Hey guys! So sorry I didn't post last weekend. I was moving into my new apartment so life got a bit out of control.

P.S. I had to put a bit of Ressler's and even a bit of Cooper POV in here for pacing and plotting purposes.


We are just now getting word of a story developing out of Hong Kong. Sources say authorities there have apprehended legendary criminal Raymond Reddington. He's been on the FBI's Most Wanted list longer than any other fugitive, but tonight, sources are confirming Reddington was arrested in Hong Kong just hours ago. Reddington was once a rising star at the Pentagon. Sources say he was being groomed for admiral when, on Christmas Eve, 1990, while on his way home to visit his wife and daughter, Reddington vanished.

Four years later, Reddington resurfaced and was charged with treason in absentia for selling top-secret American intelligence to foreign states.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

The guard took Red's elbow roughly and led him out of the helicopter and onto the landing pad. "From this point forward, you don't exist." He stated meancingly.

Red chuckled as he looked around him, out at the open sea. "Oh, that's a load off."

The guard quirked an eyebrow sardonically before the world went black as the man cast a hood over Red's head.

/\/\/\/\/\

Just hours ago, the US State Department confirmed Reddington has been remanded into US custody, but officials will not comment on his current location.

"Reddington's off the radar." Cooper's gruff voice stated solemnly, his gaze almost pitying as he looked at Lizzie.

Lizzie stood frozen as her heart raced. "What do you mean?"

Cooper shrugged helplessly. "We don't know where Reddington is. CIA's not saying."

Lizzie scowled as she brought her hands together, rubbing the scar on her right wrist with her thumb. "Why not? Reddington's our asset."

"Only 41 people in the US government know that. I've talked to all of them. Nobody knows where he is."

Lizzie felt his presence as Ressler slowly drew closer to her, wanting to be near her.

"He's been on the run for 25 years. His arrest was bound to happen." Samar stated flippantly.

Ressler shook his head. "No, Reddington moves too fluidly to get caught up in something as obvious as a public assassination in Hong Kong. No, he wanted this to happen."

Lizzie bit her lip. "What if he didn't?" She questioned hesitantly. Ressler looked over at her, the corners of his eyes softening.

"Why would Mr. Reddington want to get captured?" Aram chimed in.

There was a pause as everyone raced through scenarios in his head. "His arrest happened overseas." Samar thought aloud. "We have to assume he wanted proximity to something."

"Well, if he's grabbed, it's either by the CIA ground branch or JSOC." Ressler reasoned.

Lizzie's brow furrowed. "You think it's an intelligence apparatus that's holding him?"

That was never good. She knew how intel was gathered. The idea of her dad being tortured made her sick to her stomach. Lizzie knew in some distant part of her head that he must have been at some point, with the life he led. That didn't mean she wanted to think about it. And it sure as hell didn't mean she wanted to sit around and do nothing while she knew it was happening.

"Scrub our sources at Langley, and do it fast." Cooper ordered. "Once they drop him in whatever hole he's headed for he's not coming back."

/\/\/\/\/\

Red blinked heavily against the sudden light as his hood was removed. His eyes shifted, attempting to look behind him as a heavy metal door clanged shut on its rusty hinges. The chains holding his arms out to either side of him, spread eagle clanged as he turned to look at the man in front of him – another guard.

"202 555 0151" His voice was a low timber.

"You speak when you're spoken to."

"202 555 0151. Call the number. Ask for a houseman." Red raised a brow as the man walked away, heading back towards the door. "Call the number. $50,000 will be transferred into the account of your choice. $50,000." He saw the man hesitate, his hand stuttering near the door handle. "All I want is two minutes with your warden."

The guard looked back at him out of the corner of his eye before finally exiting the cell, the clang of the door closing, echoing ominously around the dank room.

/\/\/\/\/\

Ressler hustled across the war room. "Hey. Hey." He called, getting everyone's attention. "We got him." He announced as Cooper, Liz, and the rest of the team gathered around. "CIA analyst at Langley confirmed they're holding Reddington at an off-book lockdown called 'The Factory.'"

Samar's lips twitched in a frown. "That's bad news. That's really bad news."

Aram's eyes shifted from Cooper, to Samar, then to Ressler. "That place is real?"

Lizzie looked around at everyone's shocked and solemn faces and her pulse began to rise. "The Factory? Wait, what's The Factory?"

Cooper sighed. "It's a level-10 detention facility specifically designed to process detainees who've been trained to withstand interrogation and torture. Assets are brought in, information is squeezed out – data, intel, anything that may be of value."

"This place is a slaughterhouse for spies." Aram said softly.

Cooper stared at Lizzie, his eyes conveying both his pity and worry – or her or for her dad, she wasn't sure. "They reduce them to ones and zeroes. What's left is a husk that either rots away behind bars or is executed outright."

Lizzie's eyes grew in horror as she shook her head disbelievingly. "We've got to get him out of there."

"You think the CIA's gonna let us talk to him, just walk right in there?" Ressler asked gently, sidling up next to her and he surreptitiously wrapped his pinky finger around hers under the table. "No."

"He's our asset." Lizzie reasoned, desperately hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky to everyone else as it did to her own ears.

"No, they're gonna keep him all to themselves." Samar stated baldly.

Cooper sighed as he shifted his cane from one hand to the other and scratched his head with the free hand. "If he went to this factory on purpose, I suspect it was to make contact with somebody he couldn't get to on the outside. Reddington gave up 25 years of freedom to see this guy. I want to know who he is and what intel he's got that's so damned important." He muttered before walking away, leaning heavily on his cane.

/\/\/\/\/\

Red shifted on his feet as best he could with them shackled to the walls. He smiled benignly as the Warden was buzzed into his cell, another officer standing guard at the door. "Master Sergeant Desmond says you offered him a bribe. Care to explain?"

Red gazed at the Warden as if he were bored. "Within 12 hours, inmate Luther Todd Braxton will break out of his cell. When he does, he will steal a classified intelligence packet that contains secrets vital to your National Security. The means for his escape and his team are already in place." Red listed off the facts.

The Warden snorted in disbelief. "This story feels like a desperate last gasp from a dying man."

Red smirked, shrugging his shoulders as best he could. "Could be. Regardless, if you don't move quickly, the prison will be overrun and the dozens of innocent men and women who operate this facility will be subdued and executed, beginning with you."

The Warden, noting the gravity of Red's tone, shifted on his feet. "Luther Braxton is in solitary."

Red raised a brow and shook his head. "Not for long."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie paced the interior of her and Ressler's shared office, her arms folded tightly around her chest as she counted her steps, only looking up from the floor for a moment when she heard the door open and close. When she saw it was just Don, she began pacing once more.

"Hey, hey, c'mon." Don murmured. Hurrying over to her, Don stepped in front of her and wrapped his arms around her tightly, drawing her to his chest. "It's gonna be alright, babe. I promise."

Lizzie let out a quaking sob that was too long in the making. "I can't lose him Don, I can't!" She cried, unfolding her arms between them and wrapping them around Don's lower torso.

Don kissed her forehead gently as he ran his fingers soothingly through her hair. "You're not going to. We're going to do everything we can – you know that."

Lizzie nodded weakly before laying her head on his shoulder, allowing him to comfort her. Her silence was meant to comfort him. She didn't have the strength to be so optimistic at the moment. So she stayed silent and allowed him to be optimistic for the both of them.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Everyone paused what they were doing as, one by one, they all noticed the female stranger walking out of the elevator. The thin blond woman in a well fitted pant suit was an unknown and the team immediately had their hackles raised.

"Agent Cooper, Kat Goodson." The woman introduced herself as she walked up to him. Cooper, the only one who seemed to recognize her, reluctantly shook the hand she had thrust in front of him. "As you know, the Director has brought me here to liaison with your task force."

"Of course. We've met – the correspondents' dinner."

Goodson smiled warmly. "Ah. You were the scotch – neat?" Cooper smiled wanly, impressed but too stressed to do much else. "Please, tell us what you know."

"I'm not at liberty to say." Cooper intoned.

Goodson raised a brow as if unused to people saying such a thing to her. She probably wasn't. "The clandestine service is aware of the arrangement your task force has with Reddington. It's why we're running point through your office."

"Well, then perhaps the Director should've notified me before sending Reddington to The Factory." Cooper rebuked.

"The section chief sent a cable from the warden." Everyone startled slightly at the sudden appearance of a tanned, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and wire rimmed glasses. This man was quite recognizable. He was the famous ghost who no one was supposed to know anything and therefore everyone in the intelligence world knew his face. This was the Director of the CIA. "Said that Raymond Reddington claims that a detainee, one Luther Braxton, poses a National Security threat, and we're hoping that you can tell us something about their connection."

Cooper raised both eyebrows, intrigued. "I don't know. Who's Luther Braxton?"

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie taped a picture onto the evidence board of a man with buzzed white hair and a jaw that looked like he could use it to demolish a wall. "Braxton is a thief. Interpol's been hunting him for years. He plans his heists to occur in the midst of chaos. He is organized, meticulous, and he is bloody."

Aram cleared his throat. "He stole $282 million from Baghdad in the middle of Operation Shock and Awe, abducted a CIA asset out of Iran during the '09 election protests. Later, he sold his secrets to Beijing."

"The CIA announced his death two months ago." Ressler stated, voicing his confusion.

Goodson shrugged her shoulders from where she stood against one of the work stations. "We say that about a lot of the inmates at The Factory. Truth is Braxton's being interrogated for secrets he stole from the Chinese, from the Iranians, us."

Ressler shook his head, his face pinched. "Well, my money's on the fact that these two have a history together. Reddington, Braxton – they're planning something."

Lizzie schooled her face into neutrality even though she wanted to beat Don upside the head and throw him on the couch for the night.

"Whatever it is, you're going to find out." Cooper stated.

Liz did a double take. "Oh, we don't have authorization." She said dumbly.

Goodson smiled thinly at her. "You do now. Get to Reddington. Find out what he's up to."

/\/\/\/\/\

Ressler and Liz hustled down the hall from their office. Whipping her phone out of her pocket, Lizzie hit #2 on her speed dial.

"Hey, Dembe, I'm gonna need you and Ezra to do me a favor."

"You need us to watch Sam while you go in search of Raymond?"

Lizzie chuckled, unsure why she would be shocked that he knew, but she was. "Yes, jerk."

They both went silent and there was a pregnant pause.

"He will be fine, Elizabeth. You must trust him to know what he's doing." Dembe's deep timbre crackled over the line.

"I do. I know he knows what he's doing. But he can't predict what the people around him are gonna do all the time, Dembe." Liz sighed. "Eventually his luck's gonna run out."

/\/\/\/\/\

Red raised his head, awoken from his sorry attempt for some rest by the sound of blaring sirens. He could no longer feel his arms, the constricted circulation created by his awkward position had caused even the tingly, pins-and-needles sensation to have dissipated what seems like hours ago.

Red watched as the Warden rushed into his cell and smiled darkly.

"Tell me what you know." The Warden demanded.

Red sighed, shaking his head pityingly. "I tried. It's too late. You've lost your facility."

The Warden advanced on Red menacingly, punching his index finger into Red's chest. "No, you tell me I'm gonna have an escape before it happens. Now you're getting evac'd out?"

Red's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why the hell am I getting evac'd out?"

The Warden snorted. "Orders from up top. Bureau's been cleared to send a team, incoming now."

Red's stomach dropped. No. She wouldn't. "Radio that chopper. Tell them to turn around." He was unable to keep some of the desperation from his voice and it caused the Warden pause.

"Why? What's happening here?"

One of the guards who'd been stationed in the hall came into Red's cell and walked over to the Warden. "We got a problem. ERF failed."

The tick under Red's eye began to twitch as he rolled his tongue. "Radio the chopper." He ordered.

"They're sending in the riot squad." The guard continued.

The Warden gave a frustrated huff before spinning on his heel and heading out of the cell. "Get him to the evac team!" He ordered.

"Radio the chopper!" Red shouted.

/\/\/\/\/\

Ressler held his mic close to his mouth, gazing at an iPad in his lap as he tried to be heard over the sounds of the helicopter. "Inmate number 2532, Xavier Chavez. I know this name. He was a court-martialed special operator out of Fort Carson." Ressler shook his head as he went down the list of inmates. "We got Kun Phan, AKA 'Cambodian Carl.' Did 10 years in USP Florence for hacking US Missile Defense Agency."

"What are you thinking?" Lizzie questioned, recognizing when Ressler had something on his mind.

Ressler looked over at her where she sat next to him, his lips pursed. "I'm counting three, five, maybe more guys who've all been processed into this facility within the last three months. Got a munitions expert, special forces." Ressler scrolled through the list. "I'm counting eight guys here – Khalid Sankar, Yemeni medic; Jonah Rodriguez, ex-Marine; and Cyrus Choy– he's a Red Pole enforcer out of Taiwan."

Lizzie groaned in agitation as she caught onto where Ressler was heading with this. "He's got an entire team in place."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

They hop out of the chopper the moment it landed on the oil rig-turned-prison and began running towards an entrance until they were barred by a guard.

"Got to turn you back! We're in a full-facility lockdown! We've had a breach! Detainee has taken –" The man went down the same moment they heard the shot. As more shots rained down, everyone took cover. Lizzie hid behind an air duct, losing sight of Ressler and Navabi.

"Aah! Aah!" Lizzie looked around desperately at the sound of Samar's cries.

"Easy!" Lizzie heard Ressler try to calm Navabi. She stood to a crouch, planning to go to them when she was stopped by unintelligible yelling. Ducking for cover once more, Lizzie listened to the clear sounds of Don and Samar being put into cuffs, Samar's cries of pain.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Desmond to Deck Command, prisoner for transport, come back." The guard yelled into his radio as he escorted Red through the corridors.

"That $50,000 is still on the table, Desmond." Red stated as he awkwardly walked with his feet and hands shackled. "It's yours for the taking. All you got to do is help me to help you stay alive."

/\/\/\/\/\

Ressler turned his head to gaze at his fellow agent at the sound of her grunting. "Samar?" He questioned worriedly, ignoring the silently bleeding man between them for the time being. He was fairly certain he had been a guard at the prison, judging by his bloodied uniform.

"Ressler, I can't put any weight on my foot."

Sure enough, when Ressler looked down as best he could with a noose around his neck, he saw Samar's toes grazing the cement block – the only thing keeping her from having her neck snapped and her airways constricted. She was able to just barely keep her footing with her right foot, but she clearly couldn't keep any weight on the foot that had been shot. And the blood was making the block slippery. He could hear her gasp for breath each time she tried to regain her footing.

"Horrible, isn't it– this room– this is where all the prisoners come to die. After you break their minds. They're led here like cattle for you to slaughter."

Ressler looked over at the criminal who had spoken – a middle aged middle eastern man with a small pot belly and combat boots. "When they put down your little rebellion, pal, you're gonna take my place up here, I swear." Ressler spat.

The man smirked at Ressler before kicking the man beside him in the legs, knocking his feet out from underneath him. The man immediately began choking, gasping as he wreathed and twitched, his legs trying to find purchase but unable to feel the block as he swung. The criminal and his buddies began laughing at the man's plight.

"Hey! Get on your feet!" Ressler shouted, balancing on one foot and swinging his other out at the man, attempting to guide his legs. "Get your feet! Get on your feet!" He ordered. It was a safe bet that a guard at this prison was military. "Get on your feet! Stay! Get on your feet!"

The laughter continued even after the man finally finally got to his feet – coughing and wheezing.

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie stretched her head around the corner, attempting to see around it before proceeding when she felt arms come around her shoulders from behind. Lizzie gasped as the person spun her to face them.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Lizzie immediately recognized Red's harsh whisper.

"I came to help get you out." She hissed indignantly, her heart still racing.

"You really should not have come here, Lizzie." Red stated, his eyes almost sad.

"What? Why?"

"Luther Braxton is after the Fulcrum, Lizzie." Red said quietly, solemnly.

Lizzie froze, her eyes widening as the scope of the problem finally began to unfold. "So… what? Is he trying to break out to try and go find it?"

Red huffed out a dark laugh. "He doesn't need to."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, annoyed when it was clear he wasn't going to continue. "I'm gonna need a bit more than that, Dad." She whispered.

Red sighed. "This place isn't just a prison. It's an intelligence hub – a direct link to real-time intelligence servers and satellites. The information they obtain from their 'interrogations' can have a huge effect on the outcome of current missions at any given time."

Lizzie looked at her dad in growing horror. "They put a bunch of the world's worst criminals and terrorists inside of an intelligence hub?!"

Red shrugged his shoulders, a dispassionate frown on his face. "No one can ever say there's much intelligence in the intelligence business."

Lizzie sighed as she scratched her forehead. "Okay so… what does that mean for us?"

Red began to roll his tongue and looked away from her. "It means that if he gets his hands on that information, he will know about that night, Lizzie. He'll know that I may or may not have it. But more importantly – especially in light of recent things you've done everything but divulged to me – he'll know about you. And if he knows, then the Cabal will too."

Red tried to stare Lizzie into realizing the magnitude of the situation. Lizzie just stared right back, her countenance hardening with determination. "I can help you." She whispered passionately.

Red shook his head tiredly. "No, you need to leave."

"Don and Samar have been taken hostage."

Red closed his eyes heavily. "They shouldn't even be here. You never should've come here." He sounded so weary, Lizzie wanted to give him a big hug. But she knew now really wasn't the time.

"Why didn't you come to us?" Lizzie argued. "What aren't you telling me? Why don't you want me here?"

Red groaned. It was times like these when Red really hated his daughter's stubborn nature. "I'll get to Ressler and Samar as soon as I can, but you need to get back on that chopper." He took her by the elbow and tried to lead her in the direction she had just come.

Lizzie dug in her heels. "Not without Ressler and Samar or you." Red heaved a great sigh but released her arm. "Now, how are we gonna stop Braxton? He has an entire team."

Red smiled sardonically. "Well, sadly, there isn't a prison on Earth where I don't know a few guys."

/\/\/\/\/\

"If Braxton wants to access the secrets they beat out of us, he's gonna need to get into the server, which is only accessible from the Nest." The man with the British accent explained as he bent over a blueprint of the facility.

"How about during a lockdown?" Red questioned."

Red's British associate shook his head. "This facility's like a submarine. It's compartmentalized. It can only be shut down by sections. The security protocols render the entire server room completely inaccessible."

"How the hell do you know that? I didn't know that." The guard, Desmond questioned harshly.

Red smiled benignly over at the guard. "Khan has broken out of seven prisons. This will be eight."

"This server room – where is it?" Lizzie spoke up, trying to prevent the conversation from getting derailed.

Khan pointed to a section of the blueprint. "Northwest quadrant, basement. We can't get you inside, but the German – he has an idea." He stated, looking over at an older man with a weathered face and white whiskers.

The German man merely scowled at them and nodded his head towards Lizzie. "Who is she? Who is this girl?" He asked brusquely, his thick accent coloring his words.

"She's with me." Red stated simply. "Your idea?"

The German frowned before poking his finger at another section of the blueprint. "The boiler room. It's located next to the server room. If you could get there, you could reprogram it to overload. The pressure would cause an explosion."

Lizzie looked down at where h pointed. "That would blow up the server room?"

The German shrugged, nonchalant. "If you're lucky, you'll take out the server room. If you're unlucky, the whole prison craters."

"You said, 'If you could get there.'" Red pointed out.

Khan nodded in answer rather than the German. "Yes, the only way into the boiler room undetected is through a single air duct that's less than 24 inches square."

"Looks like I'm the tunnel rat." Liz said on a sigh.

Red frowned. He didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. "All right. Khan will guide you to the boiler room. Gernert and I will be waiting for you to let us in, then you'll reprogram the system."

"Good." Gernert nodded.

"What about me? What's my job?" The man who'd been quietly sitting on the couch behind him, his tattooed face expressionless finally spoke up.

"You don't have a job. You're here because of what your cartel did to Felix Moralez and my people in Reynosa." Red spoke without turning to face the man. Once he'd finished talking however, he stole the guard's gun from his holster on a spin and shot the man on the couch. Turning back to the rest of the group, he smiled innocently. "Okay. Shall we go to work?"

Lizzie stared at her dad, a scowl on her face. "We are so discussing that later."

Red went to reply but was cut off by the ringing of the office phone. He looked around at the gathered group, their faces all showing their apprehension. Deciding to bite bullet, Red shrugged and picked up the phone.

"I'm sorry. The warden can't get to the phone right now. May I please take a message?" He paused for a long moment but received no reply. "Nothing? Not a 'Hello, how are you?' Say something, Luther." Red coaxed jovially.

"Reddington." A deep rumble came over the receiver.

"That's me."

"You're locked out, Red. I have complete control over this hellhole."

Red smiled easily though Braxton couldn't see it. "I'm confident you've got a plan for every imaginable scenario, but it's the scenarios you can't imagine that bite you in the ass, Luther, like me here."

"Do you think this is something that snuck up on me? After Belgrade?"

Red chuckled. "Ah. Belgrade. Boy, things got nasty in Belgrade, didn't they?"

Braxton guffawed and Red imagined he was shaking his head in disdain. "It's funny– up until then, I was aimless, just an ordinary thief, but after Belgrade, I became known as the man who bested the great Ray Reddington."

Red's face lost all shadows of civility. "You didn't best me, Luther. You butchered and clawed your way into my pockets, and innocent people died in the process."

"You're such a snob, Red. Always considered yourself above the fray with your handmade suits and your fancy wine, your private jets. Do you even drive? You got everybody convinced you're so hard, Red, but I know better. You're soft."

Red was silent for a moment as he rolled his tongue. "You're not getting the Fulcrum."

"And how you gonna stop me, Red? Bore me to death with Beethoven? Put me to sleep quoting Nietzsche? Come on. We both know that in order to stop me, you got to have balls. You got to run the gauntlet. And after Belgrade, well that's just not gonna happen. So, tell me – how are you gonna stop me, Red?"

"A wise man can learn more from a foolish question than a fool can learn from a wise answer."

"Was that Nietzsche?"

"No. Bruce Lee." Red hug up the phone.

/\/\/\/\/\

"This man has an abdominal wound. He's going to die." Ressler looked over to see Samar speaking to the Middle Eastern man. He looked at the nameless guy strung up between them and knew she was right. If this guy didn't get help, he was going to die.

"Let him down. Damn it, let him down!" Ressler pleaded angrily.

Before it could go further, the door opened.

/\/\/\/\/\

Ressler watched stonily as Luther Braxton brought his radio closer to his mouth.

"Okay, Harold, let's test your reflexes. This entire facility has been put into lockdown meaning that all existing codes that ran this prison have been invalidated."

"We're aware of that." Cooper's voice crackled over the line.

Braxton nodded decisively. "Good, then you must also be aware that one single code has been generated by the mainframe – a master code giving to the CIA and any rescue units all access. I want it."

"Understood. I can get my people working on that right away."

"Okay. Your reflexes, Harold– shabby. Mine, however– lightning quick." Braxton spun on his heel and shot a female guard who had been herded in here with a small group of prison employees. "You just cost an innocent woman her life, which means we'll just have to go get ourselves another one." Braxton walked over and stood directly in front of Samar.

"Let me set the scene for you, just like them old radio dramas your granny used to listen to. I'm standing in front of a tall, fit very attractive Persian girl by the name of Samar Navabi. Maybe you're familiar with her. Anyway, Miss Navabi has a noose around her neck– her very long, lovely neck, which is about to get a lot longer unless you give me the code. I'll give you 10 minutes."

He depressed the button and smiled up at Samar. Ressler wanted to kill him.

/\/\/\/\

"Cooper." Cooper's voice came over the radio once more.

"The code." Braxton ordered.

"If I give it to you, what assurance do I have that no hostages will be harmed?"

"None. The code."

With a nod of Braxton's head, the Middle Eastern man pressed a button on the panel on the wall. A machine began to whir and Ressler looked around wildly. At the sound of choking, his eyes were drawn over to Samar where she was slowly being raised higher and higher, the noose around her neck tightening as she gasped and struggled.

"You hear that sound, Harold?" Braxton put the radio up close to Samar's face to ensure that the people on the other end could hear her death gasps. "That's the sound of Agent Navabi's neck being broken."

"Please. Stop." Samar gasped out.

"The code!"

"Dallas, Foxtrot, one, Charlie, three, seven, two. Now let– " Braxton shut off the radio and nodded once more at the Middle Eastern man. Samar was immediately lowered to her feet once more, coughing and wheezing as she forced air back into her lungs.

/\/\/\/\/\

Ressler looked over at Samar as she began talking in Arabic – a short phrase but it seemed to do the trick as the man hesitated by the door before pressing a button. The man strung up between them immediately had slack in his rope and he fell to the ground with a pained groan.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Hey, once you make that last turn, it's gonna be about 10 more feet." The British man's voice came softly over the radio as Lizzie crawled her way through the air ducts. "Gonna see a vent there going down."

Lizzie groaned as she pulled herself forward. "Yeah, I think I see it. I'm here."

"Follow that, and you're in."

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie coughed as she waited for the door to open, the mechanical whirring of the automated door moving at a snail's pace. The moment he was able, Red squeezed in and walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder where she was bent over, still hacking.

"You all right?" He questioned as the German walked over to the boiler and got to work.

Lizzie nodded, rising to her full height as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "Yeah."

"Are you sure?" He asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

Lizzie nodded once more. "Uh-huh."

Red nodded as they walked over to where the German stood, inspecting the boiler. "Have you ever heard of Bruno Ashmanskis? The most skilled cat burglar I've ever had the pleasure of working with." Red talked animatedly. "Bruno mostly did jobs on commission, but he always wanted to do something for himself, something special, so he got it into his head that he was gonna break into the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge to steal an imperial vase from the Qing Dynasty worth millions – the single biggest trophy of his career."

"What happened?" Lizzie asked, always enjoying her dad's stories.

Red shrugged his shoulders, his hands in his pockets and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. "I never heard from him again. I'd always assumed he'd succeeded, that he was sipping some umbrella-clad cocktail on a beach in Tahiti, until five years later during a remodel of the Fitzwilliam, they removed a wall." Red looked over at Lizzie, smiling jovially. "There was poor Bruno– what was left of him, anyway – stuck inside a heating duct, still clutching that vase." He paused in thought. "I prefer to think of old Bruno on that beach in Tahiti."

Lizzie looked at her dad, her eyes half lidded with annoyance. She supposed she should just be happy he waited until after she got out of the air ducts to tell the tale.

"We have a problem." Gernert announced suddenly.

Red spun on his heel to face the German man. "Mm. What?"

/\/\/\/\/\

"How much longer?" Khan questioned.

Red pursed his lips. "We've had a setback. Gernert is working on alternatives."

The aforementioned man shook his head. "I'm telling you– There are no other options. This model has redundant computerized safeguards. If I attempt to over-pressurize the boiler tank, those safeguards kick in automatically."

"There's nothing you can do to override it?" Lizzie asked.

Gernert let out a huff of air. "It would have to be done manually. That means someone standing here, resetting those pressure-relief valves every 90 seconds, while someone else mans the temperature controls until this pressure cooker hits 700 PSI, and that is not gonna be me." He explained before turning on his heel and heading towards the door.

"You're not going anywhere." Red stated darkly.

Gernert snorted. "Yeah, I am. Because whoever stays here to do this manually is gonna be blown into a million pieces."

Red drew the gun he'd taken from Desmond out of where he'd "holstered" it in the back waistband of his pants. "Or just one." He stated, aiming at Gernert.

Lizzie stepped forward, her arm stretched out. "Wait. You shoot him, they'll hear. They'll be here within 60 seconds – We can do this, you and I." Lizzie paused and looked over at Gernert. "After the pressure reaches 700, how long do we have until it explodes?"

Gernert shook his head as he thought before shrugging. "Anywhere from 10 to 20 seconds, but there's no way to know for sure. You're better off walking away now." He stated before following his own advice and walked away.

The man with the British accent let out a hysterical burst of laughter. "Look, Red, you know that after Delhi, I'd do anything for you, but the truth is, you'd be lucky to get off this rig, and whatever your plan is, I'm not a part of it. I've helped you. I've done my piece. Way I see it, we're even for Delhi."

Red gazed solemnly at the man before giving him a sharp nod. The man didn't hesitate to leave.

Lizzie walked up to her dad and placed her hand in his. "We can do this." She murmured.

/\/\/\/\/\

Red cranked the lever and pulled away as a gust of hot steam came blowing out with a hiss. "One." He murmured before going onto the next one. "Two." The air hissed once more. "Three." This time, the hiss was accompanied by beeping.

Lizzie quickly flipped a switch on the control panel. "650 PSI. A few more, and the boiler blows." She stated as she studied the meters. Tearing her gaze away, Lizzie looked over at her dad. "You know I love you, right?"

Red's lips became white as he pursed them together. He blew out a loud breath from his nose and looked away. "We're not doing this."

"Doing what?" Lizzie inquired with a small laugh riddled with tension.

"We're not doing the we're-about-to-die-emotional-outpouring thing. We're not about to die. I won't allow that to happen. Do you understand me?

"Well maybe it's not a we're-about-to-die sort of thing, alright?" She asked, getting flustered. "Maybe it's a we're-in-a-really-shit-situation-and-I've-realized-I-don't-say-this-enough sort of I love you. You ass."

Red gave a bark of a laugh as he began going down the line once more, pulling levers and dodging the hissing steam until the control panel beeped, at which point, Lizzie would hit the over ride switch again.

"What's the number?"

"680." Lizzie murmured.

"You keep me from getting lost, Lizzie."

If he had spoken any lower, she wouldn't have been able to hear him. Even now, it took a moment for the words to form any coherent string in her head. "Lost how?" She asked hesitantly.

Red smiled sadly and looked away. "In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra. They were lost. They found themselves living in complete darkness. But they didn't die. Instead, they thrived. They adapted. They lost their pigmentation, their sight, eventually even their eyes. With survival, they became hideous. I've rarely thought about what I once was." Red looked over at her. "But every time I come home from a deal or with new blood on my hands, I see you – a little sun burst. And I can imagine, just for a moment. I can imagine that I am regaining some pigment. That I can see again. And every time, you guide me out of the cage. Remind me who I am in your eyes." Red looked down at his feet. "You keep me from getting lost." He said gruffly before beginning to pull levers once more.

Lizzie stared at her father, wanting nothing more than to wrap him up in a big bear hug. Just as she was about to follow through, however, the panel began beeping. Though she flipped the switch, an alarm began to go off. It was about to blow.

A loud ping and a small rain of sparks let off near Red's head and he ducked quickly, pushing Lizzie to the side as a sudden barrage of gunfire followed their movements. Braxton's team must have found them.

"Get out of here!" Red yelled over the din, pushing Lizzie towards the exit as they hid behind some piping.

Everything went red.

/\/\/\/\/\

Lizzie coughed, gasping in a breath as she sat up, wincing as her side twinged. Looking down at her legs, Lizzie sighed, moving a few bits of broken piping off of her. Lizzie then whipped her head back and forth, searching.

Her eyes finally alighted on the sight of her dad laying under a pile of sheet metal, unmoving. "Red?" She called. No response. "Dad!" Lizzie crawled over to him and leaned over him, trying to feel his breath on her cheek. There was nothing. "No! Breathe!" She cried, getting up onto her knees and starting chest compressions. "Oh, my God. Dad, breathe." She begged as tears began to leave clean tracks down her cheeks.

She sniffled, breathing heavily as she continued compressions. She paused, bending over in hopes of feeling his breath. Nothing. "Breathe, you son of a bitch!" She growled.

"Down here– the boiler room!" A distant voice cried, forcing Lizzie to pause. Thinking quickly, Lizzie covered her dad once more with the sheet metal, hiding him and sent a little prayer to whoever may be listening before standing up just as the wanna-be commandos walked up. Trying to keep their focus on her, Lizzie went on the offensive, punching the first guy in the face and landing a nice blow to the other guys stomach before they both converged on her, restraining her.

"Take her to Braxton." Thing 1 ordered.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Paper-Dog, we are 10-zero minutes from primary target. Requesting authorization to arm and engage."

As the pilot's voice came across the speakers, Cooper turned to Goodson. "You can't let this happen."

Goodson raised a perfectly sculpted brow. "Don't put this on me. You gave up that code."

"You have three federal agents and at least 40 innocent hostages in that facility. Inmates included, over a hundred lives will be lost." Cooper tried to persuade her.

Goodson sighed, shaking her head. "I don't agree with this course of action, but I understand it. We're doing damage control because you couldn't make the tough call."

Cooper's lips thinned in anger. "We don't even know what Braxton's after. What the hell is so important in that database that someone wants to kill all those people on the chance that he might get it? If you think I'm just gonna roll with this, you're wrong."

Goodson snorted, rolling her eyes. "What are you gonna do? Go to the Post? The Times? This whole operation is deep black. It doesn't exist. Every trace will be incinerated the moment Reddington's a confirmed kill." She paused, allowing that to sink in. "You know what happens to whistle-blowers– kooks, paranoid freaks. You'll be a keynote speaker in their next woo-woo convention, and your people will be just as dead."

/\/\/\/\/\

"Reddington, get up. You got to get up! Red!"

Red could hear shouting as if from a distance. Shaking his head, feeling woozy, he quickly came to, gasping and coughing as air forced its way into his lungs as if on its own volition. "Where is she? Where is she?" He spluttered.

/\/\/\/\/\

Braxton raised a brow as Lizzie was escorted into the control room. "Who the hell are you?"

"The server's gone." Thing 1 stated. "She blew it up." He continued with a nod in her direction. "Carl is dead and so are the others."

Braxton frowned, glaring at Lizzie. Lizzie stared back, her shoulders square, a small smirk on her face. "Get Beck and Wolcott on it." He ordered his men.

"You don't understand." Thing 2 argued. "The prisoners are loose. And if they find out we have a chopper en route, we're gonna have a real problem. We need to go now."

Braxton paused a moment before bursting into action, his fist connecting with Lizzie's jaw, knocking her against some of the computer equipment. "Where's Reddington?"

Lizzie swallowed heavily. "He's dead."

/\/\/\/\/\

"I count at least a dozen cells destroyed." Desmond grunted as he heaved a desk against the door, trying to form a barricade. "We've got inmates in the southeast quad."

Red's lips pouted in concentration as he loaded up a double barreled shotgun. "You seem like a decent guy, Desmond. You should do something else for a living."

Desmond shook his head, disbelieving. "I just told you the animals are loose. You can't get to the Nest without going through them. They're gonna kill you out there! What are you gonna do?"

Red cocked the gun, striding towards the door. "I'm gonna get her back."

Red kicked the door to the yard open, firing on an inmate who ran towards him.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! I'm gonna need that shotgun."

Red glanced at the man who stood upon a table yelling at him. Raising his gun, he fired, hitting the man square in the chest. He was a rather large man. It was a rather large chest. Hard to miss.

He continued walking, heading towards the North hall.

/\/\/\/\/\

"It's over." Lizzie stated firmly. "The server's destroyed."

One of Braxton's men came jogging into the room. "Sir, we got reports of gunfire in the north hall. Now I can't raise anyone on the comms."

Braxton hissed, glaring at Lizzie. "Reddington." He murmured before looking back to his man. "Head him off. Get the chopper. Let Yousef handle the hostages."

/\/\/\/\/\

"Paper-Dog, ETA two minutes. Making final approach to target."

Cooper stared at Goodson as Aram glanced from him to the screen which showed the radar image of the fighter jet heading towards the Factory.

/\/\/\/\/\

Red could see through the window as Braxton forced Lizzie to kneel, aiming a gun at the back of her head. With renewed vigor, Red fired on any man in his way, his face a mask of cold stone. Just as he reached the Nest, the shotgun ran out of ammo. Throwing it away from him, he seamlessly drew his pistol, aiming rapid fire at the men surrounding Braxton and clipping Braxton himself in the shoulder. He watched as Lizzie threw herself to the ground as Braxton released his weapon, falling back against a control panel.

Red let out a small breath as Lizzie stood back up, aiming Braxton's own weapon at him.

"All this, Luther, and you don't even know what the hell you're looking for." He murmured as he walked into the room, his eyes glancing towards Lizzie in a quick body check. She looked alright. Except for a few scrapes. And a rather large bruise blossoming on her face.

Braxton was going to pay for that.

"I know what it's worth." Braxton stated, clutching his arm to his side in an effort to keep his shoulder still.

Red let out a guffaw, shaking his head. The man truly had no idea. "It's not what you think. It's not a golden ticket. It's a target on your back."

"I know all the stories, Red." Braxton replied with a sigh. "I know where it was and I know when it disappeared. I know about the house, the fire, the girl."

/\/\/\/\/\

Ressler looked over at Samar to see her eyes closed, her face placid. Accepting. As a gun cocked behind him, Ressler let out a small breath and closed his own eyes, an image popped into his mind's eye - of Lizzie laughing as she tickled Sammy on the couch. Little Sammy's joyful squeal.

/\/\/\/\/\

Aram spun in his chair to face Cooper. "Sir, I just got word. The missiles have been launched. Impact in 30 seconds."

Cooper closed his eyes against the onslaught of grief.

/\/\/\/\/\

Braxton seemed to freeze for a moment before looking over at Lizzie, his eyes widening. "No wonder you came for her." He looked to Red. "She was there that night, wasn't she? She's the one?"

Red's swallowed before his cool mask slammed into place. "Shoot him." He barked at Lizzie. "Shoot him!"

Lizzie cocked the weapon and paused, looking out the window as did both of the men at the sound of a high frequency whistle.

Then everything went red.