Leon pulled to the pick up line at Dulles where Sherry was at the curb. Popping the trunk of the car, Sherry walked around to the back as Leon exited the car and opened it for her, Sherry tossing the bag in herself. A moment after Leon shut the door, Sherry hugged him tightly, Leon placing his hand on the back of her head and tucking it into his shoulder.
"This investigation is a pretty big cluster fuck," Leon said, Sherry nodding into his chest, "You broke the case though. We're as far as we are because of you."
"Thank you," Sherry said, letting him go and walking to the passenger side and sitting in the seat. Leon sat back down and merged with traffic and followed the signs to leave the airport.
"Where's Jake?" Leon asked.
"BSAA is keeping him on until it's complete, for continuity," Sherry replied, Leon agreeing that made sense, "I really need to stop getting kidnapped."
"Both times you busted yourself out," Leon said, Sherry releasing a small laugh, "How was Helena doing before you left?"
"She wasn't even conscious yet. They're keeping her in a coma," Sherry said.
"She'll get better, she's as tough as Claire," Leon said, Sherry nodding in agreement.
"I've been meaning to ask you," Sherry said, Leon tilting his head a little, "Ashley Graham?"
"Even you know about that?" Leon asked.
"It's the worst kept secret in the world," Sherry said, Leon chuckling.
"What about it?" Leon asked.
"How and why for starters," Sherry said.
Leon stopped at a yield, waiting for a few cars to drive by before turning into his lane.
"I've sporadically ran into her from time to time for years. Kind of unavoidable. She was always interested, and I was always hesitant, for employment reasons and romantic ones."
"When did the hesitation stop?" Sherry asked.
"After New York," Leon started, taking in a breath, "Look at everyone we know. In one way shape or form, we're stuck. Chris and I are well in our forties. We've been doing this for nearly twenty years. If it ever comes to a place, where we actually win, or it's at least contained, we'll be too old to enjoy it.
"Before and after New York, I was a drunken mess any hour I wasn't working. Ashley still knows the right people, and she knew where I drank. I tried to push her away, but she didn't let me. Ashley put me back together.
"I'm slowly disengaging from this life little by little. Take the supervisor job, mentor and teach, make sure you guys are ready when we hand off the baton. So when I stop, it's not as jarring. I've already lined up an instructor position at the DSO training site, I'm retiring as an agent next year."
"Wow," Sherry said, Leon smiling and nodding, "Take it its pretty serious with her then."
"I'm willing to find out how far we can go. Not booking a church anytime soon," Leon clarified.
"Shame I'm a little too old to be your flower girl," Sherry said, both of them laughing.
Jessica sat on a BSAA plane in a cage, her ankles and wrists chained to a steel loop at her feet. The BSAA was transporting her back to London to face formal charges. Leaning back in her seat, all she could hear around her was a guard nearby, and the engines of the cargo plane.
"Hey, whose dick do I need to suck to get some water?" Jessica shouted, the guard walking around the cage and standing in front of her. It was a female BSAA agent who didn't appear in the slightest bit amused. "Please tell me yours."
"Shut it prisoner," the agent said, slapping the door of the cage with a baton before walking back around. Jessica suddenly heard a thud, followed by a collapsing body. Slow footsteps approached the front of the cage, before Jessica saw a second woman reach over and pulled chair across from her.
"Who the hell are you?" Jessica asked, assuming she was here to kill her to tie up loose ends. The woman was a petite Asian woman with short straight black hair. She was in mostly dark tactical clothing, hut her vest was red.
"My name is Ada Wong," she said, Jessica smiling.
"You're the super spy, I've heard of you," Jessica said. "Wet work isn't your normal forte, so I'll assume you're not here for that."
"I'm here to offer you a job," Ada said, Jessica looking at her chains, figuring listening wouldn't make it any worse.
"I'm listening."
"You and I are not that different. Our only loyalty is to ourselves, and a good payday," Ada said with a grin.
"I'm also a fan of a stiff dick and stiffer drink," Jessica said, making Ada chuckle.
"I heard you were mouthy, but listen for a change," Ada said, Jessica tilting her head. "Your first years payment will be providing you the means out of this cell. From there, two million a year. We will be conducting operations for the most shadowy organization in the world."
"The United States government?" Jessica ask sarcastically, and Ada only smirked. "You're kidding?"
"They need people, to do things they can't officially authorize. We need a reconnaissance specialist, I recommended you. This also allows the government to keep track of some of the more volatile and dangerous specialists in the world. Former Umbrella employees for instance, keeps a leash on them, allows them to still be useful. How do you keep tabs on people like us? Just pay us more."
"Are terms negotiable?" Jessica asked, Ada nodding. "Five hundred thousand for the first year instead of free, I'll accept one point five million a year after that."
"Deal," Ada said, taking the keys, opening her cell and freed her from her chains. Jessica rubbed her wrists as they stepped away, Ada pointing to a set of parachutes on the floor. They both strapped their bags on before opening the cargo ramp and leaping out.
Three weeks after Sherry returned to the United States, the Remnants made the mistake the BSAA was waiting for them to make. They had used one of their passports to travel. Miguel Gutierrez, the assumed leader of the Remnants and brother of Javier, used the passport the BSAA was able to track, saying his name was Gabriel Rosario.
Jake had traveled to London, advising on the investigation with the BSAA since he was involved from the very beginning, allowing continuity when it was fully handed off from the DSO who was no longer involved directly. They were now on standby, waiting for one of the Remnants to move so they could intercept and prevent a potential attack.
"They finally messed up," Chris said as he entered the aircraft hangar the Silver Dagger operated out of.
Their OSPREY was parked, fueled, and ready to move on a moments notice. When first stepping into the hangar, they had a small personal gym when waiting for an assignment. They had a fridge and a microwave in the back, with a metal shelf holding miscellaneous snacks. At the far end was a small armory, and immediately outside was a range.
"Remnants?" D.C. asked from the pull up bars, dropping down and walking over.
Chris went to the computer in the center of the room, typing a few things then projecting the screen onto a larger monitor on the wall.
"Miguel Gutierrez, Columbian terrorist, leader of the Remnants of Truth. He used BOWs in an attack in Thailand in an attempt to assassinate the Columbian President and other world leaders. Intelligence suggests the Remnants are actually a proxy organization of a group known only as the Connections."
Miguel looked a lot like his brother, but was half a foot taller with a scar across his cheek.
"The Connections is the group the BSAA is helping Blue Umbrella investigate right?" Nadia asked.
"We haven't handed this off to them yet, and I don't plan to," Chris said, then looked over at Jake who was still laying back on a couch in a makeshift recreation room. "Jake, feel free to be a part of this at any time."
"He's been like that for weeks. All he does is read and relax. I tried sparring with him, dude leveled me," D.C. said to Chris.
"Where did they pop back up?" Jake said from the couch.
"Thailand, back to where it all started. Prime Minister is hosting a unity event, showing the world they are not afraid of terrorists," Chris said.
"I'll presume the President of Columbia will be in attendance," Jake said, finally standing up from the couch and walking over. "Plan is, BSAA bolsters security for the event, we keep eyes on the Columbian President?" Jake asked.
"That's the plan," Chris answered.
"You need to stop reading the surface of a situation, and dig a little," Jake said, leaning against the table they were huddled around. "I have access to all the same information as you, but you still want to go head first into this?"
"Share with the class Jake," Chris said, figuring he knew something and was holding it above their heads.
"Westerfield made seven of the serums that turned him into the Hulk. Two were recovered in his lab, one he used on himself. Where did the other four go?" Jake asked, everyone looking at him, then back at Chris. "How many people is Miguel bringing with him?"
"The four of them, could be like Westerfield. One of them is bad enough, four is another thing entirely sir," Nadia said.
"We're assuming he did…"
"You have to assume," Jake interrupted. "If you make a plan based on your enemy at his weakest, you will fail."
"I have to agree with him boss," D.C. said, Chris looking over at him. "Too risky not to consider it."
"Nadia, send that possibility up the chain if they don't know already. Customs won't have the manpower to get them when they land. They need to wave them through, and local authorities will tail them. Strict observe and report," Chris said, everyone nodding and preparing to leave, Nadia calling in the plan to higher.
"Blue Umbrella is a private army. We may need an army to take them down," Jake said, Chris again flatly refusing.
"Wheels up in five mikes!" Chris shouted, everyone but Jake acknowledging the order.
President David Herrera of Columbia walked the tarmac to his plane with his security detail to his front and rear in sets in two. Having arrived before him and already on the plane was his Vice President Dina Iniguez, the Minister of Defense Rafael Cologne, and Minister of Foreign Relations Hector Giuliano. His security detail took their posts as the crew conducted final checks before they'd take off for the summit in Thailand.
When they were clear to move in the cabin, the President stood up from his chair and poured himself a drink from the bar.
"How much longer do we allow the BSAA to operate?" Rafael asked.
"Are they sharing information and cooperating with our local officials?" David asked.
"For now."
"Until the relationship ceases to be mutual, they will continue to operate in Columbia. Every press briefing they've given since they raided that lab, they've minimized their credit and bolstered ours. We're team players, and this situation extends beyond Columbia."
"Understood," Rafael said and rose to get his own drink. "Before we took off, we were alerted to a high security risk in Bangkok. Four members of the Remnants already touched down."
"We go undeterred. If I'm the bait, so be it," David said, finishing his drink in a single gulp.
"Miguel Gutierrez himself is there," Rafael said.
"Talk trade with Thailand and arrest a terrorist in the same evening. I call that winning," David said, pouring himself a second drink and returning to his chair to drink it.
"Since we have a moment, what are our priorities in the meeting?" Hector asked.
"Peru is killing us on trade, so getting them to move more goods through our ports instead is a priority.." David said before two of the guards drew their weapons and killed the other guards in the cabin. A the echoing from another part of the plane suggested this wasn't the only room under attack.
"What is the meaning of…" David said, rising from his feet only to be slapped back down.
"Good evening, El Presidente," the guard said, holding him at gun point while the other three members had bags through over their heads and were thrown to the floor with their wrists tied.
"How were you compromised? Money? Blackmail?" David asked.
"Your security is dead," his guard said with smile.
"All I see is a traitor, not a dead man. Not yet at least."
"Even the person, you think you're talking to, is dead. I always imagined this conversation a little different in my head," the guard said, sitting across from him the Vice President's seat.
"What are you talking about?"
"Pardon my manners. My name is Miguel Gutierrez," Miguel said with a grin.
"What? Your name is Francisco…"
"No it's Miguel, but I understand the confusion. You took out Westerfield, but not soon enough. In exchange for a few terrorist attacks to encourage U.N. action, they promised us some interesting things from Westerfield. Boy did he deliver."
"What did he give you?"
"The cure to the C-Virus cocoon. It took him a little bit of time to whip up a batch that preserved cognitive functions, but well worth the wait. I am a very patient man after all," Miguel said, gesturing to one of his men who pulled a suitcase from one of the overhead bins and placed it on the table in front of him.
Miguel opened the case and tossed a few items to the side to reveal a hidden compartment locked by a code. He typed in the bin, a beep and the sound of lock disengaging being heard. In the compartment was two syringes, left and right of the center where a device was embedded, both attached to it by a tube. Reading the syringe on the left, the men held down David so Miguel could take a vial of his blood.
"What are you going to do with that?" David asked.
"Patience," Miguel said, and removed the needle by unscrewing it, then plugging it into the machine and pressed a button on it. It hummed to life, synthesizing an unknown substance.
"There is no need to kill them. Let them go. It's me you want," David said, Miguel smiling at him, looking up from the machine for a moment.
"Pretty soon, no one will need any of you. They'll never even notice you're gone," Miguel said, as the machine began to fill the syringe on the right. Miguel picked it up once full, and attached a second needle to it.
"Go ahead and do it then," David said.
To his surprise, Miguel injected himself. After moment his body began to twitch before it combusted into flames and he yelled in pain before he was covered in a crystalized cocoon.
"What the fuck?" David asked as Miguel still sat across from him, but now a melted shell.
Within the next minute, the shell began to crack. It split open from the top and folded down a body erupting from the cocoon. It fell to the side, crashing to the floor in a wet heap, before looking up at David.
"Impossible," David said, watching his doppelganger struggle to his feet.
"Bronze," one of Miguel's men said.
"Sword," Miguel said with the President's voice. A challenge and password to confirm he retained his memory.
"Strip him, and throw him," Miguel said, his men violently pulling the President of Columbia from his chair and dragging him to the back of the plane. They striped him naked, before lowing the ramp, and throwing him into the ocean screaming from thirty-eight thousand feet.
