Chapter Sixteen! Now the potential is for things to become VERY confusing (for readers as well as characters!), so please let me know if things are getting too muddy. The issue: there are not just groups working against one another, but internal factions splintering with their own motives, and that has ended up meaning there is a LOT going on. I'll do my best to keep it from getting swampy, and some of the plot is legit basically 'yes; life is confusing right now,' but if you have any desire for a clarifying overview of the players, I can embed that into a scene more explicitly next chapter. :)
Thank you for the lovely review, Living Lucid Dream! Sorry (and also not sorry?) about the crazy cliffhanger; here's the resolution and more stuff! ;) I really, really enjoyed giving Brand a show-offy fight; he's missed being in his element, and it has been SO long since he got to let loose. And I agree - it's easy to forget that he's a bruiser and a half when he's been working for three stories(!) primarily on being a better human and respected professional. :) Sweet Pea is now officially in the maelstrom! I'm excited to see that play out as well, and when everyone comes out of crisis mode and we get more sleepovers (I'm so glad you enjoyed that scene! It was such a nice break to write among all of the hurt feelings and chaos, and I was hoping it would feel like a relief and not a random break in tone! :-D), I'm really interested in seeing how the dynamics shift. Also, FP 'shining' is exactly what I'd hoped for in this story; I'm so glad you are seeing it play out that way! He had SO much heavy lifting to do in DIV and YCHT, and I thought he needed space to do a little more than follow therapists' orders (and Keller's orders, Fred's recommendations, etc.). And yeah... Jug needs to spill the beans to Clark. I think we're very close to that now. :) I hope the cliffhanger's resolution is satisfying!
Enjoy!
-Button
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It seemed a lot like they'd been magically transported somewhere else. And slammed into by a truck.
And then maybe a million bags of caustic flour had burst open and come pouring out of the high school to wash over them.
They stayed down for what seemed like a couple of minutes, braced as if there could be more coming. As if that had not just been the entirety of Southside High blowing up.
"Are you okay, Jughead?" Archie recovered first and started picking himself up from the ground where he and Clark had been flung - more or less on top of his best friend. Archie held his shirt sleeve over his mouth and nose to protect his lungs from the thick dust surrounding them. "I don't think Clark is."
"What are you talking about? I'm fine." Clark pushed himself up off of the ground and coughed as he unbuttoned one sleeve so he could likewise cover his mouth and nose with his shirt.
"Um, I think I'm okay - the 'shield wall' was between me and… did the school just blow up?" Jughead was holding his sleeve in front of his mouth and nose just like his two friends as he climbed back to his feet, but right away he figured that he'd been spared some of the concussion by their relative positions. "Hang on. You two might be hurt and not feeling it yet because you're in shock. You shouldn't move until you get checked out."
"Uh, Jug - the school just went up, and that was not the demo we had planned. That blew out toward people instead of coming straight down." Archie looked around, even though they could barely see through the dusty haze. "We're on our feet. That means we're not getting 'checked out' anytime soon."
"My dad." Jughead's head snapped up toward where he'd seen his father last, and he tried not to gasp filthy air into his lungs as panic made his heart race. "He was on the roof, Archie. He might be-,"
"Exactly. Other people need help a lot more than we do. We can be that help." Archie nodded firmly. "We'll find your dad first, Jug. I think they were coming down off the roof, so he's probably just about as banged up as we are. We'll make sure he's okay and then find my dad. He should be further away from the building, so he's probably fine."
"Wait. We're doing what?" Clark suddenly seemed to clue in to the fact that they were making plans.
"Just follow me; I know this site, and I know where the explosives were. Only there might have been more of them than there should have been. That seemed really big," Archie frowned. "The work crew that was on the roof should be somewhere over that way. We'll start there."
"No." Brand appeared through the dense cloud of dust, panting hard through a filtration mask. He handed them three more, which they put on gratefully.
Everyone looked up at him, falling silent - and counterintuitively feeling a lot more frightened now that they had an authority figure to look to for guidance.
"We're pulling everyone back so that the first responders can get in and see what they're dealing with. Think headcount - don't get missed, and don't get counted twice. Got it? You three are now counted; get to the agency vehicles and wait somewhere where you're not inhaling this crap." Brand dropped a hand on Jughead's shoulder. "You're okay, kid. Breathe. Take a pain pill, too. And hey, I got to tackle the mayor, so try thinking about that for a minute."
Jughead had to admit that he was potently distracted by the mental image of Brand tackling Mayor McCoy in the aftermath of an explosion. The distracting visual helped his breathing even out. He obediently kicked back a pill as well; he was probably overdue, and falling had really hurt.
"I'm going after your dad next. He's probably okay, but we'll just confirm that." Brand gave Jughead a reassuring look and then turned to Archie. "Your father is fine, Andrews, but he's not going to be heading home any time soon. This is FUBAR."
Jughead and Archie both nodded, relieved to hear that Mr. Andrews was okay and that Brand would be the one to search for FP.
"Now get out of here. Go." Brand shooed them. "Head to the RA when they send vehicles back that direction. I'll find you."
They made their way out of the worst of the dust cloud, which seemed to drop off remarkably quickly as they moved away from the school, and then over to where the agency's vehicles were parked. Archie handed off his hard hat to a man who was running in the opposite direction.
"Special Agent Davies will find your dad." Clark unlocked his Prius and they got in, ignoring the layer of grime that they instantly transferred to the seats of the car. "I'm sure he's fine."
"Yeah. Maybe he did get down in time." Now that the initial panic impulse had passed and been replaced by adrenaline, Jughead found that he wasn't feeling a lot of fear. He hoped that Brand would update them with good news before the fear did set in more fully. Jughead suddenly remembered his phone and pulled it from his pocket.
"No cell service." Archie held up his own.
"Yeah, I guess not." Jughead held up his as well. It was dramatically cracked and likely unusable.
"Hey, you and me both," Clark couldn't help but laugh when he held up his own cell phone. It was even more crushed than Jughead's. They all placed their phones on the center console of the car. "Watch for any of those to get a signal. We don't want to flood the towers unnecessarily, but a text to family offsite should be okay."
There was a sudden knock on the rear windshield. They all jumped and then laughed nervously at themselves.
"I've got this." Clark opened his window. "Hey, are we supposed to start heading back to the agency now?"
Agent Donn walked around the car and came into view.
"Not yet. They're not letting most vehicles leave until they know more about what happened," Donn leaned down so that he could see into the back seat, "but we can't have someone who's underage and attached to the FBI on site with all of this going on. Jones, you're with me; I'm attaching you to the offsite investigation for the rest of the day. The resident agency has been notified. Let's go."
Jughead's breath caught. Brand had told him not to refuse to do anything. But a bomb had just gone off. That had to change everything. Or maybe this was what Brand had meant - in case of an emergency, go along with Donn willingly. And bring Clark.
Jughead opened his mouth to reply, but Clark beat him to it.
"Special Agent Donn, I have an active assignment to stay with Jones until his father picks him up." Clark's facial expression was suddenly very blank.
Maybe he did have a poker face after all.
"So do I," Archie added smoothly. "I don't think we've had the pleasure." Archie extended a hand over the seats toward Donn. "The name's Archer."
When Clark didn't blink, and even nodded toward Archie's extended hand as if he expected Donn to shake it, it was confirmed: Clark definitely had a poker face. He'd just been holding out on Jughead when it came to hiding things from Brand. It probably helped that they were all filthy from the explosion, too; it was not obvious that Archie was dressed for harder work than anyone associated with the FBI.
"We don't need you all." Donn ignored Archie's outstretched hand and looked over toward the pile of rubble where the school had stood. He suddenly seemed like he was in a hurry.
"With all due respect, sir-," Clark began. He began speaking more slowly than usual, and was almost drawling. "-it might be beneficial if we took just a moment to check in with Special Agent Davies. He said that he'd meet us here, and I understand that you have your orders, but I have mine as well, and-," Clark's voice was slowing down even more, as if he was working through a complicated word problem.
Maybe he was buying time. Or trying to stress Donn into a hasty decision. Jughead looked over at Archie, who gave him a warning look and a slight shake of his head. Somehow those two had managed to psychically make a plan.
"Fine. Come on. We'll sort it out later, and for now you can all come with me." Donn opened Clark's car door for him and then moved to Jughead's door.
Archie opened the back door on the opposite side of the vehicle and tugged Jughead after himself, away from Agent Donn.
They followed Donn to a large van that was parked at the edge of the chaos - which seemed only to be getting worse at this point, even though the dust was literally settling -, and the agent motioned them into the back seats. Donn climbed into the driver's seat.
They were delayed by two men who were keeping traffic from leaving the site. It was probably part of the investigation that was starting up, and Jughead started scanning around the vehicle for any sign of Brand or anyone else he knew.
The more people who knew what was happening, the safer he would feel about the whole arrangement.
As they sat there, Donn was quietly cursing and it seemed as though a number of people were eyeing the van curiously. Finally someone who looked a little more official approached Donn's window and asked who was in the vehicle - and then cleared a path for them to exit the parking lot.
In a few more moments they were pulling away from the remains of Southside High.
"Do we know anything yet about what happened - or why?" Clark had slid to the center of the bench seat just behind the front bucket seats, while Archie and Jughead had opted to take the rear bench seat. They all buckled their seatbelts, which necessitated digging around for them; clearly most passengers did not bother with them. They were shaken up, though, and any risk at all sounded like a bad idea at the moment.
Jughead wasn't sure that they could trust anything coming from Donn, but he did recognize that anything Donn told them was information. Even though it might be information about Donn himself more than about the circumstances, it could still be helpful.
"Just what you saw. It looks like someone tampered with the explosives. Moved or supplemented at least some of them, and - obviously - detonated them." Donn did not seem enthusiastic about chatting, but he looked back at Clark in the rearview mirror. And then his eyes went to Jughead.
"I concur," Archie said firmly, staring aggressively into the mirror.
Jughead was relieved when Donn's eyes slid off of him and over to Archie, and then back to the road. They turned onto a side street, and with that one turn it became apparent that they were not headed toward the resident agency.
"Where are we going?" Jughead finally spoke up.
"The field office." Donn's tone made it clear that he thought that should have been obvious. "We're doing real work today."
Clark looked back at Jughead then, relief and some excitement in his expression. It was kind of cool if they were being drafted into the higher-level investigation, even just for one day.
They turned onto the highway and picked up speed.
Jughead tried to relax. He reminded himself that they were following Brand's instructions; they had been delayed leaving Southside High and a lot of people had seen them and would know they were with Donn; they were headed from one place full of responsible FBI agents to another place that would be full of them.
He was not alone; Clark and Archie had his back.
The shivery feeling of vulnerability due to his cracked ribs and horrific bruising, as well as the pain meds that were kicking in - and their slowing of his reflexes -, ebbed away. It was going to be okay.
And then Jughead recognized a traffic pattern that he had never actually seen before, but that Brand had taught him about in his tutorials on offensive and defensive driving.
"Hey. Agent Donn, take the next exit. We have to get off the highway right now. We need to bail, Agent Donn. Take the exit!" Jughead heard his voice becoming increasingly frantic as they made no move toward the off-ramp - and then it was too late.
The vehicles that had begun pacing each other a number of car lengths ahead of them slowed, one dropping back to drive alongside them, and suddenly another van was pulling up toward their rear bumper. They were boxed in - and losing speed quickly in order to avoid a collision.
Brand had boiled down the driving maneuvers he'd explained to Jughead into one simple phrase: "speed is life."
Which meant this was definitely not good.
Donn cursed again.
"Are those... unmarked cop cars?" Archie guessed.
Jughead's eyes were wide with fear, but that was a hopeful idea; maybe they were being kidnapped by Donn, and Brand had somehow gotten law enforcement into an intercept position already.
Clark was scowling. "No way would any police vehicle look like that."
Good point.
Donn had to bring the van to a complete stop. They were on a large highway, and even though they'd been forced into the far right lane, cars were whipping past the spot where the group of vehicles effectively blocked two lanes.
And, almost as soon as their vehicle had halted, the door next to Clark swung open.
"You didn't lock-," Clark was cut off when a black bag was yanked over his head and he was jerked harshly by his arms toward the open door by two masked men. Clark grunted in pain when the seatbelt obviously took his would-be abductors by surprise - and then he yelped a more forceful objection when they pulled him painfully against the lap belt a second time before realizing what the problem was and reaching up to release it.
"Get down." Jughead sprang into action. He pulled Archie to the floor of the van and they both scrambled under the seats and toward the back. They'd probably been seen, but even a few seconds of delay - or maybe only one and not both of them being taken - could be very helpful.
Unfortunately the rear doors to the van opened behind them, making it simple work for the masked men to haul them out and onto their feet.
Jughead froze when a gun was stuck in his face, and he saw Archie recoiling from one as well. It was hopefully just a tactic to discourage them from fighting back, but it worked. Black bags were pulled over their heads just as had been done to Clark.
When the cars - and the huge trucks - continued to fly past and began leaning on their horns, it was terrifying to be blind to what was going on. Jughead could not shake an overpowering awareness that at any moment they could be shoved in front of oncoming traffic and they'd have no ability to protect themselves.
Hands rifled through their pockets, and then made another pass when they turned up only wallets, keys, and Jughead's bottle of pain pills.
"No cell phones?" Someone spoke, and another voice cursed.
"Some of 'em are FBI. They might be wired. Check them."
They hadn't thought twice about leaving their useless cell phones in Clark's car. That apparently made their captors suspicious. Jughead winced but stayed quiet when someone began a painfully rough pat-down of his bruised torso and legs.
They were still standing on the highway. Another truck horn blared. This was all so… public. The police would know about this right away; Brand would hear about it swiftly. This was unbelievably bold.
None of that boded well.
As they were herded blindly away from their own van, Jughead realized that there were a lot of possibilities for what was happening.
It could be a Serpents move, trying to get back at Brand. Or maybe it was Donn who had set them up, making a move against Brand - or against Rose. Or it could be that Rose was retrieving them from Donn if he'd finally decided that unhinged employees were not to be trusted.
Or, however unlikely, it was possible that Brand had sent a team of some kind - someone sketchy but effective - to get them back from Donn.
Agent Donn did not seem to be with them any longer, but that made some sense. He'd be the highest value target, so he might be separated from them if he was a victim too. He was also the driver, and could conceivably have been ignored if they didn't realize that he was with the FBI.
And yet, Donn had driven them here - and he'd left the doors unlocked.
Then again, it was probably just tempting to blame Donn since that would mean that they were safer: he'd made it clear over the summer that he'd been more interested in hurting than killing - and most interested in impressing Brand. Jughead automatically felt like Donn was more of a known quantity, and there were ways of recovering if it turned out that he was attempting another bizarre stunt for Brand's benefit.
Or maybe these were the terrorists who had taken out the school, and they wanted hostages. Or an opportunity to send one more message.
Or it could be someone who opposed those terrorists, and who wanted to send a message of their own to compete with - or respond to - the bombing of the school.
Man. Riverdale had become quite the battlefield.
Jughead was forced in the direction of the van that had driven up behind their own, and his arms were pulled roughly behind him. There were too many people and too many guns for him to even consider fighting back - and Jughead really needed to ask Brand about decision-making while on narcotics.
Another truck horn blared, terrifyingly close to them, but this time Jughead didn't even jump. The meds must be kicking in; he was feeling increasingly calm, and he knew that wasn't right. It was not a good sign for his reflexes, either.
Zip ties closed tightly around his wrists and just above his elbows. With the hood in place as well, this felt awfully familiar. Jughead was intensely grateful that he was not gagged and that there was nothing around his neck. His legs were not even restrained; really, this was not so terrible.
The three of them were hefted into the rear of the van. It did not seem to have any seats in the back, and Jughead felt his wrists being zip tied again - this time to an anchor inside of the vehicle.
Whatever Archie had been secured to seemed to give him more play than the other two; while Jughead found himself awkwardly struggling to find a position where his hands were not jammed painfully into the metal floor of the vehicle, Archie's shaking hands found one of his wrists and squeezed. In the small space that they were crowded into, Jughead could feel that Clark's whole body was shaking. Both he and Archie reached for his hands - and sorted themselves out swiftly when they collided while doing so.
"Aw. That's cute." Someone spoke before slamming the door of the vehicle that they were now in.
"Are you okay?" Jughead asked quietly, not sure if there were others in the vehicle who might punish them for talking. They hadn't been gagged, but none of them made a move to dislodge the bags that had been left over their heads. "Clark?"
"We-," Clark faltered and he took a deep breath before continuing. "We have not been hurt, and we have not been threatened. We're together, and it seems like they're planning to keep us together for the time being. I'm fine."
"Is that FBI code for 'we probably won't be killed'?" Archie sounded hopeful, even though his voice shook.
"I wish. It's Clark code for 'it could be worse, so let's stay positive.'" Clark said ruefully. "We need to keep our heads down. Someone just blew up a school; there might already be fatalities. These people might not have a lot of incentive left not to kill us."
They lapsed into silence at that cheery thought.
The vehicle began to move. They instinctively braced their legs against the walls as they slid toward the rear doors on the slick metal floor of the vehicle and their wrists were put under painful tension.
"Don't lock your knees," Archie suggested.
"Good call," Clark approved. He continued nervously. "I've, uh, had a training on this. It was an online module but - you know - better than nothing. Figuring out the number of people involved and what weapons they have is our primary goal as hostages; anything we can figure out could be useful. Let's try to keep track of our turns, too, so we have a clue about our location."
"Left." Jughead said obediently as the vehicle slowed and then turned sharply; it was probably illegally reversing direction on the highway.
"Silently, Jones. And if you're feeling loopy on those painkillers, maybe don't talk when we get - um, wherever we're going," Clark was still shaking, but his voice sounded a little stronger as he tried to take charge of the trio.
Archie gave Jughead's wrist a squeeze. "Nah, you can talk it out if you want. I know you have trouble keeping left and right straight."
"He's kidding, Clark," Jughead said quickly.
"Oh. Uh, maybe joking is good, Archer. It might help us stay calm and respond more quickly if we do have an opportunity to escape," Clark said. He was still trembling. He took a deep breath. "Any idea how many there are?"
"Maybe twenty?" Archie guessed. "And definitely handguns."
"I thought eight or ten," Jughead countered skeptically. "How many cars were there? Four? There were at least six people, since two grabbed each of us. And, Archie, I think the goal for us is to have more specific information. How many guns, what kind, and that sort of thing. So we can be rescued more efficiently."
"You've done the training too?" Clark was surprised and that seemed to distract him from being scared for a moment. But then the vehicle came to a stop and he flinched so hard that it made Jughead jump too. When they began moving again, probably past a stop sign or stoplight, Clark sighed heavily with relief.
"Well, what kind of handguns were those, Jug?" Archie asked breathlessly. "They looked really big."
Archie sounded terrified, and Jughead realized that he too had been startled by the vehicle's stop - and likely also Clark's reaction to it.
Jughead thought of his painkillers again as he considered how much more fearful his companions were; the drugs might be making him perilously calm, and Brand had suggested the previous evening that he lay off of them if something bad happened.
Well, he couldn't do anything about the one he'd taken right after the explosion, and the pills were gone now. Jughead didn't even have a decision to make at this point.
"I think they were normal sized guns, Arch," Jughead corrected gently. "The only one I got a good look at was a .45."
"So between six and twenty people, handguns including .45's, and they used hoods and zip ties." Clark's voice shook. "This... isn't good."
"It seems professional," Jughead agreed, figuring that was what Clark meant. "But that's not all bad. It also means they know how to keep us alive. They might be less likely to panic and do something to us without thinking through the consequences."
"Okay. Good. That's important." Archie seemed eager for any heartening news at all. His grip on Jughead's wrist tightened.
"That is a good point, yes," Clark's grip tightened as well.
Whether painkillers were coloring his response or not, the situation reminded Jughead of how it had been slightly less scary with the drug dealers when he'd had Trigger to worry about. And, despite the obvious similarities, this was so much less terrifying than when he'd been kidnapped in Toronto.
This time they could look out for each other.
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Brand was starting to have trouble. The world around him had been reduced to however many feet he could see through the dust that was persisting; he felt a lot more alone than he likely was. His ears were still ringing, so it was probable that he was also hearing less than he should.
All of that contributed to his feeling of being isolated in a war zone.
The whole situation was becoming horrifying as well as disastrous, and Brand was pretty sure he'd just spotted an actual human limb sticking out from under the rubble that the highschool had been reduced to. Hopefully it was still attached to a human, and ideally one who was alive and had space and air under there.
He was about to find out.
Brand had not been able to locate FP, and at this point he figured he needed to do whatever he could to help people as he was able.
The kid was no doubt waiting by a useless cellphone, and they wouldn't get to touch base until everyone headed back to the resident agency in person to regroup. With any luck FP would come walking up behind Brand long before then, pitch in with the digging and lifting that was every bit as hard as it looked, and get an update about Jones then.
Brand wished he had tools. Assistance. Training. Anything to figure out how to do this more effectively. He was making progress, but it felt stupidly slow as he tried to figure out how to move chunks of building that were wildly inconsistent in size, shape, and structural integrity.
The rubble finally started to shift as he slowly made headway, and it became clear that the leg was attached to a human. That human was somehow still wearing a hard hat, which might well be the only reason he was still alive. He must have been in a stairwell when the building came down. Brand didn't recognize him, but he did recognize that something very wrong had happened here:
The lower half of the construction worker's face was obscured by duct tape and he was handcuffed to a metal railing.
They had already known that this had not been an accident, but now they had a serious lead.
Brand looked around for anyone he could notify, but then he had a realization that was accompanied by the harshest jolt yet:
He might be the person who needed to be notified.
And he was here, in the thick of things, where nobody could find him.
Brand did a quick check of the man's injuries and made the executive decision to lift him and carry him to safety - and to wherever the more responsible members of the agency had no doubt set up some form of mobile command center.
He felt a stab of worry over Jones' father, who might also be buried in rubble if he had not made it off of the roof where Brand had seen him last, but this was what he needed to do. FP was just going to have to figure things out on his own.
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Betty and Veronica were grateful when they were able to use the zoom lens on Betty's camera to spot their boyfriends emerging from the blast zone and heading straight toward a parking lot. Instead of going to meet them, though, and most likely being barred from entering the FBI parking area anyway, they decided to focus on finding out what had just happened.
They both knew better than to get into the middle of anything like the disaster that was playing out in front of them, but Veronica and Betty had also thoroughly learned the value of skirting the edges to gather information that might not be apparent to those who were in the center of the action.
Which was why they saw Alice arguing with Sweet Pea.
And Kevin making a beeline toward them both.
But then something else entirely caught their eyes simultaneously.
"Uh - was that just-," Betty was pretty sure her eyes were playing tricks on her.
"You saw him too?" Veronica gaped.
Joaquin DeSantos had just walked past them, covered in dust from the explosion. Even with a hard hat on, it was obvious that his hair had been cut short - but it was definitely Joaquin.
"Let's follow him." Betty did not hesitate.
"My cellphone isn't working; nobody will know where we are. And shouldn't we get Kevin first?"
"Maybe not, Veronica. Who knows what's going on; this looks really weird." Betty shook her head. "I think we might even have better odds of getting the full story without Kevin."
That could very well be true.
They followed Joaquin's distinctive hard hat through the crowd of people who were trying to help - or trying to find people - or just rubbernecking with their phones out to record the chaos.
Joaquin was leading them in the opposite direction from the Whyte Wyrm and Serpent territory. That made some sense.
But then a larger hard-hatted figure who was also covered in dust appeared in the crowd and grabbed Joaquin's arm. And suddenly they were changing course from wherever Joaquin had been heading.
"Is he being kidnapped?" Veronica glanced at her phone again, but she still had no service.
"We can't lose them. Maybe he's here under duress; maybe the kidnappers forced him to do something involving the explosion," Betty speculated. "Eventually our phones will work again, V. We can keep our distance, but we need to make sure we don't lose him. Either of them."
00000
"Jonathan?" Brand frowned down at the unconscious man he'd dug out of the rubble, who was being treated by paramedics but had not been transported from the site; he was remarkably stable, all things considered, and they hoped he'd wake up soon and be able to give the police and FBI information that they could use right away. "He's not a demo guy. Is he?"
"He has keys." Fred Andrews had been brought to the FBI's command center at the site of the disaster in order to identify his employee. He was shaken up and seemed grateful that Brand (or maybe just someone he knew) was there as well. "They must have forced him to give them access to the building - and the explosives - though I'm not sure how they managed to set everything up early. It's a huge job."
"They didn't. The demo team did that yesterday, after hours. Apparently they received texts that they thought were from you," Agent Quinn explained what they'd learned so far. "They left the school late last night, and Jonathan must have been the last one inside Southside High. Whoever added the accelerant and made the changes to the explosives must have used his access and familiarity with the site to accomplish all of this."
Fred looked like he might be going into shock. Brand handed him a cold water bottle and he pressed it to his forehead. "Why didn't the demo team confirm any of this with me?"
"They thought that they did. It was probably spoofed all the way around." Agent Quinn looked sympathetic. "This is one of the downsides of technology. Have you been able to account for all of your employees at this point?"
"Yes. At least, everyone has been seen by someone I've spoken with." Fred made eye contact with Brand, who had been the one to vouch for Archie's safety. Fred had not laid eyes on FP either, but the crew that had been with him on the roof said that FP had been with them when they got out - only barely ahead of the blast. Brand had been relieved to hear that news as well. "Jonathan was the only one who was unaccounted for."
"That's good." Agent Sarah nodded encouragingly. "You run a tight ship; that's going to help. We're going to find the people who took advantage of that and tried to hurt a lot of innocent people."
"If the crew had still been on the roof, they might all have been killed." Fred looked even more stricken as he thought about how close that had come to being the case.
Brand thought about that from a slightly different angle, though. "FP was up there. The building blew just after he got out?"
"Brand, you can't seriously think-,"
"There's such a thing as gang loyalty, Fred. I'm not speculating beyond that right now, but a Serpent might have waited for their leader - former leader - to be outside of the worst of the blast radius. Maybe." Brand frowned. "Or he could have been the intended target and they just barely missed their window."
"One or the other, yes," Sarah gave him an irritated look. "Either FP Jones was the target or he wasn't."
"I'm saying that maybe he was at the center of this, either way," Brand shot back. "Try to keep up, Quinn. Where is he now?"
Agent Quinn frowned at his tone and words, but seemed chastened and no longer angry. She shrugged in response to Brand's question.
"Looking for Jughead, maybe?" Fred shrugged as well.
"Let's hope not. I've got Jones waiting in a car with Clark. FP could wander for hours and never find that hideous excuse for a vehicle."
"No; we should check there," Fred disagreed. "FP's like a bloodhound when he's motivated. And he probably doesn't know that Jughead's safe, since you got the boys out of there so quickly. Thank you again for that, by the way. I know Mayor McCoy isn't thrilled that you left her with the paramedics."
Brand shrugged. She'd been fine; a lot of other people had not been fine.
"Can I leave you in charge here, Agent Quinn?" Brand turned to Agent Sarah. He wasn't sure what the SOP was now that they had everyone working fairly efficiently to evacuate the scene and then start back to the resident agency.
"You can do whatever you want," Agent Sarah replied with a small smile. "You are officially outside of the chain of command, Special Agent Davies. Thank you for the help here; we should be fine on our own while you locate your asset."
"Great. Let's check it out, Fred."
They set off at a jog toward the lot where Clark had parked.
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Yay! Things are coming together... :-D Again, do let me know if anything gets too confusing. I'll be looking forward to any and all reviews while I am hard at work on Chapter Seventeen - and enjoying a lovely break and exciting travels! :)
I hope you also have a wonderful week!
-Button