So this chapter deals with some chemistry and medical stuff so since I don't know about either I just made it up. Hope it sounds okay.


Chapter Four: Dextro

Neal felt the blades of the scissors slice through the anklet. The green light on the side turned red. He knew he couldn't stay where he was, as it was the last location the anklet transmitted data from. He had to leave. He couldn't go home, he couldn't go anywhere that the FBI or Peter could link back to him.

He let the anklet slip from his fingertips and fall to the ground. He stared at it as alarms sounded in his head. He knew he made a mistake. He knew he had just ruined every good thing in his life by the blades of those damn scissors. But there was no turning back; there was no changing the past. He still felt this rage of panic and anger pulsing through him with madness. He felt an urgency to run as far away from New York as he possibly could, it didn't matter how he got there, he just had to get away. His practical sense of judgment seemed to be gone, he was thinking irrationally, he was impulsive and yes, he was making poor choices, one after another. There was still this small part of him that knew everything he was doing was wrong, but he was acting out of emotion rather than common sense. He had never done that before.

Not only was his thinking haywire, but his muscles ached, his lungs burned as if they were starved for oxygen. His eyes and throat were dry and his hands trembled. He looked up and saw his reflection in a mirror hanging above the counter. He almost did not recognize his own reflection. His skin was pale, and not slightly pale, he looked as if death had visited him yesterday. He had dark circles wrapping his eyes, the type of circles you would see on a person that had not slept in days. He stared into the mirror as the strange unfamiliar reflection glared back at him. That was not him. It couldn't be. The man in the mirror looked terrifying. He took a step closer. It was him though. What happened to him? Why did he feel this way? Why did he look like a walking corpse? Something was wrong, something had happened to him. But what? When?

He quickly turned from the mirror. He was disgusted at what he saw. He felt his knees weaken as he turned and suddenly the room was spinning. He felt light headed and his vision began to darken, the sound of the street outside now became muffled. He felt his breathing weaken and his legs became limp, his body began to slump to the floor. He fought the darkness looming over him, threatening to tear him from the conscious world. His body came to rest against the concrete floor and his neck went slack dropping his head against the hard surface of the ground. He felt a slight thud and his eyes became heavy, he closed them.

"Grab his legs." Neal heard someone talking. He tried to force his eyes open but he could not make out who was there, his vision was too blurred. He wasn't even sure if he had heard them correctly. How many were there? He closed his eyes again. This felt like a dream.

His body was now completely limp. He couldn't lift his arms if he tried. He felt someone pull against his shoulders; it lifted his body from the cold floor. Another person lifted his legs at the knee. He could feel the weight of his body hanging against his shoulders and legs now, it felt so heavy. He again tried to open his eyes. They were talking but what they were saying Neal could not make out or could not understand due to his slipping in and out of consciousness. His head fell backwards and again his eyes drifted shut.

He heard a car door open. His eyes shot open at the abrupt sound. It was a van. Suddenly he felt his body drop against the floor of the vehicle. He wanted to talk, he wanted to ask who these people were and where they were taking him, but as he tried to speak nothing came, his lips did not even move. The van door closed. It was dark. His eyes drifted shut once again. He felt someone's breath against his neck, and then a voice spoke into his ear. "Took you long enough to cut the anklet kid."

Neal tried to pry his eyes open but with every passing minute it became a much more difficult task. He gave up trying.

Peter picked up his cell phone and dialed a phone number.

John watched closely not sure who he was calling.

Peter pressed his lips as he waited for an answer. It rang several times then went to voicemail.

"Mozzie this is Peter. Something is wrong with Neal I need to know if you have seen him. Call me back Please. He's cut his anklet." Peter ended the call. He knew Mozzie was not his biggest fan, but when it came to Neal and Neal's safety he knew Mozzie could set aside his distrust in him, he had done it before. He needed him to do it again.

"So what now?" John asked.

Peter looked down at the laptop. "Now we go check the last place we know he was for sure. I know he won't be there but maybe he left some evidence that will give us a clue as to where he went."

John followed Peter to the front door. Elizabeth reached out and gripped Peter by the arm. "Peter, be careful."

Peter smiled at her. "I will."

They arrived at the small building with the foreclosure noticed on the front door. Peter looked around the front of the building. He knew somewhere in that area was Neal's last known location. He looked inside the window but saw nothing to give him reason to believe Neal had been inside the building. He walked around the corner and headed down the alley. He saw the side door to the building cracked open. He pulled his gun from its holster and looked back at his father. "Wait here Dad."

John nodded his head and waited just outside of the door.

Peter swung the door open and held the gun in front of him as he walked into the dark building. He looked around and instantly his eyes were drawn to the scissors lying on the ground next to Neal's inactive tracking anklet. He quickly cleared the room and as soon as he was satisfied no one was there he called to his father. "It's clear Dad."

Peter bent down and picked up the anklet and held it in his hand. "Why did you do it Neal?" he asked under his breath.

John walked in and looked at the anklet grasped between Peter's fingers. He frowned. "Any idea where he would have gone?"

Peter only stared at the anklet in his hand as he gently shook his head. His expression said more than any words could say. He had no idea where to look, and that terrified him.

Peter's phone began to ring. He jumped as the sound and vibration ripped him from his thoughts. He quickly pulled the phone from his pocket. He looked at his father just before he answered the phone. "It's Mozzie!" He lifted the phone to his ear. "Mozzie have you seen Neal?"

"Yes I saw him this morning. Why would he cut his anklet?" Mozzie asked.

"He came to my house today and went off. He hit me twice and then took off. He was acting crazy. He wasn't himself at all. He almost…" Peter paused he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, until he said it. "He seemed like he had been drugged or something."

"I'll call you back." Mozzie pressed the end button as he could hear Peter trying to stop him in his effort to get more information.

Mozzie walked over to Neal's dining table and looked down at the envelope Neal had removed the picture of Alex and the instructions for the forgery. He stared at it for a few seconds. Suddenly he spun around and walked into the closet where the two way mirror was that looked out into the apartment. He pulled a box Neal kept hidden beneath his suits. He opened the box and pulled a pair of latex gloves out as well as a cotton mask.

He walked into the kitchen and bent down as he rummaged through the cleaning supplies Neal kept beneath the sink. He lifted a bottle of alcohol and ainegar, then in the basket behind the cleaning supplies he removed two q-tips and a small metal mixing bowl. He walked back to the table where the envelope sat. He slipped on the gloves, and then he placed the cotton mask over his nose and mouth.

He created a mixture in the bowl with the alcohol and vinegar. He lifted the envelope and using his pocket knife he began scraping at the seal of the envelope. A powder began to develop as the blade scraped against the paper. He dropped the powder into the bowl. He picked the bowl up and walked over to the stove. He sat the bowl down on one of the burners and then turned it on high. He waited. It took several minute before the liquid began to boil. He watched as the boiling liquid began to thicken. He turned the stove off and removed the bowl.

He filled the kitchen sink with cold water and sat the bowl into the water bath. Instantly the liquid began to form a thick gel like substance. He closed his eyes and frowned. Quickly he removed the bowl from the water and after he located a large trash bag and tossed the bowl and its contents into the bag. He tied it into a tight knot then placed another bag over that one repeating the process two more times. Once he felt the chemicals were safely disposed of he removed the gloves carefully so as not to touch them against his skin, and placed them and the cotton mask into another trash bag.

He pulled his cell phone out and dialed Peter's phone number.

"Yeah." Peter answered.

"Peter, Neal was drugged." Mozzie sounded anxious.

"With what?"

"It's called Dextropaline, also known as Dextro. It's a drug used to stimulate the aggression sensors in the brain. It's a powder. If you inhale any or get enough on your skin it can cause extreme violence, irrational behavior, panic, anxiety, and eventually it will leave the victim unconscious. I found it on the envelope that Neal received the picture of Alex from. There was just enough on there to affect him if he got it on his skin. It didn't transfer to the contents of the envelope that's why it did not affect me when I handled the picture or the letters."

"So Neal could be somewhere unconscious?" Peter was now beginning to sound worried.

Mozzie sighed. "Yeah, he could be."

"How long until the affects wear off?"

"It depends on how much of the drug got into his system. Could be a few hours to a few days."

"Crap."

"Due to the amount I found on the envelope, I doubt he received enough to last very long. My best guess is he could be back to himself within the next twenty four hours or so. But then again that's just a guess."

Peter grumbled under his breath. He knew Mozzie had done his best but he also knew that wasn't going to help them find Neal before this evening. And if they did not find Neal soon, the Marshalls would discover the truth and would put out an arrest warrant for both Neal and himself.