"What?" Mimic asked incredulously as she stopped dead in her tracks. They were almost to Alpha's quarters, and Lockup had just dropped the bombshell. "Can you repeat what you just said, please? I don't think I heard you right," Mimic said, half-begging her to change the words.
"I said, you go get the kid, and I'll deal with Alpha." The conversation was not going as smooth as it had in her head, but then again, she had been practicing with her voices. At least they were reasonable, most of the time.
"Do you have a death wish?" Mimic asked tersely. Abort! Abort! Plan B! The conversation was dive-bombing into an eternal abyss. If she didn't convince Mimic, she might have to give into her completely unreasonable demands.
"No, no, just listen to me, okay? Alpha is probably sweating bullets right now (or packing them). She knows we're here, thanks to Jaguar, and she knows we're closing in. It would not make sense for both of us to do a one man job. You grab the kid while I take care of Alpha, and then we all live happily ever after. We all go home, and go back to our lives, only slightly more scarred than we all were yesterday."
At the mention of home, Lockup became conscious of the fact that she had struck a nerve. Mimic seemed more wistful, and there was something, or someone, she was thinking of. Lockup decided to toy with it, only so Mimic would do the job. "Are you not ready for this to be over? To be able to go home to whomever we have waiting on us to return? If you do this Mimic, every last one of these kids will be able to experience the feeling of an actual home again, where parents or siblings who were lied to are waiting, wishing for their missing piece back." Cue gentle hand on shoulder.
With that last sentence, Lockup knew she had sealed the deal. Mimic definitely must have had something to go home to or this would not have worked. She felt bad playing her friend like that, but she would feel worse holding her silent corpse, she told herself sharply. This was guilt she could live with.
Lockup dropped her hand while Mimic chewed her bottom lip in intense thought. "Okay," she said. A little bit of the tightness that was resting in Lockup's chest vanished. "On one condition, though," Mimic demanded. Huh? She just agreed! She isn't allowed to add 'on one condition.' That's not how 'okay' works! ¡Quiero un abogado!, Lockup raged in her head.
Breathe, she commanded herself, or you'll make it malfunction again. It was already glitching slightly, going into secondary mode like that, and she did not want to be speaking Egyptian at a time like this. Lockup forced herself into a state of calm.
She shrugged. "Depends on what it is. I can't take you on a trip to Paris, though, because Jeff is banned from France." Maybe a humorous approach would hide the subtle anger that Mimic had not fallen for her motivational speech hook, line, and sinker.
Mimic suddenly closed the gap between them and hugged her tightly. Lockup stood awkward and stiff. People rarely hugged her. What were you even supposed to do when someone hugged you? Say thank you? All she knew is that she had to resist the urge to break Mimic's hold and quite possibly her arms and/or legs.
"Promise not to die, okay?" she whispered in Lockup's ear. There was a warbling tone in her voice that meant tears were about to fall, and there was that word again. Okay. A double threat if there ever was one. She would rather break a guy's ribs than deal with tears (she had), and Lockup decided that she could fill an arsenal with okay's.
Lockup would deal with this problem like she usually did. She would be deceitful and cunning; she would turn the tables onto Mimic. She attempted to hug Mimic back in a believable manner. "Okay. I promise," she said, staring down at her crossed fingers remorsefully.
They broke away from each other, Mimic, with newfound resolve, and Lockup, with more guilt than before. The doors were just up ahead. Mimic's door led to new life and hope; Lockup's door led to death and despair. Yet, somehow the two doors connected to each other in harmony. They walked in utter silence.
Lockup stood before her door apprehensively. It was a plain titanium door like all of the others, no nameplate or otherwise to indicate this was Alpha's quarters. It could have been an innocent broom closet, for all it appeared to be. Lockup decided that it was like a seemingly empty box that held vicious rattlesnakes, poised to strike the one who opened it. A fitting enough description for Alpha.
She peeked over at Mimic, who was on the other side of the hall, standing before the door Jackal had described to them. Mimic was staring back at her. Lockup had a last minute idea. She tossed something over to Mimic. She caught, almost dropping it in the process, and stared at Lockup questioningly.
"Remember, grab the kid, take him to the helipad. If he starts to kick and squirm and scream, use that," Lockup said, referring to her last dart, which was what she had thrown over to Mimic. Please don't ask me if I have more, she silently begged. If Mimic knew it was her last one, there was no way she'd keep it. Thankfully, Mimic just nodded.
"Whatever you hear, do not, under any circumstance, come in. I can handle whatever Alpha throws at me." Liar, said a voice in her head. Instantly riddled with bullet holes. Falling into a pit that's on the other side of the door. Alpha being right in front of her, one of her friends held hostage. You know, after you're dead, Alpha will move onto your friends, starting with- Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! The voices were crooning deadly possibilities in her head. She made a mental note to really have a talk with them, if she live through this.
Mimic nodded somewhat more reluctantly to this request, but it was good enough for Lockup. Lockup turned to face her door. Saving the agents. Saving my friends. Saving the world. She ran through the good possibilities in her head. The voices were silent. She wordlessly counted to three, and stepped into the room.
It was dimly lit in Alpha's quarters. Only the front half of the room, the part Lockup was in, held rays of dull light from above, roughly and barely illuminating a large circle. In the corner to her left, a laptop lay discarded on its side, a faint glow emitting from it. Everywhere else was cloaked in close to complete darkness. Shadows filled every crack, hiding everything and nothing. The desk that had been there previously betrayed no signs of its presence.
Lockup did not know which direction's depths held the enemy. She closed the door behind her, condemning her to fate, as well as Alpha. She closed her eyes to listen. Her eyes would only betray her in the semi-light.
Something made a sound. She focused on it. That sound was- Her eyes snapped open and she rolled to the side just as- BANG! A bullet bounced off doorframe where her stomach had been half of a second prior to the bang. Good. So Alpha wanted to talk. Otherwise, the bullet would her been aimed at her head.
Someone stepped forward into the edge of the light. It's a little boy, about seven or eight, in a custom fit uniform. From what little light there was, it was evident that the boy had flaming red hair and an arm loosely wrapped around his neck, holding him hostage. It had to be Wolfe's kid. There had been no new recruits.
She willed her powers towards Alpha's entire being. Nothing. She couldn't see Alpha properly. At most she could freeze the arm holding the kid, but that left the more important arm, the one holding the gun, free, as well as the rest of her body. What if she froze the kid? Could the freeze be so powerful as to stop bullets? Maybe she could bluff Alpha.
Alpha spoke, interrupting her thoughts. "I know you're out of darts, Agent 347. Toss me the bow, or I shoot the kid." There went that plan. She gently unclasped the straps, and softly tossed it to Alpha's feet.
"Mommy, what's going on? Is this another sim- sim-," the boy stumbled over the word. He poked his tongue out in serious seven-year-old conversation. That was when she noticed something distinctly wrong about this picture.
"Did he just call you Mommy? I knew you were sick in the head Alpha, but if this is your idea of a joke, you are a demented old crone!" A slow step forward.
"I am only twenty-nine," Alpha said indignantly, "and he is mine."
Out of all the responses she expected to hear, twisted laughter, blunt denial, somehow, admittance wasn't at the top of her list. In fact, it was not even on the list. The possibility had not even crossed her mind. She nearly forgot to take another miniscule step forward. Nearly. As long as she kept the conversation flowing, she could inch closer to Alpha. As long as she could get the kid out of harm's way, Alpha was as good as dead, no matter what happened to her.
"So you and Wolfe…?" She had zero interest in Alpha's personal life, but psychologically irrational villains usually suffered from narcissism, and Lockup would use it to the utmost advantage in this situation. One more step forward. Alpha still had not noticed that she was at least a foot closer.
Alpha took the bait. "Sparks fell at first. Oh, you should have seen the wedding pictures. I was beautiful," Alpha stated in a dreamy remembrance. "Then it turned sour. It only lasted long enough for him to be born," Alpha said distastefully. "I'm lucky that sap wanted him."
Wolfe? Sappy? Lockup was taken aback. She remembered him as Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected. Maybe a little devious and sarcastic. Somehow a person with surgery-modified canines did not fit in the category of "sappy," but whatever the delusional, melodramatic psychopath says.
Alpha straightened up. She glared slightly at Lockup. Oops. Lockup became conscious of the fact that she might have said that thought aloud. She stopped inching. Gauging the distance, she was maybe a foot and a half closer. Not fantastic, but it would have to do.
"Enough about me. Let's get down to business. You don't want the brat to die, and I don't care either way. You want me to die, and I can not let that happen. I believe that I see a solution here. Let me go, or I shoot him. With this."
Alpha flashed the gun in the dim light. She recognized the sleek silver barrel. A hammer cocked back, ready to fire. A .357 magnum revolver. The exact same one from the day Darryl "died". It looked unused, like all it had been doing was gathering dust for several years.
"I kept it for sentimental reasons." Alpha smiled cruelly. Lockup's fingers rose several inches from her side. Alpha swiftly fired a shot at the boy's head, cocked the hammer, and fired again before Lockup could move. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't care if Alpha shot her now. She had failed to save the kid. When the impossible happens, and the hero fails, the hero dies.
When no body immediately thumped to the floor, Lockup opened her eyes. No, the kid was standing there, whole and unharmed. He trembled beneath his mother's touch. Alpha had fired behind his head.
"Mommy, you wouldn't shoot me, would you?" the child asked uncertainly. He still believed that this could be a simulation, that Mommy would soon "take out" the bad guy and apologize for scaring him. Then, Mommy would introduce the girl as an old friend and they could have milk and cookies. Happily ever after, right? Aren't children adorable? But there was doubt. That was enough.
"Oh, honey, of coouurrse not," Alpha cooed, dragging out the word "course" on purpose. She fired two more shots behind his head. She meant business.
Lockup was shocked at that Alpha would shot her own kid. "Your heart is stone, Alpha," she said with gritted teeth.
"I know, I know, but if this is war I believe I have just won." Alpha glanced down at her son. "I think you're going to be a useful ticket out of here. I can not shoot you yet," she said with no shred of fondness mothers usually harbored for their offspring.
Alpha aimed the gun at her head. Lockup had counted the bullets, and she knew there was only one left. If this one took her out, she knew she could count on her friends to rescue the kid and take care of Alpha. She prepared to accept her fate.