*Authors note*

So to further land me on the possible list of terrorist suspects, I researched Chloroform and its effects this time. I even found some alarmingly creepy people also seeking this information; one of which on Google answers wanted to know the "exact dose to give a 23 female of 125 lbs"

-Dear internet you scare me sometimes.

Chapter 4

"So What have you got for us?"

She had bent over in the opposite direction from him to grab her backpack, grabbing the inside lining she ripped it back to reveal an additional compartment, one that she sowed back up every time she needed to relocate to a safer location. The object hidden inside was a simple tin canister, one she never left out of her sight. Filled with encrypted flash drives, and memory sticks full of intel, blue prints, and even the very software he invented himself to steal the data, it was what her father called his 'insurance plan' but Molly much preferred calling it his 'greatest hits' none of which he ever got the chance to pass on.

This should be enough for them at least for now She thought. She hated doing this. Trusting anyone other than herself was always risky but trusting them, of all people, that was just a nightmare. What else could you do Molly? Collect yourself. You have nowhere left to turn and your back's up against a wall. At least maybe these people might be able to provide some kind of protection if you give them what they want...right?

Hesitantly bringing the canister that held her sole bargaining chip back up to the bar countertop she turned to her left to see Auggie doing exactly what she told him not to do. "I said..."

He shot his hand to his mouth instantly gesturing for her silence. Tilted his head slightly, Listening, he found it; the telltale hiss of a smoke bomb. Only seconds before the sound of a hard bottle being thrown quickly on the floor behind him, accompanied with the sound of two sets of quickly but all too casually receding footsteps exiting the pub's entrance caught his attention. Annie's voice on the two-way was now starting to panic-not making the situation any better. The whole 'keeping your field agent calm in a crisis and talking them through it' is a learnt skill not easily mastered in under a week.

"Molly, we have to go NOW!"

With this she did not argue. "this way." Grabbing his hand and shoving the canister quickly into the main her backpack she pulled him towards the back door from which she came. Flinging it open she was preparing for a mad dash when her companion snagged the solitary step she did not inform him about that led to the alleyway.

BOOM.

With the explosion overloading both their senses, they both fell to the cobblestone street. This time it was Auggie scrambling to get Molly out of there. Like riding a bike, military training will always stick with someone even years after they've shed the uniform. He didn't really know the best way to get back, but he heard the faint sound of traffic to the right so taking initiative he followed it. The hollow echo of their footfalls with no crosswinds told him without having to ask where they were; in between a long row of homes on each side. Thankful she called out a few separate obstructions this time, he still cursed her choice of location. Nothing with the name 'dead end' should ever sound like a good place to arrange anything. The cars were becoming increasingly louder, "How much further until the street?"

"About 30 yards."

He nodded and they continued. When they arrived he instructed her to turn right and then released the hand he had been pulling and grabbed her forearm instead signaling her to take the lead. Alleyway's he could do, but unfamiliar traffic patterns made him nervous. Suddenly the sound of violently screeching tires pulled in front of their path, Halting them both in their tracks. He felt her tension instantly and when she started pulling his arm in the other direction he took it as a good sign that they were probably not Government issued vehicles in front of them. Just as they turned to run back the way they came, they both collided with something.

The world around them just faded away.

Annie, Barber, and Stu had been doing their best to get people out of the pub until help arrived. Some of them including two of their fellow undercover agents who'd been sitting by the front window could not be saved. Two civilians and the entire backup team brought the casualty number to seven. The bomb had been detonated from the entrance doorframe, so the people towards the back of the pub had been a little more fortunate than those of the front.

Joel, the only surviving undercover agent, had some flesh wounds and a mild concussion, but was other wise fine. He had acted faster than the other two and had been making his way towards Auggie and Molly when he saw them fleeing out the back entrance. That was the last thing he remembered.

Annie had felt pangs of guilt for feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders, knowing they had made it out safe, when so many others did not. In the distance she heard sirens fast approaching (unknowingly masking the echo of screeching breaks just up the street) They had successfully removed five survivors onto the street, the sixth they did not want to move until help arrived so they kept him as comfortable as possible using the blankets volunteered to them by the surrounding neighbors all doing their best to help the wounded until medical help arrived. They brought out water, fresh blankets, and washcloths to the survivors who were still very much in shock. She had noted absently that it was such a shame that it takes a tragedy for people to willingly pitch in to help one another.

As rescue and medical personnel began pouring in to take over, new waves of worry started to pour over the tired trio sitting on the curb. Auggie and his informant had not made it back yet, and they still didn't know who was behind the bombing.

If a mission goes wrong it was protocol to take cover, wait till the threat was assessed, and then regroup; but Auggie was different. There were situations that he could not so quickly or easily adjust to if something unexpected occurred. It was difficult to admit but she started to understand Joan's reasons for keeping such a tight leash on him. Stopping herself from delving deeper into the train of thought, she thought she'd focus on her nieces: they made her happy. What art project will they be bringing home for her to finish tonight?

...Was Molly in on it?

should I buy a poncho after that last finger painting incident?...

...Was this whole thing a trap that she unintentionally led him into?

Maybe we should just cover the whole family room in that plastic that Dexter uses so Danielle doesn't have another meltdown...

...Did she just panic and leave him in the back alley to run?

"THAT'S IT!" she said standing up and headed to the other side of the street, "I can't sit here any longer,"

"Annie, Joan said-"

"Joan's not here right now. Besides, I don't think she'd take too kindly to her favorite tech op going missing anyway," she snapped.

Barber shot up at that. Whether it was concern for Auggie, or fear of Joan wasn't exactly clear.

"Ok, Stu, you stay here in case he comes around while we are looking for him," she motioned to Barber, "your with me."

"I'll take the left if you've got the right,"

Giving a nod, they both split up in opposite directions to cover the entire block around the pub. Annie ran down the sidewalk, eyes scanning for any clues that might tell her where they had gone. She knew that protocol was to take cover, but that would mean confined spaces in unfamiliar areas and knowing him, he was not going to trust Molly enough even if she was still with him. So that just left the alley's which she was getting around to, or the busier street corner up ahead that she was about to turn left around. Once the quaint cobblestone turned to pavement of the busy two lane street, she noticed up ahead that there were the all too eerie telltale signs of a struggle. Picking up pace, she approached the violent diagonal tire marks that stretched far too long for comfort. She noted the distance between the front and back which meant that it was probably a van that pulled sideways. This is Baltimore she stopped to remind herself, no need to jump to conclusions. With that she continued her search until she caught the smell of something that made her heart sink: two rags still soaked in a sweet pungent oder lay in the gutter only about ten feet away. This had just happened.

Sounds slowly started echoing back into his dulled and aching senses. Everything was fuzzy and muffled. His brain involuntarily made the connection between this and the first time he woke up after the accident. Having endured that particular nightmare countless times before, he surrendered to the inevitable until an alarming sensation of his body being jolted up and back down painfully onto his shoulder woke him immediately. Still disoriented, he moved around as much as he could and found that he was laying harshly on his side with his arms pulling behind his back, legs scrunched up into a fetal position. He also noted something cold and sweaty sticking over his mouth which pulled when he moved his head around. The haze over his senses finally started clearing and he realized that the rolling sensation and the still muffled-but loud noise meant they were in a vehicle. Upon further assessment taking in the stuffy warm air, and the general lack of any space, he came to the conclusion he was in a trunk. The warm-but-still object crammed motionless in front of him meant he also was not alone.

Molly.

The bomb, the feeling of cobblestone beneath him, and the abrupt tire screeches, and that all too familiar smell...it all suddenly came rushing back and he knew with the utmost clarity of what had happened.

Wasting no time, he arched his back and pulled his legs further into his chest, bringing his bound hands close enough to his feet. The kidnappers had obviously never been through a rigorous faux abduction drill at The Farm, because any skilled agent would know exactly how to use that positioning to his advantage. Working his nimble fingers passed his bound ankles, rolling his chest slightly forward and arching further in the process, he reached what he was looking for- and what Joan had no idea he had;

A skinny 3-inch retractable knife located on the inside of his right shoe.

For what it lacked in comfort, it made up for in a bad situation. He was a trained agent and he knew how quickly events could turn for the worse. This knife, along with several others of various size, hadn't let him down yet. Turning it and sliding it upright and out between his clasped hands, carefully so as not to drop it, he then searched for the slit that held the blade and once found, began tediously inching it out until it was fully extended. Turning it so that it was facing outward and pointing upright he pushed the dull end back into his shoe at the heel to steady it there. The rest was easy.

Once his arms were freed he used the knife to cut his ankles and then turned towards Molly. She was still not moving as he untied her limbs. This was worrisome but he knew that if it was indeed chloroform, the smaller the person is the longer the effects can last. He checked her pulse, and feeling her chest, made sure that her breathing was steady-which it was. Rolling back in the other direction towards the cars interior he then strained to listen for any voices he might hear talking inside.

The only thing he could hear was muffled sound of Kenny Chesney. Terrific.

Time seemed to be crawling by at a standstill. In the passing time-what like hours was probably only minutes, during that time he checked for his earpiece and buttons which surprise, surprise, were all missing. Aside from doing their main purposes, All three could also function as highly functional GPS trackers. However anyone with a scanner and half a brain could easily find their signature- which they did.

There was movement and an audible grown beside him.

"Molly?"

Another moan.

He called her name again this time shaking her a little. The slow stirring movements became increasingly sharper and more violent as panic set in and she became more and more aware of her surroundings. He could tell what was going to come next: a lot of thrashing and screaming which would do neither of them any good.

Wrapping a leg around hers, and his arm over her mouth he quietly but calmly whispered "Molly, calm down. Its scary-believe me I know, but your going to have to trust me, ok?"

She tried to struggle but calmed once he started rubbing circles against her back with his other hand. He figured that with the Kenny blaring in the front seat now was as good a time as any to find out what he was dealing with.

"Now, did you get a good look at the guys who captured us?"

She nodded up and down and the hand that was still lightly cupped across her mouth felt tears falling into it.

"I'm going to let go as long as you promise not to scream, ok?"

Another nod.

"Now what did you see? Did you recognize them? Or were the faces hidden? If so, do you know who they might be?"

"I know exactly who they are. Their faces were covered, but I didn't have to see them to know why they were here." the emotional distress in her voice was evident, she sounded terrified to him. It was such a sharp contrast from the cold and collected young woman he encountered at the bar earlier. He recalled her reaction just before they were apprehended; how her whole body tightened against his grip pulling him back as if she had just seen Lucifer himself.

"They were after you?"

"They work for my dad. There's 5 of them. Skilled mercenaries he hired to protect himself once he had enough money and became too paranoid to know what to do with it. They are ruthless, and they will kill anyone who gets in their way without a moments hesitation. Believe me, I've seen them in action."

"That's why you came to us? For our protection?"

"What other choice did I have? When I was little my dad would have used me as a human shield to save his own skin. I was valuable to him and that's the only reason why he didn't abandon me in the first place. But once I turned 18, everything changed. I became a liability, someone who was no longer a child that pursuers would be afraid to shoot at, and who already knew far too much about his profession. Once I saw his paid assassins go from protecting me invaluably, to eyeing me like a piece of suspicious raw meat that'd been left out to long, I figured it was time to split, taking some of his most valuable programs and intel as leverage. That was two years ago.

Auggie thought for a moment. If that was true, the intel would be old, really old, which didn't seem like something the RDEI would want...unless what she took was extremely valuable. "What on earth did you take?"

"His programs he designed, some blueprints that looked really important, and a ton of intel on operations dealing with North Korea. He referred to it as his 'insurance plan' which he added to over the years inside a safe, meanwhile passing other vital information through so they didn't get suspicious. Where he made his mistake, is that everything I know I learnt from him and I think that while he saw me as liability, he also turned a blind eye because I was his 'little girl' and therefor, would never betray him. All it took was a video camera I set up inside my room with two angled mirrors to catch the digits he punched in and then I took off. That was easy. Everything turned a lot more dangerous after that.

Auggie chewed over that information for awhile, running scenarios and working on possible plans.

"Ok, Molly here's what we are going to do..."

Three times the car had stopped since he devised an ill-conceived escape plan-not like he had a lot of choices to choose from, but each time they steeled themselves ready for action, the shoes that walked out of the car never approached the trunk. Stopping just behind the rear door to refuel. Wherever they were going it was a long ride.

"Hey!" a soft voice whispered in front of him.

"Hmmm..."

"Can you tell me what your name is? I know you people are big into secrets and all but I'd like to know the name of the person who I'm sharing precious oxygen with."

She earned a small smile with that one. "Its August. But I go by Auggie."

"Huh."

"Huh?" the exaggerated tone in his voice intentionally incredulous.

"Nothing," she said drifting into a slight mumble "Just when I contacted the CIA...for help I kinda expected..."

He could filll these blanks in easily, "Not a blind guy named Auggie?"

"bingo."

With that they both fell silent for awhile inside their own thoughts, until a more abrupt stop jolted them both back to reality. This time Auggie heard the sound of a larger vehicle pull up right behind them. He listened keenly as a door to a van slid open aggressively, and heavy footfalls landed on the ground and heading in their direction. He felt her head snap in his direction looking for any trace as to what to do. Three words were all that were needed.

"This is it."