Hey every one! I know I have not updated and that is because the world hates me, hurracaine Irene knoked out my elctricy for a week, school started, and my mom broken her foot so its been delay after stupid delay. oh well.

I would like to shout out to esperanza labyrinth for stalkerishly commenting alot...see you in homeroom girl! :). Tomb8y1084629, Musiclovesbest, Crestfallenfeline, Ashlin Night, Pechika, avidreader, for being awsome! Morogo7kc for awsome beta! and lastly Audrey 2 for giving me a real kick in the ass start after I had almost given up... If you have and acount I would love to hear from you I'm interested about that dream you had...

Well your bored by now and barley any of you actially read this so. Have fun! also have a heart just put one of these guys names in the serch engine and see what they have to offer really I read everyone who reviewed work and these guys have serious talent!

Peter chugged the last remnants of his coffee, tossing his third cup that hour to the side. His eyes were bleary from watching, then fast-forwarding, then rewinding, and pausing the footage (which had been doctored to take out all of the parts that Sean thought weren't "fun") from the warehouses where his three agents were held. He had stayed focused through all the pain that narcissistic bastard had caused them, through all the yelling, swearing, bleeding, crying, and whispers of false hope.

He took a deep breath and pressed play again. The screen continued to play in the cell where he watched Diana and Jones's drugged forms being dragged, along with Neal who was struggling in Sean's grasp and then…..Nothing.

No, this cannot be it. There has to be more, there has to- Peter's thoughts stopped. There was sound of a voice on screen. Peter looked up quickly to see Sean. His breath caught in his throat. No shine shown in the kid's eyes; his face was serious; there was a deadly glint in his eye now, and what disturbed Peter the most was the blood. It was coating Sean's hands, streaked up his arms, trace amounts smudged on his face. Most disturbing was the fine mist in his hair, making it shimmer a golden ruby color in the light. Peter shivered at the thought of a person so young (what 27 year old is) being so twisted and disturbed.

"I assume by now your people have done a full sweep of the building and found the two bodies I left; really, I didn't hide them that hard." Peter glanced up to the ME zipping two body bags from the bodies of Sean's two hench men. They had found them in a closet an hour before; nobody cared too much though. It only meant Sean was going from planned and methodical to unstable and desperate.

"At this point I can't say what my plan is except that I'm flying solo. I will admit I kidnapped your agents for a distraction from my real plan, but now that plan has taken backseat from them paying for the setbacks and damage they have caused me. They will pay in physical pain and you, in emotional." Peter's blood ran cold—no it was frozen by now—when Sean reached over, grabbed a duffle bag, and made a show of placing some scrubs, a syringe, and a gun in the bag before flinging it over his shoulder. "By the time you get this, Peter, it will be to late. There's nothing you could have done. This is Sean Ryker, signing off." He mocked a salute before the screen went black.

Suddenly the sound around Peter dimmed, the edges of his vision blurred, and all his nerves went numb. He did not feel his body shoot up, laptop flying from his lap and shattering on the floor. He did not hear the surprised sounds of the agents. All he could register was his feet running, and running fast. In the back of his mind he knew he could get to the hospital quicker on foot. He whipped around a corner of the building, dodging some probes, unable to hear there cries of confusion and surprise, jumped the police tape, surprisingly clearing it, (and in the back of his mind thanking high school track). His feet pounded across the ground as he burst through surprised civilians, but the only thing he could do was run and run to his destination.

When Peter reached the hospital he was met by police and SWAT cars. A stern-looking SWAT member blocked his way, gun in hand, and said a typical "Nothing to see here, sir," stopping Peter in his tracks.

"I'm a FBI agent," Peter practically yelled in despair, flashing his credentials.

"There was a controlled explosion in the building. We don't think it was terrorism, but three high priority FBI patients went MIA from the ICU one hour ago."

"They were FBI? Those were my agents!" Peter was screaming now, drawing the attention of all the Feds in the area. "LET ME IN!" he yelled. With a burst of courage Peter shoved the SWAT member over, right onto the ground. Before anyone could react, he started to run again until he arrived at the place he wanted to be. He whipped at top speeds around the corner to the security room, grasping the door to slow his momentum.

"FBI! I need the video from room 117 ICU now!" Peter said with immense authority, allowing himself a small feeling of pleasure as the kid (who didn't look a day over 21) cowered from him. He fumbled with the computer, pulling up the footage and rewinding about one hour. He then played it, watching scenes unfold.

The first image was of Diana and Jones playing cards…and using Neal as a table. Usually Peter would laugh, but no; it just made him want them back even more. It was calm until Neal woke panicking. Peter was glad that he was awake but he guessed it didn't matter now. Neal seemed to calm until something shook the camera, and he freaked out yelling. The doctor, Chris, came in yelling, then a nurse walked up behind him. Peter thought it could be any nurse, except there were glints of red where a pair of tell-tale convers stuck out beneath his scrubs. He wanted to scream like in a horror movie and yell, "RUN!". He watched in horror as Sean snapped the doctors neck and pulled out a gun. Slowly the three agents cooperated, and to Peter's confusion, he tied up Diana and Jones.

Didn't they say three were taken? Well he had to just keep watching. Peter watched as they escaped their handcuffs, and to Peter's surprise, Diana started to dress. Jones seemed to resist before going with it. To his amusement Diana had to help Jones dress and then they left. He was about to continue, but suddenly the feed went black.

"What's happening? Fix it!" Peter demanded, but before the kid could move, an Internet link came on screen. Peter hesitated for a second, but heard yells in the distance looking for him. He drew in a breath and clicked.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Neal felt weak and uncomfortable sitting on the concrete floor of what he assumed was this house's basement. The pain wasn't the worst part; it was the nerves. What if his plan didn't work? What if Sean found out what he was doing? The man had a temper, but the worst part was the forth coming. He sat there, hands tied behind his back and feet bound. He was` kneeling on the floor execution style, as where Diana and Jones. They were painfully aware of this fact as they knelt, unmoving.

Sean stood in front of them with his usual laptop, and set up of tripod and camera, muttering to himself in muffled tones.

"You know, you don't have to talk to yourself to prove you have lost it."

"Miss Barrigan, we both know that my actual sanity left long ago, and I like it better this way. You don't have to care about people. Also I hope that comment was worth it; you just earned yourself the place to go first," Sean droned, glancing up from the computer screen casually.

Diana lifted her chin up with pride. "Yes it was," she said bravely, earning her small admiring looks from Neal and Jones.

"Enough chit-chat out of you three or I'll get the bat," said Sean in a scolding tone.

The three sat in silence for about a minute before a beep came from the laptop. "Petey has arrived! Aren't you excited?"

Sean jumped in front of the camera before pressing play from a remote hooked on his belt.

"Heyyyyy Petey," Sean cooed, "glad you could join us. Now first thing first, the IP is untraceable so don't try to track me. And stay online; what happens here doesn't repeat live again!"

Sean glanced back at Neal, cueing him. Neal took a deep breath then started, hoping it would work. "Peter, I just wanted to say all of our goodbyes. First from me, I have some money hidden behind the painting in the back of my apartment. Use it to buy El that nice big house on—was it Long Island?—right on the water. You know, the white one with the steps out front made of brick. From Jones, he wants to remind you how much fun us all had bird watching. You always loved the robins. Last from Diana, she wants you to go take Christy to her favorite lighthouse on her birthday. I hope you got this all, Peter. We love you, goodbye."

He drew a breath in, trying not to notice the weird looks he was getting from Diana and Jones for all the false info he had added, and he had to pray that Peter got the message.

Sean stepped forward again, "Touching, and now as an extra touch too that they die." Neal froze as he looked up in shock. He only had time to close his eyes before the gunshots emanated in the room.

()(()()()()()()()()()

"—they die." Peter felt his heart stop for a moment as the screen went blank, but not before three distinct gunshots were heard.

At the same moment the door burst open revealing a mass of SWAT with guns raised. Before they could grab him, Peter screamed, "WAIT!" To his bemusement, everyone froze. " I thought that only worked in movies," he mumbled to himself. "I have vital info on this computer."

After skeptical looks were exchanged, one agent stepped forward and rewound the video, then played. Peter didn't think this would help, but then the wheels started to turn in his brain. Neal's words were so elegantly chosen; his silver tongue had been giving clues all along.

"Wait, rewind and play… Can someone get me a laptop with a Federal search engine?" All the SWAT stared blankly. "Do I need to talk S-L-O-W-E-R?" Peter growled, frustration showing in his tone.

"Move it, morons," came the ever-so-polite Agent Rice's voice from the back of the crowd. She shoved rudely through the SWAT.

"What gives you the right—" said what appeared to be the lead SWAT agent.

"I don't have any right," snapped Rice, making the man flinch, "but I can make your life hell in so many ways that you will regret opening you mouth." The SWAT backed respectfully into the hall.

Before Peter could thank her, she turned to him. "You've dug a hole you may not be able to get out of, Burke, but if you're determined, I'll help you di;, deeper down or farther up I don't know ,but I have a laptop so tell me what you need."

Peter did not even bother thanking her; amends and thanks could wait. For now, work mattered. "I need you to find Robins Road Long Island." She type that in.

"Got it, lot of area to cover still."

"Look for a lighthouse."

"Found it, lot of places where you can see it."

"Try large houses with white color."

"In that area…five."

"How many with brick steps?"

"One to a elderly woman, and the other to a Steve Radon, recently purchased."

"Where is Steve Radon?"

Rice ignored him and whipped out her radio. "1254 Robins Rd. Long Island NY, all agents respond. Wounded may be inside. Subject is armed and dangerous; use extreme caution."

Peter found himself swept away by Rice into the hallway, running for the car, knowing that they were too late. This rescue was now revenge.

oh I'm so evil! I left a terible clif hanger! but wait wait! before you get you pitchforks and find were I live ( Esparanza labranth, aka other Emma, don't you dare tell them:)...) remember its not a death fic... huh? do I have you confused now? well just wait mohaha! God if my therapist was reading this... Sorry Erin! I'm not to insane I promise!

tune in next time hopfully it will be up within the next two weeks! and review its like a kick in the ass to work! LOVE U ALL! Your the best ever! LOVE, EMMA!