AN: Okay, I know it's been like six months since I updated last, but in my defense- I don't have a plot! Just a beginning and an ending. So I'm just filling it in as I go. I know there may be lots, lots of factual errors… So here's a suggestion- just picture that this whole thing does not take place in US/Russia/anywhere but in this imaginary little place in my head that's, very similar to the real world. This takes place two weeks after the previous chapter. Oh and slytheringirl123, yep, I do best under pressure. Let's go flunk math on Monday.

Chapter 3

Joe's patented smirk-that's-really-just-mistaken-for-a-smile disappeared for a brief moment before it was back.

"You've got nothing on me, Elena," he said, almost spitting out the last word. He didn't want to be there while Elena went on and on about how she was the only one who was a source of reliable intel, blah blah blah… For the first time in his life, that day, two weeks back, Joe willingly sacrificed a delicious lunch and walked out of the restaurant.

Presently, he was just wondering about the turn of events in the past two years. Gosh how he missed his friends and family from Bayport. There he was, a happy LT CDR in the navy, when some top dog from the DOD picked him off because of his 'experienced background' with The Network, slapped him with an official secrets document and handed him a new name and a Sig. Wow.

After six months of training him, making him a deadly assassin, he was sent undercover to Belov. And without, even realizing Joe Hardy was slowly being sucked into the life of Joseph Gordon. He wasn't allowed to tell anyone what he did. He did suspect that his father knew. Of course, all his life Joe had seen Fenton as his all-knowing, all-powerful role model. What bothered him the most was that his job was making his relationship with his brother fall apart. Last time they met, about a year and a half ago, which was also the last time Joe went to his parent's house on Elm Street, he had provoked Frank and quarreled with him, over some 'trust issues'.

Truth was, if Frank knew that Joe was hiding something, which he eventually would have found out had they been in contact, he would go to the ends of the earth to find out. David Belov, his associates and his rivals were dangerous men. Joe didn't want to endanger Frank. Little did he know that Frank was already part of this cat-and-mouse game of epic proportions which had spanned out over the past couple of years.

Getting into his newest 'baby', Joe drove off to this abandoned warehouse where he was supposed to meet some dirty NYPD detective, who wanted to help Belov break one of his men from prison. How he planned to do that, God alone knew. Sighing, Joe headed there anyway.

Frank was sitting behind his desk going through all the possibilities, the same ones he had been going through over and over again for the past couple of weeks. How in the world did his blonde little brother end up some Russian criminal's right hand man? How can someone who helped you rid the world of criminals every now then, end up becoming one? He had to talk to Joe. Screw the who'll-call-first match. One of his men was killed, and Frank somehow knew that wasn't the end of it. He hoped against hope that his brother was not the person behind this, while all evidence suggested otherwise.

Just as he was reaching for his phone to call Joe, his phone rang.

"Hardy."

"Dude, you are so turning into a suit." Chet Morton was into a new hobby now. Although years had rolled, Chet was still the same. His latest muse was coming up with sarcastic nicknames for people or using already existing ones on those who least deserved it; the term 'suit' in this instance referring generally to the average federal agent portrayed on TV.

"Fine, I apologize. Now why did you call?" Frank was exactly in the best of temperaments right now.

"You, me, Biff and Tony. The new zombie movie. Tonight. "

"Tonight? Chet, I'm not so sure-"

"The hell you're not. Frank Hardy, you will come for this movie with us. First it was Joe. Now you're avoiding us too."

"Chet, buddy, it's not like that. I'm really tied up with something here."

"Does it have to be one some Head of Suits' desk tomorrow?" demanded Chet.

"Um, not really. It's more of something I'm doing for-"

"Excellent. I will see at nine ate the movies."

Frank sighed as Chet hung up. Maybe it was time he took a break. Maybe then he'd get some genius brainwave.

Just then Agent Morgan stuck his head into Frank's office.

"New intel?"

"Yeah. Luiz intercepted this call from some NYPD officer about a possible meeting with Gordon," said Morgan as he and Frank walked into the control room with its usual whirring computers and lit LCD monitors.

After twenty minutes of discussion it was decided that Frank and five others with him would be in and around the warehouse where this meeting was supposed to take place.

"And we will have a long, long talk, Joe," said Frank.

"Um, Hardy, I wouldn't be too hopeful. I mean it might not even be your brother. I um, made Kerry do some research on him. He's supposedly still serving in-"

"Morgan, do you really think I can't recognize my own brother?"

"It could be a look-alike," muttered Morgan. "A look-very -alike."

Frank gave him a look which he hoped he didn't like.

"Did you know, that according to this south Indian belief, there are seven people in the world of similar form," said Luiz, trying to help. He was your typical computer geek with a tonne of pointless facts buried in his brain. Every team had one of those.

"Look guys, I'm ninety-eight percent sure that's my brother," said Frank.

"And the other two percent?" asked Morgan.

Frank let the question hang in the air, like an omen of something to come. If this Gordon person wasn't Joe, okay bad judgment. But if he was, then Frank was scared if his kid brother had grown up. Grown up into someone who made illegal weapons deals and killed innocent people.

"Well, you guys might want to move your behinds. You have two hours till our dirty cop meets Gordon," said Luiz.

"Very well, Noel," said Colonel Hansen, Defense Intelligence, "Since Hardy came and made his moving speech keeping his neck on the line, I don't want you to make any advances on this McCreary guy." Of course, the time and place of this meeting had been relayed to Hansen, in methods best known to Joe Hardy and Noel Callahan. Hansen continued, "Just find out whatever they decide and how he plans to break Tsarev out of prison." Noel nodded and left with Lt. Thomas. Joe had described Thomas by saying she was the best thing that happened to Hansen and the worst thing that had happened to Callahan. Noel actually agreed. She did know to kick ass, after first trapping he prey with her long black hair and dark eyes. He didn't know what Hardy saw in her. Most probably the fact that she always played hard-to-get.

At exactly 3:00 PM, Joseph Gordon was at the assigned location. There was no sign of Detective McCreary yet. Joe leaned on his car and waited. He had time. He knew Callahan and Thomas were somewhere around. He didn't want to look for them and endanger them, if there were unwanted eyes around the place.

The warehouse was pretty big. It was very dusty and littered with old metal junk that no one used, or knew how to use. Behind one such piece of 'metal junk', unknown to Joe was crouched his older brother and his partner Morgan. Unknown to them, behind another obsolete machine were Callahan and Thomas. They were there before Frank and Morgan, and had seen FBI agents enter.

"Bloody feds," Thomas had muttered in her British accent. Though American by birth and nationality, she had spent a good few years in London. Callahan had signaled her to keep quiet and risked a peek from behind the big machine.

"They're on the other side," he whispered.

"What the hell are they doing here?"

"I dunno, let's not risk Hardy's ass by trying to find out."

"You think they know about this whole mess?"

"Okay, lieutenant," whispered Callahan, "firstly, this is not a mess. Secondly, we'll see if they make a move on Hardy. If they do, then we'll take the required action. For all we know, they're probably here because of something to with our corrupt cop McCreary."

Presently both the FBI agents and Joe's back up from Defense Intelligence were well hidden and comfortably positioned to see what was happening in the warehouse.

The rumble of an engine announced the arrival of Detective McCreary, who decided to leave his car outside. He walked in to the warehouse greeting Joseph Gordon with his version of a smile. The detective was a heavy-set man, not very tall, with a slick black hair.

"Detective McCreary," greeted Joe.

"Gordon," grunted McCreary.

"I hear tell that you want to liberate one of my comrades, Isaac Tsarev."

McCreary grunted.

"So I take you have a plan in mind?"

Grunt.

"This would be more fruitful if you could actually respond."

"What's in it for me?" asked McCreary finally deciding to speak.

"I think we should see if you can actually accomplish something before we go on to rewards and such. So tell me, detective, how exactly you plan to break Tsarev out of prison."

McCreary just looked at him. All that McCreary knew was that he had to break Isaac Tsarev, convicted for illegal possessions of weapons, assault and manslaughter, out of prison and that Joseph Gordon was the guy he was dealing with.

Detective McCreary was as impatient person. Today someone from his office had told on him, and now he was suspended from active duty while the concerned authorities 'looked into the matter'. He was in dire need of cash and desperately hoped that Gordon didn't know that he was suspended. The anger pent up in him from the entire day's events suddenly showed its ugly face and McCreary pulled out his gun (his not very legal one) and put it to Gordon's head, and forced the younger man against his car.

"Oooh, someone's not happy," started Joe in a low voice. "Did someone find out your dirty little secret? Coming after your family, are they? Because let me tell you buddy, if no one is then I will. You lay a finger on me and I will hurt them- your pretty little daughter, your pregnant wife-"

McCreary held the gun tighter to his head.

"You think you can get away with this?" continued Joe, not losing his cool for even a second. "Let me put it this way. You need me to help you and your family with my money, but I don't need you. I can have another twenty dirty cops ready to work for me, if not you. Da? So think of it detective, or rather, soon-to-be former detective."

Now there was a heavy silence. Frank was panicking, his little-brother-protection instincts buzzing. The only sounds he heard were that of Joe and that slime ball McCreary breathing.

Ten seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

Positioned as they were, Callahan and Thomas could see Joe with that confident smirk on his face, even with a gun pointed at his head. The guy was a smooth operator. He could sell you your own nice old Aunty Charlotte for 'half the price and double the benefit' if he wanted to.

On the opposite side, Frank and his partner could not see this. All Frank knew was that McCreary had a gun pointed at Joe and would fire anytime. Panicking, he stood up and fired at McCreary, who was taken by surprise. Joe, in this brief window of opportunity, scrambled out of McCreary's grip and pointed his gun at his assailant. He had the shock of his life when he saw Frank on the other side, shouting "Federal Agents! Drop you weapon!". He didn't let it show though.

McCreary pulled out another gun and fired left and right aimlessly in the general direction of both the Hardys. Seeing all that was taking place, Lt. Thomas was going to fire at McCreary when Callahan said urgently, "Tania, wait. Remember we have a plan!" The sudden use of her first name made Thomas actually listen to him.

"Shit, yeah, the plan." Hansen and Joe had earlier made a plan of action for emergency situations like this.

Meanwhile, McCreary had nearly run out of bullets and not even one of them had hit either of his targets. Frank and Morgan fired at McCreary, who fired at Joseph Gordon, who fired back at McCreary. The end result of this crossfire was a thrice-killed McCreary and Joe with a shoulder wound that was bleeding.

Morgan went to check if McCreary was really dead while Frank headed to Joe. Just then, Callahan and Thomas pointed their guns at Joe and went, "Joseph Gordon! You are under arrest…" Going with the plan.

Joe punched his car in 'anger' as Thomas handcuffed him and Callahan went to talk to Frank. Joe didn't even throw a second glance towards Frank. He knew he couldn't. He didn't want to blow his cover and endanger his brother. He just walked with Thomas out of the warehouse saying, with his famous grin, "You got nothing on me."

"I'm Lt. Callahan, with defense intelligence and this man is dead," he nodded towards McCreary, "and that man is under arrest for suspected relations to another very wanted man. And I take you guys are the FBI?"

"Yeah," said Morgan speaking up, "I'm agent Morgan and this is my partner Agent Hardy."

Hardy? A number of questions arose in Callahan's mind, which he saved for Joe.

Morgan continued. "So we got information, that guy Joseph Gordon was responsible for killing one of our guys and this afternoon we intercepted a call from this detective-"

"McCreary," filled in Callahan.

"-and we came here."

"Pleasure meeting you, agents. I'll be going now. I have a man to question," Callahan abruptly breaking off and leaving the Feds to clean their mess. This would have gone smoothly if they hadn't shown up and interfered. Now McCreary was dead and chances were, Joe's cover was blown and that would stop the entire operation on Belov.

Morgan just stared at his back, while Frank was still wondering why Joe hadn't even looked at him. Maybe it wasn't Joe. Maybe this was what he was now. He hadn't come home for a while and hadn't been in touch with anyone. Maybe this was why. Frank was facing a huge wall of maybe's. Maybe he'd go watch the movie with Chet and the rest of the guys, anyway.

AN: So, excuse any typos and tell me what you think… And also, you may not have to wait another six months for the next chapter. This was the longest chapter I've ever typed for any story and no animals were harmed in its making, except maybe me with permanent finger damage from typing so much.