A/N: OH MY GOD IT'S BEEN FOREVER! I'm so sorry for the long wait! I've been so freaking busy with school and work that I've scarcely had time to even think about this fanficiton. There is some good news, though. I've found a time in my schedule I can actually just sit down and work on this fanfiction, so that means you should be seeing updates more frequently. I won't commit myself to a time table, so just make sure you've got this story followed (most of you do, I'd imagine).
Thank you so much for the reviews! Like I said, I've been so busy I haven't even been able to respond to them. I'll make sure to reply back to those of you who took the time to leave a good word or two this go around. It really means a lot to me when you take the time to write a review, no matter how short, so I do want to show you all my gratitude. Also thanks to those who followed and favorited! It's a joy to see those in my inbox as well!
Well, I'm sure you're all done listening to me. On with the story!
I've been freed from my imprisonment and elected into Red's army as a lieutenant, but at a cost: Henry Pretz. A CIA agent left behind after the failure that was Operation: Cohort; he was uncovered and sentenced to die by my hand. Before I killed him, he told me of a conspiracy that's been unfolding within the criminal factions of Insane City. Someone big is plotting the overthrow of the crime lords here, which means I've got to find them and stop them before they bring the entire region into chaos.
Status Report 4: Mission
My sleep's not any better than the night before, save this time I'm on a paper-thin mattress in the barracks of Red's base sleeping head to toe with several of Red's underlings. I guess a luxurious sleeping quarter is too much to ask for, even as a lieutenant. Though, I can't really complain. This mission's turned itself around nicely, what with how it started off in the Jeep. I thought for sure I'd finally taken one too many risks and was going to wind up dead in a ditch off the highway somewhere. But, as it turns out, that sadistic prick likes watching me squirm, which is to my advantage. So yah, really I've got nothing to complain about-even my stiff neck from the none-to-restful sleep.
Sitting up, my mind wanders to Henry. I have to push back the flood of guilt that's washing over me-I've also got to keep the contents of last night's dinner down too. Somehow, Red figured out about Pretz' involvement with the CIA. It disturbs me since all records of our previous lives are erased once we go undercover. It supposed keeps things from getting uncovered and into hands that really don't need it. Yet somehow Pretz' information was found, spelling the end for him. But that's not all that's suspicious about this entire event. Henry's discovery-about the overthrow-how is that going to figure into this battle? Whoever's pulling the strings, whoever wants to take Red and the rest of the scum down, must have less than good intentions about the future of Insane City. Too get to one crazy, it looks like I'll have to take another down first.
Glancing around, I can see the stacked beds and their housed sleepers. The slumbering faces of high school drop outs and deadbeats is a less than angelic vision, reminding me that not everyone who sleeps has the face of an angel. Dropping my legs over the side, I stand and stretch, every muscle in my body still screaming at me. How much longer until I start feeling better? Until I'm no longer suffering from the battery I received back in the car? Heaving a silent sigh, I trek through the tangle of limp sheets and discarded-and stained- boxer shorts, stepping into the hall of concrete. It's dark and cool, despite the desert that surrounds us. As I walk, my bare feet slapping against the hard ground, I turn a corner and another before finally getting free of the barracks area. I stop short of another step though, when the blonde man from earlier comes into view. Vice, wasn't it? He's standing nonchalantly, doesn't even notice me, as he talks to someone. It's a quiet conversation, held behind the turn of a corner, making the other person impossible to see.
He's got this strange look, one I've seen plastered on the faces of so many men in those cheesy romance movies. Vice gives off a laugh, a female one accompanying it, before motioning a goodbye and turning in my direction. Before I can even think of ducking back, he's seen me and freezes like a child who's been caught doing something they know they shouldn't be doing.
"You," he breathes, "the kid from yesterday."
Kid? Seriously, do I look young enough to be called 'kid'? "Vice, right?" I state coolly. He waits another second, still staring obnoxiously, before answering. It's like a refined sense comes over him as he regains his collective masks, the deer-in-the-headlights look disappearing under the shadows of his cover. Whatever I walked in on, he's discarded it and taken control of himself and the air again. I can feel it.
"I'm surprised you remember my name, considering you looked absolutely terrified standing there yesterday."
"They say you're memory tends to be better when your under duress. It's a survival mechanism."
"Is that so?" This slick smile plays across his lips as he steps forward, closing the distance uncomfortably so. "Well, I didn't catch your name. What was it again?"
Since he's in leagues with Red-might have even offered some input into the trial I did the other day- I assume he already knows me quite well. But I'll humor him. "Cole."
It comes out effortlessly, as a name should.
"Cole, huh? Come to think of it, Red might have mentioned you." No duh, blondie. I'm sure he's had a lot to say about me, considering the torment I've endured because of him. I'd actually be a little insulted if he hadn't mentioned me to someone else, considering I worked his dick pretty damn well-according to him, at least. "He said you were ballsy. Said he likes it, too." It's a knowing smirk that comes across his face. Yah, Red's definitely mentioned me.
His words don't faze me though, "So, are you two friends?"
The blonde shrugs to that, "I wouldn't use the word 'friends', but we're definitely business partners. Sometimes you've got to play by your investor's game to get anything done." There's that smile again. "I guess you could say I've got a stake in being Red's 'friend', though that makes me curious." He brings a hand to his chin, eyes drilling into mine. "What was your reason for taking that woman's place?"
Is he talking about the situation at the bus stop? I give the simple version of the truth, "It was to protect her."
"Wow," Vice states, sounding none-too-amazed, "that's pretty chivalrous. Don't see that kind of mentality anymore. It's always about protecting our own ass anymore."
I frown a little, "I don't prescribe to that kind of thinking. When someone's in trouble, you should help them. No matter the cost."
Those words made an impression, it's written all over his features. Maybe it's the fact that I'm sincere in what I say that's got him so struck. It's the truth though, it was how I was raised. You don't leave people out to dry, especially when they're completely helpless. She couldn't do anything to stop what was about to happen, she didn't have a fighting chance. I guess these criminal types don't feel the same way, though. It's weakness to them-showing that kind of care for another living being.
"I've got to say, Cole," Vice states as he steps past me, placing a hand delicately on my shoulder, "You're a different kind of person. A little too 'cop' for my tastes, though."
How badly I want to roll my eyes. "I guess you can say that. I always did play the good guy when I was a kid." And now, even.
This earns a chuckle and a pat on the shoulder. "You're an interesting person. It'll be fun to see how Red takes to you." Vice removes his hand, gate long in passing me, "Anyway, I've got somewhere to be. I'll see you later, Cole."
I don't bother watching him leave but I don't move until his footsteps have finished their last echo down the hall. Letting out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding, I continue walking, a small tremble running down my spine. Vice is definitely an odd one. From how his files describe him, he's a pretty sadistic person-a calm and collected one, though. I can believe it, the way he regained himself after I'd caught him in some kind of damning act. And, based on how he spoke to me today, I'd say he's suspicious of me. That doesn't matter too much, though, so long as that suspicion remains suspicion. It might mean I'm under the scope a little more than I'd like to be, but I can handle it. I've done it before.
Whoever this Vice guy really is, he's dangerous. I just get that sense from him. He's hiding a lot of potential, waiting to take center stage.
My stomach growls, reminding me of my objective-well, besides sneaking around to gather more information. I should get to the dining hall before Red's goons wake from their less-than-precious sleep and stumble over to grab some grub. They're the last kind of company I want to dine with.
Despite the maze of corridors and open spaces, I find myself in the dining hall. I honestly wouldn't call it a 'hall'-at least not in the strictest sense. Its open rafters and pale walls oppress the air, sucking the energy out of the room. I waste no time pondering how to fix the atmosphere, though, and head straight for the food. At one time or another, this was supposed to be a buffet of sorts, the metal serving counters in place-some lined with partly-edible substances. There's someone in the back-maybe Claire-who's dishing out entrees and putting them out here for everyone to eat.
The smell of half burnt eggs and charcoal toast comes to my nose and, despite the less-than-appetizing scent, I start to salivate. I've found that chocking down food is a lot easier now that the taste of Red's salty cum is no longer inside my mouth, even though my throat is still rather soar. Grabbing a plastic plate, I begin to dish out the gross glop in front of me, getting just enough to satisfy my hunger. Sitting down and digging in without so much as a thank you to the person in back, I swallow quickly to avoid tasting the goopy bits of what should be eggs. It's revolting at its best, but at least it gives me something to run on. Another big rule of undercover work, eat when you get the chance. The tables could turn at any given moment and running on E can get you killed.
As I work down my last stripe of what I assume is bacon, I hear footsteps beside me. Turning my head, Red's there, smiling down at me. He's got a plate of food, heaping mounds nearly toppling over the edges of the white circle. "Mind if I sit next to you?"
I didn't expect to see him here. Doesn't he have some lush and lavish dining room, equipped with a red carpet and a fireplace mantel lined with the skulls of his enemies? But whatever. I nod and he sits, the pile of food on his plate a lot taller now that I can get a better look. He sees me eyeing his food, "You want some?"
Shaking my head, I say, "I already ate, actually. I'm just surprised by how much you're eating." Hopefully he doesn't take it the wrong way and order me to the dungeon. I haven't quite figured this guy out yet-what sets him off is a mystery.
Thankfully, he just laughs, "What can I say? I like to eat-like to cook, too. How'd you like breakfast?"
It was disgusting and I'm pretty sure an ape could have made better. "It was good."
"Well thanks; I'm glad you liked it."
Wait, Red made this crap? I stare down at to my empty plate, crumbs sprinkled along its pale surface, before looking back at him. He doesn't seem to have noticed my surprised face, his mouth occupied with the undercooked eggs I'd forced down previously. I really can't believe he made this stuff. He's got to be pulling my leg. As he takes another spoonful of eggs into his mouth, he glances over at me, eyes curious at my expression. "What?" He speaks, bits of yellow tumbling from his overly stuffed mouth.
"Nothing, sir."
He must be satisfied with the answer, because he goes back to doing what he was doing before, stuffing his face full of less than stellar cuisine. He completes his meal in silence, both of us not bothering with a conversation. Maybe it's because he knows I've got nothing to say to him. I don't owe him a 'thank you' and I certainly don't owe him another fuck. Or maybe he's content with the quiet as well. Maybe he's surrounded by so much noise that a little bit of silence is more calming than unnerving.
It's odd, actually. He appears human to me. He's done this before, though, where the light made him look less like a monster and more like a man-sort of the opposite of beauty and the beast. Red-or Chris-just seems like a regular person, enjoying a crummy breakfast before heading off to work. If I let everything around me slip away, it's just like we're two friends sitting down to a meal together. Neither feeling like saying much of anything and the other being okay with that.
Or maybe I'm overthinking it and he's too busy eating to care if I'm speaking to him or not.
Whatever it is, the fragile silence between us is shattered when footsteps come from behind once again. We both turn, Vice there with a smile on his face. Leave it to that prick to ruin the atmosphere with his pompous smirk. "Well, I never thought Red would sit down with one of his pawns." His eyes travel to the half empty plate before the crime lord, "Did you make breakfast again?"
"Yeah," Red says nonchalantly, "What can I say? I enjoy cooking."
"Relieves the stress, huh?" Vice doesn't bother asking before sitting himself down next to Red, the table suddenly very crowded. "I've always found fucking some bitch senseless is a good way to relieve the stress that comes along with this job. Of course, I guess you do that too, huh?"
I resist the urge to roll my eyes heavenward. Is this guy trying to get under my skin? Because he sure acts like a douchebag when he's around me. Or, maybe that's how he always is. I'd believe it.
Red's voice is pleasant as he speaks, "By 'some bitch' you mean my sister?"
Vice winces visibly at that, though Red's tone was nothing but polite. "You know I haven't slept with her since your little 'warning'. I may be a player, but I'm not going to sleep with death. Besides," he leans into the table, eyes shifting towards me, "I think I've found someone else to play with."
Every last bit of me shivers and I'm pretty sure he saw it. A cold sweat threatens to break across my skin but I grab ahold of my calm before I can show any more weakness. He's still looking at me, cold eyes drilling through my tender flesh and into my very soul. He's definitely suspicious of me; he's made that incredibly clear now. But it's more than that, he's gotten a taste of seeing me squirm and like Red, he's addicted. He's one of those guys, the one that watches his prey suffer before finally putting them to a cold end. But, those are the kinds of bastards I like to put down.
Red's voice interrupts my thoughts, "It better not be Viper. You're little 'affairs' with her have never ended in your favor."
Ah yes, Viper. She's a cold hearted crime lord who's recently made her way onto the CIA's target list. It's believed she's been active in Insane City for some time, though she's been operating under the surface until recently. Her motives are largely unknown and, more than that, her alliances are a mystery as well. We don't know who she's working with or who she's working for and, worse yet, it's nearly impossible to figure out. Unlike Red, whose ranks were easy to penetrate, hers are damn near impossible. She's very picky about whom she lets in and those who we've sent to try and do so have never reported back.
Vice is quick to defend himself, "I've learned my lesson with her. She's a definite 'no go' zone."
"Like my sister."
"Like your sister."
Scooping what remains of his eggs onto a burnt piece of toast, Red shoves it into his mouth and chews slowly, the gears in his head visibly working over what he wants to say. I can see what Vice meant by them not being friends. There's nothing friendly in this conversation, despite the calm and polite tones. I guess they're both really out for themselves, alliances be damned. They're temporary at best and when it's convenient to discard the other, they'll be thrown aside with no more dignity than trash to the side of the road. Deciding to interject my own thoughts-even if I really don't have the right to do so- I say, "So Vice and Claire hit it off then?"
Red swallows, "Let's just say Claire likes the 'bad boys' and Vice here is as faux 'bad boy' as they come."
"Faux?" Comes the blonde's voice.
He's ignored as Red continues, "Claire deserves someone better than him, honestly, which is why I intervened. Actually, she's probably still mad at me for that. But Claire's always mad at me for one thing or another."
He just sounds so sincere when it comes to his sister. I'm actually impressed by that.
There's a chuckle from Vice, "Well, she probably is. I mean, she could have become Mrs. Kennedy"
Red raises an eyebrow, "Mr. Leon and Claire Kennedy, huh?"
"We could have been brothers-in-law."
"I think I'd rather die."
Vice gives a dangerous smirk, "That can be arranged." There's a glare that forms on Red's face, one that I've seen before, back when he was sentencing Henry to die. It's a venomous glare, one that holds all the intent and the means to accomplish said intent. Vice-or I guess Leon Kennedy, that's such a stupid name-throws his hands up in mock surrender, "Kidding, kidding."
"In any case," Red states, his features returning to normal and the subsequent tension diminishing, "I'd never let her end up with a blue eyed, smooth talking snake."
"Ouch, Chris, your words are so hurtful." Vice's playful tone have no effect on Red, who finishes up the last bit of his food and stands, pushing the chair away.
"Why are you even over here, Vice? Don't you have your own faction to run?"
"I do," He states, "but I was actually hoping you'd help me again."
Red frowns, "I think I've fulfilled my favors for you."
"Honestly, Patrick affected us both, so I'd call that a win-win." Vice states simply, his full attention on Red. "This will be more for my benefit than yours."
I glance at Red, curious to see his response. I never thought the head crime lord of Insane City could be so easily bullied around. Favors can get a man anywhere, it seems. "Let's talk in my office." He steps away from the table, moving towards the trashcans to throw away his plate. "Cole, you come too."
Me? "Yes, sir." Why the hell does he want me to get involved in his dirty little affairs? Standing, I follow Red, Leon close behind, as we make our way through the turning hallways towards Red's office. I recognize the pathway, having walked it yesterday with the bloodied skull of Henry Pretz between my fingers. Upon entering, it looks a lot different than yesterday. The sunlight sprinkles through the glassless windows, illuminating what was darkness last night. The room is simple, save the busy desk in the middle of the room. Skulls and bones are nowhere to be found, much to my imaginations disappointment.
Red takes his seat, Kennedy coming to stand in front of him. I keep my distance, hoping to disappear into the background to gather a little more dirt on the two of them-especially Red.
"Speak," is all Red says, Vice doing exactly that.
"Remember how I told you that killing Patrick would solve this little problem?" There's a nod, recollection from a previous conversation, "Well, I'm thinking I was wrong."
This doesn't even peak Red's interest, a passive expression playing across his face. "So?"
"Patrick's room was searched and besides the documents we received from 3, he had nothing linking him to the CIA." I'm confused. What's 3? Whoever or whatever this 3 is, it's what ratted out Patrick, that much is obvious. But I've never heard of it before. Is it an organization or a person? Do they function inside Insane City without the CIA's knowledge?
"It's not my fault you got bad Intel."
"It's 3, Chris. They don't give bad Intel."
He gets this look, a pained look and then gives a sigh, one that says Leon's right. "So what? You think he hid it away or something?"
"Or," the blonde states, leaning against the desk for emphasis, "he gave it to someone."
There's silence between them, both considering the likelihood of the statement. Honestly, to me, it doesn't seem likely given what I saw from him. Henry was left alone after the failure of Operation: Cohort. He wouldn't have revealed himself to anyone. The only reason he spoke anything to me was because he was desperate to save himself at the end. But, I suppose anything's possible. If someone befriended him and gained his utmost trust, he might have slipped the information to them for safe keeping. Any files, any documents, any data collected on his targets-it could all be in the hands of someone else right now, someone who's none too likely to reveal what they know given what happened to Henry.
What's even more likely, is someone with less than pure intentions has gotten their hands on that Intel, and possibly served in ratting Patrick out to keep that info to themselves.
I glance at Red when he shifts, "So," he says, "What do you want me to do about it?"
"Find the person he gave it to or find where he's hiding it. I'd do it myself but if I make it known I'm searching my base looking for this shit, whoever's got it is going to burn it up as fast as they possibly can. If it's just hidden away, people will start searching for it because they'll think they're ballsy enough to take me on if they've got it. You see my problem?"
There's another nod from Red, "So you want to operate your base per usual while I have my men look around for clues."
Vice grins, "Bingo. And when you find the information, you give it over to me."
"I'm guessing you don't want me to look at it."
"Right again." I'm one hundred percent convinced this Leon guy is an asshole. "So?"
Standing, Red steps over to his windows, looking out and upon the stone prison he's locked himself in. "It's a deal."
I can see Vice's entire body change, his stance straighter and more powerful. He's got what he wants, for better or worse. "Good. I'll leave you to your plans then." With that, he turns and leaves us, closing the door silently behind himself. There's a long pause after he leaves, where the tension is so thick it's chocking me. Red is ridged, like he knows he's just walked himself into something dangerous, a room full of cobras. I want to say something but I can't think of anything. Why do I even care to comfort him anyway? Why would I want to offer him some kind of guidance or console?
Sucking in a deep breath, I step forward, "What are you thinking, sir?"
He doesn't even look at me, his brown eyes fixed out the empty window. Ok, maybe he doesn't want to talk. I'm down with that. I make to leave but his voice, soft and stern, keeps me in place. "Cole, I need you to do something for me."
"Sir?" Taking a step closer, I lean in some, wondering if I've heard him right. Surely he's not planning on sending me after this information. He doesn't want to send me over all of his other far-more-trustworthy lieutenants. Unless he wants to screw with me-which is very possible.
"Vice's men know my men too well. You're the only new face around here." He turns towards me then, just as my stomach starts to sink. "I need you to find out if any information has been either hidden or passed through someone's hands. Then you need to retrieve it."
My voice is harsher than I mean it to be, "How do you expect me to do that?"
He doesn't flinch though, which I'm thankful for. "Gain that Intel by whatever means. Rather it's stealing or torture." Red takes a step towards me and leans down on the table, putting his full weight on his knuckles. "You get that information and you tell me what it says before passing it on to Vice. He thinks he's getting this dirt all to himself but I don't plan on playing this pretty."
Surprise, surprise. Not that I was going to keep myself in the dark either. It's a win-win-win, at least, that's if I don't get caught or killed first. Fun. "So, how do you want me to do this?"
"You go in and start snooping about. I'll give you the creds required for being a part of Vice's gang. Find it, report to me and then report to Vice." Him and then Vice? God, he's such a prick, having to know about it first.
"You want me to tell him everything I learn?"
There's a pause-I asked a good question. "Yes. If too much is censored, he'll know I got ahold of it first." Isn't he going to assume that anyway? Whatever. It's not my place to state the obvious. Giving a nod to him, I see him give me a smile for the first time. It's not one of those 'I'm going to have so much fun making you suffer' smiles. It's a legitimate 'go team' smile. I smile back, though I try to keep the happiness in it to a minimum. I don't want to look like an idiot. "I'll get everything arranged for you. Don't wander too far until then." With that, he's off and out of the room.
The coldness of the room-which wasn't present until now-seeps into my bones and I shudder. Wrapping my arms around myself, I glance towards the doorway. Something tells me this isn't going to be an easy mission.