Title: Beyond Transgression, 4/9
Author: Chocolatequeen
Email: g_chocolatequeen@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Oh yes!! I own Alias!! And if you believe me, I've got a bridge I'd like to sell you.
Rating: PG
Archiving: Just ask
Summary: The timeline for this story falls within ATY, and each section leads to the next. However, it is primarily a series of flashbacks and introspectives.
Aggression: technically, to go against. By definition, "1. The act of initiating hostilities or invasion. 2. The practice or habit of launching attacks. 3. Hostile or destructive behavior or actions." (The American Heritage Dictionary)
Chapter 4: Aggression—Jack's POV
I have spent a lifetime building an aura of hostility. To my friends and family, my "Don't mess with me" attitude seems cold and heartless at times, but in my work it is imperative. I took a slight tendency toward aggression and created a way of life.
Note that I did not say violence. While my work often requires violence, I have not let it become a part of me as I have aggression. I do not simply act destructive, I am destructive. The difference is minute, but elemental. I imagine it is this difference that makes me a truly aggressive person. Instead of merely attacking, I have formed a habit of attacking. It is second nature to me, as natural as breathing.
And that is why I'm prepared to do what I'm about to do. When I talked with Sydney, something Devlin had said clicked with me. He said Haladki was questioning how I knew about the circumference. Haladki is a lower level agent. He doesn't have the clearance to know about the circumference himself, much less to know if a senior agent possesses that knowledge. If he had any clue what the circumference was, it had to come from the outside.
Haladki is the mole. That knowledge slammed into me and my automatic thought was keeping Sydney safe. This man had already given up her cover to The Man, he couldn't be trusted not to do worse. I sent her away, telling her to go somewhere safe.
Then I came here. I've been waiting in the backseat of his car for almost 30 minutes now, but time is meaningless to me. Enough stake outs over the years have taught me the lesson of patience, now I use that lesson once again.
My opportunity comes soon enough. The beep of the car alarm clues me into his presence, and my senses go on full alert. He opens the door and slides in, fitting the key into the ignition in one smooth action. Now is when I make my move.
With the precision gained by years of practice, I grab him from behind and pull him into the backseat with me. "How the hell did you know about the circumference?" I whisper harshly as I shove the barrel of my gun against his throat.
"You are out of your mind, you know that??" he replies with a sneer. In answer, I simply raise my gun and knock him out.
Moving quickly, I get into the front seat and start the car. There's only one place where I can ask my questions and get the answers I need. I drive through the streets of LA at a moderate pace, unwilling to draw attention to myself by speeding. Besides, it's not like my passenger is going to be whining about how long it's taking.
Ten minutes later and we're there: a small storage garage owned by the CIA. Stretching Haladki out on the table, I place his hands in the vices and then grab a spray bottle filled with vinegar and shoot him in the face. He awakes with a jolt and immediately screams. "Aughhh... dammit, my eyes! Ahhh! Oh, God!" He moves as if to wipe the sting out of his eyes and notices his hands aren't free.
"How long have you worked for Khasinau?" I ask once I have his full attention.
"You sick son of a bitch!!" he yells back.
"Devlin said you mentioned the circumference."
" I want to see you burn in hell, you hear me!?"
"You don't have the clearance to know what that is."
"You bastard!!"
Completely unaffected by his epithets, I continue my questioning. "You must have learned about it from the outside."
"You SON OF A BITCH!"
Wrong answer. I tighten the vices and he screams again. Let's try this again. "Do you work for Khasinau?"
"No!"
Hm, more's the pity. Tightening the bolts once again, I hear the bones in his hands begin to crack, and he screams yet again. With a sigh, I realize they don't teach pain management like the used to. "Do you work for Khasinau?" I ask blandly.
"You son of a bitch!!"
One more time is all it should take. This time, the bones in his hands literally break and I have to force myself not to grimace at the sight.
But the bones aren't the only things breaking. "YES!! I work for Khasinau, yes!" he finally admits.
I feel a cold rage go through me at those words. I can't abide traitors, and this one betrayed my daughter in the process. Pressing my gun against his neck, I ask, "How long?"
"Two years!" he pants, clearly in pain. Tough.
"Why does Khasinau want the circumference?"
" It's the key to something he's had built!"
That doesn't sound good. "Something he's built. Tell me about it."
"It's a battery! All I know is it's just a battery!"
A battery? All this just to prove that he can top the Coppertop? "For what?" I ask.
" I swear I don't know! Jack, Khasinau's the future!" Funny words from a man with a rather limited future.
Pressing my gun a little tighter against his neck, I go for the crucial piece of information. "Where is this thing? This battery?"
"It's in Taipei! The Fu Sing district, at a warehouse! Pang Pharmaceuticals! In an underground lab, in room forty-seven!"
"You gave Khasinau the information about the safehouse."
"Jack, this is a gift I'm giving you! Khasinau can save you! You should be with him!" Unbelievable. He's guilty of treason, bound to a table with both hands broken, and he's trying to get me to join him? I'd give him extra points for effort, if I cared.
But he exposed the only thing I care about. "You told him that my daughter is a double agent with SD-6."
"Jack, look at yourself—"
My tight control on my emotions is slipping, and some of my rage seeps out. "You exposed Sydney!"
"Come with me! I can save you! I can save you!" Those are his final words. Stepping away from him, I give him cold look before raising my gun and shooting him through the heart.
Sometimes it pays to be aggressive.
Author: Chocolatequeen
Email: g_chocolatequeen@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Oh yes!! I own Alias!! And if you believe me, I've got a bridge I'd like to sell you.
Rating: PG
Archiving: Just ask
Summary: The timeline for this story falls within ATY, and each section leads to the next. However, it is primarily a series of flashbacks and introspectives.
Aggression: technically, to go against. By definition, "1. The act of initiating hostilities or invasion. 2. The practice or habit of launching attacks. 3. Hostile or destructive behavior or actions." (The American Heritage Dictionary)
Chapter 4: Aggression—Jack's POV
I have spent a lifetime building an aura of hostility. To my friends and family, my "Don't mess with me" attitude seems cold and heartless at times, but in my work it is imperative. I took a slight tendency toward aggression and created a way of life.
Note that I did not say violence. While my work often requires violence, I have not let it become a part of me as I have aggression. I do not simply act destructive, I am destructive. The difference is minute, but elemental. I imagine it is this difference that makes me a truly aggressive person. Instead of merely attacking, I have formed a habit of attacking. It is second nature to me, as natural as breathing.
And that is why I'm prepared to do what I'm about to do. When I talked with Sydney, something Devlin had said clicked with me. He said Haladki was questioning how I knew about the circumference. Haladki is a lower level agent. He doesn't have the clearance to know about the circumference himself, much less to know if a senior agent possesses that knowledge. If he had any clue what the circumference was, it had to come from the outside.
Haladki is the mole. That knowledge slammed into me and my automatic thought was keeping Sydney safe. This man had already given up her cover to The Man, he couldn't be trusted not to do worse. I sent her away, telling her to go somewhere safe.
Then I came here. I've been waiting in the backseat of his car for almost 30 minutes now, but time is meaningless to me. Enough stake outs over the years have taught me the lesson of patience, now I use that lesson once again.
My opportunity comes soon enough. The beep of the car alarm clues me into his presence, and my senses go on full alert. He opens the door and slides in, fitting the key into the ignition in one smooth action. Now is when I make my move.
With the precision gained by years of practice, I grab him from behind and pull him into the backseat with me. "How the hell did you know about the circumference?" I whisper harshly as I shove the barrel of my gun against his throat.
"You are out of your mind, you know that??" he replies with a sneer. In answer, I simply raise my gun and knock him out.
Moving quickly, I get into the front seat and start the car. There's only one place where I can ask my questions and get the answers I need. I drive through the streets of LA at a moderate pace, unwilling to draw attention to myself by speeding. Besides, it's not like my passenger is going to be whining about how long it's taking.
Ten minutes later and we're there: a small storage garage owned by the CIA. Stretching Haladki out on the table, I place his hands in the vices and then grab a spray bottle filled with vinegar and shoot him in the face. He awakes with a jolt and immediately screams. "Aughhh... dammit, my eyes! Ahhh! Oh, God!" He moves as if to wipe the sting out of his eyes and notices his hands aren't free.
"How long have you worked for Khasinau?" I ask once I have his full attention.
"You sick son of a bitch!!" he yells back.
"Devlin said you mentioned the circumference."
" I want to see you burn in hell, you hear me!?"
"You don't have the clearance to know what that is."
"You bastard!!"
Completely unaffected by his epithets, I continue my questioning. "You must have learned about it from the outside."
"You SON OF A BITCH!"
Wrong answer. I tighten the vices and he screams again. Let's try this again. "Do you work for Khasinau?"
"No!"
Hm, more's the pity. Tightening the bolts once again, I hear the bones in his hands begin to crack, and he screams yet again. With a sigh, I realize they don't teach pain management like the used to. "Do you work for Khasinau?" I ask blandly.
"You son of a bitch!!"
One more time is all it should take. This time, the bones in his hands literally break and I have to force myself not to grimace at the sight.
But the bones aren't the only things breaking. "YES!! I work for Khasinau, yes!" he finally admits.
I feel a cold rage go through me at those words. I can't abide traitors, and this one betrayed my daughter in the process. Pressing my gun against his neck, I ask, "How long?"
"Two years!" he pants, clearly in pain. Tough.
"Why does Khasinau want the circumference?"
" It's the key to something he's had built!"
That doesn't sound good. "Something he's built. Tell me about it."
"It's a battery! All I know is it's just a battery!"
A battery? All this just to prove that he can top the Coppertop? "For what?" I ask.
" I swear I don't know! Jack, Khasinau's the future!" Funny words from a man with a rather limited future.
Pressing my gun a little tighter against his neck, I go for the crucial piece of information. "Where is this thing? This battery?"
"It's in Taipei! The Fu Sing district, at a warehouse! Pang Pharmaceuticals! In an underground lab, in room forty-seven!"
"You gave Khasinau the information about the safehouse."
"Jack, this is a gift I'm giving you! Khasinau can save you! You should be with him!" Unbelievable. He's guilty of treason, bound to a table with both hands broken, and he's trying to get me to join him? I'd give him extra points for effort, if I cared.
But he exposed the only thing I care about. "You told him that my daughter is a double agent with SD-6."
"Jack, look at yourself—"
My tight control on my emotions is slipping, and some of my rage seeps out. "You exposed Sydney!"
"Come with me! I can save you! I can save you!" Those are his final words. Stepping away from him, I give him cold look before raising my gun and shooting him through the heart.
Sometimes it pays to be aggressive.