Anger. Rage. Contempt. Fury. Ire.

There were so many words to describe this range of emotions, and yet, none of them seemed appropriate enough to accurately label what Shaw was feeling as she bore down on Finch with a steely glare. The part of her brain that was still capable of rational thought knew that he did nothing to deserve her wrath. Still, she desperately needed a target for the white hot anger threatening to burn every inch of her body.

"What the fuck, Finch?"

Her tone was only slightly accusatory; more venomous than anything as she spat out the question. Her posture was composed though she loomed over the crippled man with a gaze that promised fury in the form of slow, painful death to anyone and everyone responsible that she could get her hands on.

Shaw launched into a verbal assault on Finch that was only calm on its surface. She crossed her arms over her chest in a manner reminiscent of someone trying to hide their vulnerability even as they exposed it. "She's been missing for over an hour and your just now telling us?"

Reese and Finch followed Shaw into the armory where, somewhat predictably, she began wildly hurling ammo and weapons into a duffle bag.

For his part, Reese had reacted to Finch's information with a more subdued anger; an anger which was directed at their situation rather than a single person. He had come to care about Root in his own way with time; the final differences left between them were laid to rest during those desperate days when Shaw was away and Root was unable to find her. Even so, he had presence enough to know that they could not make a move quite yet. Normally preferring to watch quietly as these moments played out within their group, he interjected himself into Harold and Shaw's debate.

"There's nothing we could've done, Shaw." She looked at him as if he'd sucker punched her and she was preparing to kill him, then with a quick shake of her head she turned back to her task of emptying the contents of the armory.

"That doesn't change the fact that one of our own is out there. Alone. Against the mafia, Decima, and those Anarchy Council pricks. Even Root isn't that crafty." On the surface Shaw was still somewhat composed, though that composure was slipping a little more with each moment. In her voice there was clear anger and a slight hint of desperation. Finch recalled one other time he had seen this from her. The time when Root had gone to negotiate with Samaritan and Shaw was left powerless on the sidelines. There was a difference between the two occasions, Harold mentally noted with a grim expression.

Root truly is alone this time. No Reese and no machine to back her up.

As she tossed a couple more items into the duffel bag, Shaw thought briefly on her feelings. The part of her brain still capable of rational thought knew that Harold had done nothing to deserve her ire. She knew the machine was not to blame in this situation either, but she desperately needed a target for this white hot anger threatening to consume every inch of her. For a brief moment Shaw imagined that this must've been what Root felt like after she'd been gunned down in that basement.

Once again, Finch attempted to reason with the assassin.

"I wonder...what is it you hope to accomplish in going out and waging war against the mafia?" He knew precisely which of the three factions would be the immediate target of Shaw's wrath, and she wouldn't stop with them. Harold and Reese both knew that look in her eyes; the look that said she would turn the city upside down to find Root. Passive as he was at the moment, John was inclined to agree with that sentiment.

At that question, Shaw looked up from what she was doing and locked eyes with Harold. The gesture told him that he had her attention and he didn't intend to waste that lapse in her stubborn attitude so he continued to speak to her as if trying to calm a wild horse.

"All that will do is ensure that you and Mr. Reese have targets on your back." Finch had feared that the world would be thrown into chaos if the machine were ever to be compromised. He was also wise to the fact that if the world ever did go up in flames around them, there was a strong likelihood that Ms. Shaw would pour the gasoline, Ms. Groves would light the match, and Mr. Reese would fan the flames of such a fire until it burned itself out and there were no threats to the machine to be found. "We need to go about this with intelligence. We need to use what we know."

This was not the moment to be playing with fuel and matches, and thankfully, Mr. Reese agreed.

"Alright then, let's talk about what we know."

By this point Shaw had abandoned her attempts to pack up the entire arsenal of weaponry and her attention was fixed on Reese and Shaw, though her eyes were still blazing with fury.

"I think it's safe to assume that Ms. Grove's disappearance happening in such close proximity to the machine being hacked is no coincidence. "

Shaw sighed deeply, taking just a moment to allow rational thought to prevail over her anger before contributing her two cents, "That's true. Means whoever took her followed you this morning or Hotel Moscow has dealings with Decima that we missed."

Harold shook his head, "The only operative I found embedded in the Russian mob was on the Drugonov payroll. It wouldn't make sense for him to be associating with Hotel Moscow."

"Either way," John cut in, "I think we can all agree that this has Decima written all over it. Control did confirm that the warehouse I found yesterday is an AC safehouse and we know those two factions are working together. Maybe Shaw and I should take a look and see if we find any sign of Root." John shot Shaw a look that said they would be taking a covert look and he did not expect to have to run into the warehouse after her with guns blazing. She just rolled her eyes in response.

"Yes, that does seem like the best place to start. In the meantime, I'll get to work on these e-mails and see if we can get a lead." Finch agreed.

With that decided the trio made their way out of the subway car and went their separate ways once again. Reese and Shaw wasted no time leaving the subway to start their reconnaissance while Harold went to his computer to set to work sifting through the data he'd collected.

Bear trotted up to Finch's side after a moment and whined as if he were questioning Harold; asking what's going on. Why is everyone upset? Where's the smiley woman? Where's Root?

Harold simply turned and exchanged a knowing gaze with the dog and gave him a pat on his head before returning to his work.

She'll be back, boy.

Her head swam. It was heavy on her shoulders and she couldn't yet feel her limbs, though there was the slightest tingling sensation there. Root steeled herself against the groggy haze of the fading sedative and slowly opened her eyes, only to have them snap shut against the force of a sharp slap to the side of her face. She didn't feel much of the blow, but it her head lolled to the left side under the force of it as her brows knitted together in confusion and stifled anger.

"It's time to wake up, lovely."

There it was. There was that familiar voice again. The hacker slowly straightened her head back up and cracked her eyes open. Her vision was somewhat blurry and all she could make out was the shape of a man standing before her. Meanwhile, sensation had slowly begun to return to her arms and legs and she could feel enough now to notice that her arms were bound snugly behind the back of the chair she was seated in.

So, they wanted to play games with her.

A detached smile crept slowly across her features as her bleary eyes stared forward. They could torture her all they wanted.

After a few moments, her vision cleared and Root was able to make out the identity of her mystery assailant. Lambert! How? She hadn't been around for much of Reese's fight with him. He had made his appearance when the gang had been separated and Root and Shaw had ended up tangling briefly with Martine. But, Root had witnessed enough of the tail end of Reese's battle with Lambert. John and Fusco had gunned him down. How was he here now?

She smirked as she stifled her surprise. He wouldn't get the satisfaction of getting under her skin. "You're looking well. Better than I expected, agent Lambert."

He flashed his usual confident smile at her; the kind of pretend smile that only thinly veiled a hidden agenda. Root took note of that and filed it away for later use as he addressed her, "You're looking quite well, yourself. Although…that may be a temporary arrangement."

Root scoffed, "You know, it's cute that you think you can scare me."

"I'm not trying to scare you, Miss Groves." He answered smugly, coming to squat in front of her as their conversation continued.

"Root." She spoke defiantly, fixing him with a cold gaze as she covertly felt the bindings at her wrists to see if escape would be possible. "My name is Root."

"My apologies." He still looked smug as he watched her trying to hide the fact that she was fiddling with her bonds behind the back of the chair. Amusement settled onto his features even while the tiniest bits of frustration began to show through the hacker's veneer. "And…you're wasting your time with that, by the way. You won't be getting out of that chair unless you can get hold of something sharp."

Root was loathe to admit it, but the man was right. She wouldn't be leaving her confines any time soon. That left her no option but to sit and wait on the cavalry that she knew would be coming. Her cheek began to twinge a bit from Lambert's little love tap as the last remnants of the tranquilizer faded from her system and the feeling made her a bit irritable.

"That's fine with me." She shrugged flippantly as the psycho buried beneath her normally flirty and confident exterior began to rear its head. She looked down at Lambert with a twisted grin and a dark look in her eyes. "I'll have a front row seat when my friends come to burn this place to the ground."

Lambert was unmoved by the change in demeanor and he continued to speak to her as casually as if she were an old friend. "And how do you know that that isn't precisely the plan?" Back again was that cocky smirk with the thinly veiled hidden secrets.

For just a moment there was a crack in Root's psychopathic armor and just a trace of worry danced across her features before that crazy smile slipped back into place. Truthfully, she had no idea what they had planned, but whatever it was clearly revolved around her. There was also something in Lambert's smile that made her think he was just trying to plant the thought of a trap in her head. She grew angry again thinking about what they'd done to The Machine, and to Sameen before that. Her fists clenched behind her back and the manic expression gave way to one that was more dangerous.

"Even as we speak they are looking for you. You know that, don't you? You'll pay for what you did to Her." Root spoke ominously, boring into Lambert with a look that was all at once hollow, furious, and strangely gleeful. "They will find you." She will find you.

Lambert stood up from his squatting position and backed away a couple steps. He'd done his job, had a little fun with the hacker before him, and now it was time to draw the conversation to a close.

"What is it you want from me, anyway?" Root questioned.

"It's not about what I want. It's about what he wants." Lambert stated, only causing Root more confusion and taking pleasure in the fact that he had irritated her further. "Speaking of," He continued, making his way to the doorway of the empty room they were in, "he'll want to have a word with you, Ms. Groves."

That last part was clearly tacked on just to piss her off and she resisted the urge to call out a retort to his retreating back. She had always had a special dislike for that man among Samaritan's operatives…rivaled only by her utter hatred for Martine. She didn't have much time to dwell on the subject as the door was opening in front of her.

If seeing Lambert came as a surprise, then coming face to face with this next familiar face was a shock. Lambert had talked about him as if he was calling the shots. Root found it improbable, though, that anyone very high up in Decima's chain of command would bow to a boy no matter how intelligent. The ex-government agents within the Anarchy Council's ranks certainly wouldn't tolerate it either.

Whether he knew it or not, this boy was a pawn.

Reese and Shaw wasted no time in rushing to the warehouse in SoHo. Much to Shaw's irritation, Reese had chosen to remind her during their ride in the taxi that this was strictly a recon mission. They were going to look for signs of Root; nothing else.

"What are we supposed to do if we find her, then?" Shaw knew the answer. At least, she knew what she'd do in that situation: sneak in, grab Root, sneak back out, then pick off as many of their enemies as possible once she was close enough to safety. She just felt like testing John's patience. More than that, she felt like turning this in to a full on guns blazing kind of battle; though she knew that probably wouldn't end well for her, John, or Root if they found her.

John's answer to that question was not what she'd expected. She expected some sort of tactical response, an affirmation of the course of action they would take if Root was in this warehouse. He hadn't been nearly as ambivalent about potential conflict as Finch, but she had sensed some reluctance on his part. So, his simple response surprised her.

"We get Root back."

She was also struck by the protective tone in his voice. It was the first time since Root joined them that he'd shown any indication that the psychopathic hacker was important to him. Shaw could only surmise that they'd laid a lot of issues to rest while she'd been away. She knew he still hurt over the loss of Carter so it seemed natural that her taking some lead and then disappearing for a couple months would be a bonding point between the two.

Strangely, she found that the thought was touching to her.

A moment later, the pair exited the cab about a block from the address Reese had given for the warehouse. They made their way on foot for the final stretch so they could better avoid detection. Upon arrival, they found the building to be just as still as Decima's abandoned warehouse was when John had went back to it.

"Strange…"

"They pack up quick." Shaw commented, shoving her hands into the pockets of her coat and caressing the steel inside her left pocket.

"Yeah," Reese nodded, "A little too quick. Almost like they didn't want us to find something." He pulled his pistol from his coat and Shaw glanced at him for a moment before following suit. "I think we should go have a look."

The pair entered the warehouse with guns drawn, Shaw went right and Reese veered toward the left and they searched until they met back up in the middle and only a tiny space had been left unchecked. Upon entry, both of them had been assaulted by an unnatural sweet smell that was only recognizable to people who knew what it was.

"Reese, do you smell what I smell?"

"Truth serum." He nodded.

Together they followed the scent to the remaining room of the building. There were a few empty syringes littering the floor and the back wall was lined with small cardboard boxes. A few of the boxes were open to reveal vials of unused Sodium Pentathol.

"Someone didn't have time to clean up." John quipped, walking over to pick up one of the vials.

Shaw stooped to examine the syringes on the floor more closely. Her suppressed anger rose to the surface again, "Probably the tranquilizing agent."

"Most likely," John agreed, pocketing the vial for safe keeping. "But I suppose it could have been used for something else."

Shaw continued to examine the contents of the room, shaking her head in response. "Doubt it." She made her way over to John and also helped herself to a few vials. "Truth serum is a placebo. People only tell the truth under the influence because they think they don't have a choice. It wouldn't work on someone who knows better."

"Point taken." John conceded in agreement. He would have been surprised if, for all of her expertise in various fields, Root didn't know that little fact about truth serum. He watched with a curious eye as Shaw stooped to examine something in the doorway. She picked up the object and stood, holding it out for John to see. Root's implant.

The hacking. Root's missing implant. Someone went to great lengths to make sure she couldn't communicate with the machine.

After another sweep through the building, they decided they'd found everything there was to be found and returned to the street. Both were even more worried by what they'd found. Even if the machine's communications were restored, Root wouldn't be able to talk to it. Without that, she wouldn't know what she was up against even if she somehow did manage to escape.

The pair made it all the way down the block before a payphone on Shaw's left began to ring. She stopped short, casting a wary glance in that direction and then looked expectantly at Reese. He simply returned her look with a knowing expression of his own. "You should probably get that."

"Why me?" Shaw sounded peeved, incredulous, and surprised. The machine almost never contacted her; most often electing to give Reese or Finch the messages that were not directed to Root. Why would that be different now? "She never talks to me. You're the gopher, you answer it."

Reese smirked just slightly at Shaw's defiance. "Come on, Shaw. If the machine's calling you now, it's for a reason. It'd be rude not to pick up."

With a roll of her eyes, Shaw exhaled a deep exasperated breath and reached for the phone. "Fuck it.

She was surprised when she put the phone to her ear at how weak the machine sounded to her. She didn't even communicate with it regularly and it was clear to her that there was a definite struggle going on. Still, she understood the message very clearly and the meaning of it brought the vengeful flames back into her eyes.

"Hey Harold." She spoke into her comm. in a voice that was deceptively innocent. " Thought you might wanna know: your machine's talking again."

Finch's brow arched in pleasant surprise as he read through yet another e-mail. "That's great, but it's still a bit ill-advised for us to be speaking on comms., Miss Shaw. Root's earpiece could be used to spy on us."

"We've got that covered, Finch." Reese replied, "It was left at the warehouse."

Finch nodded. That was one less thing to worry about. "I was just about to call you two; I've just been on the phone with Detective Fusco. He went to Hotel Moscow to question Vladimir Denisov and his associates about the hit placed on our accountant. I ask if he might've seen anything unusual. He said he didn't see a trace of Root."

"Yeah, well, the machine disagrees." Shaw growled lightly, that dangerous tone from earlier in the subway threatening to make another appearance as she and John continued to walk the streets.

"I'm warning you now, Finch. I'm about to go do some questioning of my own, and you're not gonna like my methods."

Finch just sighed in response, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to trust Shaw and Reese's judgment. They were out in the field and nothing he could say at this point would change Shaw's mind. There was also the fact that the machine seemed to have told them to go to the mob. That, and part of him agreed that something didn't quite add up about Hotel Moscow. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Harold just hoped this would not bite them all in the ass.

Once again, thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the story! Please R & R!