A.N.: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but I just had so many ideas. I'm sorry, but not sorry, but sorry, that I'm not working on my other story. But I promise I'm still updating Bunkhouse while I do this!
Happy (belated) Thanksgiving!
"If I touch that—"
"Wolf will kill you."
Alex slowly inched forward until he was on the edge of his seat, and with a soft huff, he blew down the card pyramid. Oopsy.
Eagle oo-ed from across, but quickly schooled his features in one of serious reprimand when Wolf emerged from the cockpit of the airplane. The first thing the man saw was his crumbled glory laying on the table. The second thing his eyes landed on was Alex's grin. "I left it alone for two minutes!"
Sitting next to the youngest of the five members, Fox had a hard time hiding his own wide grin beneath the newspaper he was fake-reading. "C'mon Wolf, you can't expect Cub to sit still for two seconds, let alone two minutes."
"Don't blame me for having trust issues," grumbled Wolf as he dropped back down on his seat, mildly exasperated at the pile of cards. He pulled out the map from his pocket and spread it out over the cards. "Alright, the plane's landing in half an hour. Are we clear on our objectives?"
"Yessir," bounced back at his rhetorical question.
"We will split up into three teams, and set up two points of surveillance. Snake, you're with me. Fox, with Eagle. Cub, meet up with your informant and do whatever spy thing you were sent to do."
"Copy that."
"First half is recon, rendezvous at 1320 hours, thirty minutes from now, at the staff room of Waterfront hotel. Don't be late. Then we map out our entry points, guards, obstacles, etc.. Second half is the extraction. We go in, get the package, get out. Am I clear?"
"As clear as it can ever be."
"I certainly hope so, Cub." Wolf's eyes turned to Alex in emphasis. "Your informant, you sure he's trustworthy?"
"She," Alex corrected, frowning ever-so-slightly. "Is trustworthy. We've been at this, for what, three years now? Since when have my informants ever been untrustworthy?"
Okay, maybe 'ever' was a bit strong. Alex horridly winced as Eagle enthusiastically took the opportunity. "September 4th: your informant sold you out for three pounds. That was cheap, by the way—"
"You've brought that up too many times."
"December 25th: your informant—God I can't get his beard out of my head—thought the Christmas decorations were the bombs we were looking for. What was he high on? 'Cuz I need one of those to ever forget all your informant mishaps."
"Okay okay!" Alex held up his hand in surrender. "So maybe there were a few mishaps, but we're still alive."
"Wanna see my surgical scar from the shrapnel?"
At Eagle's antics, Alex rolled his eyes but was luckily saved by Wolf's exasperation. "Whoever she is, just make sure you get the exact room and floor. That's all we need. We definitely don't have time to search every room of that hotel for the package."
Package. Even though Alex understood the reason behind dehumanizing their target, he didn't want to accept it. Their package wasn't a brown parcel with plastic tape over the folds, he was a young boy whose parents were rich enough to get him kidnapped and ransomed.
"Travis Cole, son of the founder of Cole Hotels," said Alex. "The boy who's held hostage, he's claustrophobic. Be careful how you handle him."
"Believe me, I won't give a damn." Wolf snorted. "And you won't either once things go havoc—and it will, as soon as we enter."
Alex understood Wolf's cold indifference more than he wanted to. The team leader was still bitter about last time when Alex had cared too much and Eagle had gotten shot for his trouble. The package stayed the package. When they cared, they got hurt. The hostage didn't know the proper procedure, and trying to accommodate their neediness would only drag all of them down.
But it wasn't Cole's fault for getting kidnapped. They could at least give him the barest comfort when they could afford it.
Alex voiced his thoughts out loud, but before Wolf could blatantly bat it down again, Fox offered a better explanation. "I think what Brownie-Blondie here is saying is that the kidnapped kid reminds him of himself from years ago. And maybe, just maybe, he feels like he can relate to what the kid is facing."
"You know me too well," remarked Alex dryly, trying to pass it off as humor. "Look, Cole's only fourteen. He doesn't know how to deal with it properly, so just ease him out of it as much as you can, alright?"
And once again before Wolf could speak, he was interrupted. This time, by Snake. "Alright. Don't worry, Cub. He'll be safe with us."
"Speaking on Wolf's behalf? What a giant step for mankind," said Eagle from the side.
The plane gently shuddered beneath them, and the seat-belt sign blinked orange. They sat back and buckled in the metals across their torso. The windows were pulled shut to the bottom, their ending was pronounced sharply by the rocky humming as the wheels touched the runway.
Before the plane pulled to a complete stop inside the hangar, K-Unit was already grabbing their gears from the top shelves and the seats. Each of them had donned a casual civilian outfit and, out of habit, a pair of shades was pulled over Fox's eyes. They could easily pass as tourists, as they intended to.
Alex, on the other hand, was dressed smartly in a suit to better disguise himself as a server for the hotel. The blue tie would let him walk in without being mistaken as a server, but without the blue tie and the black coat, no one would be able to distinguish him from the other workers.
The plane to the door hissed open, and Alex was the first one out, being the only one with few equipments.
"You sure you want to go alone?" Fox asked as he caught up, reaching over to straighten a crease on Alex's collar. "You'd potentially in the same building as the captors."
"Relax, Ben. I got this." He rolled his eyes in response. "You guys just do your job right, and everything will be okay. You want anything though? I heard the hotel has great free souvenirs."
"Nah. Just go in, talk to the girl, and get out. No fuzz."
Alex had expected some light-hearted comment about his souvenir remark, but Fox failed to meet his expectation. The ex-agent was tense, tenser than usual, and it was making Alex apprehensive as well.
"Something wrong, padawan?" asked Alex finally, when they were out of earshot. Maybe some secrecy was what Fox needed. "Having bad feelings?"
Fox rolled his eyes. "I'm not Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"Then what is it?" Even if Fox hadn't answered his question, Alex was glad the man was at least attempting to up his mood. "If it might endanger the mission, we need to let Wolf know."
"No, it's not that. I just…" Fox sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I had a fight with Stace before we left. Nothing big, but I wish we hadn't fought at all."
Stacie, or Stace as K-Unit and her friends call her, was Fox's fiance. The wedding was in a few weeks, and both of them were nervous. As they should be. Being legally bound to another person was a commitment, after all. The apprehensive tension seemed to have evolved into petty arguments of late.
"I'm sure she's thinking the same. She loves you, you love her, there's nothing a quick apology won't heal."
"You're right."
"Aren't I always?" remarked Alex.
His phone cut off whatever sharp retort Fox was about to shoot back, and when he took it out, he recognized the caller ID instantly. Alex waved Fox away, and the soldier walked off to join Eagle and the rest of K-Unit in their own preparation, leaving Alex to his own.
"Hey Beck, wassup?"
"When are you getting here?"
"You're my informant. You show up early, I show up late. That's how it works." Alex rolled his eyes mockingly. He knew Beck could hear the eye-roll in his voice as clear as day. "You watching their door?"
"Give me some credit, Lexy—"
"It's Alex, not Lexy—"
"I've been scrubbing the elevator in front of their room for the past hour. They opened the door once, but that's it. I saw some camera set-ups though, think they're making another video?"
"Might be," Alex shrugged. "The deadline for the drop is only six hours away. Well, gimme ten. I'll be there soon. Keep scrubbing the elevator."
"Don't tell me what to do," Beck ended the call before Alex could. He huffed and stowed it back in his pockets. From the table where K-Unit was distributing the comm links and hidden weapons, Wolf waved him over as soon as he saw Alex was open.
A gun was offered his way that he strapped to the waistband beneath his jacket. Alex shook his head subtlety in amusement—when he was fourteen, the only things that MI6 was willing to offer him were little gadgets that Smithers brilliant designed but now, guns came naturally. K-Unit wouldn't accept a no on their offer of the firearm.
You just don't take yo-yos to a gunfight, especially to a gunfight with SAS on your team. They would shoot at just about anything that got in their way. Kind of dangerous when they were armed with guns and him only a yo-yo.
"Keep comms on at all time," Fox passed each one of them a flesh-color earpiece small enough to not be detected. "Whatever you say will be heard, so no picking up girls on duty. We also don't have a lot of time, let's use it wisely."
"Gotcha," Alex inserted his and grabbed the rental car key on the table. "I'm heading off first, meet you guys in thirty."
The rest of K-Unit began shifting as well. Eagle offered him a quick clap on the back and a quiet 'good luck' when he walked by, both that he returned. The gray rental was the first vehicle to pull out of the hangar with Alex behind the wheels, seconds later, it was on the road to Waterfront Hotel.
Alex reached over to turn on the radio, and music blasted through the speaker. Oops, he thought, just before Wolf and the others cursed him through the earpiece. An eye on the road, a hand on the wheel, and the other flipping through the channels.
"Oh for goodness's sake, can you listen to classical at some other time?" As expected of Wolf.
"Sorry"—not sorry—"just nerves."
"You better school those nerves of yours in then."
"Roger that," replied Alex dryly.
He pulled to a stop in the parking lot minutes later with time to spare, but Beck was already milling around the lobby with her cart full of cleaning supplies. Alex met her only months ago on a recon mission, and earlier yesterday he found out that she worked in the same hotel that the men holding Cole hostage was in. She wasn't keen on participating in the stunt, but she had begrudgingly agreed after Alex offered a job as the secretary for Royal and General.
Ha, not that he had the power to even offer her a job at HQ, but Mrs. Jones wouldn't say a word against it since the information Beck had supplied them had been crucial and important. She might not be exactly the inside man (or woman) they preferred, but she was about as inconspicuous as they could get.
"What took you so long?" said Beck as he neared.
"Why aren't you watching the door?" Alex frowned.
Beck huffed in mock annoyance. "Relax, Lexy. Those men, they came out of the room and headed straight for the elevator. I was polishing the granite then, and I even offered them a smile. I don't think it was a good idea to still be there when they come back."
He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay. Whatever. Anyway, I didn't just leave my post and scurried out like you think I did. The elevator went to lobby, and I followed them. They headed into the diner, last I saw."
"Okay, thanks Beck." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a few notes and a piece of paper. "Here, this is the address to the airport hangar. You get a cab, and go there and wait for us. Alright?"
"That's it?"
"That's it. You now have a new job." He grinned at her with ease he didn't feel. "Now go. When you get there, tell them Alex sent you. They'll give you a nice window seat. I'll be back in a few hours, as soon as we get the hostage."
Hesitantly, she took the money and the paper and stuffed them in her pocket. "Okay, I will get changed."
A tension Alex didn't know exist uncoiled itself from his chest, and he breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled off her gloves and set it on the trolley. She wasn't suitable for his line of work, they both knew. If she had made eye contact with the men, their paranoia would definitely go up a notch if they were to see her near their proximity again.
"The room the boy's held in," Beck reminded him. "Fifth floor, room 504. It's to your right, the second room—"
He felt it before he saw it. Gun. Ten o'clock. Pointing straight at them.
Alex yelled, "get down!" just as a single shot rung out in the vast lobby—but bullets traveled faster than sound, and he heard it ricochet off the wall behind them just as he tackled Beck onto the ground.
Three men marched toward them, one with a beanie, one with glasses, and the other bald like a cartoon character. Only two of them had a gun, and both were quickly raised again in their direction.
The screaming of the rushing civilians didn't help.
"Cub?"
"Yeah, a bit busy here, Wolf." Alex shot back through the comms as he quickly rolled off Beck, and pushed her behind the nearest pillar. "Beck, get out of here!"
Praying that it would work, Alex flipped the metal platter on the cart Beck had rolled to the lobby into his hands, and tried to deflect the immediate stream. It lasted only two bullets before the hole in the thin metal was large enough to fit a six pence. Alex abandoned it just as quick, and dove behind the cart as a stray bullet blew out the light behind him.
His gun came fast to his hands, and he clicked the safety off. "Hey guys? Now would be a great time to show up and provide some much needed soldier supports."
"We are on our way," confirmed Wolf. "What went wrong?"
"For starters," Alex grunted as he rolled over to the pillow, and pressed his back against it. "Those captors? There's at least three of them and they're all trying to shoot my head off at the moment. Beck must have got them paranoid."
"Beck?"
"My informant—that's not important! Beck said the boy's upstairs. Fifth floor, room 504. Advise on situation?" Alex peeked over the corner and got off two shots before half a dozen or so chipped at the pillow and the wall directly behind.
"Eagle and I are half a block away by foot. Just got our weapons. We won't get there before the police do." Fox's voice crackled over the comms. "I hate to ask you to do this, but if you can get free, find the package."
"By myself?" Two more shots. One incoming nearly took his arm off. They weren't moving toward him anymore, but where the damn bloody hell were they? Were they closing in? "I doubt they'd leave their hostage without guard in the room upstairs, so there must be at least one upstairs."
"The police are coming. They'll blow our ops sky high," Wolf agreed with Fox grimly. "We cannot let them escape with the boy. If they do, the package might not live."
"Alright, roger that." With a huff, Alex checked his ammo. He wasn't sure how many he had fired. The magazine slid open, and he slid it back in just as quick. Nine more rounds. Damn. Nine plus the spare he always carried would equal twenty-six more bullets.
Twenty-six, and three or more targets. Easy-peasy, piece of cake. Right.
The lobby was suddenly quiet. No more gunshots. No more screaming. Alex tensed, and debated whether or not he should peek around the corner. His eyes slid to the right, and landed on Beck.
Who was still crouching behind the pillar from where he had tackled her with an expression of absolute terror on her face.
"What the hell are you still doing here?" he hissed.
"I…" Her voice carried amazingly well over the silence. "I froze."
Alex thanked her for her honesty sardonically before shaking his head and readying his pistol. "I'll cover for you. Get out. Run like hell. Go to the hangar."
She mutely nodded from the other side. Alex spared a quick peek, and located the three men behind the receptionist desk. Two of them were slowly making their way around, hoping to ambush him. The other was staying back, waiting for the chance to pick him off as soon as he poked his head around.
Great planning.
"On three?"
She nodded again. Alex reached down to pull out the gun strapped to his leg beneath the black pants. God, he hated suits. He weighed both guns in either hand, and gave Beck a quick nod.
One, here goes nothing, three.
He fully exposed himself from behind the pillar, his black in stark contrast to the golden white wall behind him. Larger target, easier to shoot than small Beck scurrying to the door. Locating the two making their way forward, Alex's shots sent them seeking cover immediately. He fired at the man behind the receptionist.
Missed.
To the sides. Missed.
Damn his accuracy. Nine shots fired. Five more on the left gun, Fifteen on the right.
Alex let his peripheral stray toward Beck's figure. A shot flew her way, but thank God it missed. He narrowed his eyes, and returned fire at the men. He was the goddamn target, for heaven's sake. Don't hurt the girl.
Two shots. Quick glances Good. She was almost at the door.
"C'mon Beck. C'mon c'mon, move faster," muttered Alex as he mercilessly eyed the chandelier above them and shot at the hook above. It stayed on, despite his wish, but shuddered dangerously. A glass slid off, smashing onto the floor. What a poor design.
Then Beck was out. The bullet-riddled hotel door swung shut again. Alex ducked back behind the pillar again. One stray bullet clipped across the sleeve of his suit. Well, too bad. Not his suit. Not his money.
Alex extended an arm over the side to fire off a few shots, but it clicked empty. "Oh shite."
Loud movements were heard after his curse was transmitted across the deserted lobby. Now they knew he was down one gun. Oops.
"Okay, Snake's got the police postponed. We're just 'round the corner!" Fox updated him quickly. "What's your stats?"
"Alive and breathing," was his immediately response. "But I've got only"—he checked—"ten rounds left. Chuck me a gun when you barge in, will you?"
"Gladly. We'll cover for you. Get up there immediately. Incoming in five."
Fox lied. Before two was hit, Fox and Eagle were through the door. A loud curse from the captors was the best sound he had ever heard that whole entire day so far. Fox found him second later, and the pistol unholstered from his side sailed through the air in a wide arc. Alex caught it, just as the two soldiers began returning fire with their better, and more professional, weapons.
Alex took the stairs three at a time, hoping against hope that the three downstairs didn't have time to inform those upstairs. When he finally reached the fifth floor in record speed, his heart was pounding from more than nerves.
"Be advised, I'm approaching the door now. Saying my prayers, fingers crossed—"
"Cub." Well, hello Wolf.
"Bad timing?"
"Very."
"Okay." Despite himself, Alex grinned as he took a few quick breaths. "Approaching now."
Alex respectfully knocked.
If they were to peek through the peephole, they would see what resembled a server. He tried, he did. He had abandoned his tie on the way up and threw away his suit jacket on the stairwells. He hadn't had time to look in a mirror, but hopefully, there were no gunpowder or blood residue on his face.
"Housekeeping!" he called when no one came to answer the door.
That elicited a grunted response. "Don't need it. Go away."
Rude. "I'm sorry sir, but I need to change the electrical charger by the beside. We experienced an outage downstairs only minutes ago, and one of the lines that it's connected to passes through yours. I'm afraid that—"
The door abruptly swung open. "Go the bloody hell a—"
Sentence left unfinished, the man was knocked out with a whack across his face by the pistol. Ouch. He fell backward at the blunt force and was out like a light. Taking caution to carefully stepped over his body, Alex inched forward into the room with his gun tucked to his chest in anticipation. It didn't take him long to locate the boy. He was right there, in the middle of the room. Gagged, limbs uncomfortably bounded to a wooden chair, but very much alive. The kid's eyes widened when Alex made his presence known.
"Package located," Alex said slowly to the comms. Then he turned to the boy. "I'm here to take you home."
The boy frantically struggled against his bounds at what Alex thought was excitement. He snorted in amusement and made his way nearer. "That's the first time anybody's that excited to—"
He didn't get to finish his sentence before something hard slammed against the back of his head. Alex, caught surprised, tried to twist but his brain wouldn't let him. It flashed to dark.
Wolf joined them only moments later. Three against three. It was easy and quick. They killed two before the third one came to his sense and surrendered. His pistol was chucked over the receptionist desk, and Eagle passed it to Fox who holster it in the spare holster vacated by Alex.
Eagle moved to grimly inspect the two men lying in their own pool of blood. Each of them had a similar bullet wound: single entrance to the head. His handiwork.
Fox forced the last man onto the ground, and cuffed him to the heavy cart lying discarded on the ground next to them. "Lobby is secured. Snake, you can start letting the police through now."
"Roger that."
"Cub, this is Fox. What's your situation?"
Static silence. That's weird. Fox frowned, and tried again. "Cub? Come in."
The three of them stood in a scattered circle in the lobby, and waited with baited breath for a response. Fox blamed the silence on Alex's need for stealth. Must have rendered the kid unable to reply back.
"Anytime now, Blondie-boy. Make some sound if you can't speak."
Silence. The man on the floor grunted intrusively. Wolf gave him a swift jab to the ribs with his boots that successfully shut him up.
Fox exchanged a glance with Eagle, then with Wolf.
"Cub, do you copy?" Wolf tried, his eyes casting upward as if he could see past the ceiling.
That awful silence again, shattered only by the police siren drawing nearer.
Making a decision, Fox turned to Wolf and jerked his head upstairs. "Go find Cub. Eagle and I will deal with the police when they come."
Wolf didn't need to be told twice, nor did he question being ordered by Fox, before he was running up the stairs and disappearing over the bend in a hurry. None of them liked the queasy feeling at the pit of their stomach nor the uncomfortable thoughts floating around their head like black crows.
Alex not responding might meant he was overpowered. Unconscious. Or dead. Jaws clenched, Fox subtly shook his head and rid it of the thoughts. He would kill anybody who hurt Alex, and if this was Alex's attempt at a joke, he swore he would kill that kid too.
Okay, maybe not kill.
The sound of an engine pulling up, but without sirens, interrupted his thoughts. Turning to find Snake hopping out of the vehicle, Fox waved him inside and pointed toward the man chained to the cart. "Get him into the vehicle."
"We don't take captives."
"The head of Cole hotel might want to have a talk with the man who kidnapped his son." Fox couldn't care less, as he threw the keys to the cuffs to Snake.
Snake nodded, and Eagle lent him a hand in hauling the man up right after re-cuffing his wrists together. Eagle grabbed the man by a fistful of his shirt, and began frogmarching in to the car waiting outside. The medic, however, turned to Fox. "Where's Wolf? Cub? The package?"
Fox pointed upstairs, hand clenching and unclenching at the handle of his rifle. "Package's last said upstairs, on fifth floor. Cub went to retrieve it, but went unresponsive. Wolf's heading up now." He turned to his comms. "Wolf?"
"Room's trashed, but empty. Got a chair, but rope's been cut." The immediately hesitance that followed had the three soldiers in the lobby apprehensive.
"What is it?"
"Fox, you gave Cub a pistol, right?"
Shit. "I did. Don't tell me…"
"I found it, and his earpiece, beside the lamp." Wolf paused again. "I think Cub was caught unprepared. Blunt force to the head. There's blood on the lamp."
"Oh God."
"They took Cub?" Snake exclaimed.
"Looks like it."
"Are you sure? Did you check all the rooms?"
"There's only one room, Fox. The bathroom's clear too. Nothing. No trace of them."
Fox didn't realize he was pacing before Snake settled a hand harshly on his shoulder to ground his thoughts back to reality. He took a quick breath, and asked. "Are there any shell casings? Any shots fired?"
They took Alex, that had to mean he was alive.
A pause as Wolf surveyed the room again. "None that I can see. They're gone. I'm coming down now. We need to work this from a new direction. Fox?"
"What."
"We will find them."
It's not 'them' that Fox wanted to find at the moment. It was 'him'.
"I know." Fox glanced at the man in the vehicle bitterly. He would trade that man's life any day for Alex's. "And we have someone we can ask."
His bristling remark was met with silence. They understood him, and their thoughts were in unison. The sirens outside drew louder, and they quickly shouldered their rifles. As the first batch of officers spilled into the lobby, guns out for a confrontation they missed, Fox slipped aside to let the rest of K-Unit deal with them.
Fox located Alex's second gun lying on the ground. It was near the pillar Alex had hid behind earlier. He pulled out the magazine. Yeah. It was empty. Fox set it dangling by his side before pushing his way past the officers. MI6 would handle the police easily. That was apparently Wolf's thought as well, for he handed a phone over the the man in command. Moments later, the four of them, plus an unwanted five, was speeding away to the hangar.
Wolf was driving, Fox shotgun, and Snake and Eagle sandwiching the man in the back. The mood in the car was heavy, and every bump they met on the road was frustrating Fox more and more by the moment.
Six years ago, when they first met the fourteen-year-old spy at the training camp, none of them had really thought the kid was serious. MI6 and a teenage spy? Sounded more like a book. Might make a good plot, but it wasn't reality. Then Wolf saw him skiing down a mountain like a maniac, carted off to a hospital, returned to take down an evil force, and he believed the truth. Months later saw Fox fighting alongside the kid to prevent a bomb from killing the world's leaders.
If that didn't convince them, they didn't know what else would.
They could deal with Alex half-dead in a hospital bed (no, they couldn't), they could deal with Alex taking stupid risks on a mission (not really), but they couldn't deal with Alex being captured. Normal capture, sure, tentatively. But this time, Alex was taken without cause.
Why didn't they leave Alex? Knock him out? Put a bullet through him (Fox make sure they die the most painful death if he were to find Alex lying dead)? The uncertainties worried all of them.
The men had a hostage already, the rich son, why did they need Alex? To make a point? What goddamn point?
Fox was the first to hop out of the car, slammed the passenger door shut, and as soon as Snake vacated his seat, hauled the captive harshly by his collar out of the car. "Walk."
Wolf waved over two guards guarding the plane. Watch over the captives, he ordered them as he dragged Fox to the table, warning him that any rash actions would help neither him nor Alex. Maps and tiny flags and figures littered on the table; their plan of attack was still unmade and in a scramble but their mission was already blown.
They were all unprepared when a girl bounced out of the airplane, and even before her feet touched the ground, she was running toward them. "Where's Alex?"
"Who're you?"
"Beck. I'm the informant. Where's Lexy?" She looked worried. She sounded panicking. She was beyond herself.
Snake settled a calming hand on her shoulder, and gave her a seat beside the table. She was as deep in this as any of them were. "Beck, take a breath."
She did. "Where's Lexy?"
"Lexy?"
She made a noise of dismissal. "Alex."
"He got taken." Blunt, and to the point.
"What?"
"He was knocked out, from what we gathered. We didn't find him anywhere upstairs, so he must've been taken."
"Let's retrace our steps. What went wrong?" Wolf, always the leader, demanded unflinchingly. They all wanted to get Alex back as soon as possible.
"Well, every bloody thing for starters—"
"Fox."
"Cub walked in," it was Eagle who took the rein. "We all heard him talk with Beck. Then those men saw them, and opened fire. Fox and I came in five mikes later, Alex went up, we stayed."
"He sounded so unsure when I asked him to go up." Fox ran a hand through his hair. Distress clear in his every movement. "I should've gone up with him. Shouldn't have sent him alone for starters."
"I should've stayed," voiced Beck quietly. "I shouldn't have run."
"Yeah, what good would you have done? No offense."
She stayed quiet. Wolf tapped the map quietly. "Both Cub and the kid were taken. It's not a solo job. There's at least two men upstairs when Alex entered." He glanced at Fox. "Get a look at the security footage. Find out which way they went."
"On it."
"Sir!" They all glanced up as one of the MI6 liaisons walked toward them, a phone in hand. "Mrs. Jones want to speak with you."
Wolf asked as he took it from her hand. "You told her about Cub?"
"Cub?"
"Agent Rider."
"I told her about the mission not gone to plan."
A sudden surge of fury stole over Fox. Wolf harshly threw the phone on the table between K-Unit and the girl, and put it on speaker. "Mrs. Jones."
"I heard you lost my agent."
What was that supposed to mean? Lost her agent? They didn't lose him. He was taken. She made it sound as if Alex was taking a bloody stroll in a park and got lost in some forest.
"We will get him back, ma'am." Wolf leaned over the table with his hands on the edge, a look of frustration fleetingly rushed through his eyes.
"And the package?"
"We didn't get to him, ma'am. But we're dealing with it now."
"I don't need false reassurance, soldier. I need a plan. What's your next move?"
Find the men. Get Alex. Kill them. As simple as that. "We're working on that."
"Well, work faster because Mister Cole wants his son in a blanket not a casket."
The men and the girl around the table were an angry mess as the dial tone hit them head on. Wolf schooled them in, snapping a finger at the liaison to take the phone away. She scurried over, took it, and tried her best to appear unflinching. Really didn't do a good job.
"Fox," a finger snapped his way. "Security footage."
"Right." Fox returned to his duty, heading off to get the computer in his backpack. Smithers would connect him easily to any camera he wanted, and possibly more if he received the news that his 'boy' was taken.
Smithers still thought of Alex as a kid. He still tried to make fancy gadgets like laser pens and exploding erasers for the agent, even though Alex's twentieth birthday was just around the corner. Two weeks after Stacey and his wedding would be the kid's birthday.
Nobody told Alex about the surprise party they were planning. Oh hell, the kid definitely guessed they'd do something, but he didn't know what.
They just have to get Alex back first, and kill some bad guys while they were at it.
"Hey Smithers."
His tone had been light, but the man caught on immediately. "Bad things happened, Ben? How can I help?"
"I need the last three hours security footage from the Waterfront Hotel. You know which one?"
"Oh you wounded me. I'll track your location, won't take me…there we go. I have you on my map. Now lemme get the hotel…ha, easy-peasy. I've connected your laptop to the center. Just click on the pop-up. You've complete access now. If they have it, you might even find footage from 1980."
Fox snorted as he set his phone down, put it on speaker, and clicked on the screen. A few more clicks located the time stamp he needed. "Thanks Smithers."
"No sweat, Ben." Then the tech genius turned serious. "Mrs. Jones sounded awfully worried. What happened?"
"Smithers..."
"If it's classified, I won't search. But you know me: you don't tell me, I'm still gonna find out."
"Alex got taken," blurted Fox.
A short brisk silence, then, "Alex?"
"Yeah. It was my fault, I didn't—"
"Ben, as much as I hate the idea of the boy getting hurt," Smithers was quick to stop him. "I know it's not your fault. You love him like a brother. Don't blame yourself, 'kay? Just get him back, safe and sound. That's all I ask."
"Promise."
"You do that. Keep me updated?"
"'Course."
Fox let the man hang up on him before he spun the computer closer to him, and began locating precisely the time he wanted. 1300. Something around that. Got it. Fifth floor corridor. North wing, right by the elevator. Alright there.
Beck was there. Scrubbing the elevator. Fox fast-forwarded by a few minutes, almost missing the moment Alex made himself known by the staircase. The kid took a few deep breaths, his tie and jacket already abandoned, and ready to pose as a server.
"Always the gentler approach," Fox snorted.
The door opened after a few moments of drone-out coaxing, but before more words could be exchanged, Alex brought the butt of his pistol down on the man's head. He crumpled quickly and without much resistance. The kid stepped over the man, and disappeared off-frame.
Fox muttered absently under his breath as he waited. Shadows flickered and cast into the hallway from the room. Reaching for the control, Fox fast-forwarded again until a second man appeared, and harshly woke the unconscious man on the floor. They went back inside.
Before long, the second man was out carrying Alex over his shoulder, and the first was dragging the hostage out. Fox zoomed in the best he could, right before the pixels could steal away the bigger picture. Alex looked fine—as fine as he could be in that situation. A dark trail covered the side of his face, and he hung limply atop the captor.
He definitely lost blood with that head wound, but hopefully not much.
They took the long route to the west wing, Fox had to switch cameras to follow them, and exit through the kitchen backdoor. Their movements were quick and precise, easily navigated through the mazes.
Last camera outside the hotel. They left through a beige sedan but its plate was too far away to be recognized.
"Found it?" Wolf appeared by his shoulder, glancing at the screen.
Fox nodded and rewound the tape back to the car just before it pulled out of frame. "That's the car they left in."
"Plate?"
"Too far, can't see."
Wolf made a dismissive noise. "What about the tech guy? Smith-whatshisname? Can he do it?"
"Smithers?"
"Yeah. Ask him to work on it."
Fox nodded. "On it."
He gave the MI6 specialist the details, and Smithers promised he would get back as soon as possible. Follow them with street cams, the man told him. Bit blurry, but he could piece the plate together with more angles.
On the other end of the hangar where Snake, Eagle, and the girl were pouring over the map again. Not focusing on the map itself, but rather having their own debate on the best approach. An agreement was reached, and Eagle came walking to them.
"Didn't Cub leave with a rental car?"
Fox nodded. "Should still be out in the street. We'll get someone to tow it later."
"Does he still have the keys?" Eagle questioned then explained. "Both the car and the key comes with a GPS tracker. The rental company made the new modification last year. If Cub still has the key, we can track him through that."
"They got an app or something for that?"
Eagle grabbed the computer and inputted a link into the engine. The page spewed out a sub page to the rental company, asking for the car plate number and confirmation ID.
"What the fuck is the confirmation ID?"
"Probably order number or something."
They exchanged a glance. "Didn't MI6 get us the car?"
"Okay, I'll get Smithers."
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
When Alex woke, he knew it was in deep trouble. His wrists were bounded, his head was pounding, his earpiece was missing, and a camera was in his face. He barred his teeth and tried a quick grin.
"You police?" Someone asked from behind him. They appeared in his field of vision seconds later and squatted down to accommodate his seated height. How nice of them.
"Tourist, actually."
A pistol whipped across his face so hard that he felt as if his jaw had cracked in thirds. His head snapped to the side, and it took him a few seconds to readjust. "That'd be the last time, kid. Are you police?"
"No."
Alex waited with baited breath for another whip. It didn't come. Instead, the man pulled up another chair, and sat down in front of him. "Alright, two can play the game—no, look at me—I'm not gonna kill you. Not gonna torture you either. You don't have anything I want, and I don't know if I even want you alive."
"If you want me dead, do I get to choose how?"
"Well," the man actually sounded like he was considering his options. "I got a gun. You can play Russian Roulette by yourself. Don't think that's good for the heart, kid. You're just waiting for that bullet, but every time it clicks empty, your heart jumps."
"Never played it before. Don't know that feeling."
"You know, we just want that old man to suffer. Let him watch his kid suffer. It's not the money we want. Sick bastards like him deserve much more than what we'll put him through."
"You don't have to justify your action to me." Actually, Alex did kind of want to hear the story. Not that he was going to tell the man. "Just kill me, if that's what you want."
"Listen, will you? When we want to kill you, you'd be out like a light."
"The anticipation alone is killing me."
"Good, keeps you on your toe." The man nodded at his partner a few pace behind Alex. The sound of wood scraping against asphalt traveled across the room until it was close enough for muffled cries to be heard.
Dammit. The hostage.
Cole was wide-eyed as he was plopped down next to Alex. Then he calmed just slightly when they made eye-contact. Alex tried to reassure him that it was going to be all right, but, with the blood still caking his face and his rapidly-beating heart trying to force itself to the rhythm of Marconi's Weightless, he wasn't sure his reassurance was all that reassuring.
"Well, my name's Jack. My friend behind you's Horace." The man tapped his foot. "What should I call you?"
"Why?"
Jack reached over and readjusted the lens on the camera as if he were a professional photographer. "So our audience can get to know you better. Pick a name, choose anything."
"Cub's fine."
"Cub. Alright. Travis, meet Cub. Cub, this is Travis."
The man behind them, Horace, removed the gag from the boy's mouth, and turned their chair until they were facing each other at a slight angle. "Hey, you alright?"
The boy huffed. "Never better. You?"
Despite himself, Alex grinned. "Brilliant."
Jack got up and left the small room through the only door. The door screeched in protest. Old hinges, maybe. Rusted. He caught a quick glimpse of more darkness before the door was shut. Corridor? Basement? They must be inside a building or some sort. With Horace watching over them in the back, neither resorted to more conversation beyond the quick eye-contacts.
Absently, Alex hoped K-Unit had dealt with the gunmen back in the hotel. They probably did.
Jack returned moment later with a revolver in his hand. He kicked the door gently shut as soon as he entered. "Good talk?"
"Definitely." Alex grunted in reply, eyeing the gun gingerly.
"Great," the man said. With a quick jerk of his head in their direction, Jack ordered Horace to untie their hands, but not their feet. Alex took the time to rub the burns on his wrist from the harsh texture of the ropes—Travis did the same. The wince on the kid's face and the slight hiss didn't go unnoticed.
Despite knowing better than to expect the kid to be like him, Alex still frowned. Better suck it up. They couldn't afford to be weak.
"Water?" offered Jack, holding a plastic water bottle.
"No," Alex and Travis said at the same time. Then he paused. "I'd take some only if you waterfall a bit first."
"Relax, I didn't poison it." Shrugging, the man twisted open the plastic lid, and followed their demands. He swallowed it, wiped his mouth with the back of his hands, and held it out to Travis. "There. I'm alive."
Alex took it before Travis could, and did his own quick test. Water sloshed in his mouth and he swallowed it quickly before he could choke. There was a long moment of silence as the other three in the room waited for a reaction.
Still eyeing Jack skeptically, he passed the water to Travis with a nod. Probably okay to drink, as long as the poison wasn't a slow one.
Travis took a long greedy swig, water dribbling off the side of his chin. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and set the unfinished bottle on the floor. Alex's paranoia was forcing him to keep a careful eye on the kid, waiting for him to drop dead foaming at the mouth anytime soon.
He didn't, to his paranoia's disappointment.
"Now," Jack spun the revolver lazily in his hand and presented it handle-first to the two of them. "One of you, take it."
Neither made a move. Travis shirked back even further, his eyes skittering to Alex's for help. He shook his head subtly. The man needed Travis alive. He wouldn't shoot him if they take no action. Don't give them a reason to either.
The gun wouldn't do Alex any good at the moment either. Horace was directly behind, Jack in front, and his feet was bound with no room to fidget. If he were to try to get up, he would only fall straight back into the chair or onto the ground face-first. If only he could manage to overpower Jack. Horace was the muscle, Jack was the brain. Kill the brain and the muscle had no power.
"Don't worry, there's no bullet in the chamber. I made sure. Now take it before I blow one of your kneecaps out."
Travis was tempted—but Alex was faster. He snatched it out of the man's hand just as the boy cautiously inched forward. Even though Alex's heart was pounding with apprehension and anticipation of the worst, he preferred that Travis be left out of it as much as possible.
"Good boy." Jack grinned, reached into his pocket and pulled out a single bullet. "Now, I trust that you know how to fit this into the chamber? Just pop it out, put it in, roll it. Try not to shoot me, alright? You shoot me, Horace kills Travis. You shoot Horace, I kill Travis. You've got only one bullet. Can't kill both of us."
Alex gingerly took the bullet, popped it in, and spun it as instructed. The wheels clicked and spun like a wheel of fortune, before it heavily fell into place. Click. Loaded. One spot.
"Now, point it at the boy."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"No."
The man sighed patiently, hands reaching for his own pistol strapped to the waistband of his jeans. Safety pulled. Click. He could almost hear the sound of the bullet sliding into place just waiting for blood. Jack stood up and stepped forward until the cold metal barrel was kissing Alex's forehead. He didn't let his heart's erratic seizure show on his face, but he was sure that the man could feel the deep tremors traveling from his skin to the gun to his hand.
"Do it."
"Don't goad me."
Alex almost let out a small sigh in relief when the man pulled his gun away, only to draw in a fuller harsher breath when the hammer pulled back and—Bang. No suppressor. The sound was deafening. The sound of his bone cracking was masked.
The bullet stabbed into his thigh. Nerves screamed, and he doubled over. Blood was seeping out at an alarming rate. His hands rushed to the wound, dark red coating the thin fabric. He ripped away the lower leg of the pant, and—goddammit—the crimson spilled erratically with each movement.
He tied it. Made a butterfly knot. Sat up. "You bastard."
"Impressive."
"He needs a doctor!" Travis tried. "He's gonna bleed out."
"If he tie that butterfly tighter," Jack shrugged. "He might end up losing the leg too. Now, point the gun at the boy. Don't make me shoot you again."
Alex said, "N—"
"Just do it," Travis cut him off.
"There's no way you'll let me shoot him," argued Alex to Jack, ignoring Travis's words. "You need the boy alive. "
"Or do I?" Jack sat back down. "Point the gun at the boy. Pull the trigger. If he's still alive, I let you have twenty minutes to yourself."
"Sweet deal, but I'll pass."
"If he's dead, I'll let you go."
"Cherry on top, but no thank you."
Jack hummed as if he had expected it. "What about you, Travis? What if I offer you the gun? If he's dead, I'll let you go. That's what you want, right?"
"Hard pass." Travis said through clenched teeth, giving Alex a quick glance when Alex sighed out loud. It wasn't as if Alex wanted to die, but Travis was his mission. He'd rather the kid take the gun and shoot the hell out of Alex. When he agreed to MI6's job offer, he had basically signed his death warrant. He could die any day. On the other hand, that kid was important to a lot of people.
And this wasn't such a bad way to go out.
"You sure?" pressed Jack. "And even if I do this?"
This time, Alex felt the bullet. They heard it too. A sickening of his ribcage as the bullet shattered through. It exited through the back, the impact and close proximity sending him crashing onto the floor. He couldn't close his eyes.
His chair toppled backward, skidded to a stop. The breath was knocked out of him.
"No!"
He saw Horace above him. His chair was hauled up again, and this time, his body slumped forward. Funnily, he felt as if he was drooling, but he couldn't stop it. He spit out the iron in his mouth, hearing the satisfying splat on the floor. But even the smallest suck-and-spit movement drew more blood into his mouth.
Punctured a lung. Shit.
"Now will you shoot him? I'll even let you fire six times straight."
The gun Alex had held in his hand moments ago was picked up from where he had fell. He didn't realize he had dropped it until Jack was pushing it into Travis's hand—"take it", he said—like an old man giving the kid a piece of candy.
He choked. Made a horrible half-choke-half-chuckle when Jack looked at him. Alex knew he probably didn't look like Snow White in front of her mirror, but he could be a maniac when he was delusional from blood-lost. Eagle had told him just how much gibberish he talked when he was captured last time.
Taunts. Humor. That's bliss. Too bad there's a kid at stake this time. Blood was clouting his head, and he gave himself a mental shakedown. Alex didn't need a doctor to know that if he didn't get to a hospital soon—hurt to breath—he'd be buried sometime later this week.
"What's so funny?"
"Just thinking about"—everything breath hurt like hell—"my gravestone."
Blood in mouth. Head pounding. Ears ringing like Christmas carols. He missed the reply. Instead, Alex focused on his wounds; not that they needed—breath hitched—anymore focusing on. One clean through. The other embedded in his leg. Probably stuck. Bubbles in the blood he was coughing out.
The kid might actually have PTSD after seeing this, if not already. Alex turned his head away.
"Now will you shoot him? Put him out of his misery?"
This time, Travis's hand trembled in Alex's peripheral vision. Reminded the spy—he coughed—of his first time shooting somebody dead. Julius Grief. Sort of like shooting himself dead. Wonder if Travis was thinking the same thing? Probably not. The kid—blood splattered onto the ground—was too young. He didn't have Ian as a guardian growing up. He didn't have any ties with espionage.
"If I'm dead," Alex offered. "He goes free."
"That's the deal."
"Doesn't matter how I die?"
Jack paused. Then he laughed as if somehow that was funny. It was, now that Alex thought about it. He laughed along, even though it hurt like hell. Didn't have long anyway. Go out in a bang, maybe. Go out laughing too. Might make it a bit easier—he couldn't feel his leg anymore—for the funeral guy to make him look happy.
"You want to shoot yourself, Cub?"
Alex regretted giving that man his code name. He had thought it was funny. Thought it would be funny. Now he hated it. Only K-Unit—let him sleep—called him Cub. The way Jack said it so negatively brought back bitter—drowning in his own blood—memories.
His head was a mess of unconnected thoughts.
"If I die, he goes free."
This time, he didn't miss the reply. "That works."
Jack tried to pry the gun out of Travis's hands. He couldn't. Alex heard the sound of the pistol against bones and a loud curse. Go Travis, he thought dryly. Then the boy cried out, forcing Alex's eyes to strain open further. They slid to the left. Travis was nursing his face, red blossoming over. The gun was missing from his hand. Missing. Not there.
Not anymore. Warm metal was suddenly pressed into his hand. Residue heat from the kid's hands. Cold sweat, too. He could feel it.
Alex aligned the metal to his temple—thank god the man didn't shoot his arms—and paused.
"Anytime now."
"Please don't, Cub," Travis was pleading. "It's okay. Please don't do it."
Survivor's guilt talking. It wasn't okay. It wasn't going to be okay if he didn't do something about it. Alex shut his eyes and steadied his hands. Can't miss now. It was so close. So close. He'd be damned if he miss from this dist—
Click.
"Lucky you—" Jack.
Click.
"Cub, stop. Don't do it. Don't do it—"
Click.
Thumb drew back. Pulled back. Release. A new slot. His hand hesitated and he trembled. He trembled. Alex didn't want to die. He didn't want to. His birthday was in a few weeks, he was actually looking forward to what K-Unit had planned. Too bad he wouldn't be able to see it.
He hoped they hadn't spend too much on it. Somethings could be returned, reimbursed. Some just couldn't.
Click.
His heart was pounding. He could hear the blood rushing in his veins. How, he didn't know. He'd lost so much blood. So much blood that even a vampire wouldn't want him. He chuckled. The iron was slowly becoming a natural taste, funny enough.
Jack was watching him. Standing close. Maybe the blood splatter from the bullet would stain his shirt. Maybe…He breathed out slowly and muttered softly under his breath, his arm sagging.
"What?" Jack leaned in.
Alex ignored Travis's string of 'please Cub don't do it' in the background, and opened one bleary eye. Jack was close. Within arm's reach. He just hoped he still had enough strength. A painkiller would help. Or a med kit. Adrenaline syringe. What else did they use in PUBG? Freakish wrist-wrapping bandages.
Jack. Closer now. With a pained grunt, Alex lifted his hand and whipped the revolver harshly on the side of the man's face. He could feel the last ounce of his adrenaline surging forward with the movement. He didn't waste a single more second to watch Jack crumple to the floor. He angled his body, catching Horace by surprise, and fired.
Click. Dammit. He'd wished this was the one.
Horace lunged toward him. Stupid.
Bang.
Red blossomed on the man's chest, but Horace's momentum kept him going until he sent both of them crashing onto the floor. Alex hit his head. At the same time, the revolver tumbled out of his slackened grip.
He didn't need it anyway. Alex laid there, gasping for air with the man's heavy weight on top of him. He could see the man's eyes. Wide open. Dead. Dead but wide open. And too close. He could see the fish-eye-whites in them, the pit black—his reflection—the thumping red veins, and the shadows from exhaustion.
Alex let his head fall back down, the softest of all breaths he could still manage escaped him.
"Cub!"
Dammit, Travis. Learn to cut your ropes yourself. Alex groaned in refusal.
"Cub!" The kid was closer now. A loud thumping, and a childish curse. Must've tripped over his own feet. Wasn't easy with the chair tied to their feet after all. "Hey Cub, can you hear me?"
"I'm dead, not deaf."
"Good," the kid sighed in relief, and inched closer.
More thumping. Poor chair, he thought. Struggled to breath. Couldn't get air. Felt exposed. Something screeched. Were there vultures? Where's K-Unit? Fox? Wolf? Snake? Hell, he'd take Eagle too.
A loud screech. The door, he thought dimly. The door.
Thump. Shuffles. Loud curses. Could the kid be any louder?
"-elp! Help! He's—"
"-it's okay. Wolf go—"
"God, Alex—"
How did Travis know his name? Goddammit. Did Jack wake up again? There were more voices. Shit, was he hallucinating?
Suddenly, the weight was pulled off his chest, and his leg was extended. Ropes were gone, he realized. Ropes were gone. That meant Travis did something. Thank God, he should've trusted the kid more.
"-it shit shit, he's bleeding out! Snake get over—"
"Cub can you—"
"—his leg. Fucking bastard shot him—"
"Lexy!"
"Get her out of here! Why the hell is she—"
Then, the loudest. "Alex, Alex, look at me. It's Fox. Ben. You're okay. You're safe. I've got you. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me."
Fox? Ben. He wanted to say his name. He ended up choking in his own blood. His lung—breathe. He couldn't—He couldn't breathe. He—breathe. Air. He needed to—he needed to—
"Shit, his lungs—"
"Put pressure—"
"His leg—"
"I know, Wolf! Goddammit I know!" Someone roared. "We need a helo. He doesn't have time—"
"ETA thirty sec—"
Faintly, "-see him! Let me see him!"
"Get that kid out of here!"
"No no no no, Alex stay with me—"
"He's not—"
"—too much blood—"
"—losing him—"
Then blissfully, silence.