Entrez dans L'Avenir
AnniKay
Sam/Mercedes/Puck
Disclaimer: I own Nothing…Murphy, Falchuk, and Brennen along with Fox and others own this fandom and all the characters there in…Anything you recognize obviously belongs to them
Summary: As Commune and their friends begin their junior year of college, they begin to understand that they are taking their first real steps into their future.
****THANKS to everyone who has taken the time to review! Your encouragement helps more than you know!****
Dedicated to OceanLyric, brightly75 & ShiranaiAtsune.
Thank you for being the first 3 reviewers of the Ch. 12 & for sticking with me through this journey!
Thank all of you for being avid readers & reviewers of my stories:
I appreciate all of you.
Boredom Busting Fic Rec
Dreams Come True by JumpingJill909
(SamCedes Fic)
Chapter 14
Guest Starring:
Quinton Aaron as Dr. Richard G./ R. George Kaulson
Miguel A. Nunez as Jayden Luis Yadiel Calderon
Vilma Santos as Analyn Bryson Anderson
Édgar Ramírez as Alejandro (Driver Asshole)
Javier Bardem as Pedro (Passenger Asshole)
Justin Baldoni as Giacomo Luciano (Jimmy)
Zeeko Zaki as Amit Al Fayed (Mitty)
Rebecca De Mornay as FBI Agent Ellie DeWitt
Mary Gross as FBI Agent Janis Zuckerman
Ronny Cox as Milton Racine
Where Have You Been (Kathy Mattea)
Ambient Pov
Don Motta and Dave Rossi looked each other up and down for a long moment. Many around them felt the were watching two elder lions assessing one another as they were forced to share territory. Special Agent Rossi spoke first, speaking Italian to minimize the number of people who would be able to eavesdrop on the conversation. To the rest of the room, it was as if one of the elder lions let loose a stream of Italian. "Donatello Sethos Motta, I am sorry that your daughter was taken as a part of all of this. We will ensure that she is returned to you unharmed."
"David Stephanos Rossi, thank you for your kind words. I am, of course, very concerned about the safety and well being of all of the girls who were stolen from us." Don Motta said his sincerity matching the full Italian across from him. "My daughter's security has been dispatched to bring her and whichever of her friends may be with her back here as we speak. Let's save the FBI's resources for those young ladies whose families are not as, well…let's just say safety conscious…as my family happens to be."
"You lo-jacked your daughter?" Ranger asked joining the conversation smoothly. His Italian was flawless. A fact that had certainly endeared him to his Babe's father. Across the room, though he couldn't understand much of what was said, Sam was annoyed by the fact that neither Mr. Motta nor SSA Rossi seemed at all startled by the sudden appearance of the decorated military man turned security consultant.
Mr. Motta simply nodded. There was no benefit to dissembling. "Unfortunately, since they separated her from her phone, which also includes the battery setup for her chip, we've had to be very judicious in using our locator. We were able to get the signal after we landed, and Amit and Giacomo left directly from there. They will call when they have the young ladies safe and secure."
"I take it, we will be unable to get any information from her abductors." Rossi drawled with a wicked grin.
In fact, all three men smiled smiles which had a predatory edge. "Given the fact that her bodyguards are also her cousins and they have known and protected Sugar her entire life…I think it safe to assume that her abductors will be in no condition to give you what little information they may possess. They will not suffer, much. But they should serve an apt lesson to others of their ilk."
"And what lesson will that be?" Rossi asked quietly.
Ranger answered for Don. Motta. "That there are some jobs, some targets, that are just too dangerous to ever take." All three men nodded. Ranger slipped back into English and turned to the room at large. "Now that the Lima Parents have arrived, if we can all gather, we've had several developments that everyone should know about. Then we can focus on next steps."
The entire room moved very quickly to circle up their proverbial wagons. Ranger quickly explained that Christophe Harris, Mercedes' maternal uncle, had a contact among the Policía Federal. "Harris' contact has gone a long way towards smoothing the interactions between Hector and the local LEOs." He also brought us up to speed on all they had learned about the kidnapping so far.
"Once we have finished this debriefing, Spencer will remain here to facilitate communication between the three teams, while the rest of us work with our Mexican counterparts." Hotch explained.
Ranger nodded. "This will remain the Rangeman base of operations. The hotel staff is being wonderfully helpful. And it is also beneficial as Tank, Lester and I are too easily recognizable here. Given the enemies that we've cultivated throughout Central and South America, our presence could prove problematic and create distractions that would be unacceptable at this time. When they all return, Woody Cal and Junior will join Hector at the official op base. Lester will join us here."
"Wait, where are Lester and the others?" Sam asked as he came out of his 'Momma and Daddy are here. They'll make it all alright again' fog.
Noah's voice joined Sam's. "Shit, where is Abrams too. I know he didn't sleep any better than me and Sammy and I know he'd have come down when the parents got here…even if he had managed to get some sleep."
Ranger's voice was calm, if a little annoyed at the interruptions. "Actually, I was just about to tell you all about the good news we received not long ago. Santos and Abrams went to retrieve Ms. Lopez and Stephanie while Woody and Junior will hopefully be recovering their captors from where the women left them, incapacitated, along the side of the freeway." Ranger directed his focus to Santiago and Maribel. "You should be very proud of your daughter. My Babe said that Santana was an integral part of their successful escape."
Sue Sylvester cackled in pure, evil, delight. "I knew that those idiotic, pinche cholos would be in more danger from my Cheerios than Sandbag, Brassy Hag or Tweedle Stupid would be in from them."
Santiago seemed to agree, though he did give her a hard look for her use of the Mexican insults. "I just hope that she didn't have to take a life." He said quietly.
"I agree, it is not something any of us would wish upon any of these young ladies." Tank nodded solemnly.
Maribel smiled a little. "No, Santiago doesn't worry that it will harm her spirit…just that she might find that she likes it. Santana would be an uncatchable serial killer." Her comment seemed to be an effort to bring some levity to the very tense situation.
Then Spencer had to chime in and kind of ruin it and yet also make it so much funnier. "Statistically, female serial killers are thought to make up anywhere between five and seven percent of all known serial killers in the last several decades. Which is down from eleven percent in the preceding century. While there are many theories as to why there's been a decrease, I don't think there really has been one. I believe that the female serial killers have such different motivations, ideations and behaviors that even those who are caught are ever connected to most, if any, of their previous victims." He looked shocked to have been allowed to reach the end of his soliloquy. "Sorry, usually Morgan stops me before I start to ramble."
Gabby smiled at him gently. "Well, for me, personally, I always love to learn new things, Spencer. I do hope that you're planning on attending our family reunion this summer. Oh, and feel free to bring your partner, Morgan, was it?" She smiled again. "We Pucketts are anything but close minded."
Spencer looked like a deer caught in headlights eve as he said, "Uh, Morgan belongs to Garcia."
Sander's comment came at the same time but was far more chiding. "Time and place Gabby Darlin' and this is neither."
Gabrielle Puckett Evans huffed. "Fine…but Cousin Spencer Reid, once we have Mercy and the other girls back, we're gonna have to spend some time getting to know each other."
The headlights were reflected in Spencer's eyes, so strong was the look of shock-tinged fear. "I almost feel like I know you from Sam's letters. Plus, Sue Sylvester looks almost identical to my mother. It is simultaneously comforting and disconcerting."
Sam smiled despite himself. "Give it time…you'll find her looks are the least disconcerting thing about Coach-well, Cousin-Sue."
Hotch came over to the small assemblage. "Mr. Evans, Mr. Puckerman, JJ's working on setting up the press conference. If you can be ready by eleven, along with both Doctors Jones and any other family members of the missing young ladies, it would be very beneficial to our investigation if you will all participate. It will also be necessary to keep the information about our primary unsub and his connection to the Assistant Director to just those currently in the know." Both Puck and Sam agreed immediately.
"Agent Hotchner, Stephanie suggested that we look at human trafficking hubs and the fetishes and preferences surrounding them to figure out which of the ladies would have been grouped together and where they'd be going. From there, we can easily discover where their captors are taking them. Stephanie and Santana were headed to Helsinki. Our research shows that brunettes are considered somewhat unique and more highly desirable there." Ranger's pride and authority was readily apparent even as he sought counsel from the FBI agent.
Hotchner held a conference with his team, including a returned Morgan and Garcia who was present via phone. Ranger called his troops together to take a call as well. While those things were happening, Danica and Gabrielle took Noah and Sam in hand to get them better dressed for the looming press conference. George, Sander and Rebecah had taken up the jobs of getting their hotel rooms and coordinating local hotel rooms for the parents of the other lost girls. Elsewhere around the hotel, the Dam Bros were helping each other manage Hudson's duties. They also took some time to reassure their mother that they were fine, just worried about their friends. Dave reached out to all his friends made through his years as a touring musician. He was hopeful that someone would be able to hook him back into the darker side of Mexico. A hook up he hoped would provide some trace of his missing bandmates. Cassidy would have loved to help him, but her grandparents were freaked out and she had her hands full trying to keep them calm enough that she could stop worrying about their blood pressure in addition to worrying about Erika and the rest of the ladies that she had grown to care for deeply over the previous years. Jax and Simmie were busy communicating with the millions of worried KAMA-leons online. They were doing all they could to help Darcy with managing Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and the other multitude of social networking sites. In New York, Darcy and Daniel were busily managing the fallout of the abductions on a more macro-level.
Just after she'd finally put together two fill outfits for Sam and Noah to wear in front of the cameras, Danica was shocked when Damien Forteneau brought her Hudson's phone with Mercedes' email pulled up. "Mrs. Dr. Jones, I hate to do this to you when I know that you have so much you're dealing with…but this Dr. Kaulson…something ain't right with that man."
The oral surgeon read the email twice before she could believe what she had read. She did a quick search of her daughter's previous correspondence with the same professor and compared it to email exchanges with her other teachers. A disturbing pattern soon emerged. Reading only a sampling of Dr. Kaulson's emails and a short array of emails from other professors at both Columbia and Juilliard, Danica quickly came to realize that Dr. Richard G. Kaulson was actively harassing her daughter. Oh, he wasn't stupid. Each of the emails before the one that had sent Damien to her were slightly caustic and definitely strict in a way none of the other professor's emails were. But that could have been demonstrative of his being a hard ass of an educator. Everyone encountered those at every level of education. Sometimes, they turned out to be a favorite memory of excelling. But the most recent email was basically just a Snape-Like diatribe of vitriol that was best summarized as 'I don't care if the news reports are true and you were kidnapped… if you are not in my class on Tuesday morning, you will receive an F for the semester'.
It Danica mere moments to check in Mercedes' student portal and affirm that Mercedes had no reported absences in that class for the previous six weeks of the semester. To her, that proved the correctness of Damien's assertion that something was wrong with Dr. Richard G. Kaulson. Google was a wonderful tool for finding more information about anyone who had any kind of a digital footprint. A tenured professor at an Ivy League university definitely fit the bill. "Son of a Bitch." Danica finally muttered. He had changed his known name and his face was far older, but she certainly remembered him. He had been the root cause of the only negative feelings she had about her undergraduate years.
In nineteen-eighty-three, Danica Harris had gone to Howard, determined to practice medicine. She had narrowed down her focus to three categories: pediatrics, general practitioner or dentistry. She understood that many of her peers would consider dentistry as settling, but for Danica, she'd been leaning that way because it was a need for the Black community. Besides, she knew that she had the strongest stomach of any person she knew, even more than her boyfriend, and future husband, Benton Jones. She knew that she could handle dentistry where many other people even those in the medical field often found it too disgusting to be borne. Smart and efficient were two words that were consistently used to describe Danica Monét Harris. She had researched to find what classes would be useful outside the core curriculum and her major classes. She'd even double checked to see if any of them could be substituted for the required freshman classes. Danica had been happy to note that introduction to business accounting would fulfill her freshman mathematics' requirement and help her more with her future plans than several of the other offerings.
The professor of the class had been Dr. Barron Harvey. Unfortunately, his teaching assistant at the time was R. George Kaulson. Kaulson had been quite intelligent, tall and somewhat good looking. He'd also been a misogynist and was equally entitled and overly sure of himself. While at the same time he'd also internalized much of the racism that he had grown up with in Baltimore. His treatment of the Black girls and women in the classes he proctored was often spoken of as a prime, real world, example of colorism to all of the students he taught. Women like Danica were praised and exalted. While Danica's classmate, roommate and study partner Khalilah, with skin a shade or two darker than Benton's was treated with derision and scorn. The same dichotomy of treatment was prevalent in the grading of their assignments. Ultimately, the two roommates had meticulously gathered all of their graded work and immediately after taking the final, they gave copies of all of it to Dr. Harvey. They'd explained to the professor the problems that they had encountered. After going over Danica and Khalilah's packets and getting a broader sampling of the work of male and female students of the same section of the class, and a few others where Kaulson worked as TA, Dr. Harvey was livid. Kaulson had universally under-graded darker skinned students and women's work was almost always graded much more harshly than the assignments of their male counterparts.
R. George Kaulson had been summarily fired with cause from his TA position. His graduate school enrollment had been suspended for a full academic year. He'd also been compelled to take a total of six psychology and African-American Studies classes to be able to remain a student of the MBA program a Howard. Incensed by what he felt was an undeserved punishment, Kaulson had confronted Danica and Khalilah when he'd seen them on campus soon after the school's decision. His yelling and shouting had frightened the two, significantly smaller, women and enraged Benton along with several of his friends and later frat mates. The four freshmen men had dragged Kaulson away from the young women and physically shown him the very definition of protective, righteous anger and indignation. Honestly, other than teaching Danica the valuable lesson that even in an environment was supposed to be protected and focused on Black Excellence, there would always be obstacles and hills to climb, she hadn't thought of the man in decades. But he'd apparently remembered her and was using her daughter to get revenge for perceived ills done to him. Well, that would not be allowed to stand. Though even as angry as she was, Danica knew that even beginning to deal with Richard George Kaulson would have to be pushed back until after they had dealt with the current crisis.
As Danica and Benton changed from their travel clothes into something they felt comfortable wearing for the press conference, she thought about how best to handle the problem her history had created for her daughter. Danica knew that telling Benton while his emotions were centered so completely in the thwarting of his deeply imbedded protective, fatherly instincts would be one of the worst things she could do. However, she didn't have much time to dwell on that problem. She quickly showered off the flight and threw on a pair of tailored, wide leg, denim trousers and a goldish yellow, peasant blouse with a pair of burnish gold, suede Rag & Bone ankle boots. With little that she could effectively do to help her daughter, Danica poured her attentions into making sure that all those who would be representing Mercedes Antoinette Jones put forward an image that would make her proud. She donned simple gold link chain. Her makeup was also kept simple, and she was glad that she'd gotten her hair done just two days previously, so she didn't have to do much beyond combing the long thick curls into a quick ponytail.
Leaving Benton to check in with Jake and the kids back in Lima, she went to help Rebecah get ready. Becah was the exact opposite of her fashion-conscious mother. She had grabbed several dresses when she'd packed. Only because they were quick and easy, and she wouldn't have to match as much or worry about what shirt went with what pair of pants to look good for the cameras. It took little time for Danica to pick a pretty, effortless, royal blue, sleeveless A-line dress that had a tie belt around the natural waist. A pair of natural colored, leather and cork wedge sandals were an easy decision since the other choices were black pumps, sport flip flops, shower shoes and the tennis shoes Becah had worn on the flight down. The brunette mom wasn't a big jewelry wearer, so her accessories were just her diamond solitaire earrings, the Star of David necklace she'd gotten from her children and her beautiful wedding set.
George and Sander were both more capable in panic packing than either of their wives. They were able to get dressed quickly and without assistance. Gabby, however, had managed to only pack comfort clothes and shoes. Thankfully, Becah loaned the taller blonde a pink pleated, chiffon dress that had long sheer sleeves, and needed to be taken up at least three inches to be wearable for the shorter woman. In, fact, the med student had gabbed completely by accident. Gabby's only option for shoes were her bright pink shower shoes. She hoped that they would be hidden from the cameras. She didn't want to embarrass her son and his loves.
The press conference was held outside the police station Ciudad Jardin. It was near both the hotels the KAMA crew were staying in, as well as the stadium where the concert had been held and from which the women had been abducted. There were representatives from all the major international news organizations and a few that, while major, were far less trustworthy than they should have been considering that they chose to call themselves 'news' companies. Hotch and his team made the decision not the reveal that two groups of women had managed to free themselves from their captors as they felt, and Ranger and his team agreed, that the proliferation of that knowledge would endanger the other hostages.
JJ started the press conference by simply reeducating all those present and those watching at home as to the nature of the case. She quickly summarized the pertinent details that alluded to, but did not identify, their suspects. Then she introduced the different families and representatives of the young ladies who had been kidnapped almost half a day earlier. For those whose blood relatives were unable to travel to Mexico on such little notice, their stories were told by their band mates. Erika's father, Luis Calderon was the first called forward, though, JJ introduced him as Jayden Chance…an added measure of protection for Erika and her entire family. "My daughter Erika is a truly beautiful soul. Her love of music started early and has only grown. She loves Sheila E and Nina Simone…Joni Mitchell and Alison Krauss. Erika is the unexpected joy that has blessed our family's heart for the last twenty-seven years. Her mother and seven younger siblings, our entire neighborhood, are at home praying for her safe return. I know that the Sante Maria will make sure that she is returned safely. Please just take her somewhere safe. I will come and get her myself if that is needed. Do not hurt my daughter. Do not steal her away from her family and her friends." His voice was strong but there was no doubt in anyone hearing it that Erika Chance was a much beloved daughter of her father.
Analyn Anderson had joined the group only a few moments before the press conference began, but she looked put together and very concerned as she stood and spoke for Joaquina. "Quina and I are third cousins. I grew up playing with her mother, Rosamie, and our other cousins in Manila. Today, I am speaking for her mother until she can get here. Joaquina loves to dance. She was dancing before she could walk. Her smile is infectious, and she was named after my and her mother's shared grandmother. Quina is beloved in both her birth family and in her chosen one. She and my youngest son have gotten very close since they met again in New York. Our entire family remains in the Philippines, except my little branch. Her mother is on the way here. I came as fast I was able. Please, return Joaquina and the other young ladies. They all have beautiful souls and wonderful futures in front of them. They do not deserve to be sold into slavery and servitude. Do what you have to know in your hearts is the right thing. Allow them to come home to their families."
Damien and Adam had gotten dressed, and they filled the space behind the podium together. "Xena Garrison's representatives cannot be here, mainly because they've never traveled outside the US, so they don't have passports. But I know that if either Blair or SB were here, they would have a million ways to share with the world how amazing Xena is. She was raised in the foster care system of Stillwater Oklahoma and, while she faced things no child should ever have to face, it made her strong. Yet she retained a sense of empathy that should have long ago been replaced by anger and bitterness. She is a voice of reason and a true sister and daughter, no matter the lack of shared blood with those who matter most to her. She is a great friend, and we want her back. We want her, Erika, Quina, Bae, Michelle, Hudson, Mercedes…all our friends. We want them all back." Damien's eyes held a ruthless determination as he spoke directly to the sex slavers through the cameras.
Heroes (David Bowie)
Xena Point of View
Human traffickers were the worst sort of assholes to walk the earth. I knew that there were a hell of a lot of people who would have chucked A Pimp Named Slickback in amongst their number, but Slickback never took his girls choices away. Hell, some of his girls even lived in their own apartment and lived kind of normal lives. Granted, there was a waiting period before the girls could earn that option but, considering that most of his girls had to learn how to manage shit like paying bills and all that stuff, the waiting period was probably for the best. Some of the chicks never wanted the responsibility of that level of self-care. It was their choice. Slickback sure as fuck never kidnapped women and forced them into sex work. When I came to in the back of a small SUV, I knew immediately that it had to be human traffickers who had us in their clutches. I looked around and saw that Sugar and Hudson were with me. Like me, they had been stripped to their bras and panties and were cuffed uncomfortably behind their backs.
I knew that Sugar's presence upped my chances of being rescued. The simple truth was that while Slickback and B-they would miss me and be pissed as hell that I got snatched…neither of them had the connections or the 'not my daughter' righteous anger that Sugar's father and his family possessed. Hudson and I, we had created our families out of nothing. They were great families, but they weren't FAMILIES like Sugar had behind her.
Still, it just wasn't in me to sit back and do nothing. So, I came up with a plan, and I knew the others would catch on quickly to it. The wait for Sugar to wake up almost killed me. As soon as she finally came to, I looked over and put my thoughts into action. "Hey Sugar…should we at least try and warn these idiots about how much trouble they just caused themselves?" They must have used the same dosage of whatever they gave us on all three of us because I woke up a lot faster than Sugar did and she was conscious before Hudson who was even smaller than Sugar.
Sugar gave me a smile. "Naw…it will be funnier for us when my cousins catch up with me." her smile turned darker, "and if they are really unlucky, my cousin Nico will be one of the ones that find me. Nico likes to play with fire and blades. Daddy said Nico once kept a guy alive for almost a week getting information on an enemy. Of course, by the end, the dude was a gibbering mess and ended up in a psych hospital for the rest of his life…but he was technically still alive."
Hudson's voice surprised me a bit. She was still kind of groggy, but aware enough to quip. "I think I would rather not get on Nico's bad side. I'd rather be dead than unable to think or read." She looked around. "What happened to that guy's face?"
I was directly behind the passenger seat, so I had only seen the back of the head of the guy in question. At least until he had turned to glare at us when Hudson had asked him the same question in Spanish. "She happened to my face." He pointed at me. Every word was filled with anger. His face looked like he'd taken on 'Money' Mayweather and lost.
Sugar and Hudson looked at me curiously. I just shrugged. "I don't remember. I can't be held responsible for what I did to you while drugged out of my mind on whatever the hell you assholes used to knock us out. Play stupid games…win stupid prizes."
Passenger guy looked like I had pissed him off even further. He might have been weighing whether he'd get in trouble for shooting me some where non-vital when the driver laughed. "She is right, Pedro. We kidnapped her and her friends. Anyone would fight back. Respect a worthy adversary, even in their defeat." He said sagely. "It could be worse…Jose may never have kids and he's out of the haul we make from this endeavor. She could have done the same to you." Pedro hissed something in rapid fire Spanish that I didn't even begin to catch. "Hey, we all say what happened to Fernando…at least that one is tall and looks like an Amazon. Nando will never live down getting beaten up by a tiny li'l woman he could probably bench press."
The passenger guy, Pedro, huffed in indignant fury but he did turn around and face forward. "Fine, Alejandro, but when we get to the airport, I'll leave you the joy of dealing with Xena, La Princesa Guerrera…I'll take the two midgets."
Neither Sugar nor Hudson appreciated being called midgets. I was too busy trying to gauge whether they knew me or if they were harkening back to the old television show. "Excuse me, but like what time is it?" Sugar demanding politely after she tamped down her own indignation at the height related insult.
The driver and the passenger had a short exchange because the passenger guy didn't want to give us even that small bit of humanity. Finally, the driver won and said with a grin. "It is fifteen minutes before eight."
We all did some mental calculations. Given the time on the clock above the stage door when we'd been heading back out for our encore, we'd been taken shortly after midnight. That meant they'd been driving us to wherever for almost a full eight hours. From the road signage, I was pretty sure that we were still in Mexico. From what little I knew of Mexican geography; I didn't think we had been out long enough to have gotten to another Central American country. The long ass drive didn't make sense to me. If they were selling us off…even internationally…they should have off loaded us to the next link in the chain as soon as possible. Unless…we all knew about Mercedes' stalker, if he was running this show…he would not want anyone outside the control of his lackies until he had control of Mercedes. That thought felt right to me. Right, but not fully complete…there had to be another reason to deviate from what would be the safest course of action…my guess would be money. There must be some added monetary incentive for cutting as many links from their merchandise chain as possible. It did increase their risk…I just hoped that it increased their risk enough to get us all safely home.
Within thirty minutes of being awake, I was wishing that I could go back to sleep. The view out the windows of the fast-moving vehicle was making me a little nauseous, but the conversation…if Sugar's blatant attempts at interrogation could be called a conversation…was pretty stilted and certainly one sided. Until she tripped onto a thought that had been floating through my head as well. "Theoretically, it only makes sense to pair us up by types for greater ease of transportation. But I'm not seeing what Huds, Xee and I all have in common. Both Xena and I are brunettes, but Huddy is as red as a sunset. Huds and Xee have super curly hair…but I'm stick straight. They're both really fair, and while I'm among the most lightest skinned of my cousins, I'm nowhere near as fair as they are. Hudson and I are short, but Xena is tall as hell. So…what is it I'm missing. Why did you guys decided that we belonged together? Enough to keep us together even though you're now a man down?"
Passenger snarled something in Spanish that I didn't understand, but Hudson sure did. "What makes you think that we're all virgins?" she asked almost casually.
The driver looked back quizzically. "Our research has been quite invasive. We know that the little one has been fiercely protected on the tour. And the two of you have no interest in sex…you remain pure. This will bring us more money than your friends. Especially where the three of you are going."
I almost laughed, which would have probably been followed by a correction of their stupidity. But a look from Sugar followed by a quick negative headshake from Hudson kept me quiet. It took just a moment for my brain to catch up with my knee jerk reaction. I didn't need to do anything that would make me less valuable in their sight. That was dumb and I did try not to do things I knew were done. "Where did you get your information?" I asked instead.
Driver Guy shrugged quickly. "Our, let's call him, our primary customer for this round of merchandise, he has a contact within the road crew and another resource that knows many of your friends very well. That, how do you say, roadie, has been a great wealth of knowledge. We know that the three of you will bring us the most money. We know that the blonde dancers are both whores who will make some Middle Eastern brothel a boat load of money before their minds break and their bodies give out. The other background singer and the other personal assistant will be perfect pleasure slaves-slash-brood mares. If my contact makes the sale they hope to make, the two of them will spend the rest of their lives providing some much needed diversity to a stagnating gene pool."
"You are one sick muthafucker." I spat at him. The fact that he was not only stealing the choices and rights of us and the others, but that he was just so fucking cavalier about it…that pissed me off. "I try not to wish ill on other people, but I hope to every fucking god there is that you and your whole fucking crew dies screaming in pain you asshole."
"You know, Warrior Woman, I'd be more worried, but we're already more than halfway to offloading the three of you to your next handlers. By the time your rescuers could even possibly catch up with us, you will already be winging your way to your next destination." The asshole smiled arrogantly.
Sugar smirked even harder than the asshole driver just had. She knew something they didn't. I wasn't sure what that was exactly, but from the look on her face it would benefit us and not our captors…so I was good with it. I glanced at Hudson, and she seemed to read Sugar's look the same way I did. So, we were not uncooperative when the assholes stopped and got us some food. Other than not being free to do what the hell I wanted to do and being a little bit cramped in the backseat of the small SUV in which we were being transported, it wasn't the worst six or seven hours I'd ever spent in my life. But when a blue and white helicopter landed in the middle of our side of the divided roadway we were on, about a quarter mile ahead of us, I could have shouted in joy. My knees were killing me from being pressed into passenger asshole's seat back.
Two big ass men got out of the back door of the chopper. They were both dressed in black dress slacks dark business shirts, shoulder harness holsters and they'd clearly lost their jackets and ties in the flight. Those mofos had handguns and definitely seemed like they knew how to use them. As we got closer, without slowing down as one would have expected, I saw little red pinpricks of light swizzle around the car before disappearing. "Seat belts ladies." Sugar hissed quietly as she quickly put hers on. Hudson and I shrugged but did as she recommended as quickly as we could. It was just in time. The second I felt the click of my belt in the latch, the car was rocked as two precisely placed bullets tore through the front tires of the vehicle. I'd known the driver was an arrogant asshole…I hadn't realized he was a complete moron. He slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel, which sent the car completely out of control. Of course, even smaller SUVs have an unfortunate tendency to flip the fuck over given the least little provocation. We ended up going ass over teakettle at least twice, before coming to a rest upside down on the side of the road.
I had thrown my left arm across Hudson and held onto Sugar's arm as we rolled. My right arm had gotten jostled and bruised because I'd braced it against the door next to me. I knew I'd regret that later, but better than hitting my head or worse in the rigors of the rolling. Before I could get my body to stop feeling like it was still tumbling around a rolling car, the back doors were opened and Sugar's happy voice called out, "Hey Mitty. Hey Jimmy. I was kind of hoping that Daddy had brought Nico. I don't suppose that we can take these two to meet him." How she sounded both joyful and ominous at the same time was mind boggling.
"You okay Ben'khalee?" asked the one I was fairly certain was Mitty. The lighter skinned one just seemed more like a Jimmy to me.
"She'd better be. I promised to paddle her hyperactive ass red next time she called me Jimmy." Though both men had super dark, almost black hair and surprisingly similar eyes, the one who helped me from the car, the lighter skinned of the two, grumbled that his name was Giacomo…not Jimmy.
His counterpart shrugged. "Yeah, and mine is Amit. She's been calling us Mitty and Jimmy since she was old enough to speak. Sugar's entirely too stubborn to change…so why fight it." He said calmly as he helped Hudson from the mangled car.
The front end had taken more damage than the back, so our captors were more than a little stuck and definitely more battered than we three were. "If you are all cousins, as you just called Sugar, maybe he's too stubborn to not fight it." Hudson replied rolling her neck. It was clear that she had at least some level of whiplash. But otherwise, she looked mostly okay. "I don't suppose that you guys brought any clothes for us?"
"Sue sent us with a backpack of clothes for Sugar. You're small like her…you can probably fit one of her track suits." Amit said cautiously. Then he looked over at me as if he wanted to say something but decided against vocalizing something we all knew. I couldn't fit anything that belonged to Sugar Motta.
I thought about it for a second. "They were taking us to an airport. They'd have had to have something for us to wear. Even at a private field, it would have been hella-risky to have us walking around in our underwear, especially if they were drugging and carrying us."
Giacomo pulled the passenger asshole from the car and slammed him back against the car. "There are dresses for them in the trunk. Black bag…shoes too…sort of." He wheezed, blood streaming down his face. "Cojo, I think you broke my ribs, verga."
"Good." Sugar, Hudson and I said in unison. That gaping headwound couldn't have happened to a more deserving guy. I hoped one of those broken ribs collapsed his lung. I kind of hated that dumbass.
While the guys dealt with the two assholes, pulling them from the wrecked car and making sure they wouldn't try to make a run for it, I scrambled back into the car and retrieved the black bag. It took me seconds to pull on one of the slightly too small, and way too short, sundresses that I found inside. Seeing that all three were the same size, both Hudson and Sugar decided that the eye wateringly bright track suits in the backpack from the helicopter were the better option for them. Leading us to the chopper to allow Hudson and Sugar to get clothes from our young friend's bag, Amit and Giacomo pulled on super cheap clear parkas, the kind that were often purchased at amusement parks when unexpected rain happened and walked back over to the wrecked car and the downed traffickers.
As we got dressed, I kept an eye on the bodyguards and our former captors. The guards had the pricks kneeling on the side of the road, at the edge of a fairly shallow ditch. A business card was shoved into the back pocket of the deceptive black pants the driver was wearing. Then in very quick succession, two suspiciously quiet gunshots rang out. There was a rather significant blood spray that in front of the assholes before their bodies fell forward into the culvert. I felt my face twist into a smirk of satisfaction I had not worn since the rapist son of a bitch that had terrorized my childhood had turned up dead. I glanced over at Hudson, worried that she'd be bothered or disapproving of the violence and murder. Instead, she looked even more viscerally pleased than even Sugar…and Sugar looked like she wanted to go dance on the still steaming corpses.
"I made it through a decade in the New York foster care system, six years of college and grad school without ever once having to live through what those Hom Ha'DIbaH planned to force us to endure every day for the rest of our lives. I'm glad they're dead. I kind of wish I had the ability to kill them myself or that they had suffered more…maybe Nico would have been able to give them what they truly deserved. But I am very truly glad that neither of them can complete their mission or hurt anyone else, ever." She told me when we were able to talk later.
The small SUV was pushed into the ditch on the opposite side from the bodies. Then Amit and Giacomo hustled us into the chopper, and we made our way back to Tijuana. I was more than happy to be back with people I cared about, but I wish that there were more of us there than just us eight liberated women. I found myself praying, for the first time in more years than I could think of, for the safe return of our missing five members.
Fingerprint File (The Rolling Stones)
Berry House Basement Entrance
Ambient PoV
Two FBI agents double checked their orders. Neither of them could believe that they had been sent to a suburban domicile to take a college age young woman into custody for questioning about her involvement in an international sex trafficking ring. Agents DeWitt and Zuckerman had been chosen because they were both women and Agent Zuckerman's air of 'lady accountant' should be calming to the young lady they were there to collect. Agent DeWitt would be able to handle any force that might be needed given the fact that no twenty-one-year-old would want to be arrested for such a serious crime. The two very different seeming agents had known each other and been friends since the academy and had even spent two years as partners in the LA field office right after they'd graduated from Quantico. DeWitt and Zickerman had kept in touch over the three years they'd served in different regions and had only been paired back up as partners since they were both assigned to the Columbus field office the previous year.
The two partners got out of their government issued black sedan and looked around. They were in the height of suburbia. Upon repeated knocking on the steel core, external door that the agents found down a small set of steps recessed into the slightly steep side yard incline. The two, somewhat, seasoned agents were thrown for a loop when the door was opened by a petite, Caucasian brunette in pink dancing tights and toe shoes. Looking beyond her, they noticed that what seemed to be a well-appointed living room had had all the furniture pushed up against the walls to make room for a portable wooden dance floor to cover the light gray carpet. 'The apartment must have had some awesome sound proofing,' Agent DeWitt decided to herself because the angry White girl rock that blasted out of the opened door had been completely contained.
"Sorry, I have no need for any new and innovative cleaning products or instruments. I only use Clinique or Colorscience makeup products. My fathers already support more than enough 'worthy' causes and I'm not interested in converting to whichever religion you believe you represent." Rachel said with patently false cheer and one of her winning smiles.
Agent Zuckerman shook her head. "No, are you Rachel Berry?"
"Yes." Rachel's response was guileless. "And you are?"
DeWitt gave the younger woman a winning smile of her own. "We are Agents DeWitt and Zuckerman with the Federal Bureau of Investigations. We need to ask you to come with us. We have some questions about your involvement with the Arturo Casillas and the Los Deltas Cartel."
"Well, that's very simple. I have no involvement with any cartels. Narcotics never touch this body they are for the weak of will and weak of mind. And I have no clue who any Arturo Casillas even is." Rachel stated confidently. "Now, if that is all, I'm doing a bit of celebrating right now…I'd like to get back to it."
Janis Zuckerman was not the same timid agent she'd been when she'd gone through the Academy. She was a tall woman with a long reach. She was quick and authoritative as she stopped the shorter brunette from closing the door. "Ms. Berry, if you have no involvement with the cartel, then I am certain that you wouldn't mind coming in with us and helping us to get this matter all cleared up."
DeWitt very quickly lost patience with Rachel Berry who was fighting to close the door despite her partner's very visible hand in the way. So, she took a much different approach to the problem. She reached into the gap, grabbed the hand Rachel had on the doorknob and within a couple of moments had Rachel's hands cuffed behind her back and her cheek pressed against her front door. "Where is your purse and keys so my partner can lock your apartment up behind us?" DeWitt asked after quickly quoting the Miranda warning by rote.
"What are you doing" Rachel screeched.
Zuckerman cocked her head to the side as something that Rachel said clicked for her. "What are you celebrating?"
"Huh?" both Dewitt & Rachel grunted not understanding the reason behind the question.
The tall agent seemed to be truly befuddled. "As we drove her, I noticed that most of this town seemed to be in a state of half mourning over the abductions of four of their hometown girls. Yet, you…you who was a classmate of and in the same choir with them…you're here celebrating. What makes you so happy in the midst of all this sadness?" In preparation for the coming interrogation, Zuckerman had read and summarized Rachel B. Berry's entire file as DeWitt had driven the pair to the smallish town.
Rachel gulped, struggling to say something other than her true reaction which was that she was very glad that her three former choirmates had been kidnapped and she hoped that none of the made it back alive. Sure, she didn't actually know or have anything against the Motta girl, but Sugar…what a ridiculous name…was their friend and sometimes collateral damage simply couldn't be avoided. Deep inside, though, she knew that that would be the exact wrong thing to say. "I was celebrating because I was once again – for the first time since I awoke from a coma after being beaten and left for dead in a subway car – able to complete a full 'stage' of twelve fouettés en pointe without any pain causing me to lose my balance." She said quickly. And while had, in fact, done so…it had been a part of her celebration, not the cause.
The two agents looked at each other and shrugged. Neither of them had any background in dance at all. They had no clue was an fouetté on point was let alone how many of them would be a worthy cause for celebration. "Well, congratulations, but we still need you to come with us and answer some questions." Zuckerman reasoned.
"I'm not answering any questions without an attorney present." The daughter of a lawyer, Rachel realized that she should have said that as soon as the two agents had identified themselves. Despite saying that she wanted a lawyer, she knew that she really, desperately wanted her father in particular.
DeWitt started perp walking a still struggling Rachel towards their car as Zuckerman found the Liman's purse, keys and a pair of actual shoes behind the door to the younger woman's apartment. Janis locked everything up and hurried to join her partner and their suspect. They'd almost reached the car when two men, one a tall, slim Jewish man speaking distractedly into a phone, the other an even taller broad shouldered Black man whose very presence seemed to demand answers.
"Rachel, Baby, I heard you call me. Who are these people, and have they identified themselves and read you your rights?" At a quizzical look from all three women in front of them, Antwan answered their unasked question matter of factly. "Rachel Barbra Berry, I heard you call out to me from damn near six-hundred miles away, do you really think that whatever hoo-doo my grandmother passed down to me doesn't work from less than six hundred feet?"
Ellie DeWitt had been a Marine before she joined the FBI, but before that, she'd grown up in rural Massachusetts. The home state of the witch trials had a somewhat weird relationship with the occult. Most of its natives went through a phase of love of the subject and Ellie had been no different. "Well, Mr. Berry, we are Agents DeWitt and Zuckerman with the FBI. Your daughter needs to accompany us to our office in Columbus for questioning about her connections with the Los Deltas cartel. You can feel free to have a criminal defense attorney meet us there. She could have avoided the cuffs altogether if she hadn't tried, repeatedly, to slam a steel core door on my partner's hand." She kind of got a small bit of pleasure from answering his unasked question in return.
Hiram hung up and joined his husband near their eldest child. "That was Kevon and Patrice, they're in Dayton picking up Tessa and her Hart. When they get to Lima, they plan to swing by here and pick up Double A-S. The plan is to circle up the wagons at Commune's house. It would certainly be better for Rangeman to secure the family." He looked to Antwan and then to Rachel, as soon as he was brought up to speed, his mind went immediately to how they could help their child. "Don't worry, Darling, I'll call Milton Racine. He's still practicing criminal law in Columbus if I remember correctly. He is one of the best in the state. I will have him meet you there. He owes your father a huge favor."
With that assurance, Rachel allowed the agents to load her into their sedan. The hour and a half long drive was torture for the college dropout. The two agents were not capable of silence. They insisted on arguing with each other over the radio, finally agreeing to split the trip in half. Zuckerman tuned into NPR which was covering the explosions and abductions ad nauseum all day. Then when it was DeWitt's turn, her selection was a music station that was basically just playing KAMA's two major albums on shuffle with bonus tracks and all. By the time the drive was over, Rachel was ready to report the agents to their supervisors for psychological torture. Despite her behavior, Rachel was not actually under arrest. "If you agree to behave, we can take you in without the cuffs, as was our original plan. However, I do not mind at all giving you the full 'perp walk' experience, so if you want to show your attitude some more. Please, feel free." DeWitt said sternly.
Rachel was definitely not the most intelligent person in her social circle, though she believed herself to be so. But all would agree that she was most definitely the most pride filled. When given the choice to preserve her dignity, she could behave in a manner that exhibited the manners her fathers had attempted to instill in her as a child. Thankfully, changing from her toe shoes to the ballet flats Zuckerman had grabbed for her, Rachel was able to walk into the Columbia FBI building with her head held high. Just as her father said, an attorney was waiting on her in the lobby.
Milton Racine was a tall, white man who seemed to be about the same age as her father Antwan. She later learned that the two men had attended law school together and Antwan Berry had done more to help Milton Racine get through his legal education and passing of the Ohio bar exam than anyone else could ever have managed. Though Milton himself had proven his law school torts professor correct who's told him all those years before that Milton would make an amazing lawyer…if he was actually able to make it through law school. Racine had gray hair that looked as if it had, previously been a mid-tone shade of blonde. Everything about the man said that he came from a background of wealth. He wore a tailored Brooks Brothers suit, very, very well made but in no way ostentatious. The same could be said about his watch and tie pin. He was very professional when introducing himself to Rachel and the agents. "Fortunately, I was on the way home from my club when your fathers called so I had time to change. Now then, let's go and get this cleared up quickly please. Antwan and Hiram will be coming to retrieve their oldest daughter as soon as their able to arrange childcare for their other children."
Zuckerman and DeWitt exchanged a long look. Neither woman believed that it would be as easy as that, but they were willing to humor them. In no time at all they had Rachel and her new attorney bundled into an interview room. "Just to ensure all the Is are dotted and the Ts crossed, please state your full name and date of birth for our records."
"Rachel Barbra Berry. December eighteenth, nineteen ninety-three." Rachel loathed having to admit her actual birth year. She'd managed to convince every single one of her classmates, both at McKinley and Carmel, that she'd been born after the deadline of ninety-four and had skipped kindergarten due to her intelligence. The secretary in Principal Figgins office has been very easy to blackmail into making the change in her digital records so very few people knew of her lies. The truth was that she'd simply done pre-K and kindergarten at a private daycare that she'd attended near Hiram's office. Rachel was at least smart enough to know not to lie to federal agents about such a mundane, easily verified fact.
Zuckerman nodded adding the information to the required form Three-Oh-Two that would be referenced to make the decision as to if the case should be moved forward. "Very well, Ms. Berry, we needed you to come in today to ask you some questions about the Los Deltas Cartel active in the Baja California providence of Mexico."
Rachel shook her head. "I don't know anything about them. I have never done drugs. And the only time I've been to Mexico, it was with my fathers when they visited Cabo for their twentieth anniversary."
"The Los Deltas Cartel doesn't run drugs. They deal in far more heinous wares. They are human traffickers, though apparently they will find and kill anyone requesting merchandise under the age of sixteen as a service to humanity." Zuckerman stated in her strangely matter of fact way.
DeWitt went to the door, stuck her head out and came back with an inch high stack of papers. "You sure seem to exchange a whole lot of emails with people you claim not to know anything about." She thumped the packet down on the table. "A technical analyst out of Quantico found communications between you and Arturo Casillas for, at least the last eight months."
"That includes several describing, at length, which ones of the ladies abducted last night are the most and least likely to be virginal enough to garner the best prices in foreign markets." Zuckerman chimed in, her voice overflowing with disgust.
"When Lynch is done, we'll have the entire picture, so just save us all some trouble and tell us what we need to know to bring your classmates back home where they belong." De Witt continued seamlessly.
Rachel Berry had never fully understood the expression 'gob smacked' until that exact moment. "I would never…" She gasped. "I have never…"
Thank you to all those who are still sticking with me on this journey.
Though my schedule has fallen by the way side, I am ALWAYS working on this story/universe.
That being said, please let me know what you think. Sometimes, I go back and read old reviews and it brings me so much joy. Honestly, I'm pretty sure that most fan fic writers feel the same way. Bring your faves some joy today.
TTFN,
Anni