"Good morning to you, too, Ms. Hopkins," I said to the woman who didn't seem able to keep her hands to herself; more so than usual. Not that I really blamed her.
"It would have been a better morning if a certain someone had returned my calls last week," she said.
She walked around me, no shame in her actions as she looked me over; waiting for me to make a move. I understood that she knew about me and my apparent reputation with ladies. And it wasn't that I didn't find her pretty, but it was just that I didn't want to give into her advances. It had more to do with the fact that I would see her more often with our jobs being related and I really wasn't one to complicate my position with office relationships.
Besides, she was looking to settle down – having kids and making a family – and that wasn't something I was looking for right now.
"I thought you were a gentleman, Mr. Stokes?" she asked blatantly, but her tone suggested that she was still keeping a distance. It was more playful than serious and we both knew (at least I hoped for her sake that she knew) we would never take our relationship anywhere past that.
"But I am, Ms. Hopkins. And I would have agreed to a night together if I didn't have an important dinner already lined up for me."
"You say something like every time I ask you. Don't think I don't notice." She used her pen to point at me, the action reflecting something a parent would do to chide a child.
I had a reply on the tip of my tongue when G came into the room, saving me from having to fend her off any longer. Not to mention I could finally get to the bottom of exactly who Brass was and why everyone was so quiet about.
"It's actually true this time, Kristy," he said, and I was somewhat put off by what he implied. "And I'm afraid he won't be free tomorrow or any time soon."
"Like there's anything worthwhile to do in Texas, Grissom," she scoffed, though the action was half-hearted.
I was going to ask her why she took the job – knowing her credentials allowed her to move somewhere else – but I only shook my head. I honestly hoped the fact that I worked here didn't have anything to do with it. "Sorry, Kristy," I said, truly regretting that our relationship would never progress past flirting. I knew it wouldn't work out and I didn't want to jeopardise our friendship.
"I'll get you alone next time, Nick," she replied, looking at me knowingly before I turned around; following G out of her office and into a long hallway.
I always wondered why G hired her and what the story was behind it. She was the only one who called G by his real name – first or last I was never really sure – but it did suggest that they had a history since she was also the only one actually allowed to call him that.
After trying it once, I know better not to try it again.
There was something intimidating about a man with a greying beard.
Noticing I was falling behind, I quickened my pace so I could walk next to the older man. "Any chance you're going to tell me what's going instead leading me around with a blindfold?" I asked, careful to keep the derision out of my voice.
He paused in front of a closed door, folders in hand as he used to other to lower his glasses; somehow making me feel small under his gaze. "You went out of your boundaries the second you decided that you were above just observing Brass, directly interfering with what should have just been surveillance."
I winced at the tone, but I knew I deserved it since I'm the reason why Catherine's dead.
"This isn't on the same calibre as your other missions, 018." He narrowed his eyes at me when I winced, again, knowing I preferred my real name despite what protocol designated. "If you can't complete your assignment objectively without letting your personal persuasions getting in the way, then I have no problem replacing you."
And it was true. I've seen him do it to other agents before and I knew he wouldn't hesitate to replace me, too. "I understand," I told him, sighing resignedly. "You know I couldn't just sit back and let Brass take O'Riley's money like that." I had a feeling he was talking more about Catherine, but I wasn't going to bring it up if he didn't ask about it specifically.
He didn't look satisfied (not that I expected him to be) as he straightened his glasses; turning around and opening the door leading to a large oval room. It was officially G's office, but he'd long ago turned into a meeting room of sort kind. And as I peered into it I realised it wasn't empty. A man I'd never seen before sat at the round table placed in the middle of the room. He seemed a little put off by the various displays of insects on top of the furniture and on the walls.
If I had a fascination with birds, G had an obsession with bugs.
I sat down comfortably in the chair nearest the door as I waited for the man to speak, Grissom sitting beside me.
He cleared his throat, straightening his tie as he removed his eyes from the wall and looked at me. "Conrad Ecklie," he said shortly and I guess that was the only introduction he needed.
"As a representative of the Copper Development Association or CDA as I like to call it," he said with an awkward laugh that quickly disappeared when G raised an eyebrow at him. If I could have gotten away with it, I would have done it, too.
Ecklie coughed again, a hint of red on his face was the only indication I had that he was embarrassed. "As you know, Mr. Stokes, copper is used for a variety of things. Electronics, piping, architecture, household products, the list goes on. But more importantly than what it's used in is how much of it we use. It's really an undervalued commodity.
"Of course, there's no way to actually judge exactly how much copper we have or how much we use as most is supplied from independent sources. But most of America's supply today comes from mines in Arizona, Utah, New Mexico, and Montana. And we do have reason to believe that Brass has been stealing copper from these mining sites as well as several other small establishments; many of which he owns – including a previously abandoned mine in central Texas."
And Headquarters, where we were, was coincidentally located in central Texas. But I didn't believe in happenstance, anyway.
"Now, normally we wouldn't have much of a problem to further investigation with help from the regular authorities," Ecklie spoke again, "it's simply that Brass has a permit for mining and other than our suspicious, we have no reason to dig that deeply."
"But stealing copper, though?" I asked, not just a little surprised. How does an ex-cop get caught up in stealing copper? I'm pretty sure he made money from mining the stuff alone. Never mind how he even got into mining in first place.
"Apparently," G answered and I wondered how the older man could keep a straight face considering we were talking about someone stealing copper of all things. "But let's not wait to see if he decides to expand his ambitions to an international level."
"Why copper?" I asked again, trying to wrap my mind around the idea.
"Simple," G said, nodding in that ambiguously annoying way that made me feel like he was chastising me for not knowing the obvious, which considering what he said next...was something I actually should have known. "Like Ecklie said, there's an assortment of copper in the things we use today, but it's better known when zinc is added to make a certain metal alloy that's otherwise known as-"
"Brass," I finished, inwardly cringing at how silly it sounded even when Ecklie rejoined the conversation; trying to explain it further and rehash the importance of what was at stake.
"So, something as trivial as stealing copper, though seemingly pointless now, would definitely end up affecting us in the long run."
I tried not to let myself be distracted by the numerous people and the equally numerous gadgets, not wanting my curiosity get the best of me and not wanting to find out if the coat one man was wearing was really bulletproof or not.
I turned away when I heard gunshots, but since there weren't any screams, I'd like to assume that it meant the man was still alive.
As I walked beside him, R looked at me pointedly, moving faster than many gave him credit for because of his cane. Now with a permanent limp, it was a result from a car accident he had ten years ago, but not something that managed to slow him down. "And since you lost-"
"Hey, now," I interrupted, not appreciating the admonishing look he was giving me. It wasn't my fault someone stole the BMW and it ended up in being impounded only to be sold for scrap metal. I actually liked that car.
"Like I said," he voiced with a familiar disdain that I was already used to, "since you lost the 501, the department would only grant enough money to allow us this." He stopped abruptly, almost causing me to run into him before I caught my footing.
And then I realised he was pointing at something...what looked like some kind of compact car that hadn't seen soap and water in years. Was that rust on the side of the passenger door? I turned to him in confusion with a bit of shock on my face for good measure, which I knew he immediately picked up on.
"Don't look at me like that. It's more inconspicuous like this, anyway."
"Like the Puffin?" I asked dryly, crossing my arms and turning away from R to look at the car in front of me. It wasn't exactly a jalopy, but at the same time, I'd gotten used to my BMW that lasted for a total of six months. Though, I guess there wasn't really anything wrong with a Volkswagen.
I mean, there wouldn't have been if it wasn't a notchback that had obviously seen better days.
R actually smirked at me, and I didn't doubt that he probably set this up on purpose.
But I guess it wasn't so bad. All it needed was a wash and I was set. Finally over the initial shock, I faced R, again. "So...what about everything else? The other stuff I might be needing?"
"I'm actually afraid to give you anything and almost wish G would replace you."
"Really?"
"No," he admitted as he reached to get something out of his pocket. "But for once, I would like for you to return something back to me. Intact, and not in bad condition." He shook his head before continuing; showing me what he took out of his pocket. "This is a homing device."
It was a small, circular device; non-descript and silver in colour. He opened a small compartment in the back, revealing an even smaller replica.
"The smaller model you can place on the outsole of your shoe by the heel. Since your mission is something of a priority, you're being given the second chance you clearly don't deserve."
I raised my eyebrows when he paused, gaze lingering on me before he continued.
"You just need use the black switch at the bottom to prime the larger model," he said while demonstrating with his hands. "The smaller one, as I assume you've figured out by now, is already activated and is tracked through our system.
"It's the only set we have right now, but we're hoping to make it part of standard field issue. So, it's imperative that you bring these back in once piece." R looked at me sternly before giving me the two devices.
"What's the range?" I asked.
"A ten mile radius."
"Ten miles?"
"I've pulled enough strings as it is," he remarked dryly.
"Anything else," I asked, honestly hoping this wasn't all they were sending me in the field with.
"Well, since you've downgraded in your choice of cars, we could install bulletproof windows this time," he said, tapping the front windshield. "Front, back, and all sides."
I was actually grateful for that because it was something I'd never really had before and something I actually needed.
Very badly.
"And of course you have your revolving license plates," R continued, pointed to the back of the car. "Just in case you get yourself in trouble, again," he said wryly and I knew better to make a comment about that. I wasn't even leaving Texas, but I wouldn't put it past my luck to get in a situation that caused me to relocate unexpectedly.
Though, I felt better knowing I wasn't the only agent notorious for something like that.
R opened the passenger door of the car, causing a loud squeak that grated against my ears as he sat in the car. "Before we move on, you see this on the gear shift?"
I nodded as he flipped the top open, revealing a small red button.
"Don't push it," he said.
"Why?"
He shrugged. "Actually, it just opens the front passenger door."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to just make an ejector seat?"
"If somebody didn't keep losing the equipment due to "wear and tear"..." he said, trailing off.
I rolled my eyes, putting my hands up in mock surrender. I already got the picture.
"And here," he said, his hand reaching behind the rear view mirror, "is your reception for your homing device." The reflective glass transitioned into a green, radar screen that displayed the location of the device until he reached behind it and turned it back off.
Sometimes, they amazed me with what they came up with, and other times...
"There's only visual, but we're hoping to get audio integrated, as well, sometime in the near future."
"What about the dashboard?" I asked suddenly, remembering what I heard a few weeks ago from David; someone who worked for R and helped make the gadgets.
He raised his eyebrows at me, seemingly surprised, but his voice was neutral. "The dashboard-"
"Is just a dashboard," I finished for him, somewhat put off by the way he was nodding at me. There were rumours around that they were implementing something new in the dashboard, but I wasn't sure if was true because supposedly only a few agents had it so far and it seemed that they weren't able to disclose exactly what it was.
"Is just a dashboard," he repeated.
"Oh."
Since we were dealing with someone who evidently had an unhealthy affinity for brass, there wasn't much we could barter with or there was no "bait" so to speak. But apparently, my stunt in Miami didn't drive him too far away and Warrick managed to trace Brass to Texas, which again, was conveniently nearby so I didn't have to go very far.
Brass had been seen around a newly established park in Dallas, located on the outskirts of town. I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to do when I did meet Brass, assuming he was even there. So, I was pretty much planning as I went along.
Though, fortunately when I reached the entrance of the park, I was able to see Brass not too far ahead; evidently sitting alone at one of those wooden tables with the chequered board embossed on top of it. He was sitting up erect, almost attentive as if he was waiting for someone. Needless to say, I decided to intervene before that someone decided to show up.
My footsteps in the grass alerted him to my presence and he turned his head slowly to face me when I took a seat across from him.
"Mr. Stokes," he said calmly, "we seem to be running into each a lot, lately." He looked genuinely disgruntled and surprised, but I couldn't really tell with him.
"Well, after staying in Miami, I thought it'd be nice to get a little quiet time, you know. Somewhere a little more rustic."
"Yeah," he said distractedly, "I know the feeling." A man came up behind him. Dark hair and stern face, he was dressed in a black pinstripe suit that didn't seem to fit him well. But it was the brass knuckles on his hands that really got my attention, glistening in the sun in a way that made me want to cover my eyes.
Or maybe it was the way he kept pressing them together, the action seemingly unconscious as he stared at me.
"You'll have to forgive Vartann, Mr. Stokes," Brass said. "Sometimes, he can be kind of...enthusiastic about meeting new people."
Personally, I thought it was enthusiastic bordering on homicidal, but I refrained from saying anything out loud.
As if he picked up on my thoughts, Brass spoke again, a twisted smile marring his features. "So, why come to this particular park, Mr. Stokes, if you wanted to fulfil your rustic desires?"
"Mostly bird watching," I said confidently as I pointed to the binoculars around my neck. I didn't have to force the conviction in my voice because it was true, I did come back home often to watch the birds in the area. It wasn't my fault that Brass spent much of his time in Texas, where I grew up.
"Well, while you're watching, would you mind taking up a game of checkers with me?" he asked, pointing to the black and white cylindrical pieces already set up on the table. They looked like they were made out of marble.
"I'm more of a baseball guy, myself," I said honestly. Though, the look in his eyes told me liking baseball wasn't going be common ground for us. "But sure. Why not?"
The corners of his lips lifted slightly before he frowned at me, seemingly unimpressed or disappointed with my response.
"You know the thing I like about checkers, Mr. Stokes?" he asked, not pausing to give me an opportunity to answer, "is that's it's a quick game and doesn't give you the chance to make thoughtful decisions. Because a lot of it is based on luck and skill doesn't necessarily play an important factor."
"That's...different."
I had a feeling I was missing out on something important when he smirked at me, not speaking for the duration of the relatively short game. I blame my loss on the fact that Vartann was trying to drill a hole in my head with his eyes, still standing behind Brass; his posture defensive.
Leaning back in the chair, I sighed as I crossed my arms, waiting for Brass to gloat about his win. But he didn't and I have to say that it surprised me.
"Good game, Mr. Stokes," Brass said as he stood from the table, holding his hand out across the board.
"Yeah..." I found myself saying as I shook his hand while I move to stand and trying not to let the surprise show on my face. I was embarrassed to admit that game probably lasted only ten minutes (though, Vartann's relentless staring made it seem longer).
So far, I had no clue what to make of this guy, what his motives were or even who he was. One minute, he's trying to swindle a guy out of his money and the next minute, I'm playing checkers with him.
There must be some reason behind what he was doing, but nothing was making any sense. He obviously knew who I was and that I was the one who sabotaged his game of Go Fish. But then why be so amicable to me? I admit I at least expected some kind of animosity and granted I haven't been around him long, but I've seen him angry before. I mean, I wouldn't be too happy with me if I was in his position.
So, what was holding him back?
"But I'm afraid that I have to leave. I have other matters I need to deal with," Brass said, breaking my train of thought. The words were as unexpected as his actions when he moved around the table, uncomfortably invading my personal space as he stood beside me. "I admit I'm kind of disappointed, and that I expected something...more from you, Mr. Stokes."
My lips were set in a thin line and I refrained from commenting. While I probably should have come up with some kind of plan before confronting him, I was on really short notice. And yes, I did have my shortcomings, be he couldn't be basing his assessment of me on one game of checkers?
"And despite how entertaining you are to have around, I don't think it would be in your best interests if our paths crossed for a third time," he whispered harshly, eyes narrowing slightly before his face became neutral, again.
It was disturbing how quickly this man went through moods, but I saw the threat for what it was. Now, I wasn't sure of the extent of how much he knew about me and how deep my involvement was for the government. Still, I knew better to take chances and heeded his warning.
For now, anyway.
"It's a shame we'll never have the rematch, then," I said thoughtfully, knowing we would see each other again sometime in the near. I just didn't know if Brass knew that, yet. "You just caught me off guard, today."
He regarded me quietly before giving me a small smile, nodding his head before walking away from me. At this point, the only thing I could do was let him go, but at least this encounter with him wasn't a complete loss.
I looked warily at Vartann, who had yet to move even though Brass was close to disappearing in the distance. The other man narrowed his eyes at me before picking up one of the white, marble pieces; one of the ones I was playing with.
Not sure what he was trying to do, I watched as it disappeared within his palm. Gaze still on me, his face began to contort and I raised my eyebrows as veins began to appear on his forehead. I almost wanted ask if he was okay when he continued to make a fist, flexing his fingers, but the whole thing was too weird for me to want to interfere with whatever he was doing. And the intermittent bouts of grunting were seriously starting to bother me.
After a few more seconds, his face started to turn to normal; the red hue from his skin disappearing and his body notably less tense. He gave me a look of contempt, like something was my fault. And it wasn't until he opened his palm and revealed the flat, white piece that I realised he was trying to crush it, probably to set an example or something.
When he snarled at me, I was tempted to back away. Not because I was scared, but I just didn't know what to make of the situation. He gave a final sigh of obvious frustration as he threw the piece on the ground; brushing past me as he presumably made his way to Brass and left me in confusion.
I was hardly impressed.
For once, I had the foresight to place the homing device on Brass' car before I met with him, making following him when he left the park that much easier. Though, it wasn't like his car was hard to discern considering it was the only other car in the parking lot and the only one with the licence plate reading Brass.
And people thought I was a narcissistic person.
Ultimately, I trailed him from Dallas to Austin. I would have thought Brass would have least gone out of state, but I guess it made things easier since I was closer to the Intelligent Community element in Houston. And not to mention it was hard enough to track him without being noticed because ten miles didn't really give me much leeway.
And apparently this road wasn't giving me much flexibility, either.
I looked in the side view mirror when I heard a loud rumbling behind me. There was a woman in another car quickly gaining on me; swerving from side to side (drunk was my first thought) and trying to pass me. She blew her horn, which I thought wasn't necessary, but apparently I was moving too slow for her. Bearing in mind we were travelling on a one lane rural road that was barely wide enough for the small car I was in, I hoped she didn't expect me to pull over to the side because I really wasn't in the mood to end up crashing into a tree.
I was seriously trying to preserve a car for once.
She honked her horn, again, and I was almost positive even Brass heard her by now. I sighed in annoyance as she continued to try to pass me. The way her engine was revving, it sounded like she was going eighty miles per hour in second gear. She probably didn't even realise she was messing up her transmission.
But I guess that really didn't matter when she finally veered off the road; her tires making an irritating, screeching sound before she landed in a ditch. Though, thankfully it wasn't into a tree.
Stopping abruptly, I took my seatbelt off and opened my door. She may have been a reckless driver but that didn't mean I didn't hope she was okay. As I made my way to her, she was already out of her car, taking out a small case from the trunk. I felt myself cringing when she slammed the door; a scowl on her face as she took notice of me. "This is all your fault," she said resolutely, using one hand to point at me. "If you would just drive like a normal-"
"Excuse me?" I think I may have preferred her being inebriated to the anger she was now focussing toward me. Her expression marred features on her face that I would have normally thought of as pretty. And it was rare when I didn't enjoy the company of a pretty face.
And I was a sucker for a pretty face with dark hair.
The only reason I had even stopped was to see if she was all right. Besides, my conscience wouldn't let me leave her alone in the middle of nowhere. But judging by her behaviour, it was clear that she was fine. Still, she may have been at fault, but I at least wanted to offer her a ride to a gas station or something; somewhere where she could get someone to tow her car.
Again, we were in the middle of nowhere and I wouldn't let my frustration undermine my manners.
I closed my eyes and sighed before I walked to stand beside her. "Are you all right, Miss..."
"Sara Sidle," she said shortly, "and no I'm not all right. Do you even know what you did to my car? That's just one more thing to slow me down that I don't need." She pointed to her car. There was smoke coming from the front from beneath the hood.
I almost replied with something along the lines of her needing to slow down regardless, but I mentally counted to ten before saying anything. "My name is Stokes, by the way, and I'm sorry about what happened, but-"
"You should be."
I didn't say anything, taking notice of the wooden case she was holding tightly. It had the initials S.W. on it.
"If you would have just-"
"Look," I said, trying to hold my anger in, "I already apologised for something that wasn't even my fault and I'm trying to offer you some help. The least you could do is-"
"You know what?" She held out her hand to me. "I think I'm better off without your help. I have something to take care of and I don't need anyone getting in my way," she said; as if she was pardoning me for causing her to land in a ditch...which I didn't.
First Vartann, and now this.
"Are you sure you don't want me to take you to a gas station or something?" I tried again, some part of me not wanting her to take me up on my offer. I felt bad about it, but her attitude wasn't something that was making me feel in the helping mood.
"I can walk, thanks. I'll probably get there much faster that way, anyway," she said as she passed by me.
Of course, I was offended by the comment; considering I wasn't the one who drove off the road. I sighed as I made my way back to my car, my hand pressed against my forehead to relieve some of the pressure that was building in my head.
Once I was settled in, I checked the scope in rear view mirror, surprised, but at the same time relieved Brass wasn't out of range. In fact, he hadn't moved since the last time I checked.
I guess that was a sign.
When I started driving, it didn't take me long to catch up to Sara, walking not having actually gotten her very far. I shook my head as I continued to drive beside her; going slowly as I waited for her to acknowledge me. After a few seconds, I rolled my window down as I honked my horn at her.
"Get in the car."
It didn't take long to get Sara situated after I took her to a gas station. It would take a couple of hours to get someone to tow her car and see if they could fix it, though. I offered to stay and wait with her but she brushed me off when I tried to initiate a conversation with her.
"Didn't take you as the hunting kind of person," I said as I pointed to the case in her hand, wondering what someone like here was doing with that kind of equipment. "Didn't even know it was hunting season."
"It's not." She gave me a pointed look, like she knew that I didn't believe her.
"What's in there, then?"
"Knives," she said dryly, continuing at the wary look I gave her. "I cook."
It hadn't taken long to get back on track to finding Brass. The homing device brought me to a fairly large warehouse; the words Jim Industries appearing in bold on the side. It was still in the country, not that close to civilisation; surrounded by forest and not much else.
I didn't manage to actually explore the area since it was daylight and there were too many people – whom I assumed were workers – wandering around; I was more liable to get caught. Though, before I had to pull out, I actually did see Brass and caught a glimpse of a conversation he was sharing with someone else: something about Operation: Home Run.
And here I was thinking he didn't have a penchant for baseball.
I came back a few hours later, hoping there would be fewer people so I could actually see what was going on and possibly find out how Brass was stealing...well, brass. Again, if he already had a few mines set up, why go to the trouble to leech off someone else?
Using the cover of a nearby hillside, I looked down at the factory through my binocular. It wasn't as crowded as it was earlier, but some lights were still on. I had hoped the building would have been empty by one in the morning, but maybe there was a chance I could actually catch what they were doing instead having to rely on speculation alone. Of course, that meant Brass was still there and I couldn't say I was ecstatic to the see the results of our next confrontation.
Putting my binoculars down, I was getting ready to head down there when I heard a twig snap. I stilled when I saw a figure not too far away from me; stalking forward with a rifle in hand. Quietly, I moved behind a tree, out of sight of the other person who now lying down and cocking the rifle at the warehouse below.
I found myself diving to prevent the person from shooting, but the gun went off anyway and I cursed out loud; vainly hoping no one in the building heard it. But a red light was lit on the outside of the warehouse and a loud, wailing sound reached my ears.
"Damn it," I said, again, taking hold of the shooter and revealing other person's face; using the moonlight to see.
"Stop manhandling me," a familiar and feminine voice said, "you're breaking my back."
It was Sara.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I nearly yelled at her, but still retaining my hold.
"I'm going to kill him."
"Who?"
"Brass," she said, her eyes narrowed at me.
"I want him alive."
"Well, I want him dead. He killed my sister."
"Your sister..." I said; trailing off until I thought of the initials I saw on her case earlier. "S.W. Sara Willows. I knew your sister, Catherine. I know what he did to her."
"No you don't!" she argued, now beginning to struggle against my hold. "Let me go so I-."
"You obviously weren't trying to shoot him if you tried to kill me."
"I wasn't shooting at you."
"And the fact that you almost took out my eye is supposed to make me feel better?"
"You shouldn't have been in the way."
"Well, you're a-"
I was cut off when I heard the sound of gun go off somewhere nearby. Sara and I shared a quick glance before I brought her to her feet, pulling her arm as I led us further into the woods. I looked behind me quickly to see two men behind us and about ten or more joining them.
Seeing my Volkswagen not too far in the distance, I let go of Sara's hand. "Hurry and get in the car. I'll take care of them," I shouted to her, referring to the men that were catching up to us. I left the keys in the car and it would be to our advantage if she could start it.
I didn't have time to reach my gun as the first man moved to hit me, his fist aiming for my chest. I dodged the hit; kicking his leg to bring him to the ground and disabling him for the time being.
I glanced at Sara to see if she was in the car, yet. She wasn't even halfway there and I realised that I had misjudged the distance. Somehow, another one of Brass' men had come up from the other side of the hill and was heading towards Sara. I was about to call out to her but was preoccupied when an arm found its way around my neck, beginning to cut off my air supply.
Gasping, I grabbed the arm with both hands; trying and failing to pull it away. Vision fading, I elbowed the man behind me, hitting him in the face. While he was distracted, I punched him in the cheek; knocking him to the ground and kicking him when he tried to get back up.
Panting heavily, I could hear more men coming and I turned to see that Sara was now struggling with the man who had found her, his arm around her neck. I saw a flash of something metallic coming from the man's hands and I immediately knew who it was. I saw his hands twisting in my mind before it actually happened.
"Sara!" I called out, but it was too late and I watched helplessly as Sara fell lifelessly to the ground.
I narrowed my eyes when the man turned to me, face revealed to me in the moonlight as Vartann gave me a sinister smile. Sara may have not have been my favourite person, but it didn't mean she deserved to die; especially like that. And I couldn't help but think of Catherine's daughter and what would happen to her.
So, I was considerably shocked when I felt something make contact with my leg, making me fall to the ground; momentarily forgetting about the other men, who were now surrounding me. I squeezed my eyes as I felt them kicking at me; curling into myself in a protective gesture against the pain. I held back a groan as I felt myself losing consciousness, arching as a boot caught me in the side of my neck.
R was going to kill me for losing another car.
I've come to doubt how I get myself in these kinds of situations; my occupation as an agent notwithstanding. I've already given up trying to understand how I get myself out of said situations because I'm not that unappreciative to question any flukes.
Because it seems that it's my luck that I gain consciousness only to find myself inside the warehouse and strapped to a cold, metal table...a tarnished yellow in colour, cold, metal table. And I hoped, for the sake of my sanity, that it wasn't brass because that would bring a completely different set of problems concerning being strapped to a brass table when there was a man obsessed with his last name too much for my liking probably somewhere nearby.
But those thoughts were quickly replaced with something closer to dread when I actually took notice of the large machine pointed at me that I hoped wasn't some kind of laser.
It was yellowish in colour and by now I was just going to assume it was brass and save myself the trouble of wondering. Instead I paid attention to a pair of footsteps entering the room, stopping when a shadow came over me. I looked up to see Brass' face peering down at me.
"Seems like we keep running into each other, don't we, 018?" he said, tapping the side of his chin with one finger.
"My name is Nick Stokes."
He only smiled, not bothering to comment on my correction. "You know it's funny how I just can't seem to get rid of you, can I?"
"Well, I know for a fact that will make a lot of people happy," I countered.
"...I'm sure," he said patronisingly. "But unfortunately for them, you won't be around much longer because this," he said, pausing as he rested his hand on the machine aimed at me, and more discomfiting, aimed in between my legs. "This is an industrial laser I use to deal with people like you, people who want to stick their noses in other people's business a little too much."
Not saying anything, I managed to sit up on my elbows as I tried to see if there was a way to get out of this mess.
"Any last thoughts on the matter Mr. Stokes?" he asked, not keeping the deranged cheerfulness out of his voice. "You know, before you die and all?"
I didn't think carefully and almost regretted the words once they came out of my mouth, not sure if he would take the bluff. "How could you even afford a laser if all you do is steal copper?"
He uncrossed his arms and sneered at me, straightening his face quickly as if the expression was something I wasn't supposed to see. "It's a shame that you're such a smart-ass, Mr. Stokes," he said as he retreated to a table located in the corner of the room, hands running over something I couldn't see.
It must have been for the laser because I almost jumped when I noticed a blue light coming out of the machine, starting at the edge of the tabletop.
"I get your point, Brass. You can turn it off, now." When he didn't answer, I spoke again; this time a little louder when the light of the laser became red and actually started to cut through the table. "What do you want me to do? Talk or something?"
"No," he said calmly, "I just want you to die."
"Wait for a second, would you? Let's think about this logically," I cajoled, hoping I was going somewhere with this. "If I don't report back, they're going to know something went wrong."
"...so?"
So, I said mentally but didn't voice it out loud because that would be another hit on his intelligence. Plus, I didn't want to anger him any further...something I seemed to do easily to too many people. "They already know what I know and if I fail to come back, 007 will replace me."
Not really, but I thought I'd drag my not quite English counterpart into the equation. Personally, I think his reputation preceded him, but again, that's just my personal opinion.
"And I don't doubt that he'll be far, far more successful than you."
I knew exactly what he meant, but I was going to hold on to the small possibility that it was some quip about 007. Either way, he probably noticed my reaction.
"For one thing, he'll be alive by the time you're dead," he said, and I can't say that didn't clarify things for me.
So, I was forced to use my last resort, which I overhead and hoped it was something that could get me out of my current situation; especially considering how disturbingly close the laser was to my groin.
"But he knows what I know."
Brass scoffed at me. "You don't know anything, Mr. Stokes."
"Then, what about Operation: Home Run?" I said hastily, more than a little comforted when I saw the recognition in his eyes. And that meant it wasn't something I was supposed to know.
He stilled, but didn't give anything else away as he finally decided to turn the laser off. But then he smirked at me and now I wasn't too sure if I'd set myself for something worse.
"I don't doubt you have no clue what you're talking about, but let's see where this plays out, shall we?" He looked away, snapping his fingers as he called out, "Andrews!"
I sighed heavily as I heard another set of footsteps entering the room; a man I'd never seen before speaking to Brass and then making his way toward me. My previous reprieve didn't last long when Andrews readily took out a pistol; pointing it at me. I didn't even have a chance to close my eyes before he pulled the trigger.
And then everything around me faded into black.
Honestly, this was longer than I expected...and I thought I shortened it, too. Anyways, in the next part, Greg finally makes an appearance and more stuff happens. Very descriptive, I know.
And of course, thanks for reading and thank you to silverrayne621, Hairpull xox Snapmare, I do have a name for reviewing.