Disclaimer: do not own, will not steal, do not sue, do not kill.
Rating: PG-13, I guess…..
"I feel ridiculous."
"Oh, please." Alexis rolled her eyes. "You think this is ridiculous? You should see some of the things I've had to wear while on cases. I mean, once I went undercover as a drag queen. A male drag queen. I looked like RuPaul. And I'm a girl."
"I don't care. I still feel ridiculous."
Alexis smirked. "You look good, though."
Alex gave her an evil look. He was wearing loose white pants over black silk boxers, a tight black leather t-shirt that ended at his navel, and a white suit jacket with the arms scrunched up, eighties-style. Cuff bracelets on both wrists and a huge, crystal-studded chain around his neck completed the look, as well as did a shaggy, black-tipped platinum-blonde wig, black-painted fingernails, and a large diamond pinky ring.
"Shut up."
"What? I look weirder."
"That's true." He eyed Alexis critically. She was dressed in a short, tight black pleather minidress strained over a fake pregnancy belly, black stilettos, and a faux fur wrap. Her head was covered with a mass of black curls, courtesy of a Diana Ross-style wig, and huge silver hoop earrings. "Why the stomach?"
"You'll see." She stood on her toes and inserted a small device into his ear, pulling a few strands of hair down from the wig to cover it. "This is a listening device. Activate it by using the silver stud on your left cuff bracelet. When you want to talk, your chain will pick up the sound- it's very sensitive. You don't have to yell or raise your voice- I'll hear you. The second stud on the bracelet adjusts the volume."
Alex nodded, and the two headed for the door. Alexis paused at the doorknob. "And," she said, "try to look natural, okay? This is Amsterdam. Anything goes. Plus, we're going to a fetish club. You'll fit right in."
"Got it, girl."
The two left the bedroom and began the long walk down to the lobby, Alex mentally going over their plans for the evening.
After signing a number of release and confidentiality forms, Team Extreme had formally become cohorts with the CIA, and Alexis Sinclair had laid before them all intel that they were privy to in the quest to find and destroy X. All the CIA had managed to uncover, as far as X's whereabouts, had been a small, wrinkled gold business card that had the name of a seedy club in Amsterdam printed on it, recovered from Dr. X's abandoned Los Angeles laboratory- wedged in the corner of a garbage disposal bin. And after three weeks of intensive CIA field training, Team Extreme was in top form.
At first, the CIA had been puzzled. What was this business card doing lying in an otherwise impeccably cleaned lab, sporting the name of a club that lay in the heart of one of the filthiest holes in Amsterdam? What did X have to do with it? Was it a dead lead?
However, as the CIA pondered the question, it began to make sense- X, fearing that his medical and genetic research would prove too suspicious in the United States or in one of Europe's more advanced countries, searched for a place to continue his experiments. Amsterdam was the perfect place. Small, out-of-sight, and awash with all kinds of criminal and immoral activity, it would serve as a perfect hiding place. Plus, the CIA had a concrete piece of information linking X to the club.
When Azasi had been spotted in Nevada, under the alias Louise Browning, she was conducting a transaction involving the purchase of that very club that had been on the business card.
Plus, a satellite scan of the building had revealed two subbasements not featured in the original blueprints.
The pieces of the puzzle were connecting, and the CIA was moving in on that one lead.
Hopefully, it wouldn't be an elaborate trap.
Alex shook off his thoughts as the two of them entered the living room of the Amsterdam CIA safe house that they were residing in, under the cover story of having gone to Belgium for a skateboard competition. The rest of Team Extreme was sprawled out on the furniture in the room, undoubtedly waiting for the two. Their expressions when they walked inside were priceless.
Fidget recovered first and began to speak, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Took you long enough to get here. Love the shirt, Alex. Think I could borrow it sometime? It's around my size."
"Cut it out, Fidge." Alex gave her a put-out look and attempted to pull the hem of the shirt down to cover his abs, much to her amusement.
Grinder's eyebrows almost hit his hairline, but then he chuckled. "Going to make a honest woman out of my little sis, eh, A-Mann?" he teased, obviously more than a little amused. "Love the hair, though."
"Very 'artist formerly known as prince' –ish." Rikki joined in. He was howling.
"Leave him alone," Alexis said, laughing. "C'mon, we've got to get going. Everyone remember the plan?"
"Jahwol, mein Fraulein!" Fidget got to her feet and clicked her heels, giving Alexis a stiff salute.
"Cool, Fidge, but they speak Dutch here, not German." The two began cracking up. "Seriously, though, let me outline it one more time. Alex and I will go undercover into the club and see what we can find. You guys will be outside the club in two Ford Focus'- black for me, white for Alex to match his suit. We'll report whatever we find. You guys will be connected to us inside via headphone, you know the drill. If we need backup at any time, you contact the CIA safehouse."
"Okay, got it!"
"Then let's roll!"
The team split up- Fidget in the white car with a backup agent, Grinder in the black car with all the computer equipment and a second CIA agent and Rikki bringing up the rear in a small, unmarked vehicle parked across the street from the club- the "last resort" getaway car.
Alex and Alexis approached the club from different angles, meeting in line, not even looking at each other.
"Good luck," he heard in his headpiece, making him jump slightly. Even after all that training, he still wasn't used to wearing one.
"Same to you," he muttered into his collar.
"Faline out." She named her code name, and her voice disappeared with a slight static cackle.
Alex moved up in line, trying to look inconspicuous, and in his bizarre outfit, blended in more naturally than he'd ever thought he would. Everyone was wearing some type of leather, and the exposed skin and multiple piercings being flashed about made him look like a monk in comparison. He repeated his alias to himself like a mantra: Stanley Judd, third-year student at AUM, on break in Amsterdam to party and have some fun. Looking for cheap hash, cheaper girls and a good time. He headed for the entrance, trying to instigate a swagger in his walk. Arranging his features in an expression that screamed "spoiled American brat," he sauntered up to the door and dangled his I.D. card in front of the bouncer, who looked like a small mountain of black tuxedo at his post.
"I.D?" he growled. Then he said something in Dutch.
"Ik spreek het geen Netherlands," he said in a bored tone.
The guard rolled his eyes and repeated himself in heavily accented English. "Go ahead. Keep out of trouble. Stupid Americans," he added as an afterthought, waving Alex by.
Alex just shook his head. Once inside, he activated his headpiece and instantly heard rustling. Ducking into a corner where there were some very….sundry activities going on, he spoke. "Amp man to Faline."
"You're loud and clear, Amp man."
"I'm inside."
"Good. Just wander around, and end up at the bar. I'll meet you there. Then we'll see if this place has a basement."
"Copy."
Alex strolled around, hands in pockets, then ventured onto the dance floor in an attempt to blend in. Moving cautiously to the techno beat (he really was more of a rock 'n roll kind of guy), he stumbled when somebody bumped into him.
"Sorry, honey," said a low, husky voice with a French accent.
"No problem." Alex dusted off his palms and looked up. A stunning, voluptuous blonde in a sequined dress winked down at him, a conspirator's smile on her face.
Alex gasped. "Diana?!?!"
She pressed a finger against her lips and smiled again, disappearing into the crowd. Alex sprang to his feet, intending to follow her, but was stopped by Alexis' voice, viciously cutting through the headset. "Alex- are you crazy? Don't go after her!"
"But- it's Diana! She's here!"
"She's undercover, Alex. You practically blew her cover! The place is crawling with agents."
"Oh." Alex felt certifiably stupid. "Sorry."
Alexis sighed, then chuckled. "Amateur. Anyway, remember- meet me at the bar."
"Got you." He headed for the bar.
Sure enough, Alexis was sitting on a bar stool, nursing a seltzer water. Alex sat beside her and ordered a shot of tequila. "Hello," he said to her with a smile. "Spreekt u het Engels?"
"Yes, I do," she said in a picture-perfect Dutch accent. "What can I do for you?"
"Just talk to me, baby." he said, giving her his best sleazy college-guy look.
She gave him a sardonic smile and turned slightly in her seat, showing him her "pregnant" belly.
"Oh…." Lord, I should get an Oscar. "Sorry, ma'am."
"No harm done, dear. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Can you show me where the bathroom is?"
Of course. I'm on my way myself."
The two got off the barstools and headed for the back. As soon as they exited the crowd, Alexis was all business. "Grinder," she said crisply, I need a security hack into this place. Deactivate all systems and give us an outline of any breaks."
"I'm on it, sis."
"Fidget, inform our surrounding agents that we're moving in."
"Roger."
"Rikki?"
"Yeah?"
"Stay put for now, but alert us immediately as to any untoward activity outside."
"Consider it done."
Alexis grabbed Alex by the lapels and yanked him into what looked like a boiler room, jamming the door with her clutch. She immeadiatly whipped her dress over her head. "Help me out here!"
Alex moved quickly to her side. Underneath the dress, she was wearing cropped black shorts and a matching top, and the pregnancy replica stomach. Alex helped her undo the straps, and eased it off her body. She laid it on the floor, pulled a thin metal blade encased in plastic from the inside of her top, and carefully made and incision in the belly.
"What are you doing?"
"Just wait." She made a long, smooth single cut, then pulled the sides apart.
Inside the belly were all kinds of weapons.
"Oh, wow." Alex said softly.
She gave him a sardonic smile. "There's your first lesson on getting past guards." She handed him a .45 for his left hip, a 35 mm Glock for his right hip, and a small, light semiautomatic to sling over his back. His baggy blazer covered them all easily. She did the same, pulling a loose trenchcoat over all, and the weapons on her body were covered as well. She spoke into her headset.
"Grinder. We're ready to go in."
"Okay, guys. Look above you. There should be a vent."
They looked up. Sure enough, there was a ventilation shaft that curved around and down the wall.
"We see it."
"Okay. According to the hack, it should lead straight down to the subbasement without activating any alarms. It'll be about a ten-minute crawl. I'll tell you where to come out."
"Gotcha."
Alex hoisted Alexis on his shoulders, pushing her up into the shaft, and she reached for his hand afterward, pulling him upward with surprisingly little strain. The two began to crawl. Alex felt cramped. The vent was only about as wide as he was, and very tight. What seemed like an hour ticked by. Finally, they heard Grinder's voice.
"Okay, there should be a vent coming up. You'll be coming out into the boiler room of the second subbasement."
"Are there any guards?"
"I'm reading two. I'm going to activate the security system, though, so hopefully they'll be distracted and leave."
"Good idea."
Alex and Alexis reached the vent just as the loud, shrill blaring of a siren went off, ricocheting off of the metal walls of the vent. Alexis and Alex involuntarily clamped their hands over their ears, and kicked in the vent, dropping to a dusty wood floor below. Aside from the boiler and a series of pipes, the room was completely empty. The door was wide open, however- a testimony to the fact that someone had run out.
"Bad time to visit, hunh?" Alex quipped as the two regained their footing.
"Yeah, we should've called first, I think." They smirked and headed for the door, pistols drawn. Their joking was just a front to cover nervousness- Alex's heart was pounding, and Alexis was biting her lip. They carefully slid out the door around the wall. A long corridor stood in front of them, apparently empty. Grinder's voice crackled through their headpieces, and they both jumped. "Alex, Alexis," his voice sounded urgent. "Your backup was sent in through the other side- and they're DEAD! You've got to get out-"
And his transmission ended in static. "Grinder. GRINDER!" Alex yelled, his voice cracking.
No answer.
Alexis and Alex locked eyes. "Should we try the vent again?" Alex whispered.
"I-"
All of a sudden, they heard a ping, and the corridor was flooded with light.
*****************************************************
"Shit!"
With a frustrated curse, Grinder ripped off his headset and slammed it down on the seat, typing frantically on his laptop. "The system's fired," he hissed to Agent Reynolds, who was his backup in the car. "It was interrupted by some harsh electrical surge of some sort. I can't get a signal at all!"
Reynolds nodded and said something into his wrist communicator. "I'm sending backup for them."
"There's no time, you fool!" Grinder slammed the laptop shut and reached into the backseat for a black leather duffel lying on the seat.
"What are you doing, Mr. Sinclair?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Grinder pulled out a pair of pistols, looking to see if they were loaded.
"Mr. Sinclair, I must advise you-"
"Look, backup's not going to make it in time! We have to get them out now."
"Mr. Sinclair-" Reynolds put a restraining hand on his arm. "I must advise you otherwise. We know nothing about what just happened in there! Your job is to keep the systems up- please sit down and do it."
Grinder shook him off and leapt out of the car, hearing the man scream for backup even as he tore down the lawn. Fidget was already running towards him, obviously having received the same signal he had. She tossed him a bulletproof vest, racing for the entrance. They pushed past the bouncers and burst into the club, pistols drawn. Grinder looked around at the crowd, then leapt on a chair. "This is police!" he yelled, brandishing his pistols. "We've received reports of a bomb threat in this building. You have to evacuate at once!"
As the screaming patrons burst out of the front exits, repeating his words in Dutch, Grinder and Fidget headed for the boiler room, then saw the open vent. Grinder pushed Fidget up and hoisted himself up, breathing hard. He'd never been your most athletic guy- and right now, he was working purely on adrenaline.
Sucking in a breath, the two made the crawl and jumped down into the boiler room.
It was completely empty.
Fidget and Grinder moved stealthily through the corridor leading from the room, guns drawn. They were barely breathing. As they crept upward, the air remained silent- eerily so. The only noticeable thing was the smell in the air- it was faintly smoky, almost like the scent of burning cloth- or hair. Coughing slightly, Fidget put her hand over her mouth.
That's when they both tripped over something lying in the hall. A young, blonde woman in a sequined dress.
Fidget dropped to her knees and rolled her over. "Oh my God," she breathed, eyes wide. "It's Diana!"
Grinder bent over, pressing his fingers to the woman's neck. "She has a pulse." He pulled off his shirt and tossed it over her, noting a tiny dart sticking out of her left breast, though her dress. He grabbed the head and pulled it out. "A sleeping dart." They quickly dragged her close to the wall, out of sight, and turned on her transmitter.
Continuing along the corridor, they saw the other members of Diana's backup team in the same state, deep in tranqulized-induced sleep. Justifiably freaked out now, they stepped over the fallen bodies and continued on their way, ready to shoot at the least provocation. The corridor widened- then led to a large room tiled exquisitely in white-and-blue Egyptian-style mosaics, furnished with comfortable.-looking yoga cushions and padded chairs.
"Lord," breathed Grinder in shock.
A struggle had obviously taken place in the room. Bullet shells littered the floor, bullet holes were in both the floor and wall, shattering the tile. Some of the furniture was ripped, as if someone had trampled on it and ripped it, or if there had been some knifeplay. And worse of all- there were streaks of now-drying blood- both on the walls and on the floor.
Grinder bent over and picked up a delicate, white-gold chain that lay broken on the floor, turning it over in his hand.
"Alexis," he muttered. Both their faces were grim.
All of a sudden they both heard a low hiss, and a colorless mist filled the air. They slumped to the floor, overcome by the vapor.
And all went black.
Well! R&R people! Find out what happens next!!