24
The Conspiracy
By moviefreak2004/movieman2400
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters of 24 and am using them solely for entertainment purposes.
NOTE: There is no exact place in the 24 timeline where this takes place.
8:00 A.M. – 9:00 A.M.
Sirens could be heard nearby. Panic had spread through the entire plaza. Roasted bodies were lying motionlessly on broken glass outside of the building that, five minutes ago, had been a café. A daring businessman had entered the fray in hopes of finding a survivor but had only found death. The person working behind the register had had most of lip burned off and was bleeding intensely from the eyes. The businessman grew afraid for his own health and ran out of the café. When he was safely away from the disgusting smell, he found a public trash can and threw up everything that he had eaten today.
Shannon, in a world between unconsciousness and death, did not know she was feeling. She knew she was weak and having trouble of breathing. But she wasn't dead. She tried to force her fingers to move, to at least give her a sign that she was not dead. But her fingers didn't move.
There were crowds running past her, away from the destruction.
She gasped, trying to exclaim for help but only found herself in desperate need of breath. Crawl. That's it! She needed to crawl! Back to the kids! It was all a dream. This wasn't happening. She was imagining it. She was going to close her eyes and when she opened them, everything would be ok. The café would be just as it always was. Nobody would be dead.
She closed her eyes and held them shut for several seconds. She opened them. The situation hasn't changed. Her kids. Were her kids ok? Oh, please god.
She was emitting strange noises. Was it her that was breathing so heavily?
"Hel---" she struggled to say.
Luckily, a man of around fifty years of age, spotted her and dipped down to lift her head.
"Are you ok, miss?" he asked with care in his voice.
"Help," she managed to choke out.
He grabbed her arm instantly and tossed it over his shoulder.
"You're going to be alright, miss," he said convincingly.
Shannon found that her legs were not properly functioning. She was limping. What? Straighten up. She raised her head up. Many shoppers had heard the loud boom and had rushed out to see the cause. An old woman stood with her hand pressed tightly against her mouth.
"Come on, miss!" the man cried.
When they were behind a building, he let her rest against a wall.
"Have you been hurt?" the man asked, worry in his voice.
"I…I…," she stuttered. "I just fainted…don't remember anything else."
"We need to get you to the hospital," the man said loudly, to make sure she had heard him.
Shannon gulped and felt something come up her throat. Coughing, she forced it down. She felt terrible.
Her only hope of survival lay in the hands of the stranger that she had just met…
8: 03
"We've lost contact from Agent Powers!" Edgar cried from the other side of the room.
A frenzy was instilled in the air of C.T.U. Bodies hustled around, reporting up-to-the-minute information to each other.
"Did you hear…?"
"Oh my God, he's dead?"
"Powers? Louis Powers?"
All of the agents at C.T.U. refused to believe that Powers was dead. It couldn't be. He was the most trained, most prepared agent on the force. The shock had grown in Laura Milton as well. She had been the last C.T.U. agent to have talked to him. And now Powers, the gentle agent who was also one of the most brutal law enforcers anywhere, was burned to a crisp. It wasn't happening. As long as she was alive, she refused to believe it. But as the seconds and minutes passed and more witness accounts began piling in, she realized that it was really happening.
She couldn't cry because of this, right? After all, she had just talked to him once and only for a couple minutes. She tried to hold it back but, ultimately, couldn't. After several painful seconds, a wet, cold tear slowly trickled down her cheek.
8: 05
Ray Harrison glanced around him to see if he was being followed. Noticing nothing, he speed-dialed a number on his cell phone and hid himself behind the wall of a restaurant.
"Yes?" a familiar voice came on.
"Did Bedeau succeed?" Ray asked.
"Yes. Both Carter and Powers are dead."
"Then I guess it's time for me to do my part."
"Be strong, Ray," the man said and hung up.
Ray put the cell phone back into his coat pocket. Lighting a cigarette, Ray went back into his car and drove off.
8: 06
Jack Bauer had been asked to participate in a small tennis watch and he had, politely, agreed. He could still feel a tingle of pain in his legs from the straining volleyball match but he easily ignored it, focusing on the moment. The mother of the boy Jack had already grown to admire and trust was busily keeping the ball bouncing up and down on her racket. She appealed to Jack; she was cute, funny, and down to earth.
"Hey, let's start this match," he called out, trying not to sound rude.
"Ok, but you asked for it, Mr. Bauer," she yelped and smashed the ball.
8: 07
Steven Fields swung open the building door and almost whimpered when he breathed in the sweet, fresh air. He had been sweating profusely ever since he had arrived at this dreadful place. He had already made his decision; he did not want to participate even in the smallest of activities associated with the events that would change the world today. Years ago, while in college, Fields had grown to hate the world with an unbelievable passion that was only fueled by the constant insults and threats from other students. He had learned to ignore their cries and proceeded on with life, earning a successful job. But loneliness was what got to him. He had never been great with women but he had expected to at least meet his soul mate before he turned thirty. Now, the birthday was fast approaching and he had decided, in angst, that there was no point waiting and hoping for a miracle. He would end his life in a desperate effort to show the world, to prove the world that he was useful for something, useful to someone. That was the way many of the volunteers of the project had felt when they had joined. Steven remembered that Pierre Bedeau's, who was now dead, sole motivation in joining was to prove his worthiness to his friends, the world, and most importantly, himself. Somehow, Steven felt that, despite death, Pierre had experienced that euphoria. And he wanted to experience it himself. But did thousands, even millions, of people have to die for him to prove his point? He was just one person. He could go home, take out the small silver revolver he held in the shoebox in his closet, put it to his head, and pull the trigger. Did he have to do this? Did it really have to happen? He knew he had to do something. He knew he had to ---
"Steven?" a familiar voice came from behind him and Steven whirled around in alertness. The man in the black suit stood before him, an expression of puzzlement on his face. "What are you doing? You were supposed to have left several minutes ago."
Steven searched his mind for an answer.
"Sorry, sir, I got caught up in something. I'll go now," he lied as he slid his key into the front door.
The man in the black suit stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity and then turned around and marched back into the hideout.
Still thinking, Steven backed the car out of the parking lot. He would stop it himself.
8: 10
Shannon felt blood trickling down her knees. She looked at the man sitting next to her, who was quickly slamming the steering wheel left and right, weaving dangerously through several long lanes of traffic.
"Could you---could you go a bit slower?" she requested silently.
"I'm sorry, miss. We have to get you to a hospital as soon as possible. You're in very bad condition."
Many of the busy commuters were staring in both hostility and bewilderment at the speeding car that was backing into their lane and then another and another. One man was even so courageous to honk the horn, open his window, and spray a chain of offensive words.
The man, surprisingly, didn't seem to notice any bit of the commotion around him. In fact, he was humming. Humming some strange tune that brought several childhood memories back to Shannon. She felt some of her pain die away as she remembered her childhood friends and adventures. She couldn't quite remember the song but she knew that, at some point in her life, it had been important to her. She dropped the thought and focused on the moment. Reality hadn't completely set in; she realized that she was in a car with a complete stranger. But she felt comfortable and safe. This man was her knight in shining armor; an angel sent down from the heavens to sweep her off her feet and bring her to a place of peace and harmony. Closing her eyes, Shannon rested her head and began to doze.
8: 13
All of C.T.U. had been alerted about the unbelievable accident that had some fifteen minutes ago. Chloe seemed to be steaming.
"Edgar!" she cried from her desk.
"What is it, Chloe?" Edgar retaliated.
"You're still running everything everything through kernel two," Chloe said back. Laura only understood part of the computer language but she could sense the annoyance in Chloe's voice.
"I'm sorry, jeez," Edgar stuttered.
"Laura!" Chloe called.
Shuffling several papers off her lap, Laura stretched her arms and picked herself up off the chair. She jogged off to Chloe, wondering if she was going to be handed yet another assignment.
"Yes, Chloe?" Laura asked when she arrived.
"You know about the Powers incident, right?" Chloe inquired stupidly.
Laura scanned the frantic room.
"It's hard to find anyone here that hasn't. It's sad---"
"Yeah, the point is…we're afraid the media are going to get this. Some rumors are starting that C.T.U.'s going to bring in someone to guide us. You know…a Special Agent."
Laura was a bit confused why Chloe would unexpectedly reveal this to her.
"Just, you know, look sharp when he or she arrives," Chloe finished and turned back to her keyboard.
"Um…actually, Chloe…I have a bit of a problem."
Chloe turned back around.
"I was afraid to ask you but I really need your help. I just got locked out and can't log in. I've tried everything for the last ten minutes and just…"
Chloe sighed and accompanied Laura back to her desk. As Chloe began investigating, Laura started uttering various excuses but seeing that Chloe was not listening, she stopped.
Chloe's patience had been tried in the last hour, ever since the dreaded arrival of Edgar Stiles. She swore that if Driscoll was still in place, she would use every single ounce of strength in her body to get him fired for his intolerable inexperience. Who did he think he was telling her, who had worked at C.T.U. for several years ago, that she was wrong? It pissed her off.
Laura stared at Chloe's nimble movements. She spied Chloe's tired face and was surprised to find an expression of wonder.
"I'm not sure what's wrong," Chloe said, tapping her hands on the desk. "Just go on another computer and tell me if it doesn't work, alright?"
"Chloe!" a resounding scream arose from the other side of the room.
"What is it, Edgar?" Chloe vociferated.
"Something's wrong, Chloe. I can't log in!" Edgar's plea for help came in an instant.
Chloe and Laura looked at each other and rushed to check the problem.
8: 17
Peter Walker sat sipping a small whiskey. The plane had left the ground several minutes ago and the passengers were just becoming comfortable. He supposed someone had recognized him. He had chosen to stay out of the limelight, only delivering speeches when they were most needed. Come to think of it, he realized, his face had appeared everywhere from news programs on TV to magazines. And once again, a fear awakened in the back of his mind, warning him. The whiskey was slowly taking its effect. His eyes were tired, he hadn't slept for several days now. Finally, his body gave up and he slept.
8: 20
The doors of C.T.U. burst open and heads all over the floor turned to meet the arriver. A tall man walked into the room, surrounded by two agents. He was wearing a gray suit and looked troubled. His head was empty of hair and he brought across a sense of power.
Coughing, he straightened himself and spoke in a loud voice.
"Attention," he cried out. "My name is George Bridges and I will be serving temporarily as your Special Agent in Charge. You will report all your findings to me. I don't know you and I'm pretty sure you do not know me. But we are in a middle of a small crisis and I will need all of your cooperation and help to sort it out. Treat me as you would any former Special Agent."
Laura sensed that he unsure of how to finish. He simply left it at that and strolled up a small set of stairs to the upper area, where his new office was located.
Standing beside her, Chloe was tapping random keys on Edward's keyboards. But the same message that had appeared on Laura's screen half an hour ago was now flashing on Edwards. What was happening? Perhaps it was some kind of internal glitch, Laura thought.
She felt a sense of uselessness standing next to Chloe, unable to do anything. She hadn't been trained for this to happen. She hadn't even completely adapted to C.T.U.'s computers and servers and tech. Being inexperienced in a world of professionals was a bit of a bother.
She stood watching, hoping dearly that this would be her last problem of the day.
8: 23
Jack Bauer turned his eyes slowly to the left. Somebody was walking towards him. He couldn't quite make him out from this distance. Glaring, he missed a ball and it whizzed by his side.
"Jack?" the woman asked. "Are you alright?"
"Hang on a second," Jack said, holding out his hand to motion that she was not to follow him.
He made his way to the man and realized that it was the attendant at the front desk.
"Mr. Bauer?" he asked.
"Yes," Jack answered.
"Follow me, please. There's a caller waiting at the front desk."
As Jack followed the man, his mind started racing. Who would be calling him now? Didn't he ask to be kept undisturbed? What was going on? Was it about Kim? He forced the thought out of his mind. No, it couldn't be about Kim. Kim was safe.
The walk to the front desk seemed unusually long. When Jack arrived, he grasped the telephone angrily and lifted it to his ear, trying to keep his voice down.
"Hello!" Jack said. "Who is this?"
A single word came from the voice on the other end.
"Jack."
"Who is this?" Jack asked again.
"Jack, this is George Bridges."
The name sparked something in Jack's mind. He had heard it before, perhaps from one of his partners.
"George Bridges?" Jack asked.
"Yes, I have been put in as a temporary Special Agent in Charge at C.T.U.," Bridges said.
"What?"
"It seems we have a bit of an emergency here and I was wondering if you could help me out a bit."
"What?"
"There was an explosion about a half an hour ago. It's all over the news, Jack. You haven't heard?"
The attendant nodded at Jack, confirming what Bridges has just said.
"An explosion?" Jack silently said, ruffling his hair. "Has Kim been hurt?"
"No, it's not about Kim. It's about you, actually. We need your help."
"My help?"
"Yes. This explosion killed our top agent, Louis Powers. I trust you are familiar with him."
"Yes, I've worked with him before."
"You see, Jack, since I was just brought in, I do not know anybody here."
"Get to the point," Jack growled.
"I was thinking that maybe…," Bridges stopped for a second. "Perhaps you can come in and help me a bit. You know, lead them. Nothing else."
"In case you haven't heard, I'm on vacation."
Jack was fuming now. It was an explosion. Tragic, yes. But nothing that the talented group at C.T.U. couldn't handle.
"Jack, everybody here needs your help. We're afraid---we're afraid this may only be the beginning."
"Excuse me?"
Jack wasn't sure he was hearing everything correctly.
"We're afraid there's going to be more attacks. This was just the beginning. Or maybe a distraction. And a way to eliminate Powers."
"I'm not quite sure I understand, George."
"I'm asking you to come in and help us sort this mess out. You know this place. You know these people. You can lead them much better than I can."
"Wait. Wait. Wait. You're afraid there are going to be more attacks?"
"Yes, Jack. But I can't explain everything now. There just isn't enough time. Please. What do you say?"
Jack was not sure what to say. He was in the middle of his vacation. He had escaped the madness for the last two weeks. And now they were calling him back in.
"Jack?" Bridges's voice came from the receiver, expecting an answer.
"Umm…," Jack considered his options. He couldn't refuse this one. People were in need of help. And what would other agents at C.T.U. think if he didn't come in to help? And a large-scale attack on Los Angeles. "Alright."
"Good, I'll send a chopper. We'll pick you up in about an half an hour."
Jack found a comfortable seat near the front desk and sat down, burying his head in his hands. Why today?
8: 30
Shannon Turner groaned as she felt a hand rubbing her shoulder. She opened her eyes. What? She was in a car? Then, reality set in on her. She remembered.
"Shannon, I'm going to have to ask you a few questions," the man driving said.
"What?" she said, slightly unconscious.
"The café bombing. Did you see anybody peculiar enter the café?"
Shannon thought back to the incident. She had been walking towards the café and then she saw---
"Yes, a man carrying a suitcase entered."
"Hmm," the driver said, interested.
"He looked…French, I believe."
The driver was disappointed. Completely catching Shannon by surprise, he slammed his foot against the brakes. The car came to a sudden halt. Shannon covered her head with her hands, thinking that they were about to be attacked. However, the driver only left the car and walked over to her side. He threw the door open and dragged her out. What was he doing, Shannon panicked.
"Get off me!" he screamed.
He reached into his pocket and took out a black object. The sun was shining in Shannon's eyes and she couldn't quite make out what it was. She blinked steadily. What was he doing? And then she realized what he was holding. It was clear now. A gun.
"No!" she cried. "Please no!"
He smiled as he attached a silencer.
She was going to die. But why? What had she done? She realized her only chance of survival was to jump up and fight back. With a war cry, she charged at him and slammed her fist into his stomach. At first, it seemed like he had not been hurt. Then, he croaked and pushed her off.
"You're gonna pay for that," he yelled, pointing the gun at her.
Desperately, she rolled to her side, heard a thump, and saw a small hole in the space where she had been several moments ago. He had missed.
She attacked him again, more furiously now. She kicked, punched, and tore, trying to grab his face. He was, of course, much more powerful than her. Grinning wildly, he caught one of her arms and held it in mid-air so she was unable to attack.
She felt the tip of the gun press up against her neck. No. Her kids. She couldn't---
She lashed out again, mustering up every single ounce of her remaining strength and smashing it into his nose. Blood spilled over the ground as he shrieked. She followed him to the ground and they wrestled over the gun.
As she scratched at his face with her other hand, she felt his grip loosen. She snatched his gun and stumbled up.
"Stay away from me!" she cried as he moved towards her. "I'll shoot. I swear I'll shoot."
But he didn't care. He moved closer. What had happened? Why was he doing this?"
"One more step," she warned him. He grabbed at her neck and she jammed the gun into his chest.
"You don't have the guts," he said and squeezed her neck.
She pulled the trigger. With a cry of disbelief, the man's eyes widened. His jaw dropped as he gripped his bleeding chest. He stared into her eyes and fell to the ground. Was he---? Yes. And she had killed him.
Shannon dropped the gun and it bounced slightly as it hit the ground. She had killed him. She---she needed to call the police now. She limped back to the car and began searching her bag for a cell phone.
8: 35
Jack swiped the card and the door unlocked. He walked back into his room. The whole place was unorganized. He began snatching clothes from the floor and the bed into his bag. Damn it. He was starting to regret his decision.
He managed to get his fingernails under the mattress of his bed and lifted it up. Concealed inside and hidden safely was his pistol. He grabbed it and shoved it into the back of his jeans. Finished, he left the room.
8: 39
The situation at C.T.U. had gone from bad to worse. Four more agents had complained of computer problems and Laura was slightly relieved that it wasn't her fault.
"Chloe, I can't seem to log in," a male voice came from across the room.
"I know. I know!" Chloe yelled back, frustrated.
Suddenly, all the lights in the buildings flashed off and the room was plunged into darkness.
"What the hell?" Chloe said.
The lights flickered back on.
"What just happened?" Laura asked in wonder.
"I have no idea," Chloe replied.
As Laura's eyes scanned the room, she realized what was suddenly causing the increasing noise. Nobody could log in. All of the computers were displaying the same screen.
"Oh my God," Chloe said behind her.
"What is it, Chloe?" came the voice of Bridges, who had rushed out of his office to survey the scene.
"I think," Chloe started and gulped. "C.T.U.'s computers have been hacked. Somebody's in our database."
8: 42
The man in the black suit couldn't help but to show a grin. He was in C.T.U.'s database. He was staring at thousands of files. Files that contained evidence that had put many men and women to jail. Files that had helped C.T.U. track down some of the world's most dangerous criminals. Without these files, they would be nothing. They would have absolutely no information on any of them. Perfect. His mind racing with excitement, the man in the black suit began deleting them.
8: 45
Chloe was now working feverishly trying to access the files. Laura and George stood behind her, trying to offer suggestions. Chloe shrugged all of them off as her hands moved across the keyboard.
"Come on," she muttered under her breath. "Not now."
All of the agents were now standing behind Chloe, glaring at her screen.
"Chloe, maybe you could try…."
"Shut up, Edgar," Chloe said and continued working.
8: 47
The man in the black suit started to panic. He had managed to delete some crucial files but somebody --- somebody was fighting him. Somebody else was in the C.T.U. database. His breathing increased steadily. Then, he was thrown out.
Screaming, the man in the black suit grabbed a small cup from his desk and flung it across the room. It shattered as it smashed into the wall and glass flew in all directions.
Furious, he dialed a number on his cell phone.
"Ray?" he barked.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Are you on schedule?"
"Yes. I've got the explosives in the back."
"Good."
"Execute it, then."
"Yes, sir. Goodbye."
8: 52
Jack's hair blew back as the helicopter lowered itself. The door burst open and the pilot ran out, shaking Jack's hands.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"Yeah," Jack said as he loaded his bags into the helicopter and buckled up.
Trees blew in the wind. The helicopter began levitating over the ground. When it was high above, Jack looked down to take a final look at his resort. Everybody was staring at the helicopter. It held still for several seconds before it flew forward.
8: 55
A plane had just arrived in Washington D.C. The passenger in seat 47 walked off, grabbed his bag, and hailed a taxi. Climbing in, he told the driver the address of the hotel and relaxed in the back seat.
The hotel wasn't far away from the airport. After checking in, he started unpacking in his room. Zipping open the bag, he revealed a shiny black sniper rifle with several armor-piercing bullets. That would help him today.
He loaded bullets into the sniper rifle. He put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his front door and hid the sniper rifle in the room's closet.
Stepping out onto the balcony, he had a perfect view of the Capitol. He could see the White House slightly. It wasn't a long distance away. There were a lot of people walking in the streets. They would cause panic and confusion when the first shot rang off.
It was the perfect scene, he decided, for today. Perfect for the assassination.
He took a small glance at his watch and began making final preparations.