Chapter Eighteen: Captured
If Classified could put his feelings into a single word, he'd say 'agitated'. Despite the fact that Eva had managed to compile a list of likely locations, Blowhole was a slippery fellow. Many of the locations had been abandoned and then wiped, completely devoid of any evidence that anyone had ever been there. This, of course, rendered them entirely useless and a waste of time. It was infuriating. Suddenly, Classified knew what Skipper meant when he said that Francis was insufferable.
They ended up traveling over the Hudson, all the way to Hoboken. Not a place Classified himself was particularly fond of, but he and his team went regardless. On the ride over, Eva did a bit more digging, and Classified was pleased when he discovered that this was most likely Blowhole's primary base, as many of his 'red officers' - as he so keenly dubbed them - were stationed there, and that was where most of his commands originated from (he had to admit, though, he was a little disappointed that they hadn't gone there first). The only problem after that was getting in. Immediately, they were met with two guards who didn't seem as if they had any inclination to allow the North Wind entry anytime soon.
"I'm tellin' ya, I can't let you in. The doc ain't here right now, and he's the only one who can decide whether or not we let newcomers inside." A red officer explained carefully as he stood outside the door. The one to his left nodded.
"We have clearance!" Classified snapped. "Do you know how far I outrank you?"
The officer looked to his partner, before the two of them looked back to Classified and shrugged. Classified wanted to rip his hair out.
"Allow me." Shortfuse murmured to him before he stepped forth and sent the two officers a particularly frightening grin. "Listen here. You let us in, or I will put the surgical tools in my backpack to good use and disembowel you on the spot. I'm very good with a knife, I can keep you alive for awhile while I play… Did I mention I used to be a SEAL?"
The two red officers shuddered visibly, blanching. The first one turned to the other, whispering audibly. "...Can he do that?"
"I dunno," the other one replied just as inconspicuously. "But he said he was a SEAL, so I'm guessin' we don't wanna find out!"
They returned their attention to the North Wind. "All right," said the first cooly, "We've decided we'll let you in this time - but only 'cause you said you outrank us, and we wouldn't wanna make the doc mad by not lettin' you in… Make yourself at home, but try not to mess up any of Blowhole's stuff. He gets pretty mad."
"I assure you, it'll be like we were never even here." Classified smirked.
Satisfied with this, and completely oblivious to Classified's double meaning, the two officers allowed the North Wind entry. Eva pulled out small black tracking device that had a dull flashing light on the top, and her other three teammates fell behind her as she followed the indicator. After pacing through a handful of hallways, she finally spoke up.
"The main computer should be through this next staircase." She explained them, eyes on the device as she continued walking. "From there we can find out more about what he has been doing, and where he is right now."
"Wait, what's in here?" Corporal wondered out loud, causing the rest of them to pause.
He gestured to the indescript door beside them. It was a dark gray, in contrast to the pale of every other door. Whereas all the others had identification codes on them, this one was completely blank. Unfortunately for Blowhole, in his attempts to make it discreet, it only stood out more. Classified immediately frowned as he looked over it; he instantly had a bad feeling about it. Whatever this door was hiding was something sinister, something that would cause a layman to vomit instantaneously. He could feel it - it made his hair stand on edge. For all his experience, this made him uneasy. There was something wrong with this.
Eva glanced between the door and her device, seemingly torn about which one she wanted to find first. She turned to Classified, seeming to internally settle. "Sir. We have some time before Blowhole returns. It wouldn't hurt to check…"
"Yes, it does seem suspicious." He scowled. "Can you unlock it?"
"Certainly." She nodded, and stepped forth to do just that.
It only took a matter of seconds before they could enter, with Eva's skill level. Once they did, they were met with a very long hallway, completely void of anything save for another door at the very end. Corporal and Classified exchanged a dubious glance. As they advanced on the door, Eva prepared to unlock it, but they realized that it was an elevator. It only had one option: down.
Whatever it was that he was hiding, Blowhole had made it very tedious to get to it. After the elevator took them what must have been very deep underground, they were met with another door of much higher security. At that point, Classified wasn't even entirely sure if coming all this way was worth their time - he really did want to get to that main computer - but he also knew that Blowhole had intentionally structured the passageway to be agitating so that anyone who might come down there on a whim would turn back before going all the way. He wondered how often Francis Blowhole himself came down here.
After the high security door was unlocked, they found a staircase that led them down a flight or so, into another door. This one, however, had a very basic lock that could easily be unlatched. Classified's hand faltered over the door handle. What was behind this door that was so elusive?
There was only one way to find out. With an anticlimactic push, he opened the door. A rush of stale air greeted them, and then there was this stench - a stench was so powerful and foul that the four members of the North Wind immediately recoiled. It was a potent smell of sweat, excrement, urine, and blood. There may have been the slight scent of chemical as well, but it was masked well by the very human odor. Inside, the room was split into half by a thick wall of glass, which was completely solid except for nine small holes in the center.
On the other side, lay an unconscious man, nude, malnourished, injured and dirty. He had clearly experienced a generous amount of abuse, judging by the visible wounds and weakness. He was curled up in the corner in the fetal position, shivering despite his sleep, surrounded by smears of dirt and tally marks of a deep crimson color (which Classified realized, with a shudder, was his own blood). In the opposing corner of the room there was a drain that had been used to collect his waste, but it clearly hadn't done a very good job, if the smell was any indication. Not much about him was particularly recognizable, save for the large burn scar encompassing his shoulder.
"O-oh my gosh," Corporal whispered as they all stared in disquieted horror. "Is that…?"
"It looks like..." Classified confirmed, just as perturbed. "It looks like Nigel's old agent, Hans."
Back at the Penguin Eyes office, Rico and Maurice were in the kitchen preparing lunch (Rico wanted to go with sushi, but Maurice insisted varanga - they ended up figuring out some compromise) while Private helped Kowalski sort through some files. Even though they'd put a lot of trust in the North Wind to help them, they still wanted to make sure they had all the information they could. They were, after all, in custody of two key individuals involved. Mostly, it was Kowalski working, while Private alphabetized and did busy work. Simultaneously, Skipper was in his personal office, alone with Julien.
He was seated at his desk, puffing a cigar while Julien stared out the window, holding onto the sill as if it were necessary for him to stand. The two of them had remained mostly in comfortable silence as they contemplated the situation at hand. Skipper wasn't entirely sure what was on Julien's mind, but he himself could only think of whether or not this was truly okay.
'This', of course, referring to his feelings for Julien. Was it really alright to drop Hans, to release him from his heart once and for all? Skipper knew the answer, but he still hesitated. He'd loved Hans, with every inch of his soul, and he knew that Hans had felt the same. Skipper never quite recovered from losing him. He'd had every chance in the world to replace him, but up until now, he'd never wavered from his faith to his dead partner.
And then, Julien came into his life.
There was just something about Julien, something so captivating and hauntingly enrapturing. Something irresistible. It was as if he and Julien were already connected, before they'd so much as met. Even if he chose not to love Julien (or act upon his love for Julien), it occurred to Skipper would never be able to get him out of his mind again. Julien just had that effect. But was it okay? Was it okay to love again?
And if so, was it the same for Julien? Clearly, Julien did not have a happy relationship with Clemson, but that didn't mean he didn't love him. It was quite common in abusive relationships that the victim would convince themselves to love their abuser…
Skipper didn't have to think much more on that to realize how improbable it was, though; the idea of Julien loving Clemson was laughable and absurd, even butterfly-chasing Private could tell him that. The idea of Julien loving anyone was strange and unreasonable, even. He seemed so untouchable; he was meant to be loved, not to love. Skipper wondered if the same applied to him, if Julien would never truly love him. He wondered if Julien even knew what it meant to be in love.
"Julien?" Skipper spoke up, sincerity in his tone.
Julien, as if having expected Skipper to speak up at that particular moment, turned towards him in a slow yet fluid movement. He smiled, tiredly. "Hmm?"
Skipper found himself suddenly apprehensive and stared down at his lighter, fiddling with it. There was no cautious or easy way to ask this. "Have you ever been in love before?"
Julien's smile faltered slightly. "Love?"
Skipper nodded. "Yeah, love."
Julien turned back to the window, gazing quietly for a moment before he responded. "I loved my mother, and I love Maurice."
"Uh, that's not what I…" Skipper trailed off, furrowing his brow in confusion. He wanted to believe it was the language barrier, but he knew that ultimately, Julien didn't want to answer the question itself.
"I know." Julien laughed, an almost bitter sound. He then turned to Skipper once more. "Have you?"
Skipper suddenly understood why it was so uncomfortable to bring up this topic. He shrugged awkwardly and internally chastised himself for steering the conversation in that direction. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now, does it?"
Julien's eyes swept over Skipper's desk and paused on the picture of Hans, before they returned to Skipper. "No," he replied softly, "I suppose it does not."
The two of them fell into a lapse of silence.
"I… Am sorry. I'm worried, terribly." Julien murmured.
Skipper sat up, silently urging for Julien to elaborate.
.
Julien's eyes fell. "At this point, I am very sure that Clemson has knowledge that I have told the truth to you."
The thought of Clemson somehow finding that out was ridiculous to Skipper. He stood and approached Julien in the most gentle way he could, before patting him on the shoulder. "There's no way he could know that." He assured, attempting a smile. "How would he?"
Julien looked up at him, not seeming at all convinced. "He has his ways."
Skipper found himself placing his hand on Julien's, soft warm one. Julien's face reddened slightly and he gazed up at Skipper, as if he too was questioning whether or not this was okay. Skipper ended up leaning in a bit, halting just before he reached Julien's lips. Julien's eyes slowly fell shut, and brought their lips together.
It was magic. Julien's lips were soft against his, and sincere, more sincere than Skipper could have ever imagined when the two of them first met. If Skipper thought before that Julien was incapable of love, this was practically enough to prove him wrong. It was like the kiss he'd shared with Hans, but something… More. Something more desperate, something more passionate, something more that just tugged at his heart and erased the world around the two of them. Skipper was in love.
Julien pulled away, looking dazed. "Skipper, I-"
Before he could even finish his sentence, a smoke bomb rolled into the room and promptly exploded, knocking the two of them out with sleep gas.
