Bloodred Senseless- Chapter 3: Stops for
"Eight dead agents." Kendall shook the daily situation report at Jack Bristow's face. "Eight."
"I have nothing to add, other than the fact that I wonder why we are receiving this information now when these agents were killed weeks ago."
"That is immaterial. There are eight agents dead, their bodies found in Nice. That's in France, Jack. Somewhere your daughter just was."
"I don't understand your point."
"Was SD-6 tracking her?"
"Sydney? No."
"Are you sure? She wasn't under suspicion because of your investigation—"
"You're not implying that Ariana Kane connected her to me, are you? Will your connections to that stop nowhere?"
"You never know."
Jack stared at Kendall, boring his eyes into the other man's. "I think you know the answer to that." With that, Jack left, yards away in seconds.
"What the hell is he talking about? I have no idea." Kendall looked for the usual agent—the one who knew where Vaughn was at all times. "Where is Agent Vaughn?"
"Meeting with Agent Bristow, sir," he answered. "Mikro Self-Storage, CIA front, address—"
Kendall had already started towards the exit. A matter of eight stoplights later (the ones he actually stopped at), he arrived at the CIA front company. He pushed his way past the guard, who let him pass, obviously knowing who Kendall was. His footsteps seemed unusually loud, but it could have been because a migrane was starting to take over his senses. Without having asked, he knew that the agents would be meeting all the way in the back of the building, which meant more footsteps, which meant a worse migrane.
Finally, the back wall of the establishment came into view. And instead of seeing two agents talking to one another, he found Agent Bristow pressed against a wall kissing Agent Vaughn. Without waiting, he went off on them, surely stopping both of their hearts and shocking them hideously.
"This has been strictly forbidden by so many things I don't have enough time to say them, not to mention your little CIA protocol." By now, the two agents had separated with a large gap between them and straigtened themselves up. "Either you end this on your own, or I will contact Devlin." He took a deep breath, looking at both Agent Bristow and Agent Vaughn. "Do either of you know anything about the eight Federal agents who were killed in Nice three weeks ago? Hurry up, I'm getting a migraine and you two are definitely not helping it."
Something passed between the two people before Kendall—he could tell, even though neither moved. "I didn't hear about this at all. Where in Nice? Near the airport?" Sydney asked, anxious for some reason.
"No, at restaurant. At three in the morning."
"Have we found out—"
"No to whatever you're about to say. My head is pounding and I can't give you any more answers."
Kendall somehow returned to the Joint Task Force Center. He didn't exactly know how, but he did see Agent Vaughn appear half an hour after he did. And he did hear some people muttering past him as he stared at a computer screen, honestly trying to read it.
"Vaughn and Sydney got busted today at their debrief."
"Doing what?"
"Do you have to ask? I thought it was obvious."
-
"Is that it, Mom?"
"I'm afraid so," Irina replied. "I'm not quite familiar with Portland, or Maine in general."
Sydney smiled. "I don't think very many people are." She started to pack up, folding her pad and slipping the pencil into the spirals. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She carefully watched Sydney stand, timing her words perfectly. "Give Agent Vaughn my regards tonight."
Sydney froze. "Tonight? I doubt I'll see him again today after I give him your intel."
"You're seeing him, aren't you?" Even if Sydney had not replied, she would have figured it out. She had already uncovered everything when both of them had visited her within two days of their coming back from Nice. This was just proving that now everyone knew.
The rumors—true, all of them—could not have possibly made their way into Irina Derevko's cell. "No." She stood in front of the first gate. It seemed to stop for her, right when she wanted it to move faster.
-
I have no memories
no fixation
on what seems to be
or what should
it's all something new
it's all so different
I doubt I can survive
interminable
defines it too perfectly
life doesn't seem true
I can only stop for—
-
that's the extent of my poetic ability. did it connect? how was the rest?
is it too confusing that I keep going further back in time, or does it make sense?
does anyone have any favorite parts yet? sorry that this is all questions; it's still my first fic.
"Eight dead agents." Kendall shook the daily situation report at Jack Bristow's face. "Eight."
"I have nothing to add, other than the fact that I wonder why we are receiving this information now when these agents were killed weeks ago."
"That is immaterial. There are eight agents dead, their bodies found in Nice. That's in France, Jack. Somewhere your daughter just was."
"I don't understand your point."
"Was SD-6 tracking her?"
"Sydney? No."
"Are you sure? She wasn't under suspicion because of your investigation—"
"You're not implying that Ariana Kane connected her to me, are you? Will your connections to that stop nowhere?"
"You never know."
Jack stared at Kendall, boring his eyes into the other man's. "I think you know the answer to that." With that, Jack left, yards away in seconds.
"What the hell is he talking about? I have no idea." Kendall looked for the usual agent—the one who knew where Vaughn was at all times. "Where is Agent Vaughn?"
"Meeting with Agent Bristow, sir," he answered. "Mikro Self-Storage, CIA front, address—"
Kendall had already started towards the exit. A matter of eight stoplights later (the ones he actually stopped at), he arrived at the CIA front company. He pushed his way past the guard, who let him pass, obviously knowing who Kendall was. His footsteps seemed unusually loud, but it could have been because a migrane was starting to take over his senses. Without having asked, he knew that the agents would be meeting all the way in the back of the building, which meant more footsteps, which meant a worse migrane.
Finally, the back wall of the establishment came into view. And instead of seeing two agents talking to one another, he found Agent Bristow pressed against a wall kissing Agent Vaughn. Without waiting, he went off on them, surely stopping both of their hearts and shocking them hideously.
"This has been strictly forbidden by so many things I don't have enough time to say them, not to mention your little CIA protocol." By now, the two agents had separated with a large gap between them and straigtened themselves up. "Either you end this on your own, or I will contact Devlin." He took a deep breath, looking at both Agent Bristow and Agent Vaughn. "Do either of you know anything about the eight Federal agents who were killed in Nice three weeks ago? Hurry up, I'm getting a migraine and you two are definitely not helping it."
Something passed between the two people before Kendall—he could tell, even though neither moved. "I didn't hear about this at all. Where in Nice? Near the airport?" Sydney asked, anxious for some reason.
"No, at restaurant. At three in the morning."
"Have we found out—"
"No to whatever you're about to say. My head is pounding and I can't give you any more answers."
Kendall somehow returned to the Joint Task Force Center. He didn't exactly know how, but he did see Agent Vaughn appear half an hour after he did. And he did hear some people muttering past him as he stared at a computer screen, honestly trying to read it.
"Vaughn and Sydney got busted today at their debrief."
"Doing what?"
"Do you have to ask? I thought it was obvious."
-
"Is that it, Mom?"
"I'm afraid so," Irina replied. "I'm not quite familiar with Portland, or Maine in general."
Sydney smiled. "I don't think very many people are." She started to pack up, folding her pad and slipping the pencil into the spirals. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She carefully watched Sydney stand, timing her words perfectly. "Give Agent Vaughn my regards tonight."
Sydney froze. "Tonight? I doubt I'll see him again today after I give him your intel."
"You're seeing him, aren't you?" Even if Sydney had not replied, she would have figured it out. She had already uncovered everything when both of them had visited her within two days of their coming back from Nice. This was just proving that now everyone knew.
The rumors—true, all of them—could not have possibly made their way into Irina Derevko's cell. "No." She stood in front of the first gate. It seemed to stop for her, right when she wanted it to move faster.
-
I have no memories
no fixation
on what seems to be
or what should
it's all something new
it's all so different
I doubt I can survive
interminable
defines it too perfectly
life doesn't seem true
I can only stop for—
-
that's the extent of my poetic ability. did it connect? how was the rest?
is it too confusing that I keep going further back in time, or does it make sense?
does anyone have any favorite parts yet? sorry that this is all questions; it's still my first fic.