We do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: 'McCaan' seriously did that and never noticed ... yup ... totally did! IC would like to thank KQ for allowing the saber-toothed bunny to run amok on this chapter ... ;-)
H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O
Before the elevators doors had softly closed on Dylan Walker, Leon had every intention of fading away from the garage and the private access area to the penthouse suite. He'd made up his mind to divest himself of almost two extremely difficult and dangerous years of hard work. Just like that. In a mere snap of his fingers; but self-preservation had always been a personal strong point. Especially when the writing was printed so legibly on the wall.
The mission - at least for him - was over.
Leon double-checked his watch, grimacing in distaste that it would likely take eight to twelve minutes for any reasonable response to happen. He knew INTERPOL and its inner-workings; he knew how the system often mis-fired and he shook his head unhappily. They wouldn't have been prepared for him to call back so soon and especially with such an incredible demand. He'd done his very best though right up until the last second of the eleventh hour and he had nothing more to learn or to gain by staying.
"It'll have to do," he murmured under his breath as he glanced just one more time towards the lift which rumbled ever upwards to the expansive suite. Feeling an unsettling amount of regret, he left quickly before he could think too hard on what might happen to the young detective. He left on foot, insisting to himself that he had to allow whatever might happen next to take place with the hope that the authorities would be able to salvage something. Despite his rational pep talk though, Leon was unhappy and he continued to softly curse as he implemented his exit plan. Unbeknownst to him, he hit the busy sidewalk at nearly the same time Danny tumbled down the third flight of stairs in a crazy painful scramble, breathless in his haste.
Leon faded into the hubbub of downtown Waikiki just seconds after Dylan stormed out of the elevator only to immediately stumble to an uncertain halt. The oddity of the open door and its stain of blood being the first clue that something terrible had happened. Something more untoward than he had even assumed possible.
"Spense?" The baffled second tentatively called out, knowing what he'd find before even walking through the front door. For the first time in his life, Dylan felt a true rumble of fear as he followed the blood trail in reverse, stepping over the spatters of vomit and smears of gore with a growing sense of foreboding. He entered the bedroom, not in a rage, but in a slowly rising sense of terror as his eyes registered the sheer volume of blood before his brain could even decipher that it was Spenser buried face down in the blood-stained bedsheets.
"You dumb fuck," Dylan croaked in shock, his fist wedged between his teeth as he fought his wild emotions. Fear, anger and hatred all warred into one terrible mix as his stomach heaved in response to the sharp tannic smell and he fell to his knees. Spenser had indeed lied to him. But the blonde detective had managed do so much more and Dylan couldn't even fathom the how as of yet.
"What did you do? Why, Spense? Why?" Dylan coughed out as his throat battled another dry-heave. "You ... promised ..."
His eyes were wide in his face as he stared at the back of Spense's head, the bright wetness of red a macabre contrast to the fine satin of white sheets. Afraid to approach the bed, he stayed on the floor, rocking back and forth on his knees as he simply stared at what remained of his lover.
"You stupid ... stupid ... fucking son of a bitch!"
H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O
"Shit! Shit ... shit!" Sitting off to the side in the temporary offices, Kono nearly shrieked over the French woman as Agent LaRouche yammered an address in her ear. The reason was additionally startling in its intensity and Kono continued to shout as she struggled to her feet. This time she'd begun to spew orders and demands to her neighboring HPD peers. They'd barely been off their angry call with INTERPOL when the agency was hailing them again. Calling them with the most incredible amount of new information which not only related to INTERPOL's critical mission, but also implicated Danny.
"Chin! Steve!" She bellowed their names as she grabbed gear and demanded action. The two men had decided to clear their heads by vacating the claustrophobic space of the tight trailer. But now, she needed everything and everyone at her disposal from SWAT to a number of well-equpped HPD tactical units and her two team-mates. For the first time in days they had something solid. Shouting orders and relaying the coordinates, she'd whipped everyone into an organized frenzy within seconds. Bolting from the temporary modular office, she took the four steps two at a time to the hot parking lot.
"Steve! LaRouche just called and we've got something! Move now - gear up - and I'll explain on the way!" Her voice only increased in volume when she spied them, Chin hovering close to their boss as he stood in the poor shade of a scrappy tree. "Let's go!" She gestured towards his big truck where the rest of their gear would be in the locker installed in its bed. "We have to go! Now!"
"What? What is it? What do we have?" Steve demanded as he ignored the sweat which continually dotted his neck. Yanking his keys from his pocket, he slowly half-jogged to his truck to meet his youngest officer, feeding anxiously off her worry and excitement. Chin trodding closely on his heels. "What the hell happened?"
"LaRouche called ... her man just pulled the plug," Kono hastily explained. "Downtown Waikiki. The Meridian ... penthouse ... according to her, McCann is there and there's a showdown in progress with his Second. They have Mercier somewhere else, but McCann's team is imploding and Danny ... she thought Danny might also be there."
"He's been so close, all this time?" Steve ground out, his eyes flashing and the ache in his abdomen easily forgotten. He leaned over his truck, thumbing the locks open on the truck's locker, only intercepted by Chin as the Asian bodily moved him away.
"You said you'd hang back, Steve. You said that you'd let Kono and me manage anything that might go down," Chin admonished his younger boss knowing full well that the promise had never been very sincere. Regardless, he was determined to try as he plucked at least the truck's keys from Steve's hands. "I'm driving."
"I can manage, Chin," Steve complained as he fidgeted impatiently while Kono and Chin took turns helping him to gear up.
"I'm sure you can," Chin muttered rudely as he carefully fastened Steve's heavy tac-vest over his bandaged middle. "But I want you to more than just manage, Steve."
With those few words, Chin forced the man to accept their help while checking the readiness of their various weapons by rote, reacting only when Steve motioned determinedly that he wanted his knife, too. Mumbling under his breath about the weapon of choice, Chin obliged, crouching down to fasten the impressive tertiary weapon to Steve's left leg as instructed. Their objective was a posh hotel in the heart of Waikiki and one of the most exclusive penthouse suites overlooking the cityscape. Based on LaRouche's advice, INTERPOL's tiny local team, 5-0 and HPD tactical units would work together as their alert was severe enough to warrant an immediate reaction.
Steve chuffed a disgusted sound under his breath when Kono relayed the agent's preference for 5-0 and other authorities to take INTERPOL's lead. "Not happening," Steve snarked instantly. "We'll get there first anyway. This is ours now. Plain and simple. We go in hot ... we go in ready for anything with the knowledge that a friendly is inside."
"LaRouche doesn't know what we'll actually find," Kono hastily explained. "McCann and Walker are a certainty. Regardless, their man, this Leon Morris, pulled the plug pretty fast so it's a legitimate event."
"That's good enough for me and all I need to know from them," Steve countered angrily. Already seated in the rear of his truck, his gloved fingers were toying with the solid grip of his gun. Sweat now soaked the neck of his shirt and dampened the material under the weight of the heavy tac-vest. All of those feelings easily ignored as part and parcel of his mission. As he allowed his mental checklist to rattle through his head checking and rechecking gear, ammunition and imagining courses of action, all other thoughts were focused on finding his partner.
"Just get us there. Have an ambulance on call, waiting within two blocks for easy access," Steve said, not nearly content enough when Kono immediately relayed his orders.
As he anticipated, Steve and the bulk of their HPD tactical contingent descended first upon the downtown block, cordoning it off within seconds. Kono would remain there with that group, assisting in managing external perimeter activities. But no matter where they looked, there was no obvious sign of a higher authority and Steve sneered silently in Chin's direction about INTERPOL before waving his men together. "We go. Now."
"Elevator Steve," Chin demanded when he saw Steve's ever-more pale complexion. "Two teams with us for backup and at least two more in the side stairwell." He and Steve were inside the hotel garage and geared for action, surrounded by a contingent of HPD support, all who mirrored their high degree of resolve. But one look at Steve had him taking over their own plans of action now that they'd arrived. While Steve often opted for the more physical of the tasks, Chin was insistent on saving the man from himself. "Four HPD will take the stairs up; fully armed and suited."
Steve huffed out an angry sound as he held his side, his only response a curt nod of acceptance. They'd already reviewed the hotel's layout. There were only two access points to the penthouse. The security keyed elevator and the emergency stairwell which required an access code to enter, but not when used as an egress. He looked up when a harried man called out loudly, his hand extended as he offered them the key to the penthouse lift. Two strides later, Steve had pulled it from the hotel manager's hand, anger and stress clearly showing.
"The cameras are down; been down for months," the hotel manager admitted. He was embarrassed, flustered and instantly alarmed when Chin shoved him into the hands of another officer.
"Hold him for questioning," Chin demanded as the small portly Hawaiian gaped his mouth wide open. "Lock him up. No one leaves." He offered the newly upset man not a single word of reason, but Chin was well within his rights when it came to an upscale hotel not having a functioning security system. Further validated based on the wealthy clientele and expectations in properly maintaining such an expensive property.
"I want this area scoured and locked down," Steve agreed heartily with Chin's initial instructions. "No one in or out. Keep an eye out for our own and take no chances. You're all familiar with McCann, Walker and their team. In reality, we don't know how many men are on site. They're all dangerous, plus there could be any number of deadly surprises inside."
The teams separated and then made their way up as directed. However, within seconds of entering the stairwell, the HPD unit were quietly relaying reports of fresh bloody smears on the steps and handrails. If Steve had been stressed before, a new level of anxiety took over by the time his own group had arrived at the high penthouse floor. Pushed to the rear of the elevator by Chin and the two pair of HPD tactical experts, Steve was antsy and badly on edge when the doors slowly opened to the small atrium.
Crouched low and weapons primed, they were wary of the silence and then stunned by the beginnings of what would be a gory scene inside the penthouse itself. "Blood," Chin needlessly offered on a whisper as they exited the elevator and eased through the penthouse's front door. Insistent upon keeping Steve in the rear, he blocked the doorway to clear the hall first. "Someone left in a hurry ...likely injured ... no one's in the stairwell though?"
"Shit," Steve whispered fretfully when he saw the same stains on the floor and then on the inside of the emergency door. He peered over his small team to eye the entryway. He knew that the blood had all been left by Danny … could be Danny's and probably was his blood. He choked down his emotions vainly. He was upset ... almost off his own game and fearful of what they'd find because the crime scene was only building in its horror as they cautiously crept further inside.
"Report!" He growled out to the teams in the stairwell. "Where are you? Status?"
"Tenth floor. Nothing, Sir, except …. confirmation of … an extended blood trail," a stressed voice informed them all via the comm links. "Stairwell's been empty so far and each floor requires a card key for access. Opinion is that he - or whoever's been injured - has exited the building and we've demanded an external search, but we're continuing on our way up to meet you."
"Fuck," Steve hissed though his teeth. "Kono? Report."
"Nothing boss," she replied almost instantly in kind, her tone just as worried.
He could literally feel that Danny wasn't there anymore. He knew it in his head … and with his heart. He couldn't even look at Chin now. His gut clenched as he forced the lead despite Chin's hissed warning for caution and desire to keep him back. His stomach warred with his eyes and sense of duty as he cataloged the red trail, spatters of vomit and odd droplets of blood which continued down the hall, leading them to what would be the spacious master bedroom. The epicenter of whatever had recently happened.
"Don't touch a goddamn thing. Get forensics in here; I want Charlie Fong … only Charlie's to take lead on this," Steve ground out, his knuckles to his mouth as he took in the blood soaked bedding and half-naked man laying prone. He knew it was McCann before even fearing the body might be Danny's. Gun at the ready, he rounded the bed farthest from the doorway to see the mercenary's face while half his team ranged the room. The second half of their small team continued on, their soft whispers clearing room after room in the rambling penthouse. But inside the bedroom and for a very long moment, no one moved until Chin spoke.
"My god," Chin gagged despite years of experience. The sight was incredible in its gore, but knowing Danny had been here … could still be here for all they knew … made the scene so much worse. Regardless, the situation could have left him grievously wounded and Chin had to voice his next thought. His eyes flew to the anger etched across Steve's face, almost begging for an answer. "Where the hell is Danny?"
"Process this place from top to bottom," Steve demanded on a harsh whisper. "Miss nothing."
His eyes glittered brightly as he imagined what might have happened when he saw the scissors and half the bedding taken to the floor in a jumbled, stained mess. He glanced towards Chin, the silent questions shared between the men as their minds raced through an obvious scenario. More reports had been steadily coming in as the HPD team on foot gained their floor. More blood and more evidence was found as they approached and to everyone one key question remained quite clear: if Danny had managed to escape McCann via the emergency stairwell, where was he now? Why hadn't anyone found him yet?
"Where the hell did he go?" Chin whispered worriedly. He seemed afraid to speak in a normal tone of voice as he stared at the blood-soaked mercenary. "If he got out of here …. why haven't we found him yet? Where did he go?"
"I don't know," Steve whispered as he shook his head in confusion while he finally dared approach the bed. He refused to say Walker's name, but he could only think of the psychotic second. LaRouche's man had reported that Walker was on site. Kono had said that LaRouche used the term imploded ... based on what he was seeing now, that only meant one thing had started to play out in the bedroom and Steve felt physically sick to his stomach. The ramifications of that fact were dire and Steve argued his flood of emotions as he tried to remain focused. Petrified of allowing his imagination to run wild, Steve leaned over the bed instead, his fingers splayed wide to bravely feel for McCann's pulse when he saw the faint pout of the man's lips followed by the tiniest of red bubbles.
"Sonofabitch! He's alive," Steve hissed, unable to hide the disgusted sneer in his tone. He willed his fingers to be certain then, driving them into the man's neck where the least amount of blood seemed to be before nodding again. "Get the EMT's up here," he confirmed in a fury. "Tell them they need to keep this scene as undisturbed as possible for forensics; but this bastard's … alive."
Under his hand, there was another subtle tremor. A small move of acknowledgment and Steve narrowed his eyes suspiciously as the man's mouth twitched.
"What the fuck happened in here?" Steve demanded, his rage apparent and no longer controlled as McCann weakly stirred. Dark eyes opened to stare at Steve, a queer look of surprise evident despite the gravity of his wounds. "Was it Danny … it was, wasn't it? Who else was here - was it Walker? Talk McCann!"
"D'nno," McCann breathed out the affirmation, the shock of a prideful smile quirking the side of a bloody lip before he lost it. Steve's nostrils flared in alarm as he realized the man was literally impressed by his partner regardless of his current greivous state. Then there was a blink of an eye and then another as McCann tried to focus before pushing out a short troublesome sentence. "My … m-my D."
"Where?" Steve growled menacingly. Behind him, Chin cursed under his breath as Steve balled a portion of the bedding and thrust it into the deepest wound in the mercenary's neck. There was a pained gurgle in response, but Steve persisted. "Where did Walker take him?"
McCann shuddered in pain as firm fingers pushed wads of fabric into the deep wounds in his neck and shoulder purportedly to stem the continued flow of blood. The Commander's fingers were ruthless though and McCann nearly stopped breathing right then and there from the flux of white-hot agony.
"Give me something!" Steve virtually roared into his face, his fingers welded into another deep wound on the meaty part of a shoulder to add insult to an already nasty injury.
McCann couldn't help curling in upon himself from the pain, the newly arrived and harried EMT's prevented from interfering not only by Chin, but now also the combined HPD tactical teams.
"Tell me, McCann," Steve demanded, hissing the words an inch from the mercenary's ear. "Where are they?"
As the 5-0 Commander added his hand to the deepest of the wounds nearest his jugular, McCann panted desperately for air. Then he grinned, his teeth grotesquely stained by blood as he pushed out a few simple words before his breath shuddered warningly in his damaged throat. He'd never willingly give up his mission, his team, and certainly never his Dylan. His face contorted as a weak toss of his head failed to alleviate the growing agony spreading now into his chest. Still he managed to keep his grin before chuffing out a bloody chuckle.
"F -fuck you."
~ to be continued ~