The Following:

Peace, Love and Happiness

Episode 10: A Change of Pace

Tyler chewed on popcorn he stole from the house he just left. He had the bowl on the passenger seat, which was nearly empty. He merged on to the highway, partially surprised that there was traffic at four in the morning. He was driving straight all night trying to get home as quickly as he could. There he was safe and sound, but in the streets alone, he was not at all.

He thought back to the episode of the Walking Dead he saw earlier. It was a good one, but not what he expected it would be. The trailer for it was definitely misleading, but that is how they worked. The show had him hooked and he hated to miss an episode.

He then thought about Charlene and her grandmother. They were targeted, because she spoke to the FBI. She opened her mouth, even though she was told not to. He was told to make sure she kept quiet and to kill them if there were any problems.

It was too bad that he had to. She was incredibly sexy. He was always attracted to gothic girls. There was something mysterious about that he liked. He dated two gothic girls in the past and enjoyed every moment of it. Unfortunately, they broke it off. Both of them told him that he was a sweet guy, but had too many problems.

"Their loss," Tyler sang to the tune of Slipknot's new song AOV. The chorus was playing now. He had just gotten the CD and loved it. It was dark, angry, and heavy. His favorite kind of music.

Tyler was a high school dropout. He felt like he just never fit in. His A.D.D didn't make it easier for him and his grades were barely passable. Most of his time was spent in the Principal's office and in detention, then in the classroom. Finally the school told his parents that he would need to attend another school. One meant for the gifted.

His parents, both in the delusional and drunken stupor, refused to listen to the school. So the rest of his teenage years, he spent on the streets mastering small crimes. As soon as he turned nineteen, he got his GED when he lost a poker bet and enrolled in the army. It didn't take long for him to get called to Iraq. He was there for two years, until he was granted leave for mental instability.

Hardly anyone knew what happened outside of the few soldiers that was with him at the time. It was late in the morning and he with a small squad found a house with a mini armory in a secret basement. There he also found a room meant for torture and rape. A body of a dead eleven year old girl was bruised and cut up was found tied up to an old looking bed.

Tyler had his unit confiscate the weapons and then bury the girl in the backyard. The squad was about to leave, when they saw a young boy, no older then thirteen, approaching from the far end of the block. It looked like there was something strapped to his waist and he was holding something tightly in his hand.

Tyler told the kid to drop to the ground, but he ignored him. He kept approaching them with a determined, yet terrified look on his young face. He was shouting something Arabic at them, but no one could understand him clearly. Their translator was a few clicks away and heading in their direction, but would not get there in time.

With seconds to spare, Tyler made the call to vacate the premises. He couldn't come to shoot the kid. Even as they drove away, the little boy kept heading in their direction, running as fast as his little legs could go. He kept shouting at them in Arabic.

Moments later a large explosion rocked the streets. The force sent their RV spinning into a building. Their driver, killed by a large glass shard to his head from the impact. The soldier in the passenger had a large piece of glass in his leg, imbedded into the seat, he was stuck and couldn't move.

Tyler took two soldiers with him and told the rest of the squad to stay by the RV. He called for backup as he made his way cautiously through the dusty air. It was so thick, he could taste it.

Once the dust settled enough, he saw to his horror, that the little kid indeed had a bomb on him. Most of his body was gone, from the force of the explosion, all that was left was pieces of the bomb, melted from the heat. The trigger was covered in blood and still in the tight grasp of the young boy's hand, which was the only visible part of the young boy. Screams and cries could be heard surrounding him as well as gunfire.

After that incident, Tyler wasn't the same person. He became a close minded person and kept to himself for a while. He got medical help, but that didn't help. He then was discharged with mental instability.

Tyler stopped thinking about his tragic past as he pulled into his driveway. He parked his car and stepped into the house. As soon as he entered, he saw Molly approaching. "How'd it go?" She asked studying him intently.

"It went as planned," He said following her into the kitchen.

"You know that it is all over the news?" She asked him coldly as she turned on the TV. It showed an image of the house from the helicopter's view, with cops parked in front of it.

"I'm not surprised," Tyler said firmly as he eyed the TV. "Two people did get murdered there." He took a few steps toward the TV and then crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "But I made sure that no one saw me."

Molly stepped in front of Tyler catching his attention. He was a foot taller than her. She looked at him with authority, studying his emotionless face for a few moments. Eventually her stance softened. "You were as silent as a ghost," She said beginning to smile at him proudly. "So far they have no suspects."

"Of course they don't," Tyler said watching her turn off the TV. "I am good at what I do."

"That is why I recruited you," Molly said walking around him a couple of time before guiding him into the kitchen. "I saw what you can do." She grabbed a bottle of whiskey out of the china cabinet. She opened the bottle and then poured two shots. "Now it is time to make a toast."

"Okay," Tyler simply said reaching for one of the glasses.

"To our upcoming victory," Molly said raising her glass. "Welcome home." Both of them drank their shots. "Ryan won't know what hit him until it is too late."

…..

Jeffery stood in front of the large TV screens in the FBI building. He gazed at them intensely, his jaw quivering with fury. This was the last straw. He couldn't take this anymore. He has seen way too many gruesome murders connected with Joe and fanatic followers.

On the left screen was an image of Charlene sprawled on the floor in between the living room and kitchen. Small streams of blood leaked out of the gunshot wounds that led to a large puddle of blood beside her. Her grandma, sitting in her chair, had blood leaking out of her chest wounds, which stained the crimson white arm chair and carpet. Her flowered nightgown was covered in blood as well. The left screen showed a zoomed image of her hands which were placed on her lap. She was holding a full open beer with a rose stuck into the bottle resembling a vase.

"Disgusting," Jeffery shook his head in dismay. He happened to glance behind him and saw Ryan step into the room. "Ryan," He turned toward him. "What a surprise."

Ryan cleared his throat preparing to say something, but instead he stepped up to the screens. He looked at the left one, studying Charlene dead body. Then the grandma and then finally the image of her holding the beer bottle with the rose in it.

"Ryan, if I can be so blunt?" Jeffery asked him. "What are you doing here? Where have you been?"

Ryan looked at Jeffery noting his apprehension. He wasn't sure what to tell him. So he cleared his throat again and didn't respond.

"You know what bothers me Ryan," Jeffery pointed out. He took a step toward him. "Your attitude with this." He narrowed his eyes at him. "While Mike, Max, and I, as well as the rest of the force work on catching these killers, you prance around with a cop on suspension."

"Why are you upset?" Ryan asked giving him a similar look. "I don't report to you with everything I do."

"Actually yes," Jeffery said glancing at Mike and Max as they walked into the room. "I am in charge of this case and you need to report everything you find to me, regardless of its importance."

Ryan groaned inwardly. He dealt with this with Debra and Gina. Now Jeffery was on his ass about it. It would just slow him down. He worked better alone, without having to worry about anyone else. Everyone who worked with him seemed to get hurt or die. One of the most painful recently, was in fact Debra. He was quite fond of her for reasons he wasn't sure of.

"Do you know that I can have you arrested for withholding information?" Jeffery asked crossing his arms of his chest.

"Are you guys at it again?" Mike asked glancing at Ryan and then Jeffery. "Man, you bicker like an old married and hard of hearing couple having the same argument over and over again." He pointed to the screen. "We have work to do, so let's buck, grow a damned pair and solve this together."

Max looked at Mike surprised at his words. "Nicely put," She whispered to him.

"Thanks," He whispered back.

"This isn't over," Jeffery grumbled at Ryan. He turned to the screen and then began. "This is Charlene Rains." He cleared his throat loudly. "She is twenty-three years old and attends Pratt Institute. Her parents, Richard and Cynthia, both died in a car crash when she was thirteen. Her grandma, Rose Carlston, took her in. She has a clean record as well as her grandma. The only mark on Rose is a couple of speeding tickets that were paid." He turned to them. "We have nothing. No signs. No motives whatsoever."

"There is a motive," Ryan said pointing to the three screens simultaneously. "Both Charlene and Rose's deaths have to deal with Brian." He turned toward Jeffery. "It can't be a coincidence that Brian was a fan of Joe's cult and after his death, Charlene and Rose are targets."

"It makes sense," Max agreed with him. "We go and talk to Charlene, she gives us information and then is targeted because of it."

"Are you saying that Rose was just in the wrong place and the wrong time?" Jeffery asked.

"Exactly that," Max continued. "It is simple. Someone was told to keep an eye on them. If they spoke, they would become a liability and would have to be killed."

"Damn," Jeffery shook his head. "So far we have nothing. Forensics is sweeping through the place as we speak, but whoever killed them, was clean. No fingerprints."

"Something will come up," Mike said glancing at Max and then Ryan.

At that moment a large explosion rocked the building. Jeffery was thrown on to the desk of computers, all of them falling to the floor. Ryan was flung into the wall roughly. Mike and Max were tossed like rag dolls into the hallway. Smoke and fire filled the room as parts of the ceiling crumbled. A siren went off and the fire suppression system started.

Ryan stood up on shaky legs. His hearing was impaired. Everything sounded like it was underwater. He saw Mike helping Max to her feet as he stumbled toward Jeffery who was slow to his feet. He helped him to his feet and then quickly made his way to the source of the explosion. He saw the front part of the building was engulfed in flames.

Three bodies were on the floor, bloodied and on fire. Their skin and blood thickening like drying paint. To his left was one of the secretaries on fire and screaming. She dropped to the floor and began rolling around putting out the fire on her clothes. When it was out, she painfully crawled away from the burning part of the building. The fire suppression system wasn't working in this part of the building.

Ryan grabbed a fire extinguisher and pulled the pin. He began to put out the fire. When the fire was out, he tossed the empty extinguisher aside and then grabbed his gun. He scanned the streets, watching as a crowd of people surrounded the building. From a distance, he could see cop cars, a few ambulances, and a few fire engines heading their way.

"Ryan," Max shouted. "Watch out."

Ryan hardly had a chance to turn when he saw someone wearing a Joe mask toss a lit Molotov in his direction. He dove away as it landed a few feet from where he was standing. He looked up and saw another Molotov thrown as well in her direction. It struck the wall, as Mike grabbed Max by the arm and pulled her away from the fire that was inches from burning her. She locked eyes with him and mouthed 'I love you' before standing to her feet. She glanced at Ryan who was eyeing them curiously.

Ryan heard another Molotov shatter against the building. "We have to go," Jeffery shouted at them.

Ryan grabbed his gun from the floor and pointed it at an attacker who just lit a Molotov. He shot him in the shoulder, which led to the attacker to drop the Molotov. The fire began to burn him and he had no chance to put it out, before he was gone.

"Ryan," Max grabbed his arm. "We need to go." She pulled him away. "We can hit them from around back."

Ryan cursed and turned away from the attack. He saw Jeffery helping the secretary to her feet, before he picked her up. Without a second glance, he motioned for Mike and Max to follow him. They went through the back exit and cautiously made their way to the front of the building. By the time they made it there, they saw that a large squad of cop cars had made a perimeter around the building. The fire was being put out and the injured tended to.

Ryan kept his gun out as he approached the parameter with Mike and Max following closely behind. Jeffery handed the injured secretary to the closest EMT. One of the cops approached Ryan and then said, "We have the place secured."

"Good," Jeffery said eyeing three males on the floor, handcuffed and wearing Joe masks. They were lying on the floor. "Now what do we have here?" He asked rhetorically as he pulled off one of the masks. He saw a young Spanish male, probably in his late teens. He sighed, "Damn." He stood up and then eyed the building that was still smoking. "Double damn."

….

Amable sitting in the kitchen eating a bowl of cheerios. She had a Cosmo magazine open in front of her. Her phone was beside the magazine, playing a 3 Doors Down song. She looked up from the magazine and smiled at him when he entered.

"Good morning," He said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Morning?" She said giving him an odd look. "It is nearly noon"

"Well I have been in my study all morning" He said with a small shrug. He took a seat across from her at the table. "You were still sleeping when I woke up."

"That's true," She replied. She turned her attention back to her magazine.

Amable sat there quietly sipping his coffee. Annabelle flipped through the magazine trying to ignore him while he watched her eat.

"I owe you and everyone else here an apology," Amable began after the awkward moment of silence. He cleared his throat and rested both of his arms on the table. "I have been so busy, that I have been quite neglectful with my family."

"You don't need to apologize," She said looking up from the magazine. She closed it and gave him an understanding look.

"No I really do," He shook his head. "Two of our family members are missing and instead of coming together as a family, I have locked myself in my study." He took a sip of coffee. "I'm sorry that I haven't been there for everyone here."

Annabelle wasn't used to seeing such a soft and emotional side of him. He hardly opened up about his life and if he did, he was drunk. Now he was sober and feeling remorseful.

"You really don't need to apologize," She said gently. "Dad, I can't begin to describe what you mean, not only to me, but everyone around here. You not only keep us safe, but make sure we have everything to live happy and heathy." She paused and blinked away tears. "I owe my life to you."

Amable found himself beaming "There is so much love in this house," He said glancing at Mark who entered the kitchen. "Come on Mark." He motioned for him with the wave of his hand. "Grab a chair and join us."

Mark swallowed nervously and glanced at Annabelle who looked at him coldly. He tried to come up with an excuse, but he couldn't find the right words. Instead he mumbled something no one heard as he made his way to the empty chair next to Amable.

"This is good," Amable said smiling at the both of them. He didn't seem to notice both of their discomfort. "Are you hungry?" He asked looking at Mark. "Charlene made the most delicious banana muffins." He licked his lips to emphasize the matter. "I had one for breakfast earlier. I highly suggest grabbing one before they are all finished."

"I am not too hungry," Mark said looking at Amable uncomfortably.

"You sure?" He asked looking at him oddly. "It sure looks like you can put some meat on your bones."

Mark wasn't sure whether Amable was kidding or not. He didn't know how to respond to him, so he forced a loud laugh.

"Well it is your loss then," Amable shrugged. He downed the rest of his coffee as Mark stood up.

"I was actually on the way to um," Mark said awkwardly. "The bathroom." He hurried away from them.

Amable watched him leave. "Weird young man," He said with a chuckle. He stood up and poured himself a second cup of coffee.

"Dad," Annabelle stood up from her and placed her empty bowl in the sink. "I am curious." She lowered her voice. "What is your plan with him?"

"What do you mean?" He asked looking at her confused. He took a sip of coffee.

"You know what I mean Dad," She said giving him an unamused look.

Amable sighed and set his mug on the counter beside the coffee machine. "Fine, but what I discuss with you stays between us," He said sternly. "Come into my study so it'll be more private."

Annabelle was overcome with curiosity as she followed her dad into his study. When they got there, he locked the door and then looked at her for a few moments studying her, almost as if testing to see if she was ready.

"Mark is my son," Amable began. He took a sip from his coffee and then set it on the desk. "Since he was alone after both his mother and brother's death, I decided it was time to take him under my wing here." He paused for a few moments, watching her curious yet anxious look and stance. "I not only wanted him part of the family, since he is family, but he has expertise that intrigued me." He took another sip of coffee.

Annabelle watched him in silence. She crossed her arms over her chest, but said nothing.

"He can help us," Amable continued to praise him. "He may be odd," He frowned trying to find the right set of words to describe Mark. He thought back to the conversation he was having with his dead brother. He decided odd was the correct word. "But he is important to our success in this."

"You seem to hold a lot of praise on someone we barely know," Annabelle boldly said.

Amable gave her a harsh look for a few moments, but soon softened and then smiled at her. "Molly called me last night," He said glancing at his computer briefly. He cleared his throat loudly. "I am not going to tell you everything we spoke about, but she did try to blackmail me and that is something that will not just do." His eyes twinkled dangerously. "So I made a decision." He exhaled with pleasure. "I played fire with fire."

"What did you do Dad?" She asked uncertain. She took a few steps toward him.

"I made a small phone call," He continued in a proud and dangerous tone. "You know there are handfuls of people so desperate for Joe's affection that they will do almost anything for him." He shook his head and laughed.

"What did you do?" She repeated herself a bit louder.

"I raised the stakes here," Amable said proudly. "I called those little pesky nobodies and told them what to do." He paused for a few moments. "I told them to attack the FBI building that was full of agents which included Max, Ryan, and Mike. All the bastards that we want dead." His smile widened. "Dangerous isn't it."

Annabelle could feel his excitement radiating off of him. She began to smile. "Finally," She said happily. "Things were beginning to grow a bit dull and repetitive here."

…..

Carrie pulled up to the FBI building in her work van, her heart pounding with intense trepidation. When she was told about the attack, her first thought was of Ryan and not of work. She wanted to know if he was okay. He often got into situations that was out of his control and the more she got to know him, the more she realized that.

She peered out her window as she turned off the car. The fire was out, yet there was small pillars of white smoke rising from the ashes. Water flooded the front of the wreckage down the driveway, front yard, and into the street leading all the way to the closest drainage ditch.

A large crowd of people huddled around behind the hanging caution tape. Some were taking videos or pictures with their phones, others were talking on their phones, and some were standing by watching with childlike curiosity and fascination. She counted a total of three fire trucks, two ambulances, and a dozen cop cars all lending out help. Some were standing by as security or keeping the crowd in line. They all looked extremely busy.

She stepped out of the van with her mike in her hand as she scanned for Ryan. Her coworker was setting up the camera, so she had a few moments. At first all she saw was the loud and curious crowd. The dozens of cops were barking orders to stay back as they tried to keep them at a safe distance. Yet the more they tried, more people seemed to show up.

Finally she found Ryan getting bandaged up by the furthest ambulance. He had a cut on his head that an EMT was putting a butterfly bandage on. She smiled relieved that he was okay. She approached him and waited a few moments until the EMT was finished. When she was, Ryan turned to be greeted by a hug from Carrie.

"You scared the hell out of me," She said in between kisses. "Once again."

"I'm okay," Ryan said looking at her noting how genuinely worried she was about him. "Really."

"All I hear is that the FBI building was attacked," She said looking into his confident and warm eyes finding it somewhat relaxing. "As I was driving here, I was praying that you weren't here. That you were off on a case." She paused at a loss of words.

"Hey," Ryan interrupted her. He reached out and caressed her cheek. "I am okay. There is nothing left to worry about." He paused and kissed her deeply as his phone rang. He groaned and causing her to chuckle.

"You should answer that," Carrie said letting go of Ryan. She glanced at her camera man who was ready and waiting impatiently for her. "I have to get to work."

"Dinner tonight?" He asked. "My place or your place?"

"My place," She said stepping away from him. "I have a well-stocked fridge." She smiled at him before walking away.

"Hello," Ryan answered his phone. He watched her starting her broadcast.

"Ryan," William said anxiously. "I have a problem."

"What is it?" Ryan asked turning away from Carrie.

William said the three words that Ryan was not wanting to hear. As soon as he uttered them, Ryan was in his car and speeding toward the hotel. Before he knew it, he was parking his car. He barged inside to see William sitting on the edge of the bed sulking. Cruz was on the floor bloodied still handcuffed to the broken chair.

"Oh William," Ryan said shaking his head as he closed the door behind him.

"I killed him," William said looking at Ryan with bloodshot eyes. "God damn it." He stood up wincing in pain.

There was so much that Ryan wanted to say to him, but he knew that it would do little good. Nothing could fix this problem. The only solution, was to remove the body and attempt to clean all the evidence. It wouldn't be easy though, there was so much blood on the floor and some splattered on the wall.

"What are we going to do?" William asked stepping up to him.

"Well we have to move all the evidence," Ryan said eyeing Cruz on the floor. "We can't leave any trace of it happening."

"But what about Tanya?" William asked in a slightly shrilly tone.

"I don't know man," Ryan shrugged his shoulders. He scratched the back of his neck. "He was the closest chance and you killed him."

"He got to me," William said collapsing on the edge of the bed. He buried his head in his hands. "I couldn't control myself." He said a string of curse words out of frustration. "I thought I had it in me. I really did." He looked up at Ryan teary eyed. "How the hell do you do it man? How do you have the strength to continue?"

"William," Ryan gently began. "You of all people know how bad it became for me and what I turned to." He took a step toward him. "I broke, many times before. Yet I always came back. You will also." He paused for a few moments. "It ain't about how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can get it and keep on moving forward. It's how much you can take and keep moving forward."

William gave him a weird and surprised look. "Did you just quote Rocky?" He asked.

"Yeah I did," Ryan chuckled. "Recently watched it actually and that line really stood out."

Unbeknown to the both of them, Michael was watching through the cracks of the blinds. He couldn't see much, but was able to make out Cruz on the floor unmoving and covered in blood. He cursed and stepped away from the window, wondering what he could do.

If he came barging in, there was a chance that he could surprise him. Ryan was a scrawny, yet tough man who would put up a fight. William though was injured and wouldn't put up a struggle. There was also the chance that as soon as he entered he would be shot, with making so much noise. It was a risky one to say the least. He could also try to break in through the bathroom window. Despite his size, he knew how to move around quietly. It was one of his strengths. He decided that would be the best plan.

Michael made his way cautiously to the back of the room and tried the bathroom window. To his surprise, it was unlocked. He slid it opened without making a noise and took a deep breath before he hoisted himself in. The window was larger than his body, which made everything easier for him. He was able to make it into the bathroom without making a noise.

He slowly opened the door a crack as silently as he could, his heart pounding loudly anxiously. He peered through it and grabbed his knife that he had hooked on his belt. He saw William sitting on the bed, his head resting in his hands clearly upset. Ryan was trying to console him, but it wasn't looking like it was helping.

Michael knew that this was the best moment for him. He kicked the door open and threw his knife as hard as he could at William. At the same time, he ran and grabbed Ryan by the waist tackling him to the floor. He punched him in the head hard a few times, before he stood up and approached William who was struggled to pull the knife from his chest.

Surprised for a few moments that it actually hit him, he watched as William pulled out the knife. As soon as he had done so, Michael grabbed the dented bat and swung at him catching him in the stomach. William doubled over in pain feeling blood leak from his wounds down to his waist. He was out of breath and seeing stars.

"You killed my best friend," Michael said through clenched teeth glancing at Ryan briefly who groaned, but didn't move. "You asshole."

Michael swung as William reached out trying to protect himself. The bat hit his form arm cracking it with a sickening crunch. William cried out in pain, but didn't have time to move, when Michael reached for his knife. He grabbed William roughly by the hair and swiftly slit his throat listening to him gurgle on his own blood for a few moments.

Michael then searched William for keys and found a pair in his left pocket. He quickly unlocked all the handcuffs and then tossed the keys aside. He picked up Cruz as carefully as he could and then stepped over Ryan who seemed to be moments from waking. To his relief, he made it out of the hotel room safely.

He made his way to his car and gently placed Cruz in the trunk. He then covered him with a blanket he had in the trunk to hide him. "We will be home soon," He said closing the trunk.

He drove wildly yet as carefully as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was get pulled over. He was now a wanted criminal and as cool as that sounded to him, it came with a hefty price.

He drove for a few hours until he needed to get gas. He pulled into the Mobil gas station and paid for half a tank in cash. He counted the seconds which felt like minutes as the tank filled. It soon did and he was about to leave, when he heard a familiar voice that sent a tremor through his spine. He looked and to his surprise, he saw Claire stepping out of the bathroom on the phone. She was talking loudly and waving her hands frantically.

"Bingo," He said with a dangerous smile creeping on her face.

He grabbed his knife and carefully approached her. She turned to face him and looked at him not recognizing him. "Claire Mathews?" He asked.

"Yes," She said eyeing him suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

Michael licked his lips. "Not yet," He said taking a menacing step toward her. "But you soon will."

Hope you enjoyed! More to come! Oh it is about to get... well... you'll see but plenty of surprises to come!

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