Alright, everyone, first of all: I apologize. I know it's been a while, but exams and my birthday and other things in general finally caught up to me. Hope it lives up to your expectations as always! Let me know? I'm kind of slightly addicted to reviews. Oh, really, who isn't?
Michael and Sean strode across the parking lot as quickly as they could without running. If they wanted to save the surgeon now, there was no way to avoid alerting Roan to their presence. Although, Michael thought, a good fight with Roan might be just what I need right now. He hadn't been able to think straight since Niki went down and the constant worrying was beginning to wear him down. The adrenaline of a fight with a worthy opponent would help to focus, and if they had ever had an opportunity to attack Roan at his weakest, it was now.
Roan hadn't noticed them yet, which Michael attributed to the blood loss. Good sign. If he's impaired enough by the blood loss to be unobservant, then the two of us should be able to kick some major ass right now. He glanced to the side to confirm Sean was running about parallel to his position, and nodded to himself. Maybe this was going to be routine after all.
Alex sat back, running her hands through her hair. She had been in shootouts and had seen people die, good people, people who deserved to live, people who deserved to be saved. But through all of her life, almost nothing had scared her more than the last ten minutes. Thank GOD I didn't try to become a doctor. Having someone's life completely in my hands? Not so good.
Nikita had been breathing regularly again for the past five minutes, and there was no indication that she was going to go into another meltdown soon. That was good. If Nikita had crashed again, she didn't know if she would be able to handle it or if her head would just explode from the pressure. She stroked the other woman's forehead gently, wondering what visions were swirling through her head. She wondered if it hurt, where Nikita was. Should I give her more painkillers? I don't want to go overboard…. Although, if she wakes up, a really loopy Nikita would probably be funnier than a really loopy Sean. What if it shocks her system?
She decided to just go with it, and quickly administered the clear liquid. I wouldn't want her to wake up and be pissed cuz she was in pain and I was sitting on my ass debating whether painkiller would be good or not.
Alex looked up from Nikita's inert form, scanning the room to see where on earth Birkhoff had got himself to. Her eyes found him sitting at his computer as usual, muttering something to himself. She narrowed her eyes, peering at the computer screens, trying to see what was on them from a distance. Finally, she gave up, standing and walking over to stand behind him in order to get a better view of the video feed.
Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Michael and her Sean, walking towards Roan and the surgeon guy that they had been going to find.
Oh, Jesus. Can't we catch a break on this frickin' mission?
The hacker and the Russian watched helplessly as the three men moved inexorably toward each other.
Percy was not having a particularly good day. He was running a couple of side missions, of course, but his main focus had been on Operation Blackbird, the exchange of rifles at the warehouses. A minor arms dealer had somehow gotten his hands on two crates of the most advanced rifles he had yet seen on the open market, and Percy was never one to pass up on an opportunity like that.
He was unaccustomed to Roan failing him on an Operation, but then again, everyone has off days, and Nikita is rather skilled at showing up at just the wrong moment. He was not overly concerned that Roan hadn't checked in yet. Percy assumed he was merely finishing the mission.
Perhaps something good will come out of today after all.
It had better.
Or my most faithful operative may very well turn into my most expendable.
Roan analyzed the target ahead of him, focusing his energy completely on the small, slightly chubby surgeon. Not physically dominant, dark patches under eyes suggest sleep deprivation or long hours, easy to neutralize. Then, two rapidly moving objects in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned, cursing the glasses for impairing his peripheral vision. His eyes widened slightly, and he stopped walking. Michael and Sean were striding rapidly across the parking lot, guns drawn, looking determined. He quickly evaluated his own condition, and theirs. Myself: Gun, halfway full. Bullet wound in abdomen, blood loss. Enemies: Full rounds of ammunition, neither of them appear wounded or even doubtful. Conclusion: Defeat or capture imminent in most likely situation. Unless he could somehow make two perfect kill shots before his two attackers raised their guns, he was about to be captured or killed.
He could not remember the last time he had concluded that he was going to lose a fight no matter what he did. Helplessness was a sensation that now seemed singularly strange to him, and he did not react well to it. The last time he had been helpless, he had lost everything that had once seemed dear to him, and it had brought him to this life. That was one thing he and Michael had in common, though he never would have admitted the reason to anyone, least of all himself. He had always had the capacity to be cruel, but devastation had sharpened him and drained him, had turned him into Percy's lapdog. Once, a portion of him had hated what he had become, but all emotion had been buried so long ago. A heart shattered by loss is easier to bury than to mend.
He glanced from Sean to Michael and back again, and then raised his gun. If he was going to go down, he might as well try to ensure that they would kill him. He respected Nikita's ability and admired her capabilities, but being captured by her was not something strategically advantage for his physical or mental condition and could be potentially detrimental to Percy's operation.
Not that he would ever allow her to break him.
Not that he would ever allow anyone to break him, to see inside his soul.
He felt the bullet pass through his leg, then his arm, and then his head hit the pavement and he knew no more.
Mr. Thomas Branahan was becoming really rather very confused. He had been rummaging for his car keys, looking forward to a perfectly average afternoon, some food, and then sleep. Lots and lots and lots of sleep.
He had been startled from his reverie by the sound of two gunshots, and he looked up to the most peculiar sight that had greeted him all week. Which was really saying something, considering that he had operated on a middle aged man who had fallen off a ladder and managed to get one of his son's toy trucks lodged into a bone in his upper arm.
Two secret-service type blokes, looking very enigmatic and mysterious in dark leather and drawn guns, were walking across the parking lot, and appeared to be heading directly for him. This was exceptionally puzzling in itself, but Mr. Branahan's tired mind could not bring itself to be particularly perturbed by anything at this point, even when the two dangerous looking persons had just shot somebody in the employee parking lot. One of men walked up to him, looked him in the eye, and asked him, "Are you Thomas Branahan?"
Astounded, he managed to stammer one single, "Y… yes," before the man nodded and whacked him in the head with the butt of his pistol.
His last thought before sinking into unconsciousness happened to be I wonder if we can stop at McDonald's on the way…
Michael saw Roan turn, and saw his eyes widen almost comically, like a deer caught in the headlights. Now that's one look I never thought I'd get to see on that man's face. Then something… determined crept back onto Roan's features, and he raised his gun, but he was moving slowly, probably due to the blood loss.
He did not even hesitate before pulling the trigger, smirking slightly in satisfaction when his two shots went perfectly through Roan's leg and arm, effectively incapacitating him. He rushed over to the fallen man after he hit the ground, confirming that he was unconscious. Michael crouched down. Well, whaddaya know. So he IS human, after all. Now, what are we gonna do with him? They couldn't just leave him here, but it seemed a waste to simply kill him. So, Michael lifted him fireman style over his shoulder, and turned to see if Sean had managed to grab the surgeon.
He turned just in time to see Sean whack the surgeon over the head with his gun, and then catch him before he hit the ground. The two men looked at each other, breathing heavily.
They turned back towards the car, each carrying someone over their shoulder.
Almost as soon as he closed the car door, Michael hit the button on his com. "Birkhoff, what the hell happened over there? Is Niki okay?"
They were both slightly surprised to hear Alex's tired voice over the intercom. "Yeah, she's fine. She was in trouble for a minute there, but she's fine. Did you guys get the surgeon?"
Michael let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "We got him, and Roan. See you soon."
He turned around to back out of the parking lot, allowing himself a small smirk at the sight of Roan buckled into the back seat, his hands cuffed and duct tape over his mouth, head lolling like a rag doll. The surgeon was much the same, minus the cuffs and the tape.
God, I hope that guy knows what he's doing.
Come on, Niki, hold on. We're coming back. And we brought a little present.
Birkhoff realized that his mouth was hanging open, and promptly closed it before he started drooling like an idiot. He glanced over at Alex and noticed with amusement that she had the same expression.
Hey, it isn't everyday a guy gets to watch the most freakin' indestructible man on the planet get taken down.
Mikey's voice came in over the coms, sounding slightly desperate. Oh, yeah, right. He didn't know what had happened to Niki yet. Alex answered him smoothly, and then Alex and Birkhoff looked at each other.
"Did…. Did they just get Roan?" Alex asked, shock and a bit of awe sparkling in her blue eyes.
"It looks like it, babe," Birkhoff quipped, rewinding the video feed to the exact moment where Roan got shot. "Terminator's going to try and take our boys down, and then BAM, one, BAM, two, get owned, my friend."
Well, that was unexpected.
He twirled a little bit in his chair, absently, thinking. He ended up staring at Nikita anyway.
Hang on Supergirl, help is on the way.
Okay, I have to give Florence and the Machine about half of the credit on this fanfiction. I don't know if I would be able to write without it. Literally.
So…. How is it? (I wasn't going to have a Birkhoff part in this one, but then I just couldn't resist. You're welcome.)
Oh, and how do you like Roan's little back story bit? I've always felt that he needed something... and then he DIED. :'( STOP MESSING UP MY FANFICTION YOU WONDERFUL SHOW! JUST COME BACK ALREADY!