Title: Transhuman
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Characters/Pairing: Garcia-centric, team - gen
Genre: Science-fiction/Drama
Summary: In a dystopian future, hacker Penelope Garcia finds herself being hunted by a corrupt organization. Fearing for her life, she must search for help in the strangest of places.
Chapter Fifteen
Emily woke to the sound of an alarm. It was far too loud, and far too early for it to be her work alarm, but then, she was of the opinion that no alarm was ever, ever a good thing. Laying still in her bed, she uttered a few choice words, the sort of which her mother would send her to the cleaners, should the Deputy Director ever hear.
After a few seconds, she leaned over to the nightstand to shut the alarm off. Without even looking, she knew that it really wasn't good news.
Safehouse infiltrated.
Yep.
Really, really not good news.
The message wasn't from Pilgrim – it was an automated system that she'd set up herself. Pilgrim was in the wind now. She didn't blame him. It was evident that the resistance had been infiltrated in some many, though how – and by whom – she wasn't sure. If there weren't Corp agents knocking down her own door, then the infiltration couldn't have been too deep.
What she needed to do was find the source.
What she needed to do was find Pilgrim.
She swung out of bed, heading straight to the closet. Pilgrim would be heading for the slums, and she needed to dress accordingly. He was expecting to see a Corp agent, but she was pretty sure that the rest of the slums wouldn't be so happy to see her.
She slipped on jeans and a white t-shirt, followed by a leather jacket that she'd picked up somewhere as a teenager. She could just as easily pass for a citizen of the slums as she could someone north of the river. The heavy boots and the weapon strapped to her hip completed the look.
Nothing mattered any more – the Corp, her mother. The façade was broken. No longer was she the spy. Now, she was the enforcer.
It was the point of no return.
She pulled the backpack from her closet, slinging it over her shoulder. She'd been waiting for this day a long time.
She checked her watch – it was a little after 3a.m. She didn't particularly want to be heading to the slums at this hour alone.
There was something else she needed to do first.
* * *
She looked around the building a little apprehensively. It wasn't exactly the kind of residence she expected for the former Director of the Corp. She'd expected something a little…flashier.
Of course, the circumstances surrounding his departure from the job were a little suspect, so she could believe that he didn't want to be found. It had taken a lot of effort to get the address after all. She'd been saving it for an emergency, and she was pretty sure this qualified. He was the only other person she knew of that had managed to stay off the Corp's radar. At least, as far as she was aware.
She pressed the button for Apartment 4D, the label underneath reading "Roger Winchester." A pseudonym if she ever saw one.
The door opened with a short buzz, which immediately aroused her suspicion. She'd expected at the very least to be yelled at for coming before dawn. She kept her hand at her holster as she went up the stairs to the fourth floor.
Her knuckles rapped tentatively on the door to 4D, the fingers of her other hand now wrapped around the butt of her gun. She relaxed the slightest bit when the door opened, and the man standing there was exactly the person she needed to see. He was in his fifties with salt and pepper hair, and a goatee. He was in a dark red robe, and had a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
'You're not the girl the service usually sends over,' he said, his voice the slightest bit slurred. She raised an eyebrow. The man was putting on an act, and they both knew it.
'Cut the crap, Rossi. You know why I'm here.'
He flashed her a grin. 'It's been a long time, Emily. Get your ass inside before someone sees you.'
She ducked in, and he pulled the door shut behind her.
'You knew I was coming,' she accused.
He gave her a slight shrug, but didn't deny it. 'You'd be surprised how many people I have that are still loyal. You're not as covert as you think you are.' He went to a nearby cabinet, pulling out two bottles, one of a red liquid, the other the same amber that was in his own glass. 'You want wine or whiskey?'
She raised an eyebrow. 'It's three in the morning.'
'Wine then,' he shrugged, putting back the whiskey and replacing it with a thin-stemmed wine glass. She watched the dark red liquid slosh against the glass. 'You're looking good,' he said conversationally. 'Of course, I haven't seen you in twenty years, but from what my sources tell me, you've got much better ethics than your mother does.'
'That's why I'm here,' she said, sniffing the wine with some hesitation. She didn't expect him to be trying to kill her, but then, she couldn't be too careful. Whatever danger she might have been in, though, it was worth the risk.
'I know.'
She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised his glass, saying, 'Sources, remember?'
'People don't think it's strange that the former Director is trying to run things from behind the scenes?' she asked him.
He gave a short laugh. 'I doubt anyone remembers a time before that harpy bitch ex-wife of mine. I did all the hard work, but do you think they care? Not a fucking chance. They're all too busy kissing the ass of the woman that's responsible for oppressing the entire city.'
'It's not just her though, is it? She's just a front.'
He shook his head slowly, but it was in no way a denial of her question. 'It goes much…much deeper than anyone realizes.'
'And that's what's in the files?'
He didn't need to ask what files she was talking about – those sources again, she gathered. 'That's what's in the files.'
She took a deep breath. 'Well in that case,' she said. 'I think I'm going to need your help.'