11:30am, Friday morning
The phone rings, and MacKenna automatically answers it without taking her eyes from the computer screen. "Yeah. Oh, yes, she's right here. Okay, I'll tell her." She hangs up the phone as her gaze swings around to Claire. "You're wanted upstairs."
The doctor frowns as she lowers the latest printout to her lap. "They've found Darien?"
"Mr. Eberts didn't say. He just said that Charlie wanted you in his office… 'pronto.'"
Claire checks her watch as Monroe glances at the clock on the wall. "It hasn't been two hours yet," Monroe comments.
MacKenna shrugs as the doctor rises from her chair and begins to gather her papers together. "'Time is of the essence here, people,'" the seated woman returns in a tone obviously mimicking The Official's.
Monroe grins as Claire steps up behind MacKenna's chair. "Think you can finish this while I'm gone?"
The shorter woman nods. "I have a couple more modifications to make before I run this last simulation," she replies. "But it looks like we've hit the winner here. I should have the final results ready in about ten minutes. You want me to start synthesizing it while you're upstairs?"
"Oh, yes!" Claire blurts out, and whirls around to grab a small vial of pinkish fluid from the rack.
As she turns once again to the lab door, Monroe remarks, "Always helps to have a visual aid with these boys."
As she approaches the door, the doctor replies to MacKenna's question. "Go ahead, but give me a ring before you start." The door slides open, and she stops in the doorway. "Oh, and Amanda?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sure you're getting quite hungry, so I asked Eberts to have one of the men bring lunch down. It should be here any minute now."
MacKenna smiles warmly. "Thanks."
As Claire is hastily opening The Official's office door, the lab door clicks and slides open to reveal an Agency man carrying two large paper bags and a plastic grocery sack filled with drinks. He hands them over to Monroe, who accepts the bags with a few murmured words of thanks so as not to distract MacKenna from her task. The man leaves the room, and Monroe waits for a few minutes until MacKenna leans back in her chair and rubs wearily at her eyes.
"Amanda."
"Hm?" She swings her chair around to face the agent.
"Food's here."
Her stomach growls loud enough to be heard across the room. "Mmm, goody, I'm starving!"
Monroe shakes her head as the shorter woman snags the cane leaning beside her chair and totters over to her. "When aren't you hungry?"
She smiles crookedly. "Only right after I'm done eating. Whatcha got?"
"Looks like sandwiches. And salad," she replies as she lightly rifles through the bags.
"Screw the rabbit food and hand over the meat," is the spirited reply. "Any pastrami in there?"
Monroe rummages through the two paper bags; her hands emerge with two hugely overstuffed sandwiches, some napkins and a large bag of chips. She quickly repacks the one bag with MacKenna's food as well as a couple of drinks from the plastic bag. She hands it over, and the other woman tales it back to her chair at Claire's computer.
MacKenna wolfs down her lunch as she scans over the final incarnation of the formula to regulate the gland's interaction with Darien's hormonal production. She taps a few keys, and moves over to rip off the sheet of paper printing from the dot matrix printer beside her. She absently licks a bit of mustard from her finger as she rises and gathers the necessary chemicals to begin synthesizing the solution.
Monroe watches as she finishes her salad. It still kind of freaked her out that this short little shit could inhale so much food and still be losing weight. She shakes her head a little in awe. "Don't forget you're to call Claire before you start mixing that stuff," she reminds.
"Hm? Oh, yeah, right," MacKenna murmurs. She scoops up the phone and dials a couple of numbers after reading a piece of paper taped to the phone. "Doctor? I'm ready. Okay, thanks." She pauses as The Official makes a comment. "It'll take about twenty minutes 'til the first batch is ready. 'Kay." She hangs up with a small ironic grin.
"What?"
"Men. They're so impatient. Thinks we should've had this stuff synthesized yesterday."
"That's The Official for you," Monroe comments around her napkin. "He's tough, but he means well."
MacKenna's face hardens. "That's what they said about The Director."
"Barnes?"
"No. His predecessor." She looks nauseous from the memories rushing to the fore of her mind.
The agent's eyes fill with sympathy for the younger woman. "Amy, it's all over now," she reassures softly.
MacKenna raises haunted eyes. "No. No, it isn't. It'll never be over for me. Not while…" she trails off as she swallows convulsively against the bile rising in her throat.
"What?"
She turns away to the lab equipment and begins mixing the gathered ingredients together. Only the trembling of her hands belies the overwhelming emotions surging through her. "Never mind," her reply is spoken so quietly that Monroe has to strain a little to understand the words. "There's nothing I can do about it in here."
Monroe's face firms. "You're not going after him. Look, honey, we're the professionals. Let us handle this."
MacKenna hunches her shoulders. "As long as The Shop exists, it won't matter who's in charge. MacDougall, The Director, Barnes… they're all the same. And they won't stop until they have me back… one way or another." She begins to shiver as goose bumps break out all over her body. The beaker in her right hand shakes as she clumps it down on its stand. She rubs at her bare arms vigorously as she turns and leans on the counter now behind her.
"You're worth that much to them?" Monroe asks in surprise.
Eyebrows rise. "You don't have kids, do you?" she counters harshly.
Monroe's face closes like a wall's slammed down on her inner thoughts. Her eyes glitter as she remembers her beloved James flying away from her in the helicopter. With that woman. "What does that have to do with this?"
MacKenna looks uncertain for a moment. She wasn't expecting that sort of reaction. She shakes off the divergent line of thought and continues. "This project is so important to Them that They murdered dozens of people, including my family, just to ensure its 'integrity'. Hell, I don't even know if my brother is still alive or not!" Her eyes squeeze shut at that agonizing thought, and a tear edges out from the corner of one eye. She clamps down on her surging emotions and grips the edge of the counter behind her, hard.
'Oh shit,' she realizes that she's losing control again. That sudden insight, coupled with the dull pain from the flash burns, is enough to distract her from her misery, and her mind races in an effort to figure out what she's going to ground out on. The giant fish tank had been emptied and transferred to another room late last night, with the two surviving fish placed in a smaller tank to hopefully recover from their injuries. It would take too long to fill the large sink at the back of the Keep… 'Where else… where else!' She can feel the beginnings of a full-blown panic attack coming on. Her eyes dart around the room, and an idea presents itself to her as they settle on Monroe.
The agent's been talking the whole time, completely unaware of all that's been rushing through the agitated woman's mind. "… this is all over, I'll check with some of my contacts back East. We'll find out where he is, okay? Amy?"
"Hmm?" she smoothes her expression so as not to betray her anxiety.
"I'm sure he's fine."
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"For caring. You don't have to, you know."
"Yeah, well, you kinda remind me of someone I used to know," Monroe replies with a small, private smile tinged with an old sorrow.
"This still doesn't change anything with Barnes though. He'll eventually figure out that you guys're harboring me, and then it's bye-bye to your little Agency."
"We're not that easy to destroy," Monroe returns with a feral grin.
"You of all people should know better," MacKenna refutes heatedly as she steps away from the counter towards the other woman. She crosses the room under the pretense that she's getting another drink, and Monroe glances down and rummages around in the plastic bag by her feet as she responds.
"Look, we may not seem like much to you, but that's just what we want the others to think…" Her sentence is cut short as MacKenna firmly clasps her head between burning hot hands.
"I'm sorry Agent Monroe, I really am," the experimental murmurs in regret. "But I can't let you keep me here like this. Barnes slaughtered my husband and my babies, and I'll be damned if I don't return the favor. He's responsible for so much misery, and I will stop him… one way or another."
"If you go after him alone, he'll get you for sure," Monroe replies as if she's in a trance. Which, she is.
"Any suggestions?"
"You need backup. At least let me come along to watch your back. And you don't even know where they are yet."
MacKenna pauses as she considers. "All right. But you will not interfere with anything I do from now on, understand?"
Slowly, Monroe nods.
"Where are they?"
"I don't know."
"Okay, we'll find out on the way. No matter what happens today, your only concerns are recovering your Agent Fawkes and getting the hell out of there… safely. Just leave Barnes to me. Anyone else from The Shop is expendable."
"I understand."
"Then tell me in your own words what I just said."
Monroe blinks as she gathers her muddy thoughts. "We find Barnes. I get Fawkes out of there. Kill anyone I have to from The Shop that interferes, but leave Barnes for you to take care of. Watch your back, make sure that no one opposes you, but don't get in your way myself."
MacKenna nods. She's markedly paling form the energy she's exerting. She releases Monroe's head, and the seated agent shakes it to clear her mind.
She glares at the shorter woman standing in front of her as her thoughts come into focus again. "That was a lousy thing to do to me," she almost growls.
"I'm sorry, but I saw no other way," MacKenna replies contritely. Her eyes are sorrowful as she backs away and fetches her cane from the other side of the room. Her gait is noticeably more wobbly, and she sinks into her rolling office chair to rest for a moment.
Monroe watches her as she checks on the antidote's progress. MacKenna shakily turns off the Bunsen burner and uses a pair of tongs to pour the steaming contents of the large beaker into a number of smaller vials waiting in a centrifuge. She caps them and closes the lid to the machine before programming and turning it on. She swivels around to face the agent again, and Monroe notes that the color's already beginning to come back to the other woman's cheeks.
"No seizures this time," she comments flatly.
"No," is the subdued reply. "I've built up a pretty substantial 'charge' since yesterday. I should have a few more 'pushes' in me before the neurochemical buildup becomes toxic."
"You planning on 'pushing' anyone else around today, or am I the only lucky recipient?"
"I said I didn't like 'pushing' people, Agent Monroe," MacKenna sighs. "And I meant it. Would you rather I held all this energy in until I torched something?"
"It's better than what you just did to me."
"Not necessarily." The two women lock gazes, and Monroe watches the tears welling up in MacKenna's eyes. "In one of Their little experiments, They kept me from grounding out for days. And then They sent in one of the delivery guys to rape me." Her green eyes reflect a shadow of the horror playing itself out in her mind. "He went up like crumpled newspaper. You ever see someone burned alive, Agent Monroe?" The tears fall freely now. "He didn't stop screaming, 'til They sent someone in to put a bullet between his eyes."
A few moments pass as the imagery sinks into Monroe's mind. MacKenna drops her gaze and scrubs furiously at her face. "Well, that's it for that stroll down memory lane," she comments huskily. She shoves her feelings down into a tight little corner of her mind as she opens eyes now devoid of all emotion and rises to snatch a pen and note pad from the other side of the computer. She scribbles a few small sentences and props the note on the humming centrifuge.
Monroe rises and tosses the remains of her lunch in the trash can beside the door as MacKenna retrieves her cane and approaches from the other side of the lab.
"Ready?" she nods to the agent, and the women file from the room.
On their way upstairs they run into Jerry and another Agent, and MacKenna 'pushes' the unnamed Agent to take a five minute nap in the hallway while 'pushing' Jerry into telling her where Barnes and Darien are. She then orders the muscular Agent to forget that he ran into her and Monroe just now, and the two women make their way unopposed and unnoticed from the building.
MacKenna quivers from a mild seizure as they turn the corner to the elevator. It doesn't go unnoticed by the female Agent limping slightly beside her.
12:20pm, Friday afternoon
Claire and Hobbes return to the Keep to find Monroe and MacKenna gone, but a note's taped to the centrifuge simply stating: '12:05- Gone hunting. Synthesis complete in about ten minutes. Try to meet us around 12:30. You should know where. Amy and Alex'
"Sonofabitch!" Hobbes punches the wall in frustration. "Doesn't anyone follow orders around here!"
"Not now Bobby," Claire replies worriedly. She checks the centrifuge, and is relieved to see that the antidote's turned out the way that her and MacKenna's calculations predicted. On the computer screen is the latest model predicting the results of the final compound, and the doctor gingerly draws out the purplish liquid from the middle strata in the tubes into a medium-sized syringe. She caps it and places it in a protective case alongside another syringe filled with the familiar blue counteragent.
Meanwhile, Hobbes calls upstairs and notifies The Official of the latest development. He grimaces as he holds the phone away from his ear: BossMan's bellowing on the other end like an enraged bull. Something about why no one sees fit to follow orders around here. And so on, and so forth.
"Yes sir. I know sir. Punk-ass kids. Yes sir. Shutting up sir," Hobbes interjects as he gingerly holds the earpiece as close to his head as he can tolerate.
Claire finishes her preparations and waits impatiently beside him as he listens to The Official's tirade.
It doesn't seem like He'll be winding down anytime soon.
She taps her watch meaningfully, and he shrugs as if saying 'What'm I supposed to do here?'
In answer, she snatches the receiver from his hand. "Sir, it's Claire. I suggest that you shut up and mobilize the recovery team," she snaps. The voice on the other end falls ominously silent for a moment, and she continues. "Amanda finished synthesizing the antidote before she left, and I have a full dose of the counteragent ready. Bobby and I'll rendezvous with the recovery team outside. What?"
She pauses at His response. "Sir, do you think that's such a good idea? Oh. All right. Yes. We'll see you there." She hangs up the phone with a strange look on her face.
Hobbes watches her quizzically. "What? What is it?"
"He said that he and Eberts are coming along... to coordinate."
"That's fine, long as they don't get in the way," he replies grimly. "You ready? Then let's get a move on."
He checks his pocket for the two extra cases of shells he put there earlier, and she grabs the case with the filled syringes along with her jacket as they rush out of the Lab.
12:15pm, Friday afternoon
Monroe and MacKenna pull up behind Darien's car down the street from the motel. Monroe backs up and parks a couple of spaces away on the other side of the street. The two women scan the area for signs of Shop agents, but there was only a tired hooker sitting in a lawn chair on the corner smoking a cigar.
Monroe checks the ammo in her guns, and MacKenna watches her with a trace of amusement in her eyes.
"I think you missed the Saturday Night Special hidden in your bra," she teases.
"No I didn't," is the bland reply. "And it's in my boot. Everybody always assumes I keep it in my bra," she raises one eyebrow. "That could just be an excuse to feel me up, too." She straightens and reaches over the other woman to the glove compartment. It opens up to reveal MacKenna's knife in its sheath.
Her eyebrows rise in surprise, and she takes it from Monroe's open hand. "Thanks."
"I can't let you go in there unarmed, but I don't trust you with a gun."
"Good, 'cause I can't stand 'em. Mom insisted I learn how to handle a firearm, but she never said I had to like the stupid things."
Monroe glances at her askance. "Military brat?"
She nods. "Yah. But just Mom. Dad was a contractor. Derek took over the business when they died."
Monroe doesn't respond. She figures it's just nervousness talking right now. "Okay, I'm going to check out the office. You stay out of sight in case Barnes has lookouts posted. Anything happens, could you please wait until the reinforcements arrive?" she asks earnestly, knowing what the answer's going to be before it even forms on MacKenna's lips.
The other woman sprouts a small smile full of irony. "I don't think so. I'll scout out the rooms and meet you behind the office. Don't worry about me, Agent Monroe. I ain't some babe in the woods."
"No, you definitely aren't," she murmurs as they get out of the car. MacKenna eases across the street and ducks down a side alley to cross around to the back of the motel.
Monroe glances at the hooker, who saucily winks at her and flashes the peace sign three times. The agent nods at her contact and strolls casually down the sidewalk towards the motel office. There's no notice of the limp from her gunshot wound.
At the corner of Macon and Boulevard she meets up with her second contact, Adams looking every inch the affluent businessman, and they act as if they're meeting for a tryst. They hold hands and nuzzle each other as they make their way into the motel office's front door.
The old hound dog is napping in the same spot Darien last saw him; it's pretty obvious that he's deaf and blind. But his head jerks up at the smell of strange humans, and he takes a few whiffs before disinterest and humidity overcome him again.
The couple lean on the front desk, and Adams rings the bell. When there's no answer, Monroe's forced attitude of simpering paramour fades. She eases around the desk and freezes when she catches the pungent aroma of decomposing management. Adams looks at her questioningly for a moment, and then the odor wafts over to him... momentarily causing his eyes to water. And they weren't even in the back room yet.
She pulls out a handkerchief from her pocket and holds it to her face as she loosens her primary gun in its holster. Adams follows suit as he shadows her into the back room. They come across the dead manager, and follow in Darien's footsteps to the back door. She signals for him to cover her as she cracks the door open to peek outside...
Only to smack up against MacKenna trying to open the door from the other side. The wicked tip of the knife pricks Monroe's throat before she can get the barrel of her gun up.
It's immediately retracted as MacKenna recognizes whom she's threatening. "Jesus, what took you so long?" she whispers testily. "I was beginning to think..." she trails off as she catches the scent of au de stiff from inside the office. "Holy shit, that's odious!" She backs up a few steps to allow the other two to get out and shut the door on the stench.
She sneezes violently, and Monroe jerks away as the knife swishes by a few inches from her side. "Hey, watch it!"
"Oh. Whoops, sorry," she apologizes contritely, and carefully sheathes the razor-sharp blade in the small of her back. "What was I saying? Oh, yeah, I found them." Her mouth snaps shut as she shoots a searching glare at Adams. "Who the hell're you?"
"Adams," Monroe replies evenly. "He's okay. Now where are they?"
MacKenna continues to glare at the man for a few tense moments before relaxing a bit and focusing on the taller woman. She jerks her head back and to her left. "Room Twelve. Looks like there's five of 'em, including Barnes and Noble."
She freezes and blinks, as the names put together distract her train of thought for a moment. But then she shakes her head and continues. "Eleven and Thirteen have inside doors connecting to it, so we might be able to surprise them by coming in from all sides. What do you think?"
Monroe considers the suggestion. "It's better than just charging in the front door and getting mowed down," she replies thoughtfully. "Adams, you take Eleven. Amy..."
"I've got point," she butts in.
"No way. They'll cut you in half before they realize it's you."
She shakes her head. "Barnes'll expect me to try something suicidal. He knows I won't let them take me alive."
"But he can't be anticipating you to show up here."
"Oh yes, he is. That man is prepared for everything. I have yet to see him surprised by a sudden change in plans."
Monroe scrutinizes her for a few moments, and then makes her decision. "Fine. Barnes doesn't know about Adams, so that'll give us an element of surprise. Just, please be careful."
MacKenna smiles softly before turning towards their target. "I always am," she murmurs.