Everyone stared at Artemis, the barrel of her weapon firmly held towards them, this woman – this Reaper – wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. Lestrade cast his friend a concerned glance but Mycroft honestly didn't look nearly as devastated as he'd expected, probably the shock, his mind reasoned. It certainly wasn't the first time any of them had found a loaded weapon pointed at their heads but this might have been the last. Reapers weren't out for fame, they had no political agenda nor revenge motive, Hades just killed and got paid so they could kill again. Hades – when it was all said and done – were facilitators, tools for people to steal and kill one another with. Lestrade had though Artemis different, thought she'd broken her chains and escaped, but now he saw the truth, saw there wasn't any breaking them. Though she had a gun on him the policeman discovered, bizarrely, that he wasn't angry, he didn't hate her, had he been subjected to the horrors and tortures she had he knew he'd have firmly been indoctrinated as well. After she'd let Mycroft go from that small cabin in the middle of nowhere Hades had more than likely put their foot down, crushed that last strand of resistance inside her to leave her just as shell-like as all the others. His heart broke for Mycroft, his friend, the Iceman, he'd finally started to thaw his heart and then she'd crushed it for him; in Gregory's opinion that was worse than killing them.
"What are you doing, Arrtemis?" Mycroft finally managed to asked but her expression didn't change.
"Be quiet." It didn't sound like an order, didn't sound like a question. "Form a line and move down the hall. I only require you alive so I can kill your friends and brother."
Her eyes were dead inside, none of that light which had made her green emeralds sparkle. Artemis didn't waste another word either, just let the sound of gunfire – it came slower now – stress the seriousness of the situation they'd found themselves in. When she gestured to the door with her Beretta they reluctantly obeyed and moved out single file, hands raised in surrender.
Slowly they made their way through the long hallway and down into the lower, more restricted, sections of the building, real sunlight got replaced by lights and everything got just that little bit colder. The further down they got the louder the gunfire became, as if Hades wasn't all that interested in those who worked upstairs, that was fair since up there was mostly just low ranking analysts and desk jockey. Down in the levels below were the secrets, the hidden meetings and everything ordinary people thought were just in the Bond movies. Disturbingly the screaming and yells grew quieter, because the staff down in the lower levels were trained or because they were all dead already none of the group knew; they could guess though.
"Oh God!" Exclaimed John when he saw two bodies laying on the floor, weapons still in their hands. "Christ, they're the security guards who brought us in."
Not half an hour ago those men had been alive and doing their jobs, Watson had even spoken with the taller one.
Suddenly two other Reapers came into view, one ginger man and a rather tall black woman, both were kitted out in tactical gear and just as blank as Artemis. The woman carried an M16 in her well practised hands while the man had a trusty HK416, none of the four men nor Anthea wanted to learn just how good they were with those.
Gregory shuffled closer to his suit clad friend. "Myc, did she let them in?"
"Yes." Mycroft replied sorrowfully as the two new Reapers fell into formation on either side of Artemis to march them down the hall. "I think she did."
"She had you fooled, didn't she." Sherlock hissed from just behind his older brother. "Evil assassins don't usually end up as turncoats." He snorted. All the things he'd done in his life, Moriarty, Magnussen, his sister, and yet it was Mycroft's stupidity and lovesick heart that would finally kill Sherlock Holmes. "And you think you're the smart one. She's no renegade."
The black woman stepped ahead of the hostages – because that's what they were now they realized mournfully – and pushed a door open to a fairly large office then they all found themselves ushered inside. Only once inside did Artemis finally lower her weapon. There they all came face to face with maybe ten to twelve Reapers all armed to the teeth and ready to kill on a moments notice. John's eyes flicked about as he tried to assess if there was any tactical way out of this, he'd been in worse situations, right? No. John had been to war, had followed Sherlock around for years, but this was by far the worst situation he'd ever found himself in. Emotions often made people dumb or left it so as they could be reasoned with; Hades had stamped out all emotions long ago.
Mycroft's and Sherlock's eyes fell on five people stood in the centre of the room as if they'd been waiting for them – probably had – three women and two men. While they were dressed the same as the other Reapers, carried a small arsenal and had no facial expressions whatsoever, there was still something different about these five people; they were Hades' generals, minus Kerberos of course.
Quickly Lestrade, Sherlock, Anthea and Watson were pushed off to the side where the doctor stumbled and slammed his hip into the door handle of what was most likely a supply closet; he hissed but no one took notice. Artemis grabbed Mycroft by his shoulder and shoved him down to his knees before the generals. There was no greetings, no introductions, none of the usual monologuing which usually came with the evil doers, none of that, no, they just stood before him and got straight to work.
"We have been informed that Project Tesla requires an access code which only two people have access to, you are one of them. What is it?" Questioned the shortest general, an Asian woman of approximately forty.
Mycroft shook his head despite the guns pointed at his head and the betrayal of the woman he loved stinging his heart.
"I'm not telling you."
Without warning Artemis tucked her Baretta away, grabbed his left hand and snapped the pinky finger harshly to the side causing a god-awful crack. Mycroft cried out in pain but forced himself to control it, bury it down and stay strong, if not for his brother's life and the lives of his friends then for England.
"Leave him alone!" Lestrade yelled only for an excessively tall Reaper to smack him in the face with the butt of his rifle.
Anthea managed to catch the silver-haired man before he dropped to the floor and John quickly took a look at his now bleeding face.
"Access code." Artemis repeated.
Amazing that she could sound so violent and dominant without making a single lilt in her voice, not a single octave change.
The suit clad man shook his head again. "No."
When he'd first started out his Uncle Rudy had come to him and made sure Mycroft knew that their chosen profession wasn't easy, any day could be the last. Myc had taken that to heart long, long ago and he'd come to terms with it. Mycroft Holmes had been ready to die for a very long time, he didn't want to, but he was prepared for it; that was why it had been so easy to try and get Sherlock to shoot him at Sherringford.
In one smooth motion Artemis released his hand, broken finger jutting out agonizingly, and straightened up. Nothing of the woman he loved remained, not the sparkle in her polished emeralds, not the way she'd call him British, nothing. All of Mycroft remained though and she knew him better than even his own brother, knew how his mind truly worked, so it wasn't much of a surprise when she returned her Beretta to her hand and aimed the barrel firmly at his little brother's head; point blank. Watson wanted desperately to lunge at her but all he'd have succeeded in doing was killing them all a lot faster.
"Access code." She said for a second time, eyes hardly even blinking.
Mycroft remained quiet for a few seconds clearly torn but looking at her he knew he had no choice but to relent. Artemis wasn't bluffing and he doubted she'd even blink when his baby brother's blood splattered on her face. He visibly deflated in defeat.
"Alpha-608-Kilo-24-Romeo-7."
"Hydra," began the elder male general, "take a team and get us Project Tesla. Kill anyone in your way."
Hydra nodded and pointed to three of the Reapers before he lead them out of the room in search of their prize. As soon as Hades had Project Tesla they'd kill anyone left in the building and leave. MI6 wiped out in a single afternoon, all because the Iceman had let a beautiful young woman into his heart. Mycroft supposed the saying was true; the person you care for the most, is the person you'll let hurt you the most. He couldn't have cared less about his finger in that moment, no, just the idea of Artemis betraying him hurt his soul.
The remaining generals cast a look to Artemis then Mycroft almost in a robotic-like unison before Nix – a woman somewhere in her mid thirties with blond hair in a ponytail - tilted Mycroft's head up a little for a better look at him.
"This is really the one who infiltrated our Finland outpost? He is weak."
Charon walked to Artemis, his aged and bearded face just as unreadable as every other Reaper in the building.
"You let him escape, 132601, do not fail Hades again."
Lestrade's mouth fell open. No, no that wasn't happening. Artemis raised her weapon.
"Artemis, don-"
Mycroft never got any further. A single loud shot rang out around the room, Sherlock tried to launch at her but Greg and John managed to hold him back lest they be shot as well; Anthea screamed. Artemis hadn't hesitated, not for a single second, just fired a bullet into Mycroft's chest without so much as taking a breath first. The suit clad man lay slumped on the ground, eyes closed and unmoving. Blood stained his clothes as it slowly started to drip downwards from his heart to the carpeted floor. Any day, was what Uncle Rudy had said, any day could be the last and Mycroft's 'any day' had finally come.
"Good." Said Charon in what was probably as close to praise as he could get.
"You fucking monster!" Sherlock screamed as his lover and Greg continued to hold him back.
Sherlock hadn't believed she'd actually do it, thought maybe it had all been some stupid game to teach Sherlock a lesson for his arrogant ways, but there his brother lay dead. He went heavy in John's arms as his legs gave out from underneath him. All the horrid things he'd said to his brother, the squabbles and the arguing, they'd seemed so fundamental at the time. He'd made jokes about Mycroft dying but now the pain set in. All the things he'd said didn't mean he didn't truly love his brother. He'd always loved Mycroft, adored and idolized him when they'd been children. Mycroft had read him pirate stories and taken care of him, always taken care of him. Tears rolled down his cheeks as realization struck him, Mycroft had just died taking care of him.
The silver-haired policeman wrapped his arms around Anthea as she cried her own tears and he tried so hard to push the anger inside him away, Greg couldn't break down, not now; he'd mourn his friend later.
Styx looked at the four of them for a second with her honey-chocolate eyes. "Kill them."
Before the Reaper with the HK416 could even raise his weapon Artemis had started to speak much too calmly.
"I recommend we keep them alive for now." All of the generals look at her expecting an answer as to why they'd bother. "That one-" she gestured to Lestrade "-is a police inspector, he is also Holmes' best friend. If there are any issues he is likely to know what Holmes would have done or where he'd have hidden something. As for the others, if we keep them alive we have leverage against Lestrade."
Charon nodded seemly accepting her reasoning as a way of speeding up their work. "Very well."
"Shove them in there. Take their phones." Yama loosely gestured to the supply closet John had bumped into earlier.
The hostages quickly found themselves pushed forcefully into the small room and the door was slammed shut without much care. John got shoved so powerfully he almost face-planted straight into the photocopier. Sherlock slipped down the wall to the floor and just stared off into space almost catatonically while Anthea continued to cry into Greg's chest. She had always been a strong-willed woman, that was why Mycroft had chosen her as his assistant even when there had been far more experienced candidates, he'd treated her with respect and kindness, always remembered her birthday even when her own brother had forgotten.
"Oh thank God, it's just you people." All heads snapped to the corner just in time to see Lady Smallwood scurry out from behind a filing cabinet. "Where is Mycroft?"
John dropped down to his knees to wrap his arms around Sherlock as he desperately tried to comfort his lover. Lestrade finally separated from Anthea and raked a hand down his face.
"He's … dead." He breathed. "Myc is dead."
The gray-haired woman's eyes went wide in horror and disbelief. "What?! No, no that can't be right."
Lestrade pointed to the closed-door. "What do you think that shot out there was? It's Hades out there, Artemis is still one of them. She- she shot him. She killed him."
Lady Smallwood stood a time as she tried to take in what the policeman had said, but finally she steeled herself and accepted his death.
"I always knew she was dangerous. Should have left her in lock up."
John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead before he spoke. "Why are you here?"
"Hmm, I was in the halls when the internal silent alarm was triggered, I think most of the staff got out but I was trapped, thought they'd not look in here and they didn't. Thought here would be a good place to hide until security dealt with it. "
Sherlock snorted, the first indication he'd been listening to any of it. "Security isn't going to deal with it . Security is dead and now Mycroft is as well."
"Please stop." Anthea whispered.
"Hang on," Watson lifted an eyebrow, "what silent alarm?"
"Hmm? Oh, it's an alarm which sends a warning to all of our computers and phones."
"I triggered it while I was at the computer when I pulled up the cameras." Clever Anthea, always thinking. "Mister Holmes always said that was my most important duty. If enemies ever got in here I was to trigger that alarm and I did."
"He'd have been proud of you." Said Lestrade before he'd even known he'd spoken.
Anthea's mouth fluttered a moment as she wiped away slowly drying tears, this was unprofessional and she forced herself under control.
"I think Mister Holmes knew this was coming. He said he needed to tell me something after Inspector Lestrade left but- well, we never got that far."
John shook his head, arms still around Sherlock. "Couldn't have. Mycroft plans everything down to the last full stop. He wouldn't have let this happen."
"Not if he told Artemis." The grieving Holmes pointed out sorrowfully. "She would have told Hades. And now he's dead, we're all dead. Hades doesn't leave survivors."
Everything had fallen apart. Everything! They'd been locked in a tiny room to essentially await their deaths while Mycroft lay just outside the door in that office full of assassins and killers bleeding out onto that once navy carpet; his body growing cold.