Disclaimer: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest is owned by Hanna-Barbara. No money is being made from this story. It is simply by a fan for other fans. Also, Criminal Minds is a product of CBS, no money is being made from the use of their characters.
Chapter 16
Race strapped on his body armor at the back of the SUV as the last rays of the sun set on the city of Baltimore. The two SUVs had parked a block over from the coordinates that Garcia and Hadji had sent and met up with the I-1 SWAT team that Corbin had called in to assist.
Popping the small ear piece into position, Race did a radio check to ensure the communication device was functioning properly. The SWAT team Commander, Agent Miles, waved them over to the back of the armored truck that his team occupied. Race secured his pistol into his leg holster, tapped the ammo pouches on his vest to ensure the extra magazines were secured and trotted over the truck.
The rest of the FBI agents had assembled alongside the I-1 team. Jonny lingered and was generally being ignored by the others. He wore a vest as well, but had not been given a weapon. Race had told him to stay close to the vehicles once they arrived at the warehouse. Jonny had nodded at the order, but having spent years guarding the young teen Race knew that Jonny was probably already concocting his own plan of action.
"Comms checks complete, Sir," One of the I-1 agents reported to Agent Miles. The radio tech occupied a seat in the back of the truck a small communications station. Also at the station was a monitor that would live stream the feed from the mini-cameras the team members wore. The stream was also being fed back to the BAU conference room for Corbin and the others to observe. They had also set up a line of communication with the I-1 Director to the comms station in the van; however the agents that would conduct the assault would be on an internal comms channel that could not be accessed back in D.C. due to the long-range distance of the radios.
Agent Miles' demeanor was all business. His team had received a rapid brief on the situation; rescue operations were always difficult, but when a fellow agent's family was involved, the mission became personal for everyone. He locked eyes with Race and there was a silent exchange of comradery between the two men. The radio tech hit another button that connected a land line call back to the BAU.
The line was immediately connected, "Corbin here. Everything set?"
"Affirmative, Sir," Miles reported.
"You know the orders," Corbin said. Race could hear the seriousness in the other man's voice. "The only hostage is Jessica Bannon. Anyone else is a hostile, eliminate as necessary. Agents Bannon and SSA Hotchner will be in charge of the respective teams."
"Got it, Sir," Miles replied. Race didn't know the man personally, but he wondered if Miles felt any animosity towards Race for his command being taken away. If there was, Race didn't see it. He already liked Agent Miles, this wasn't about jurisdiction or personal feelings of who should be in charge, it was get the job done; period.
"We'll be watching. Good luck." Corbin stated and the line went dead.
Miles turned towards Race and Hotch, waiting for his orders. Hotch spoke up, "My team will take the west entrance, yours the east. We'll pull up, no lights or sirens, and secure the perimeter. Once your team is in position, Race, radio in and we'll give the signal to breach."
Race had his arms crossed over his chest and replied, "I'll leave four agents at the corners of the warehouse to watch the perimeter." The I-1 team had brought more agents than the FBI.
Hotch agreed, "Got it," He looked at the group and said, "Everyone know the plan?" Nods of assurance came from all the people assembled, "Good. Then let's mount up and roll out. My vehicle will lead, followed by the I-1 SWAT truck and Morgan in the rear."
As everyone moved back to the vehicles, Race grabbed Jonny by the elbow, holding the young man back a moment. "Jonny, I know you're anxious about this and so am I."
Jonny opened his mouth to say something, but Race held up a hand, cutting him off. "I've spent enough years with you to know exactly what is going on in your mind and you've already devised a plan to give those I-1 SWAT guys the slip so you can get inside."
Jonny grinned sheepishly but didn't deny the charge, "Well..."
Race glanced around, saw that no one was looking at the pair; reaching behind his back he pulled out a small semi-automatic pistol and handed it to Jonny. "I know you know how to use this and Jonny, it is for self-defense only!" He stressed.
Jonny took the weapon, checked to make sure the safety was on and tucked it into his pocket. "Thanks."
"Stick close to Agent Prentiss and stay out of trouble!" Race ordered as he ruffled Jonny's hair.
"Stop that, Race," Jonny felt some of the tension in his muscles ease. He had been in situations like this before and they always came out alright, but this time it felt different. But no matter what, he was determined to rescue Jessie.
Race dug the stone out of his pocket and handed it to Jonny, "Hang on to this, just in case something happens to me."
"Nothing will happen to you." Jonny turned the stone over in his hand, but it was hard to make out any features in the dark. He felt a low, odd vibration emanating from the stone, but said nothing about it and slipped it into his other pocket.
"Let's go end this, kiddo." Race said and the two headed back to the vehicle.
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Gathered around the monitor, the group watched as the team on the ground loaded up into the vehicles. It would be a short ride to the warehouse, but the anticipation was so thick that the room was perfectly silent.
Needing something to fill the silence, Estella exhaled loudly and said, "Please, Jessie,"
Corbin glanced at her, "They'll find her."
"But in what…" Estella couldn't bring herself to say the rest of what she was thinking.
Corbin put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. She leaned against him as he whispered, "They'll find her."
Her head nodded against his chest as they both turned their attention back to the monitors.
"They're arriving on the scene now." Hadji stated.
"It's time." Corbin mumbled.
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"They brought a SWAT team." Almin reported. He was stationed on the roof and was watching through night vision goggles. "Three vehicles total. Six occupants from the SUVs and it looks like ten SWAT guys total."
"Weapons?" Kosta's voice crackled in Almin's ear.
"Small arms; pistols and M4s."
"Child's play," Kosta laughed. "Let us know when they are in position outside the building. We're ready for them."
"Yes, Sir."
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Kosta crouched down next to one his men from Kosovo, "Don't open fire till I give the signal. We want to lure them in, let them take out the hired guns first." They were on an elevated crosswalk overlooking one of the larger open areas of the warehouse.
The man nodded and patted the weapon system he was situated behind; an M240B machine gun, courtesy of their Chechen backers.
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Race cleared his mind as they pulled up to the warehouse. Hotch threw the vehicle in park and motioned for them all to exit. Race shot a quick glance back at Jonny, nodded, and exited.
Hotch motioned for his team to assemble and Race did the same. They fell into position and moved silently towards the buildings, weapons raised. Race watched out of the corner of his eye as Hotch and the other FBI agents, along with Jonny moved towards their position; he motioned for his team of I-1 Agents to follow, pointing at the four agents that would stay outside and guard each corner of the building. Those four moved off and Race, along with Agent Miles and three other agents moved swiftly towards the far end of the structure. Two agents were left behind in the truck to monitor the radio traffic and video feeds.
Race was focused and his eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness; he constantly scanned around him, making sure they weren't walking straight into an ambush. They reached the far side of the building with no incident and found the entry door; Garcia and Hadji had managed to pull up blueprints of the building and had sent it to them for a quick study.
"In position," Race said into the small microphone attached to his vest.
"Same here," Hotch reported back.
A few moments later each of the four I-1 agents at the corners reported in as well.
Race grabbed the handle of the door and found it was unlocked, it set the hairs on the back of his head tingling, "The doors is unlocked." He reported.
"Likewise on this end." Hotch said. Race wondered if the FBI agent had the same rock in his gut feeling that Race had at the moment.
Race motioned a silent signal with his hand and two agents moved up, opened the door, and filtered inside, with Race, Agent Miles, and the last agent quickly following.
"We're in." Race reported through the mic.
"Us too," Hotch responded.
Race expertly scanned the area; they were in a large bay, with a roll up door on the far end of the same wall that occupied the door they had just entered through. It was dimly lit, many of the overhead lights were out, but those that were working cast just enough light to partially illuminate the large open space, but still left many of the outlying corners shrouded in darkness. Multiple rows of packing crates filled the far end of the bay and off to the left a set of metal stairs led to a catwalk that ringed the lower level before disappearing into the blackness beyond. Race motioned for the team to keep moving and the two lead agents fanned out into the bay. Miles nodded towards Race before heading up the catwalk with his final man.
Race followed the two men in front of him into the open area, he didn't like being exposed. A faint sound came from behind one of the rows of crates and Race headed towards the noise, cautiously. As he approached, he was able to make out another door that was partially hidden behind the wooden boxes, which he assumed led deeper into the building or into an office area or another bay. Weapon raised, Race moved with a sense of stealth when suddenly a man briefly appeared from around one of the crates. Race tensed as the man raised his AK-47 and opened fire.
"Contact!" Race dove out of the line of fire as bullets whizzed through the empty space that only second before he had occupied. In one fluid motion, Race hit the ground and rolled into a kneeling position, taking aim at the man who had fired at him. As the enemy tried to adjust to the sudden change in position of his target, Race took aim and fired, hitting the man multiple times in the chest. Before he had time to think, more gunfire erupted, causing him to scramble towards a row of crates for cover.
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Distant gunfire could be heard as the BAU team moved silently through the building. The door they had entered led straight into a hallway and so far the agents had not encountered any enemies. Approximately twenty feet in, they reached another hallway that branched off to the left and a door on the right. Hotch and Morgan moved up and quickly scanned the new hallway, it was dark and appeared to be vacated. The door opened up into a stairwell. Hotch motioned at the door and Emily nodded.
"Stick close to me, kid." Emily instructed Jonny and the duo pushed through the door.
Emily stayed on point with Jonny close to her heels. She moved as quietly, but swiftly as possible as she expertly ascended the stairs backwards as to keep her eyes and weapons above her at all times. They made it to the second landing without incident and found the door unlocked. Emily jerked her head at the door as she kept her eyes and weapons pointed upwards towards the stairs that continue on up.
Just as Jonny went to push through the door the hallway was filled with shots. Emily and Jonny both slammed their backs against the wall closeted to the stairwell they had just climbed as bullets rained down, kicking up bits of concrete and dust upon impact. The small, enclosed space of the stairwell echoed the sounds of the gunfire, causing an effect so loud that one would think the unseen men higher up were firing cannons and not rifles.
Jonny set his jaw and heard shouting from above. Suddenly the gunfire stopped and it was followed by the sounds of heavy boots descending the stairs. Emily locked eyes with Jonny and again jerked her head at the door.
Jonny nodded and watched the dark-haired agent silently count to three. As soon as she was done she nodded and jumped away from the wall towards the stairs that led up. Her weapon at the ready she fired a volley of rounds upward and was rewarded by a scream and a loud thud. She had hit at least one of their attackers.
Jonny didn't wait. He launched himself at the door and pushing down hard on the release bar he, and the door, swung inward. He was in another hallway, similar to the one on the floor below. He heard more shouting from the stairs and heard the report of Emily's rifle as she returned fire.
He wanted to stay and help, but he knew he had to find Jessie. Withdrawing the small pistol that Race had given him and a flashlight, he scanned the hall and with three options, the hallway he was in he could go either left or right and then the one straight ahead of him, he quickly made a decision and stepped forward.
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"How many of them are there?" Benton asked as he watched the shootout unfold on the monitors.
"I don't know." Corbin replied. They had witnessed Race take out at least two of the gunmen, but there was a lot of confusion and chaos taking place in the warehouse and without the benefit of comms, they could only guess as to what the team members were saying to each other.
"It is likely that Drazen and his men hired some additional manpower when they holed up in that warehouse." Hadji confirmed.
Corbin nodded, "Yes that seems plausible especially with at least five known dead previous to this."
"Or their backers have provided men," Benton added.
"Regardless, they are in for a tough fight." Corbin's cell phone rang, "Excuse me." Stepping away he took the call and Benton could overhear the I-1 man talking about air resources. A few moments later Corbin hung up and rejoined the group.
"What was that?" Benton asked.
"I called a ride for us." Corbin smirked. "An I-1 helicopter will be waiting for us on the roof here. Once the scene is secure," He nodded at the monitors, "we'll head over. It'll only take about twenty minutes, if that. My guys can push a lot out of their birds."
Estella smiled at him, thankful that she would be able to see her daughter soon, no matter what the outcome may be.
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"This way," Race said into the comms and motioned at his team. The gunfire had ended, with four more additional enemy combatants dead, bringing the body count in the bay up to six. None of the I-1 agents had been hit, a testament to their training and calmness under fire.
The two other agents on the ground joined Race as he called to Miles over the radio, "Miles, this is Race, what's your position?"
A few moments later, "We've cleared the catwalk and a small office. This building is strange, hallways that end abruptly and small rooms all by themselves."
"Understood, can you meet us back down here?" Race asked.
"Affirmative, be there in a sec."
Two minutes later the last two agents joined Race and the other two. Race pointed at the door he had seen behind the crates. "Probably another open bay."
Miles nodded and looked at his men, "Let's move."
The team followed the same procedure for entering this room as their initial breach. Race's assumption had been correct and another bay, almost identical to the one they had just left opened up before them. This one, however, was even more poorly lit than the last, with more shadows, and less storage crates, which meant less places to hide or use for cover.
"Proceed with caution." Race said as Miles took point with one of his men.
As the group filtered into the bay, the openness of the area unnerved Race. His eyes rolled upwards, scanning the darkened catwalk above.
"I don't like this," He mumbled and as if to affirm his suspicions the room was suddenly filled with the deafening blasts of automatic machine gun fire.
Race saw Miles and his other man go down, bombarded by the onslaught of the hidden machine gun. Diving for cover, Race, and the other agents were immediately separated. Race crouched behind some long crates that had been stacked five high, but he knew it wouldn't protect him for long.
"Miles," He yelled over the scream of the machine gun, but he feared the man was dead.
"M240B," One of the other agents reported over the comms, "They've got some pretty heavy weaponry."
"Can you reach Miles and Kent?" Race asked.
"Negative," The agent replied. "Not with that machine gun having a clear line of sight of this whole area."
"Damnit," Race growled.
The machine gun went quiet, but Race knew the assailant was just conserving ammunition, waiting for someone to expose himself.
Race stole a quick peek around the edge of the crates and saw that both Miles and Kent were unmoving, large pools of blood already surrounding their fallen bodies. Race cursed; his heart was pounding so hard in his chest he felt like it would explode.
"What do we do now?" The agent asked.
"We need to take that guy out," Race stated the obvious.
"Yeah, but how?"
"Any grenades?" Race asked.
"Negative."
"Damn."
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Hotch, Morgan, and Doctor Reid only encountered two random gunmen, which they easily took out, since neither seemed aware of the FBI presence until it was too late.
"Race, Hotch here," Hotch said into the mic. "What's your position?"
"Pinned down in one of the storage bays," Race reported, "Heavy machine gun up on the catwalk and two of my guys are down."
Hotch looked grim and replied, "We're on our way."
It felt like an eternity to Race, but soon his earpiece crackled, "We're outside your location now." Hotch reported.
"Don't come through the same door," Race said, "You'll be mowed down instantly."
"I mean we are outside as in outside." Hotch said. "We left the building, circled around and came up along the side. There is another door, can you see it?"
Race was on his stomach, making himself as small a target as possible as he peered around the boxes. The machine gunner let lose another burst, forcing Race to duck back behind his quickly deteriorating cover. "I see it."
"Where's the machine gun in location to the door?" Hotch asked.
"There is a catwalk directly above the door, he's at the far end, tucked into the corner." Race reported back.
"Got it," Hotch said.
"As soon as you see your chance, take the shot," Race ordered the other I-1 agents.
"Roger," they both replied.
Race bit his lower lip in anticipation. It was difficult for him to see what was happening without exposing himself. Briefly he popped his head up and fired off a few rounds in the direction of the machine gun, causing the man to fire again. Race quickly flattened himself as the rounds impacted overhead. It was just enough of a distraction to let Hotch and his team enter undetected.
As the gunner continued to fire, now strafing the area between Race and the other I-1 agents, Hotch entered, quickly followed by Morgan and Reid.
Hotch's eyes went upward, to the catwalk and the three BAU members opened fire, walking their rounds down the length of the catwalk as they moved forward below.
The loud bangs of the combined gunfire engulfed the bay, making it impossible to hear anything when suddenly the machine gun fire ceased and a loud, painful scream emanated from the position. Hotch's team had succeeded in wounding the man; he never even knew they were below him. Race popped up and he saw the I-1 agents in his peripheral vision do the same. They all opened fire, filling the space where their target lay wounded and hidden with a burst of rounds. The bullets could be heard impacting against metal, concrete, and flesh, and suddenly the wounded groans of the dying man ceased.
Finally able to move, Race and the agents left their positions and trotted over to meet the FBI agents.
"Thanks for that." Race said. "Any word from Emily and Jonny?"
"No," Hotch replied. "And so far we haven't seen Drazen or Kosta."
"Let's split back up and keep moving." Race said.
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The entire conference room breathed a sigh of relief as they witnessed the machine gunner being killed.
"That was intense." Garcia said with an exacerbated sigh of relief.
"Yeah, I know," Hadji agreed. "Let us hope that was the only one."
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Jonny moved down the hall, careful to mask the sound of his footsteps. An overhead light flickered towards the end of the long passage, casting an eerie glow around the edges that created the illusion of the hallway becoming smaller, shrinking in on itself. Jonny steadied his breathing, up ahead he could see a door set into the left side of the wall, the only one he's come to so far.
Jonny stole a glance back behind, ensuring no one was trying to sneak up on him. The sounds of the gunfire from the stairwell were long gone and he said a silent prayer for Agent Emily Prentiss, hoping she was alright.
Stopping in front of the door, Jonny discovered it was a cell door, like the ones in prisons that had a small slit to pass items inside and outside and a reinforced glass window above. Leaning upward, he peered through the glass, but the room was dark. No sounds came from within. He found a light switch and flicked it to the ON position and looked back into the cell.
His heart skipped a beat. The tangle of red hair immediately caught his attention and he quickly jerked the cell door open, finding it was unlocked. Rushing in, Jonny took in the scene; a bed, nightstand and a lamp, a body on the floor and the red-head, slumped over in a wooden chair, her hands secured by handcuffs to the arm rests.
Jonny rushed over and knelt before the girl. Setting his gun on the floor he gently reached up and lifted Jessie's head. Her eyes were closed and her face and hair were caked with dried blood.
"Jessie," Jonny whispered to her as he brushed her hair back, keeping her head secure. "Ace, can you hear me?"
Jonny felt his eyes well up with tears. His hands navigated her face and head, searching for wounds. "Come on, Jess," He whimpered as he reached to find a pulse on her neck.
Fingers pressed against the side of her neck he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to force the tears away, he didn't feel anything. "Jess, you can't be gone, you can't be." He said, "I need you. I never told you but I love you."
Running footsteps interrupted his thoughts; grabbing his weapon he raised it and aimed at the door, just as Agent Prentiss came into view.
"Woah," She said, holding up her hands, "It's just me, Jonny."
Jonny exhaled and dropped the weapon, turning his attention back to the young woman that he had grown to love; the young woman he feared was lost.
"Help her," He said to Emily.
Emily entered the room and quickly verified the body on the floor was in fact dead. Joining Jonny by his side, she handed him handcuffs keys, "Found these lying next to the body over there."
Jonny took the keys and gently released Jessie from her restraints.
"Hotch, it's Emily," Prentiss called into the radio, "We found Jessie."
"Status?" It was Race who replied.
"Unknown, we need medics up here and like now." Emily said.
"On it," Hotch replied.
"Hotch, we also found Drazen or what's left of him," Emily added in her trademark sigh. "Someone shot him then slit his throat."
"Understood." Was Hotch's only reply.
"Let's get her out of that chair," Emily said once Jonny had removed the handcuffs and the two of them gently moved Jessie's limb body to the floor. "Hold on." Emily added and stripped the bed of its ratty blanket. She placed it on the floor and they rolled Jessie onto it.
"I couldn't find a pulse," Jonny said, the tears had returned.
Emily, sympathy in her eyes, nodded and started to evaluate the girl's condition. Jonny held Jessie's hand, checking her bruised and bloodied wrists for any sign of life.
"Jonny," Emily's voice was gentle, "good news."
"What?" The young man said, looking up to meet the agent's eyes.
"No gunshot wound."
Jonny felt his heart skip a beat with relief; Doctor Reid was right, Kosta didn't shoot Jessie. But she was still unconscious and that worried Jonny, why hadn't she woken up yet?
"Wait," Emily said, her fingers pressed firmly onto Jessie's neck. "I feel something, faint."
Jonny's eyes lit up with joy.
"We need to get her breathing, no telling how long she's been like this," Emily state in a matter of fact manner. "They probably dosed her with something to knock her out."
The two began to perform CPR.
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As soon as Race heard the news about Jessie he took off back the direction they had come.
"Race, wait!" Hotch yelled, but the other man either didn't hear or just flat out ignored him. "Damnit!" Hotch watched as Race barreled through the door and disappeared.
"We have no idea how many bad guys are left." Morgan stated.
"I know," Hotch turned his attention to the remaining group that included the two I-1 agents. "We need to finish clearing this building and find Kosta."
The two I-1 agents nodded and headed towards another door at the far end of the bay, the door would take them deeper inside the building.
Hotch pointed to the catwalk and said, "There's another door. Morgan, you and Reid head that way."
"What about you?" Morgan asked, but he felt he knew what Hotch's answer would be.
"I'm going after Race. He's a liability now, not thinking straight. We don't want him or anyone else getting killed."
Morgan nodded and mumbled, "These Intelligence guys, I swear."
"Let's go and keep in radio contact." Hotch ordered and headed off after Race.
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Race stopped in the bay that he and the other agents had first entered. Scanning the room, his eyes fell onto the door at the end of the catwalk. He hadn't noticed it the first time.
Taking the steps two at a time he ran up; drawing his pistol, he dropped the rifle because he was out of ammunition and stopped at the door. Listening briefly he did not hear any sounds from the other side, so he quickly pushed through; weapon raised and found himself in a long hallway. Moving quickly he kept his weapon raised and soon came upon a door. He opened it and found himself in what appeared to be an abandoned office space, with desks, chairs, and debris strewn about. The far wall was an exterior wall with windows that were aglow with the lights from the inner harbor and a Natty Boh sign staring back at him. Another room was off to the left, separated by a wall of half-windows with a door in the middle.
Seeing the room empty, Race turned to leave. From the corner of his eye he saw a movement, a darkened shape heading straight for him. Race turned and raised his pistol to fire, but was not quick enough.
The large man, who must have been hiding behind one of the desks, barreled into Race's chest, lifting him off his feet and driving him backwards. The man slammed Race into the solid wall, causing Bannon to drop his weapon as all the air rushed out of his lungs. The man stepped back and at the same time released Race, letting him fall to his knees. He turned his face to look upward and was met with a hard right fist to the side of his head.
Blackened dots threatened to fill Race's vision. He was dazed and his body ached all over. Shaking his head, he forced himself to stay conscious as his attacker grabbed his vest and proceeded to rip the Velcro, and swiftly took away what little armor protected Race's torso.
The man stepped back as he hurled the vest across the room. Race grunted and pulled himself to a kneeling position as he focused his gaze upon his attacker; it was the man known as Kosta.
"Hello, Mr. Bannon," Kosta grinned as he cracked his knuckles.
Race spat a wad of blood from his mouth and said, "So you're the bastard I get to kill today; how nice."
Kosta laughed at the remark and spread his arms. "You are welcome to try, my friend."
"I'm not your friend," Race stood, assessing the other man. He was large, well over six feet tall and built like a brick wall. Race already knew the man's fists felt like hammers impacting with his face. He knew he'd have to wear him down and quickly, while at the same time avoiding his attacks.
Kosta's face went dark and he said, "No, you are not. I will enjoy killing you slowly, even though I didn't have that pleasure with your little girl."
The mention of Jessie set Race's mind back on track and he pushed down the anger that was building up inside of him. Kosta wanted Race angry; he wanted Race to make a mistake.
"So let's do this," Race said as he raised his fists.
Kosta huffed and mirrored Race's stance. Race feinted a forward attack, causing Kosta to make the first move. He rushed the I-1 agent, his arm cocked back, ready to strike. Race stood his ground and at the last moment sidestepped while ducking under Kosta attack. Race landed a quick jab to the other man's ribs, but with only minor results. Kosta reset his feet and swung his arm in a backhanded attack, clipping Race in the side of the head.
Staggering, Race shook the blow off. He pivoted away from the other man as Kosta spun with the momentum of his attack, trying to follow up with another painful blow aimed straight at Race's temple. Race was able to move out of the way, causing Kosta to stumble. Race took the opportunity to land a swift upward knee to the big man's midsection and as he buckled over, Race lashed out with a kick to Kosta's knee, causing a painfully loud crunching sound. Kosta's teeth chattered together as he went down and Race moved in closer. He lifted his knee for another strike, this time aimed at Kosta's face, but the big man saw it and latched onto Race's leg midair, pushing the lighter man up and back off his feet. Race crashed down hard on his back, but quickly scrambled back to his feet.
Kosta was moving again, faster than a man his size with a wounded knee should, and he was on Race again within seconds. Race dropped down and swept the man's legs out from under him, causing him to land on his back. Kosta growled as he rose, obviously not expecting Race to provide such a worthy opponent. Ducking under a swing from Race, Kosta closed the distance between the two and wrapped his arms around Race.
Race grimaced as the bigger man squeezed his body and he lifted an arm to drive an elbow down onto Kosta's shoulder. Kosta grunted and lifted Race off his feet towards the ceiling and then slammed him down on a desk. Race struggled to stay conscious and he felt Kosta's hands close around and squeeze his throat. The big man grinned down at Race as he squeezed, determine to crush Race's throat while choking him to death. Race, knowing he had to act quickly, spots already beginning to populate his vision, grabbed Kosta's face and rammed his thumbs into his eyes.
Kosta screamed and released Race, who quickly rolled off the desk. Kosta was staggering backwards, his hands over his face. "You'll pay for that!" Shaking off the pain, Kosta withdrew his combat knife from behind his back.
"I see, can't beat me with your hands, can you?" Race taunted.
Kosta let out a wild yell and lunched at Race. Thinking the man was enraged, Race sidestepped the attack, but Kosta mirrored his movement with the grace of a ballerina, not a two-hundred plus pound murderer, and slashed the knife towards Race. Reflexively, Race raised his arm in defense and the blade cut into his forearm. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed Kosta's arm and using the big man's momentum pulled him downward. Rolling onto his back, Race planted his feet into the man's midsection and flung him over his head. Kosta's body crashed into a couple of desks. Race, still in motion from the judo move was back to his feet and he ran over to Kosta's fallen body. The big man had lost the knife in the fall and was dazed. Race lunged onto the other man and landed a flurry of blows to his unprotected face.
Bloodied, Kosta spat and was able to get an arm up to block Race's punches, then shifting his hips rolled down and out, causing Race to fall to the side. Raising himself to one knee, Kosta faced Race who was also getting back up and grabbed the white-haired man's leg, pulling him forward and off his feet; the back of Race's head bouncing off an overturned metal chair. Kosta, now on top of Race, landed a number of hard punches to Race's face and then abruptly stood.
Race moaned from the pain that ran through his skull and beat up body. Wiping blood from his forehead he forced himself into a seated position and scanned the room for his assailant. Race saw him, he was bending over to pick up his dropped blade. Race clambered to his feet, using the closest desk for support to fend off the wave of dizziness standing had caused and picked up the metal office chair. Kosta grabbed the knife and turning back towards Race his eyes widened as Race lifted the chair and swung it at Kosta's head. Kosta raised his arms, but Race, having summoned a surge of strength, made contact with full force. A brutal noise emanated from both the impact and from Kosta, forcing his body to stagger and crash into the glass pane windows between the two offices. Glass shattered and Kosta's body wavered then fell to the floor in a heap.
The impact jarred through Race's arms and torso and he was propelled forward as Kosta's body hit the glass then the floor. Dropping the chair, he fell to his knees, heaving deep breaths as he stared at his fallen foe. Head pounding, Race knew he should get up, find his weapon, and finish the man off once and for all, but as he stared at Kosta, whose eyes were shut and was unmoving, Race lost focus.
Just stand up! He told himself, but his legs would not respond and he fell backwards, arms spread out at his sides. Just let me catch my breath He thought, closing his eyes. His breathing slowed and as he closed his eyes, he tried to remember why he was there in the first place.
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The sounds of a scuffle suddenly ended with the breaking of glass and two loud thumps. Hotch had been in the hallway and he approached the door with care. Weapon raised he pushed the door, from where he heard the noises, open and quickly entered.
The room was a mess and blood was splattered across the floor and some of the old metal desks. He swept the room quickly and saw the two men, both lying on their backs near the interior wall that separated the two offices.
He looked at Race, who appeared unconscious, but alive due to the rise and fall of his chest, then quickly moved to the big man across the floor from the I-1 agent. He was covered in blood and didn't move. Hotch held onto his weapon with one hand, and checked the criminal for a pulse, and unfortunately found one.
While the man was out, Hotch quickly holstered his weapon and rolled the man over. He slapped a set of handcuffs on the man's meaty wrists, and then went over to Race.
"Morgan, second floor; I found Race and the man that appears to be Kosta. Both are still alive." Hotch reported.
"On our way." Morgan replied.
"Race, can you hear me?" Hotch asked, shaking the fallen man's shoulder.
Race groaned and his eyelids flickered. "Ugh…"
"Race, come on, look at me." Hotch said more forcefully, shaking him harder. He noticed the cut on his forearm and the beating he had taken.
Race opened his eyes then squinted, raising his hand to his head. "My head is killing me." He mumbled as Hotch helped him up to a seated position.
"He did a number on you, but he's still out." Hotch smiled, a rare occurrence for anyone that knew the BAU unit chief.
"What?" Race replied, quickly snapping back to reality.
"He's alive," Hotch confirmed, "But out. He's in cuffs, don't worry. He's going away for a long time."
Race felt a rush of anger. Kosta didn't deserve to live. Turning his attention to the FBI agent, he studied to man's features. As their eyes met, Race could tell that Hotchner knew Race had wanted to kill the man, but Hotch was like Corbin, men that followed the rules; there was no way that Hotch would have killed Kosta once the man was disabled and no longer an immediate threat.
With Hotch's help, Race got to his feet just as Morgan and Reid joined them. "What about Jessie?"
"Emily and Jonny found her and are taking her outside to the EMTs." Morgan reported.
Hotch held on to Race at the elbow and said, "It's over, Race."
Race dropped his head and sighed with relief. "She's okay?"
"She will be." Doctor Reid replied as he was picking up Race's pistol and vest.
"Let's go see her." Hotch tried to guide Race towards the exit, but Race stopped and looked back at Kosta who was beginning to stir.
"Alright, but I'm walking him out." Race inclined his head towards the man who had tried to kill him.
Hotch nodded and let go. Morgan hauled Kosta to his feet and along with Race pushed to big man towards the door.
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Estella peered out of the window of the I-1 helicopter. She had headphones on, but wasn't really listening to the conversation between Corbin and the pilot. Once they had received word that Jessie was found, Estella, Corbin, Hadji, and Benton all rushed to the roof the FBI headquarters and boarded the chopper that had been standing by.
It was dark outside, and Estella watched as they flew over a stream of traffic. She couldn't help but wonder who the drivers were and where they were going. What normal lives did those people lead? They were completely unaware of what was going on only a short distance away. It made her angry, but also sad. She sighed and looked away.
Corbin was looking at her.
She stared back.
"ETA five minutes," the pilot said through the headset.
"Roger," Corbin said looking away from the woman; he turned his attention to the others. "They say she's going to be okay."
Estella tried to smile, but it came off weak and forced. The entire ordeal had thrown her into a world of chaos and she was beginning to question a lot of things about her life and herself.
"Estella?" Benton said and placed a comforting hand on her knee.
She let out a deep breath and responded a bit harsher than she had intended with, "Yes, I heard. I just want to see her."
Corbin pointed out the window and the others looked, off in the distance they saw flashing lights; lights from police cars and emergency vehicles; lights that indicated their destination.
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To Be Continued…