gave a charming smile, and Ellie rolled her eyes, giving him a playful shove. At that point, she seemed to remember that Kyser and Bozer were there.
"Oh, right," she shook her head quickly and cleared her throat. "This is my boyfriend, Noah."
"Mark Kyser," the medic extended his hand, forcing his posture to remain relaxed. The young man shook his hand firmly, meeting his eyes.
"Noah Caplan," he introduced himself with a smile before turning and holding a hand out to Bozer, who shook it and gave a smile.
"Bozer," the young agent told him before turning to Ellie. "So, can I pet Titan?"
"Absolutely," Ellie smiled. Bozer grinned and held a hand out for the dog—now sitting obediently at his owner's feet—to sniff. After a second or two, the sniffing turned to licking, and he stood up, wagging his tail wildly, and he did the same when Kyser held his hand out.
"Aww, he's a sweetie," Bozer grinned, scratching behind the dog's ears.
"Thanks," Ellie gave a soft laugh.
"Hey, Boze, how about you go with Ellie so she can pack some of her stuff?" Kyser suggested. Bozer glanced at him, then nodded.
"Sure," he agreed, looking over at Ellie. "Come on."
Ellie handed the leash off to Noah, and then she and Bozer made their way into the house. While they were gone, Kyser crouched down to pet Titan.
"So, how long have you and Ellie been dating?" the tac team member asked, looking up at the man.
"About seven months," Noah replied, shifting his weight to his other foot. "Actually, seven months next Saturday."
"Oh, well, congratulations," Kyser chuckled, standing up. "How'd you meet?"
"I helped her change a flat tire," Noah told him, smiling slightly to himself. "She popped a tire on the highway just after midnight, and I happened to be driving by."
"Well it was nice of you to stop," Kyser commended him. "Listen, is there anything you could tell me about Abby? Anything her sister might not want to say?"
"I'd love to help, but Abby wasn't exactly my biggest fan," Noah rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke.
"Isn't," Kyser corrected casually.
"I'm sorry?" Noah tilted his head in confusion.
"Isn't your biggest fan," Kyser clarified. "Unless she had a change of heart at some point, that is. Y'know, since she's still alive."
"Right," Noah blinked, giving a disarming smile that Kyser saw right through. "Sorry; I misspoke."
"Of course," Kyser's own smile gave nothing away. "So why doesn't she like you?"
"I think it's the age difference between me and Ellie," Noah shrugged. "And I get it; six years is a lot, but still."
"Right," the medic nodded, then gave a shrug. "Well, Ellie's an adult; she can make her own choices."
"That's what we said," Noah agreed. "Sometimes I feel like she forgets that she's not actually Ellie's mom. And seriously, their whole lives have been 'The World According to Abby,' so you'd think she could back off now that they're both adults, but apparently not."
"Well, family never stops being family," Kyser sighed, putting his hands in his pockets.
"I guess not," Noah allowed. "Doesn't make it any less irritating, though."
There was a pause, and then the young man shook his head quickly.
"Still, I hope she pulls through," he remarked, leaning down to pet Titan on the head. Kyser couldn't help but notice that the dog's tail stopped wagging when he did. "As much as they fight, I've also seen how much they lean on each other."
Kyser didn't get the chance to respond; at that moment, the front door opened again, and Ellie emerged with a backpack on, a large duffle bag over her shoulder, and the dog bed under her arm.
"Ready to go?" Noah asked with a smile.
"Yeah," Ellie nodded. "I'll get Titan set up at your place, and then can you drive me back to the hospital."
"Sure," Noah agreed.
Bozer opened his mouth to protest—there was no guarantee that the people who'd broken in weren't going to come after Ellie, so they shouldn't let her out of their protective custody—but Kyser put a hand on his arm, stopping him.
"Okay, well, we will let you know if we find anything," the medic promised, giving the couple a smile and reaching out to shake Noah's hand again, a gesture that the young man accepted and Bozer mimicked. The four of them—and Titan—said their goodbyes, and then went to their respective cars. Once alone, Bozer turned to the medic.
"Alright, what's going on?" he asked incredulously.
"Shh," the medic hushed him as he took his phone from his pocket. He watched the blue truck pull away with a frown, then brought the phone up to his ear as it rang.
Mac lifted his head when he heard Ramirez's phone vibrate loudly across the room. After spending another thirty minutes reading through Kinkade's notes and journal, he'd decided to take a short break and come look over the takeout menu Ramirez had obtained. Riley was hard at work as she sat cross-legged on her bed, which was the one farthest from the door, and barely reacted as Ramirez answered the phone.
"Hey, man," Ramirez greeted the caller with a grin. "You and Boze down for Chinese food?"
Kyser said something Mac couldn't make out, but whatever it was made the other man's smile vanish, and he made a sour face.
"Her and Mac," he confirmed, sounding a little disappointed but mostly curious, looking over at them as Riley looked up from her screen. "What is it?"
There was another pause, and then Ramirez took the phone away from his ear and tapped the screen.
"Okay, go," the tac team member ordered.
"Riley, I need you to look up a name for me," Kyser's voice drifted into the room from Ramirez's phone. "Noah Caplan. He's Ellie's boyfriend. Between six foot and six-foot-two, dark hair, brown eyes, twenty-five years old."
"Got him," Riley said after a few seconds.
"Can you track his phone for me?"
Riley hit a few keys on her laptop, her eyes darting around the screen, and then she frowned.
"He doesn't have one," the analyst told him. "At least, not one that's registered under his name."
Mac could almost hear Kyser frown. "Okay, well, what about Ellie? She called him at the hospital and texted him while we were driving to her house; can you track that number?"
"Yeah," Riley confirmed, finding the number in mere seconds. "They're travelling east on Sheridan. Sending the trace to your phone."
"Thank you," the medic said sincerely. "There's something about this guy. I don't like him."
"You're not the only one," Mac scoffed. "According to Abby's journal, she's not a fan, either."
"I heard that," Kyser chuckled. "Anyway, Boze and I are gonna trail him for a bit before we head back to the hotel."
Mac instantly tensed at this, his stomach dropping. He didn't like the idea of Kyser and Bozer being away from the group for so long. Of course, he trusted Kyser to protect his best friend, but he was just one man, and it wasn't like Murdoc was above blitz attacks. The longer they were away from the group, the more nervous Mac became. Plus...and he didn't like to think about it, but that was all his mind seemed able to do...he had his suspicions on who Murdoc was going to target first. Bozer was the easiest target; he was so trusting, so compassionate, that it wouldn't be hard to lure him, and he was the newest agent of the five of them. Not to mention the fact that he knew that Murdoc would love to rattle his cage by striking so close to home. And if Murdoc blitzed Kyser like Drew had blitzed Jack, Bozer would likely be as helpless as he'd been. He knew—he knew—he was being paranoid, but still, his stomach churned, and he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to swallow his protests.
"Alright," Ramirez agreed with a sigh, seeming a bit disappointed. "We'll share intel when you guys get back. Stay safe."
"You, too," Kyser chuckled softly. "We'll talk to you guys soon."
"Text me your Chinese food orders," Ramirez rushed to add before his friend hung up. Kyser and Boze both promised they would, and then they all said their goodbyes—Mac very grudgingly.
"Looks like we're getting pizza for lunch," Ramirez pouted. "I'll order."
"Get me cheesy bread," Riley demanded without looking up.
"You got it," Ramirez nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, Mac caught the tac agent studying him. "Hey Riles, what do you say we move this party over to Mac's room?"
Riley looked up at him in confusion, and Ramirez shrugged. "It's bigger, and that way I can bug him instead of you."
If the analyst picked up on what Ramirez was actually trying to do—ease Mac's anxiety by circling the wagons around him and keeping everyone he possibly could in his line of sight—she didn't say anything.
"Fine by me," she agreed with a shrug, and Mac smirked slightly, shooting Ramirez a grateful glance.
They gathered their things and headed across the hall, Riley settling on what would be Bozer's bed, Mac resettling on his own, and Ramirez plopped down in the chair by the desk, putting his feet up and turning on the TV. After Ramirez had called in their pizza order and Riley had slipped on her noise-cancelling headphones, the man at the desk glanced over at Mac.
"Y'know, Mac," the older man sighed, causing the blond agent to look up from the notes scattered around him. "I'm no Jack, and I'm no Bozer, but I'm a pretty good listener if you wanna talk about what's going on inside that head of yours."
Mac let out a weary sigh. "Is it that obvious?"
Ramirez gave a small, humorless laugh. "Only to everyone with eyes."
The younger man groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Hey, if you don't want to talk, that's fine, too." Ramirez held up his hands. "I'm just saying, sometimes it helps to vent to someone who's not all up in your business every day. We've got your six, too, Mac. Whatever you need."
Mac felt himself smile. It was comforting, really, to hear so many people say the words, even if he was a bit annoyed with himself being so easy to read.
"I'm good, Ramirez, but thank you," he said sincerely. Ramirez smiled at him.
"Now, I've heard stories about you from Jack," the operative explained, picking up the channel guide and searching it. "So, I'm gonna turn on Jeopardy, and if you answer all the questions right, I'll pay for your portion of the pizza."
Mac chuckled. "Throw in tonight's Chinese and you're on," he bargained. "And to up the ante, I'll be reading these notes at the same time."
"Okay, showoff," Ramirez raised an eyebrow and smirked, flipping the channel. Jeopardy was about four minutes from starting. "You're on."
Mac smirked back at him, shaking his head as he turned his attention to the notes in his lap, waiting for the show to start.
It wasn't until nearly seven that night that Bozer and Kyser finally returned, carrying bags of Chinese food with them after talking briefly with Ramirez an hour earlier, letting him know they were headed back.
"Finally!" Ramirez groaned, snatching the bags from them. "I'm starving."
"Hello to you, too," Kyser rolled his eyes as Ramirez distributed the dinner. "If everyone's got their stuff together, I think we should check in with Matty."
"Agreed," Mac and Riley said in unison. They certainly hadn't found anything good. Mac volunteered his phone, calling their boss and putting the call on speaker. Matty picked up on the second ring.
"You guys find that bioweapon yet?" Matty asked in place of a greeting.
"Just about," Kyser confirmed. "The sister's boyfriend is definitely involved. We tailed him back to a secluded mansion in Broadview; there are about ten guys in there, including one with his arm in a sling—I'm willing to bet that was courtesy of yours truly. From what I could see, they've got some pretty heavy-duty firepower in there. Plus Abby and Ellie's dog, but I think he's on our side."
"Boyfriend's name is Noah Caplan," Riley chimed in, pulling up everything she had on him. "US Army for three years before earning a dishonorable discharge, and just like Justin MacFarlane, he pretty much dropped off the grid about two years ago. Did a little more digging on MacFarlane, found out he was a member of a group called GLA—Green Living America. Essentially, they're a radical Greenpeace. They've led attacks on oil companies, drill sites, pipelines, manufacturers of various plastic products, factories...basically, if it causes a significant amount of pollution, they've targeted it. It's pretty cult-like, where members essentially fall off the face of the Earth upon joining and only a select few continue to interact with society. Not quite sure who the leader is; there's not a whole lot on these guys."
"What're you thinking about the sister?" Matty asked. "She just convenient or is she a part of this?"
"I don't think she realizes what her boyfriend is doing," Kyser shook his head, folding his arms over his chest. "She's genuinely upset about her sister; I think he just used Ellie to get insight about Abby. Ellie's with her sister at the hospital now with two cops on the door, so she should be fine until we take Noah in."
"Okay," their boss allowed. "What about the bioweapon?"
"It's a weaponized strain of the Bas-Congo virus," Mac told her, looking at his laptop at the decrypted project file Riley had sent him. "It causes a hemorrhagic fever. During an outbreak in 2009, two out of three people died, both of them young teens, and death occurred within three days of symptoms. An adult survived, so it seems to be more deadly to children than adults, but with the modifications made, I can't be sure that's true anymore. Abby and her team essentially made the virus stronger—mutated it to a more powerful strain—in order to develop a stronger vaccine against it."
"When I took the files, I also installed a worm on their server," Riley explained, pulling up what she'd found on her screen and sending it to Matty in the war room. "I've been using it to dig up some dirt on Hart. I got into his emails. He and Kinkade were seriously fighting about this project; they were arguing about just how strong and resilient the virus had to be before the vaccine could be developed. Kinkade thought that making the virus too strong would be too dangerous. Apparently, the project was formerly classified as red biotech—medical—but Hart changed the classification to black. Kinkade was furious, but Hart told her that the project had been picked up by the government—which was a lie—and when she threatened to quit the project, he threatened to fire her from the company and have her prosecuted for breach of contract."
"What a dick!" Jack spoke up for the first time, making his team laugh.
"I've got dibs on arresting that bastard," Ramirez chimed in.
"I also found emails between Hart and a Chechen buyer for the weaponized virus," Riley added with a small smirk. "They'd arranged a sale date for next week."
"Oh, I am so excited," Ramirez said, half to himself.
"We have the house on satellite, Matty," Kyser broke in. "Riley's monitoring Noah's phone and every number that connects with his, so we're monitoring their communication. They have no idea we're onto them, so we've got a little time. We're going to get a plan together now, wait until it gets dark, then move on the compound. Local PD already agreed to provide support. I know the guy who leads SWAT around here; he's good people. We'll be in good hands."
"What about Kinkade?" their boss pressed. "You think they'll come after her again?"
"Noah would be the only one with even a chance," Kyser sighed. "But we can't ban him from the room without arousing too much suspicion, and if we tell the detail to keep an eye on him, we may spook him and he could have the GLA accelerate their plans. Honestly, though, I don't think he'd risk trying anything with Ellie in the room, or with cops right outside, and I also sincerely doubt he could ever convince Ellie to leave her sister right now. But again, even if he did, he wouldn't risk it with the cops."
"Plus, they did go after her notes," Mac pointed out. "I think that tells us they didn't quite get what they wanted the first time around. They may keep her alive for information thinking they can control her using Ellie as a bargaining chip."
"I think we just have to leave her in play for now," Ramirez shrugged.
"Fair enough. Keep me posted," Matty ordered, and then the meeting was over.
"Eat fast," Kyser told them, sitting down on the edge of Bozer's bed and opening his orange chicken, tearing open a pair of chopsticks as he did so. "The sun'll be setting soon, and we've gotta get this plan together before these guys have a chance to do anything with that bioweapon."
"Well, twist my arm," Ramirez rolled his eyes, snatching up a container of fried rice and a pair of chopsticks.
"Shut the fuck up, Eric," Kyser laughed good-naturedly.
"Ricardo, why does he call you Eric?" Riley asked.
"Because he misheard someone introducing me and I thought it was hilarious so I didn't correct him," Ricardo chuckled.
"He's an asshole, is why," Kyser grumbled.
"Hey, now, in the interest of avoiding an argument, let's work while we eat," Mac interrupted with a small laugh. "Riley, what are we dealing with?"
Noah stood beside Abby's bed in the dimly-lit room, studying her, his expression stoic. Ellie was at his apartment; he'd convinced her to get some sleep in a real bed on the condition that he stay with Abby for at least part of the night. He was nothing if not a man of his word.
What surprised him, though, was when he watched her eyes slowly open. The young man smiled to himself, glancing at the half-open door behind which the protection detail stood. As expected, they were barely paying attention to him; they were looking for incoming threats, not the sister's boyfriend, dutifully staying by Abby's side. He turned his attention back to Abby, who was starting to realize who was standing by her bedside. The scientist's drugged, weary eyes widened in slow, delayed horror, and she reached for the button on the remote by her hand that would call the nurse, but Noah beat her to it, snatching up the remote and placing it out of reach.
"Shh, shh, shh, now, let's not do anything stupid," he tsked quietly, his voice soothing as he sat down in the chair beside her. Abby's eyes followed his every move, wide and full of fear, even though her movements were slow. Noah smirked.
"Yeah, they've got you on some pretty nice drugs, don't they?" he sneered. "I gotta tell ya, it is so good to see you with that tube down your throat. Finally found a way to shut you up."
He laughed ever-so-quietly to himself. Then his eyes became hard, leaning towards her and keeping his voice low.
"You remember what I told you I'd do to Ellie if you didn't open that safe?" he asked, watching her eyes carefully. She couldn't speak, but her eyes told him that she did.
"I'll do worse if you decide to try and get help," he warned darkly. Then he gave a slight smile.
"Don't worry; she's safe for now," he promised. "I convinced her to go to my apartment, hang out with the dog, get some real sleep on a real bed. When we're done here, I'll be going to join her."
He pulled his chair a bit closer to her, resettling with a soft sigh, before he continued, "Now, I'm sure you're wondering what I could possibly want from you now, and the answer is simple: First, I want you to keep your big mouth shut about what happened. Second, I want you to tell me everything about that second project we took, because I think you lied to me; it's not harmless. In fact, I think it could be very useful to me and my friends. You don't have to say anything right now, obviously, but soon. Do you understand?"
Abby stared at him, utterly horrified, but Noah knew he'd given her no real choice. The wounded scientist gave the smallest of nods, and Noah smiled.
"Good," he approved, patting her hand as he stood up. "I'm going to see your sister; you should get some rest."
With this, he headed back out into the hall, giving the two cops a smile and a thank you on his way, as well as telling them that he'd bring Ellie back as soon as she woke up. They hardly paid him any mind, and before long, he was headed back to his apartment.
Ellie was outside when Noah pulled into the parking lot, holding Titan on his leash. She'd decided to take the dog on a walk, finding herself unable to sleep despite how exhausted she was. Titan was also wearing a muzzle, since he had a bad habit of trying to eat gross things on the ground. She hated that it made him look so scary, but he'd gotten himself sick a few times, eating sidewalk "food," so she wasn't going to risk it. The nineteen-year-old watched her boyfriend pull into his parking spot in front of her, shielding her eyes from his headlights.
"Ellie, what are you doing out?" Noah asked as soon as he stepped out from behind the wheel. "You're supposed to be getting some sleep."
"I can't sleep," Ellie shrugged. "Thought I'd try to burn off some nervous energy. What are you doing back?"
"You know how much hospitals freak me out," Noah shook his head as he came over to her. "Plus I have to be up early tomorrow. Babe, if anything changes, they'll call and let us know, and I will drive you right back over there."
Ellie hesitated, then gave a nod, still clearly not happy about the situation.
"But..." Ellie looked back up at him, seeing the nervousness on his face, as if he didn't know how to bring up the topic. "I really think you should be realistic about this."
"What do you mean?" the teenager asked, suddenly guarded.
"Babe, I just want you to be prepared for everything," the concern in his eyes looked sincere, but Ellie still frowned. "El, she was shot seven times; you've gotta know that her odds aren't great."
"Why would you even say that to me?" Elli demanded harshly, the very idea that he might be right making her sick. "She's my sister, Noah, and she practically raised me since I was thirteen! She's going to be okay. She has to be."
"Ellie I just hate seeing you upset," Noah's brow furrowed, giving her those puppy eyes she loved. "I just want you to be prepared so you're not devastated if things don't go the way you want them to."
Ellie frowned at him, honestly unnerved—and she couldn't quite say why. What he'd said was rude, uncalled for, but not inherently unsettling. After a moment, the reason for her uneasiness finally hit her.
"Noah, how did you know how many times she'd been shot?" she asked hesitantly. Noah blinked at her, tilting his head in confusion. Ellie took a small step back from him.
"I never told you how many times she was shot," the teenager frowned. "We've barely talked about what happened, just how she's doing. The doctors wouldn't have told you, and the story hasn't hit the news, so how did you know?"
As she spoke, she reached down and put her hand on Titan's head. The dog was sitting at her side and growling, now, sensing her discomfort. Noah let out a weary sigh, rubbing his brow.
"Y'know, El," he sounded exhausted and a bit annoyed when he spoke, "sometimes, you're just a bit too smart for your own good."
Before she could process his words, he had her in a tight sleeper hold, and Ellie couldn't even scream as she fought uselessly against his grip. Titan started barking furiously, slamming himself into Noah's legs and trying to bite him through his muzzle, but to no avail. In just a few seconds, Ellie went limp in his arms, her world fading to blackness.
Bozer, Mac, and Kyser crept silently through the trees surrounding the mansion's expansive grounds, Kyser leading the way in full tac gear and flanked on both sides by members of the SWAT team. Dozens more had circled around the property, taking their positions.
"How're we lookin', Riley?" Kyser asked quietly, settling into position. He could see the entire back of the house, including the large pool, pool house, and garage.
"I've got about twenty people inside," the analyst reported. She and Ramirez were waiting in the van, watching the house through various thermal cameras and an overlay of all the cell phone signals in the area. "Four are upstairs, five seem to be making their rounds around the inside of the house, two are circling the outside of the house, two are in one of the back rooms on the first floor, and the rest are in the living room. There's also what appears to be a dog going ballistic in another one of the first floor rooms."
"Gotta be Titan," Bozer spoke up quietly.
"Everybody, be alert," Kyser hissed into his coms. "We've got at least one friendly inside, and if anyone shoots that dog, I reserve the right to shoot you."
"I think you guys are gonna need a distraction before you can breach," Ramirez spoke up.
"Eric's right," Kyser agreed. "From what we saw yesterday, the odds are high that most, if not all of those people are armed."
Mac looked over at the garage, situated near the pool house, and smiled.
"Leave that to me," he whispered, suddenly darting from cover.
"Mac!" Kyser snapped quietly, but it was no use, so he let out a weary sigh. "Boze, stay here."
With this, he followed the blond agent as he slipped into the garage, using the flashlight on his knife to look around. He grabbed a medium-sized, rectangular, disposable tin pan, a bottle of motor oil, and a big bottle of brake fluid, then started to exit and head back outside, but Kyser stopped him.
"Mac, where the hell are you going?" the medic hissed.
"Pool house," Mac replied quietly. Kyser gave a soft groan.
"Fine, then stay behind me, for the love of God," he ordered, his annoyance only half fake. Mac nodded, and the two of them silently made their way out of the garage and towards the pool house, slipping around the tables and chairs and into the structure. Inside, there was a kitchenette, a bathroom, a sitting area with a TV, a small bedroom, and a storage closet for all of the pool-related tools. Mac made a beeline for the closet, opening it wide. He quickly found what he was looking for: a large bucket of pool chlorine.
"Can you hurry up?" Kyser asked, pressing himself against the wall by the window as Mac set the tin pan on the floor and dumped the granules of pool chlorine into it, filling it about half way.
"I'm ready to go," Mac told him. "Once I pour the brake fluid and oil on this, it'll...y'know what? Not important. It'll distract them; that's all that matters."
"Okay, well, you're not going to have a huge window of opportunity," Kyser sighed. Mac grabbed the tin, motor oil, and brake fluid and walked over to the door, putting his hand on the handle.
"Tell me when."
Kyser hesitated, then looked out the window. He saw the patrolman moving to switch places with the man out front, and when his back was turned and he was a good distance from them, he motioned for Mac to go. The blond agent quickly slipped out of the front door and around the pool. He placed the tin on the stones surrounding the pool, away from anything flammable, then poured the brake fluid and motor oil over it. He then tossed the bottles aside and started half-running back towards their other colleagues, Kyser on his heels.
"Everybody, get ready to move on the signal," Mac breathed into his coms.
"What signal?" Riley asked in confusion.
"You'll know it," Mac promised. About twenty seconds after he spoke, they watched as a column of smoke began to rise from the tin, and a few seconds after that, the column of smoke became a column of fire. Both of the patrolmen came running around the back, yelling and shouting for backup, drawing people inside out to the back. Kyser knew better than to waste the chance, and gave the order.
"Everybody, move in."
When Ellie started to wake up again, her head was pounding, her right shoulder was throbbing, and her right arm was completely numb, dancing with pins and needles. With a soft moan, she shifted and started opening her eyes, her vision blurry with sleep.
"Well, good morning, sleepy head."
Ellie recognized Noah's voice instantly, and she felt confusion settle over her. The teenager forced her eyes open wide, blinking her vision clear, and looked around. She found Noah sitting at a desk to her right, and quickly realized that she was lying on the floor. At first, her confusion only worsened, but when she tried to sit up only to find her wrists and ankles bound with duct tape, she remembered, and started to panic, scrambling on the hardwood floor. Noah was at her side in a heartbeat, kneeling down beside her and putting his right hand on her shoulder while his left hand cradled her jaw.
"Shh, shh, shh, calm down; it's okay; you're okay," he soothed.
"Don't touch me!" Ellie snapped, trying to shove him away as tears fell down her face. "Don't fucking touch me! Stay away from me!"
Noah let out an exasperated sigh, then grabbed her shoulders and lifted her upright so she wasn't lying on her arm anymore.
"Just calm down, El," Noah's voice was ever-gentle, but Ellie wasn't about to let her guard down.
"You shot Abby," the young girl's voice trembled, her tears continuing to fall. "Didn't you?"
"Yes," Noah admitted plainly, only barely hesitating. "I did. And I'm sorry. But, hey, she's still alive, and we need something from her."
"So, what, I'm just bait?" Ellie balked at him. How had she not seen it? How did she not realize he'd been using her the whole time?
"Well, yeah," Noah nodded with a bit of a shrug. "But just for a little while longer. Once Abby gives us what we need, we'll let you go, and then you never have to see me again."
"Who the hell is 'we?'" Ellie demanded, trying to figure out where she was.
"It's a long story," Noah sighed. "Just relax, El; this'll be over before you know it."
Ellie was quiet for a moment, studying him, before a thought came to her and her stomach sank.
"Where's Titan?" she demanded, causing Noah to groan and stand up, rubbing his brow as he muttered under his breath. "Noah, where the fuck is Titan? What did you do to my dog?!"
"Oh, my God, El, can you stop obsessing over that stupid mutt for five goddamn seconds?!" Noah snapped at her. Ellie felt her blood boil, and she brought her bound feet up and drove them hard into his leg, making him give a grunt of pain, and she kept kicking, all of her anger and frustration releasing with each hit.
"You lying—piece of—shit!" she yelled through her teeth, her words punctuating each strike. "What the fuck—did you do—to my dog?!"
After the first one, her hits weren't hard for Noah to block and dodge, but they still made him angry. He stomped down hard on her legs, pinning them to the floor, and then backhanded her across the face, making her cry out, feeling her lip split.
"Why don't you do yourself a favor, El, and just shut up and wait it out?" he suggested with a growl. Before Ellie had a chance to respond—although she probably couldn't have if she wanted to, as she was too busy crying—they heard a loud commotion from outside, people shouting and running across the floor.
"What the hell...?" Noah muttered, stepping off of her legs. They heard a door break, and the twenty-five-year-old cursed under his breath, pulling a knife from his pocket and slicing Ellie's ankles free. He pulled a gun from behind his back, then yanked her to her feet.
"Come on," he ordered gruffly. "And El, if you give me any trouble, I swear to God I will kill you. Got it?"
Ellie nodded quickly, terror in her eyes, and allowed him to pull her from the room. Outside, she saw several men running through the house, all of them armed, as other men in tactical gear shouted at and chased them. They could hear Titan barking loudly from somewhere in the house, blending in with the madness, and Ellie let herself be relieved for a moment that he was still alive. Noah quickly pulled her into the chaos, making a beeline for the back door, shoving people aside as they went.
When they finally made it outside, they were met by the man who'd driven her to her house earlier that day—Kyser—in full body armor, aiming his rifle at him. Noah immediately pulled her close, using her as a shield and putting the gun up against her temple. Ellie whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, and when she opened her eyes, MacGyver and Bozer were standing beside the man.
"Let her go, Noah," MacGyver ordered. "It's over; look around."
All around them, people were being handcuffed and arrested. Several SWAT agents were turning their attention to them. They were surrounded.
"Any of you come any closer, and she's dead," Noah snarled.
"There's nowhere to go," MacGyver told him, his voice calm and steady. He kept casting reassuring glances her way.
"There is if you want her to walk away from this!" Noah snapped angrily, his eyes flashing with rage and panic. He pointed the gun at Mac, "Either you get me the fuck out of here, or you become the reason she dies!"
MacGyver opened his mouth ot say something else, but before he could, Titan emerged from the house, still barking furiously all the while, and launched himself at Noah's outstretched arm, sinking his teeth in and making him cry out in pain. He go of Ellie and fell to the ground as Titan shook his head back and forth, tearing at the flesh and muscle of his arm. Noah screamed, his grip on the gun releasing. Kyser ran forward and kicked the gun away from the younger man's hand, and tried to pull Titan off, but it was no use. MacGyver and Bozer, meanwhile, ran over to where Ellie had fallen in the grass and pulled her away from where Noah lay screaming. As MacGyver cut her hands free, Ellie snapped out of her stunned trance.
"Titan!" she called loudly. "Titan, out! To me!"
And just like that, the dog released his grip on her ex, instead turning and sprinting over to her, whining and wagging his tail as he licked her face and arms and neck—wherever he could reach, really. Ellie hugged him tight and sobbed into his fur.
"Are you okay?" MacGyver asked her, looking at her in concern as Kyser went about cuffing Noah. Ellie gave a trembling nod.
"Thank you," she gasped as the wriggling dog in her arms continued to try to get as close to her as physically possible. "Thank you so much."
"Don't mention it," MacGyver chuckled.
"You really should be thanking Titan, here," Bozer grinned, reaching out extending his hand to him, waiting for Titan to sniff and lick him before scratching the dog behind his ears. "What a good boy! What a good, good boy! Can you shake?"
He offered his hand to the dog, and Titan enthusiastically placed his paw in it. Bozer shook his paw with a smile.
"Good boy," he approved.
"What's going to happen to him?" Ellie asked, suddenly terrified. It looked like they thought she meant Noah, so she rushed to continue, "They're not gonna make me put him down, are they? He was just trying to protect me; he's not aggressive at all—"
"Ellie, Titan will be just fine," MacGyver assured her. "This was pretty cut-and-dry defense of the owner."
"And I will personally testify on Titan's behalf if I have to," Bozer chimed in, and his friend nodded in agreement. Ellie let out a shaky sigh of relief.
"Thank you," she said again, kissing Titan on top of his head.
"Come on," MacGyver offered her a hand and helped her to her feet. "Let's get you back to your sister."
"Are you sure he's still here?" Ramirez asked as he and the rest of the Phoenix crew made their way through the nearly-abandoned Nuvogenix facility. They'd wrapped things up with Noah and Ellie thirty minutes earlier, and had dropped Ellie and Titan at the hospital—given the circumstances and Titan's heroism, Kyser had convinced the staff to let the dog stay in the room with Ellie and Abby—before Riley reported that Hart was still at the lab and they could wrap this whole thing up that night.
"According to his cell phone's GPS and the fact that the system doesn't have him signing out yet," Riley confirmed, glancing at her phone.
"Calm down, Eric," Kyser rolled his eyes. "You'll get to arrest him."
"I'm excited," Ramirez grinned. His colleagues chuckled to themselves. They wove through the labyrinth of hallways quickly, finding Hart's office without much trouble. Sure enough, the scientist was inside, and when he looked up and saw then, he made a face of pure annoyance.
"What the hell are you people doing back here?" he demanded with a scoff. "Did you find my projects?"
"Y'know, we did," Ramirez confirmed, stepping closer to where he sat at his desk. "And you wanna know what we found out while we were looking, you stupid, pompous son of a bitch?"
"I beg your pardon," Hart gaped at him, although he did look terrified behind the incredulity.
"We found your emails with your Chechen buyer," Ramirez grinned, almost giddy, grabbing the man by the arm and hauling him to his feet, slapping handcuffs tightly on his wrists.
"What, no! Both of those projects were contracted; what are you talking about?" Hart denied desperately, though it was clear that he knew he was caught.
"Oh, it makes me so happy to say this," Ramirez let out a satisfied sigh. "Doctor Nigel Hart, you are under arrest for treason."
"Satisfied?" Kyser smirked at him.
"Very," Ramirez nodded. "Now let's drop this dumb son of a bitch off with the FBI and go get some sleep."
Mac woke up with a start around four the next morning, managing to get a whole five hours of sleep—it was actually pretty good for him, lately. But, it was clear that he wasn't going back to sleep that night, so with a sigh, he rolled over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand, texting his check-in. Before they left, the five of them had gathered and come up with a few check-ins, just in case they were gone a while. Matty had picked "choose a color that starts with the same letter as your first name" for that morning.
The blond agent added "Aquamarine" to the group chat, watching Bozer's phone light up on the nightstand, then got out of bed, slipping on his shoes and a shirt. Then, he grabbed a room key and the bag containing his laptop and all the files on Murdoc he'd brought with him and shuffled towards the hotel room door, undoing the locks and slipping into the hallway as quietly as he could. He didn't want to wake his colleagues, so he decided to go hang out in the business center for a little while. After swiping in, he selected a cubicle right smack in the line of sight of the security camera in the corner. As expected, he was alone. The blond agent settled into his seat and sent a text to Bozer and Kyser, telling them where to find him when they woke up, then dove into his work.
As usual, he was going in circles, and he knew it, but it was marginally better than sitting around and waiting. They hadn't made it through all the evidence Murdoc left behind—there were at least a dozen boxes, all of them filled to capacity, and while all of it had been painstakingly logged, he'd barely made a dent in analyzing it. He had a list of the items in front of him. Some of the items—like the containers of liquid and powdered acids, car battery, and leather roll of tools—were horrifying to think about what Murdoc could do with them. Others—like the concertina, inflatable unicorn inner tube, and fifty-seven ping-pong balls—were just frustrating, confusing, and useless. He was certain that Murdoc left him some kind of clue, either to where he was going or what he was planning, but whatever it was was hidden in a sea of evidence that was overwhelming just to look at. The list alone was over five pages long, single spaced and double columned. But still, he pressed on, going through each item, determined to find the needle in the haystack, the pattern.
"Mac," the agent jumped and whirled in his chair when he heard his name, finding himself looking at Kyser. The medic held up his hands with a half-smile, as if trying to calm him down. "Easy, man. It's just me."
"Kyser," Mac breathed. "Hey. What are you doing up?"
"It's almost six-thirty," the medic chuckled. Mac blinked and looked down at his phone. Sure enough, he'd been at it for over two hours. The agent groaned to himself; over two hours with hardly any progress. Great.
"Boze is dragging his feet," Kyser continued. "But Riley, Eric, and I are going to hit up the free breakfast before our flight; care to join us?"
"Sure," Mac agreed, gathering his things and putting them away. He unlocked his phone and opened up the group chat, making sure everyone had checked in.
Matty had added "Magenta" about an hour after him.
Jack, to his surprise, was next, offering up "jade green."
Riley, obviously, put in "red."
Bozer was typing, according to the chat, and soon tossed out "watermelon" as his check-in color. Mac scoffed, and as he suspected, the others began calling him out almost instantly.
Jack went first. That's not a color, Boze.
SO not a color, Riley added as Mac shifted over to let Kyser read over his shoulder.
It's the color. Of a fucking. Watermelon. Bozer was clearly still tired. And cranky.
Mac laughed to himself and was quick to reply, Watermelons are, like, at least 3, arguably 4 colors.
Fine, both Mac and Kyser could almost hear him groan. Water.
That's still not a color, Matty wasn't going to let him slide either.
OKAY THEN WHY DON'T YOU SMARTASSES GIVE ME A COLOR THAT STARTS WITH W?!
Mac and Kyser both laughed out loud when all four of them, almost simultaneously, gave the same answer.
White.
Boze. White.
Uh, white?
White, dude.
Bozer didn't respond right away, and agent and medic headed out to the breakfast area, finding Riley and Ramirez laughing hysterically at one of the tables.
"C'mon, guys, let's not be too hard on him," Mac snickered as he and Kyser sat down with them. "He's tired."
"He tried to go with water," Ramirez gasped out between laughs.
At that moment, Mac and Riley's phones buzzed, and they looked at them only to burst out laughing again, showing the screens to their colleagues. It was just four words from Bozer.
I hate you all.
The four of them, still grinning, went and got their food, and by the time they'd filled their plates, Bozer had joined them.
"Not a single word," he warned through his teeth, seeing his friends all smirking at him.
"Hey, don't worry about it, Boze," Mac smiled at him. "We all have off mornings."
"Alright, we can make fun of Bozer on the plane," Kyser teased. "Wheels up in an hour and a half; let's go."
That night, after the sun had set and they'd all completed their work for the day, Riley sat on her bed in front of her laptop, on a video call with Billy.
"So just...run that by me again," Riley said between laughs. "You...you had to chase this guy down the street in a chicken suit?"
"No, no, no, he was in the chicken suit," Billy told her with a grin. "I was riding a small motorcycle."
"How does that scenario even happen?" the analyst's sides hurt from laughing. Billy had been telling her about the last job he and his family had done, and it had been a wild ride from start to finish.
"He had a head start!" Billy said almost defensively. "And traffic was at a standstill; I was never gonna catch him in a car."
"Man, I wish someone got this on video," Riley shook her head, making a mental note to look for traffic cam footage of the incident later.
"Sorry, no luck there," Billy shrugged. "But what have you been up to? I feel like we haven't talked in forever."
"We literally talked, like, two days ago, but I see your point," Riley teased, then gave a shrug. "Nothing too exciting. Not a whole lot I can really tell you. Oh! But Boze might be seriously considering getting a dog."
"Oh really?" Billy raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I mean, I wouldn't be surprised, after our last assignment. We met this dog that was so cute and Boze was just all over him. Hold on; I think I have a video."
Riley leaned over and grabbed her phone, unlocking it quickly and opening the camera roll. Her eyes lit up when she found the video.
"Aha! There it is," she smiled. "I'll send it to you; just a se—"
The analyst trailed off, her smile vanishing in a heartbeat. A picture had caught her eye, and her brow furrowed in confusion.
"What?" Billy asked, sensing her unease.
Riley didn't answer, tapping on the image and opening it. The second she did, the color drained from her face and her breath froze in her throat.
It was a picture of her. Asleep. In her bed. Taken two nights ago. From her camera. While she was home alone. In her locked-down apartment.
With a trembling hand, she went back to her camera roll, scrolling through the pictures, and she soon felt tears well up in her eyes. There were nearly a dozen pictures, all taken from inside her room as she slept. One of them—the first one ever taken—was a selfie, and Riley thought she was going to be sick when she saw Murdoc's face smiling at the camera. He was in her apartment. With her. And she never even knew.
A strangled whimper escaped her throat, and she dropped her phone, jolting off the bed and looking around frantically, as if he might still be in there. Tears forged paths down her face as she started hyperventilating, barely hearing Billy as he called her name, trying to get her to tell him what was going on. In a split second of clarity, she snatched up her phone again and sent a "911" text to the group chat before immediately calling Jack. The older man picked up on the third ring.
"Riles, what's going on?" he demanded, his concern almost palpable through the phone. "What happened? What was that text about?"
"Jack, he was here," Riley sobbed, her voice shaking as she looked around wildly. Her body was wound like a spring, and she wanted nothing more than to run, get out of her apartment, fast, but she had the sickening feeling that running would only put her in more danger. "He was in my apartment, and I...Oh God, Jack, I don't know what to do—I don't...what do I do?"
"Hold on, now, Riles, take a breath," the former Delta ordered, his voice gentle. "Mac and I are on our way to you; what are you talking about? Who was there?"
"Murdoc," Riley could barely force the name past her lips, as if saying it out loud might summon him. "He was here; he was...he was right here!"
"What?" Jack's voice tensed audibly. "When? Just now?"
"No, Jack, he...he's been getting in this whole time," the analyst barely got the words out, gasping for air as though she were suffocating. "There are pictures and I...I don't...I need to get out of here—"
"No, Riley, stay where you are," Mac's voice was shaking almost as badly as hers. "We're on our way; we'll be there in five. I already told Matty everything; she's sending tac over. Just stay there, Riley, and stay on the line; we'll be there soon."
Riley didn't answer. She couldn't; she was crying too hard, nearly paralyzed with fear. The analyst slowly sank down to the floor, unsure of what to do—of what she could do. She was supposed to be safe there. She and Mac had made sure of it; where did they go wrong? What did they miss? How could he have gotten in? She couldn't protect herself. Even with all their planning, all the lengths they'd gone to, he'd gotten in. He could have hurt her. He could have taken her. He could have killed her. And she never would have seen him coming.
She was supposed to be safe.
Mac stood off to the side in Riley's living room as Phoenix combed through it. Simmons and his team had been recalled from their AMOS training (they'd thankfully only been in the classroom by that time and had not yet been dropped off in the middle of the woods), and he was talking to Matty across the room. The rest of his tac team, in full body armor, stood around the apartment, eyes alert.. Bozer, who was in the shower when Riley sent out her 911, was on his way. Jack and Riley were in the corner to his left, Jack just holding her as she cried into his shoulder, trying to keep it together for her sake. Matty wasn't letting her leave the apartment yet—although it was obvious that she wasn't about to let her stay there for the night—and she wouldn't until she nailed down a safehouse for her.
The blond agent was avoiding all eyes—especially Jack's and Riley's, if they were even looking his way—as guilt gnawed at him. This was his fault. He'd promised Riley—promised them all—that he would keep them safe, and he'd failed. He'd done everything he could think of, and Murdoc still got through. Mac was just as powerless as he'd feared. No matter what he did, no matter what precautions he took, it didn't seem to matter. Murdoc could get to him and his friends whenever, wherever he wanted.
Mac flicked through the pictures Riley had found, feeling his stomach churn and bile rise up in his throat. There were eleven photos in total. The first one—the selfie—was taken the very night they'd set up her security system. In that one, he was crouched next to her bed and holding a finger to his lips. In another, his hand was visible, holding a marker like he was going to draw on her face. In the next, it looked like he was in the process of brushing a strand of hair from her face. A small stuffed bunny with floppy ears—which Riley had never seen before, and which was no longer present in the apartment—was in the next one. In each one, it was something different. Murdoc's words from that night echoed in Mac's mind, and he had to put a hand over his mouth to keep himself from being sick.
"I wonder if she knows how young she looks when she's asleep, all twisted up in the sheets..."
"Riley," Mac looked up at last and saw Bozer walk into the room, making a beeline for their distressed friend. Riley looked up from Jack's shoulder and quickly accepted the hug Bozer readily offered. Jack kept a hand on her shoulder for a second before his eyes flicked up to Mac. For the first time in as long as they'd known each other, his gaze made Mac's stomach drop. The former Delta murmured something to Riley, and she nodded before he started making his way over to his partner.
"Jack, please, don't say it," Mac looked at him with wounded eyes, his voice quiet and pleading.
"Say what?" the older man asked, his jaw tight and expression never changing.
"What your face says you're thinking right now," Mac grumbled, shifting his feet. "I secured her room myself. I told her there was no way he could get in there without her knowing it. I failed her. God, he practically told me he would do this and I still didn't..."
"Mac, I need you to listen to me right now," Jack settled his hand on his partner's shoulder and kept his voice low as he forced him to keep eye contact. "Murdoc is playing games with your head right now as much as he is Riley's. For all our sakes, brother—and I say this with the utmost love—get your head out of your ass, cancel your pity party, and get your head in the game. There will be time for blame later. Got it?"
Mac swallowed hard, trying hard not to think about the fact that Jack hadn't denied his guilt-ridden claims, and gave a small nod.
"Got it."
"Good," Jack approved. Before he could say anything else, Matty called them all over.
"Okay, first things first, Riley, you're obviously not staying here tonight," the director began with a sigh. "In fact, none of you are staying in your homes tonight. You're all staying at the Phoenix, behind lock and key."
"Fine by me," Riley's voice trembled as she spoke, and Jack put his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.
"Second, I'm getting all of you new phones just in case Riley's wasn't the only one compromised," Matty continued. She waited until the team nodded before she pressed on, "And third—and this comes from Oversight, not me—Riley is not the only one who will be staying in a safehouse for the foreseeable future; all four of you will be relocated until such a time as we catch this son of a bitch."
"Matty—" Mac began, ready to protest.
"No arguments, Mac," Matty cut him off quickly. "Murdoc knows where all of you live, and obviously we didn't do enough to lock your places down." Here, Mac shifted his feet uncomfortably, trying to stifle the wave of guilt that washed over him. "Oversight thinks there's too much of a risk to you—and the Phoenix—if you stay out in the open."
The blond agent still wanted to argue. He'd given Murdoc his health, his sleep, his time, his very sanity; he didn't want to give up his home, too. But now was not the time; he could fight later. For now, all that mattered was making Riley feel safe again. So, he gave a short nod.
"Good," Matty approved. "Simmons and his team will escort you all back to the Phoenix. And Simmons," she raised her voice to be heard, getting the tac team leader's attention, "anything gets within shouting distance of these four, you're cleared to shoot it."
"Yes, ma'am," Simmons dipped his head. As they started to leave, Matty's voice again stopped them.
"Kyser, you're with me," she called, hardly looking up from her phone. The medic gave the four agents a reassuring smile, then went back over to the director. Before any of them could ask what was going on, Simmons and his remaining team escorted them out of Riley's apartment and down to the street below.
"So where exactly are we going, Matty?" Kyser asked from behind the wheel as he drove through the darkness. Matty was in the passenger seat, and at his boss's prompting, he'd driven her out of the city and onto a quiet road that, in about fifteen miles, would lead into thick trees. Maybe it was the events that transpired earlier that night, maybe it was the fact that isolated forest roads were a tactical nightmare, but the medic couldn't help but feel every single molecule within him screaming that the whole thing was a terrible idea.
"I got a text from Jill," Matty explained. "She's been in contact with someone who may have some info on where to find Murdoc. Says he'll only talk in person. He has a cabin out here."
"Ah-hahh..." Kyser nodded slowly. "Aaand...you're aware that, objectively, this sounds like the trappiest trap to ever trap, correct?"
"Believe me, I'm aware of how it sounds, Kyser," Matty chuckled slightly, although her eyes were serious. "But I had Jill run a background check on this guy. He checks out; he was part of Murdoc's collective, probably trying to help us get Murdoc before Murdoc can get him. We also checked satellite coverage; there is only one person inside that cabin, and at this point, I am in no position to turn down a lead. And, hey, there's a reason I brought you. I would have brought the whole team, but, I was only allowed one agent with me, per our agreement, and, well...if it's not a trap, I can't afford to scare this guy off, can I?"
"I suppose not," Kyser allowed, his stomach churning. They drove in silence for a few more minutes, the medic purposefully going just under the speed limit—about fifty-seven miles per hour—his eyes alert to anything out of the ordinary.
He caught movement a mere few feet in front of him, darting out from one of the bushes lining the road. He didn't have time to stop, though he did slam on his brakes. It didn't do them much good; he hit whatever it was almost full speed, and he heard and felt his tires pop. Kyser tried to keep the car under control and on the road, but they'd been approaching a curve, as as he tried to turn around the bend, the car tipped over, rolling onto its roof.
Dazed, disoriented, and bleeding from the crash and the airbags, Kyser groaned, reaching his hands up to brace himself on the roof of the car.
"Matty," he groaned, looking over at his boss. She appeared to be unconscious, dangling from her seatbelt, and he quickly reached over and gently untangled her, placing her on the roof that was once above her seat so the blood would stop rushing to her head, keeping her neck as stable as he could from his angle. Once she was as safe as he could get her at the moment, he reached up to undo his seatbelt, but it was jammed, so he took his small, two-inch knife that he held between his first and middle fingers from his arm sheath and cut himself loose, inhaling sharply as he dropped to the roof and onto the broken glass that had once been his window. The medic moved to crawl outside, but as the ringing in his ears started to subside, he heard footsteps coming closer.
"Shit," Kyser breathed, pulling his sidearm free of its holster before dragging himself out from the wreckage, immediately turning to aim his weapon in the direction of the footsteps he'd heard earlier, still on his stomach. He was too late; Murdoc kicked the weapon from his hand and kicked him over onto his back. Kyser gave a groan of pain, gritting his teeth, before he looked up at his assailant.
"Hmm," Murdoc frowned at him, and Kyser noticed the gun in his hand. Kyser kept his left hand pinned to the grass in a tight fist. "You're not who I was hoping for...But I could have fun with you, nevertheless."
"Fuck you," Kyser growled furiously, wincing at the effort even those two words took to say.
"Ooh, touchy, touchy," Murdoc tsked at him, giving an amused chuckle. "I know you're in pain, Agent Kyser, but there's no need to be nasty. I'll be with you in a moment; first, I need to attend to your boss."
The psychopath started to move, and Kyser knew this was his only shot; if he didn't do something now, he was going to lose Matty. Without thinking about it, his right hand darted out and grabbed the tall man's right ankle, while his left arm came up—knife still in hand—and plunged the blade into Murdoc's outer thigh. The assassin gave a cry of pain, stumbling back, and Kyser released him, instead turning and trying to crawl for his gun, hardly feeling his broken bones. To the medic's dismay, Murdoc recovered relatively quickly, coming back at him and kicking him in the side of the head, raising his gun and shooting a round through Kyser's outstretched hand. Now it was the medic's turn to scream, pulling his hand back from his weapon instinctively, tears involuntarily blurring his vision.
"You've got some fight in you, Mark; I'll give you that," Murdoc snarled through clenched teeth, limping towards him and kicking him over onto his back again. He aimed his weapon between the medic's eyes, "I should kill you for it."
"If you were going to, you wouldn't be talking about it," Kyser spat, cradling his right hand to his chest. Murdoc laughed, amusement mixing with the anger on his face, and he kicked the medic in the jaw out of spite, making Kyser cry out.
"Killing you would be far too easy, my friend," the contract killer hissed. "Why would I spare you from having to look dear old Jack in the eye after losing his beloved director? No, no, no, for this project, killing you is no fun."
Kyser felt his stomach drop, and his eyes darted over to the car. He had to get up. He had to get to Matty. Murdoc was hurt; if he could just get up, he might be able to outrun him...
The medic's hopes were quickly abandoned when Murdoc stepped on his wounded hand, slowly adding pressure until Kyser was screaming. The tall man chuckled, then bent down—with some difficulty, a fact that Kyser was still proud of—and started taking his vest off, stepping off of his chest and hand before yanking the vest away and tossing it aside. Before the medic could even hope to process what was happening, Murdoc took aim at the low center of his abdomen, and fired a round, point blank, into his body. Again, the man screamed, his good hand flying to cover the injury.
"Be grateful you're not Jack," Murdoc told him over his cries. "If you were, this could have gone a lot worse."
Without another word, he turned his attention to Matty, and Kyser was helpless to stop him as he dragged her from the wreckage. The psychopath wordlessly tossed the medic's phone, which had been thrown around inside the car as they crashed, to him, then stood up and walked off, carrying Matty with him.
Kyser tried to get up, to do something, but his body wasn't listening, too focused on his wounds. With a growl of frustration, he fumbled for his phone, unlocked it, and started calling Simmons.
Back at the Phoenix, just as the team arrived for their impromptu sleepover, Mac received a text on his phone that made his blood run cold.
I hope you studied.
Welp. That was long as fuck. But hey, we got more action out of it! Haha I hope you all enjoyed, and if you made it to the end, I applaud and thank you. Let me know what you think, and I'll see you all next time for the exam!
