Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.
AN: Hello all! Not posting super late this time! Responses to guest reviews from the previous chapter can be found at the end of this post. I hope you like chapter 6!
The Envelopes
Riza slipped through the deactivated emergency exit and into the stairwell of a D.C. office building. She held the door handle, closing it quietly to avoid anyone hearing her entrance, and then crouched briefly near the stairs to listen for any activity nearby. "I'm in." It was approximately 0400 and the building was largely unlit and quiet, with only security guards and a few night owls still there. "Positions."
"Exfil-A," came the General's voice. "All clear."
"Exfil-B," Denny added. "All clear."
"Aaaaand...I'm in. The party has arrived," Becca cheerfully informed them. "By the way, who exactly puts a vault in the basement of a random office building? Seems a little weird, guys."
"That would be a rich criminal that wants a safe place for all his illegally obtained toys," her grandfather knowingly replied.
"You know this from experience, Odin?" Riza asked, small smile on her face, swiftly crouching down to shield herself from the guard passing by the door to the stairwell.
"Maybe...maybe not." He chuckled. "A thief never reveals his tricks."
"Umm...that's a magician, you old perv," Becca rejoined, the grin carrying through in her voice. "Get your sayings right."
"Sounds like a good business for us to get into," Denny commented. "I got my retirement plan."
"You're not leaving us yet, Freyr," Riza replied. "Sig? Update?"
"Looks clear...I see no sign of our FBI friends. Just a bunch of guards below." There was some typing and then he added, "If the Feds are here, they suddenly got really good at the low-pro thing."
"Copy...I'm moving." She exited the stairwell and strode in the direction of another near the center of the building that would actually take her to the basement. Winding her way through cubicles, she checked her watch and dove under a desk, watching a guard's receding feet a moment later.
"Me too," Becca added, continuing a moment later. "So, this crazy-rare and super-expensive red diamond we were talking about?"
Fuery chuckled. "I know it's in the vault right now...but I'll see what else I can find out."
"And I'm totally serious, by the way," the brunette continued. "...about the other thing."
"We're back to this?" Riza chuckled, speaking low. "You mean how you want me to steal Isabella Rossellini's DNA? I think you're getting more crazy by the day." She reached the end of an aisle and, still keeping an eye on her watch, moved into the nearest hallway precisely when the second hand reached the three, at which point there was a guard-free window.
"Umm, no...this is actually totally logical. I met her, and we definitely share some elements of our bone structure."
"You do look a bit like her...I'll give you that." Once in the hallway she was able to walk more rapidly, taking one hall and then another that would lead her directly to her destination.
"I knew you'd come around. So, here's my theory...Isabella had me in the States after a steamy love affair with some extremely handsome mystery guy."
"Right, so by extension, you're related to Ingrid Bergman."
"Yeah, it's no wonder I'm such an excellent actress."
Riza gave her friend an amused smirk when they met on the stairs. "You're not just an actress...you're a grifter, which I think is much more impressive."
"Aww...thanks. So you'll think about it?" They started to descend together, equipment in hand.
She chuckled. "I'll think about it. I still don't think that's who we saw in that coffee shop in Florence, though."
"Oh my god! Yes it was!" Becca 's voice was playfully exasperated, and then she gave a shrug. "She likes to check up on me...see how I'm doing."
"Not only is Isabella your biological mother, but she is also capable of keeping tabs on a grifter that technically does not exist...That's one cool mom."
"Your Mom was still cooler."
"She was our Mom, Freya," the blonde replied, nudging her friend with her elbow. When they reached the second basement level Riza secured the door into the basement proper and knelt by the air-duct, quickly removing the screws holding it in place.
Becca knelt next to her and softly said, "Thanks." She pulled from the bag everything they would need to access the vault and started to set them out.
"It's the truth." She moved the grate to the side and took a look inside the duct, making sure there were no security measures immediately visible that they had not known about. "Okay, looks like we're..."
"Ahh...guys?" Fuery interrupted her. "We have a huge problem."
She stopped working and her brow furrowed as she shared a look with Becca. "What's up, Sig?"
"The Dark Web is blowing up right now...I'm seeing chatter that the Philosper's Stone was stolen from some storage facility, and Mustang's team are suspects." He paused, incredulous. "I have no idea how this happened without our knowledge. Through Barry we know about pretty much any job that goes down...anywhere."
"Unless whoever did this was completely buttoned up...that's the only way," Rebecca added. "I mean, even Olivier is looking into it, along with her family, who's basically the Armstrong mafia."
"And they're trying to pin it on Mustang?" Riza shook her head, bewildered. "There's no way...that guy isn't just on the straight and narrow, he practically owns it."
Rebecca laughed. "He owns it...I liked it."
The blonde thought for a moment, running everything through her mind. "Sig, how close are we to the video you've been processing?"
"Well, an entire half-hour was missing, and whoever cleared it knew their shit. I've had a program working constantly since your visit to the repository, but it takes time to recover all that data. I'll see what I can piece together with what I have so far." After a pause he said, "And I let the Ice Queen know...she's on the phone."
"Okay, add her to the party line." She waited a moment and said, "Ice Queen?"
"Sig filled me in," Olivier's voice came through the comm. "I need you to be my eyes...I can't get away right now."
She chuckled. "I'm still in the middle of that other thing we talked about, but we'll finish up and head over. At least we know the man on the inside knows Mustang well enough to do this." Her phone buzzed and she pulled it from her pocket. Barry: Are you seeing this? She replied: Yes...They kept you out? Barry: Yes, my darling. And I am not pleased.
"You don't think Mustang could have done it." It was not a question, Olivier was making a statement based on what she'd heard and how well she knew Riza.
She sighed. "If it's only a question of ability, yes, I'm sure he could. But I'm also certain he didn't."
"Maybe a member of his team?" Olivier thought aloud, before adding, "How soon can you be at the warehouse?"
After mentally reviewing one of their back-up plans she said, "Give us forty minutes."
"I'll get you a window for two Millers, find out what you can."
"Will do." Once Olivier was off the line she said, "Sig, get me cameras at the facility. Freyr, Odin, go keep an eye on Mustang and his people...see what happens. Freya and I will take care of this...don't worry, we have explosives."
Grumman chuckled. "If I didn't know you well, my dear, that would be a worrisome comment."
Riza smiled. "Be careful, General."
Becca gave a little jump. "Oooh...it's like ladies' night...And have I ever told you it's hilarious that you call him the General?"
"Maybe once or twice...Ladies' night is gonna have to be quick and dirty." She replaced the grate while Becca re-packed their bag and they approached the door. "I'll run point." At her friend's nod she opened the door, making sure it closed noiselessly, and they crept along the dim hallway. There was one guard up ahead and she stealthily stepped behind him, slamming his head into the wall with her right hand just as he turned and removing his taser with the other.
He fell unconscious and she stepped toward the next man, who dropped while shaking uncontrollably with the leads of the taser on his chest. She grabbed the muzzle of the next guard's weapon, pointing it down and away even as a shot fired off, and jabbed her hand at his neck. He clutched himself, coughing, and she grabbed his head to bring it down to her rising knee. The gunshot attracted others and two men approached them at once. Riza kicked the rising gun from one guard's hand and he landed a punch to her side, causing her bend slightly. She grasped his shoulder and pulled, bringing her knee to his gut before kicking him into the guy behind him.
Turning, she dropped and swept a leg under the guard attacking Rebecca, gripping his chest and helping him land on the concrete floor more forcefully. Spinning to her feet she grabbed the next enemy's approaching fist and twisted, kicking sideways at his knee and then at his groin. She faced the next man only to see him drop from a taser, and she glanced at Becca with an appreciative grin. "Time to pop the vault." They walked quickly to the door, setting to work placing strips of explosive around the perimeter. Once done, they moved around the corner and remotely detonated the substance, returning moments later to pull open the door.
"The diamond is box 183, guys. The rest you know," Fuery informed them.
Stepping inside, they quickly picked the locks on box numbers 183, 224, and 238, respectively, dumping the contents into a bag they brought with them. They were out in under two-minutes, and as they walked away Becca commented, "Mmm…I bet that is one sexy diamond."
Riza grinned, feeling exhilarated. "I bet it is." They took the stairs rapidly, getting out of the building as quickly as possible.
As they headed toward the car, Becca added, "I'll drive."
"Do you promise we won't almost die like last time?" she asked, smiling in amusement.
"Hold on...I thought we established that was not my fault."
"We definitely did not establish that," Fuery cut in and Riza chuckled, receiving a glare from her brunette friend. "By the way, I pieced together the video...I'm trying to polish it. Someone definitely arrives and shoots Gavilán, but I can't tell who yet."
Two hours later, give or take some time, she and Rebecca pulled into the parking lot at what had recently become an incredibly popular FBI warehouse. Finding a space, they parked and got out, taking determined steps to the front door which was the only entrance since the entire building had been cordoned off. She had donned a black wig and glasses to match her agent persona, while Rebecca had to brave the blonde wig once more.
Riza walked up to the guard at the entrance and flashed her CIA badge, saying, "Agent Miller, Department of Counter Intelligence with the CIA. This is my partner, Agent Miller."
"Agents Miller and Miller, huh?" The man eyed them skeptically and gestured between them, asking, "You two related?"
Becca smirked. "I'm afraid that's classified Agent."
The approach of a short, muscular agent with a receding hairline cut off the FBI agent's potential response. Examining the women critically, he said, "Walters?"
"They're CIA, sir...Department of Counter Intelligence."
"Ah, yes. I'm Special Agent Fitzgerald," the new arrival said, offering Riza his hand, which she shook. "I spoke to your superior. I'm not sure what interest she has in this site, but I'm all for inter-agency cooperation."
"We have our orders, Agent Fitzgerald, same as you," Rebecca replied with the shrug of a shoulder.
He waved them through. "I've ordered other personnel to wait here, but I'm going with you."
Riza watched him and, determining that she did not have the time to convince him to stay behind, she led the way through the doors against the current of exiting agents and police officers. Through her earpiece, Fuery spoke to her. "I have the recordings for the building and the surrounding streets. Watching them now."
They glanced around the surveillance room, and then started their search at the beginning of the storage area. As they walked, she slipped her phone out and messaged Fuery: Send Barrystills of everyone on Ice Queen's list.
She observed the building with a careful eye, trying to decide how she would have infiltrated it herself, and how other thieves might do so. At one emergency exit they found blood, and Fitzgerald informed them that two agents had been found dead outside that door. Not too far from that location could be found a storage cage, and Riza entered in order to examine the vault that contained the Stone. It was professional grade and extremely well-made, with steel bars that ran the width of the door. This one, however, had not been forced, so the thief either had the combination or opened it by touch and made his notes elsewhere. What she found to be even more interesting was that the safe was full of slots containing plans and schematics, with no place for a weapon like the Philosopher's Stone to fit. If only the plans were stolen, she wondered who had the weapon itself. And what the hell were plans for something like the Stone doing in a random FBI storage facility?
Riza stood and left the cage, moving to finish their survey of the warehouse. Down one aisle-way, which led directly to another exit, they found an additional location sporting several drops of blood. There, Fitzgerald explained, they had found the agent-in-charge lying face down and unconscious. She continued on to the door and opened it, observing what was beyond and determining that it would have been the thief's ideal exit. She sent a message to Fuery asking him to hack a few cameras and, after they had viewed the entire building, the two women thanked Agent Fitzgerald for his assistance and left.
Jumping into the passenger seat, Riza leaned on the center console, lost in thought and processing everything they'd found. "Okay, off the top of my head the thieves we could be dealing with would be Mr. Grey, Perault, Slim Jake, and Terrence." She toyed with her phone absentmindedly as Rebecca drove. "They have all been known to kill on the job, could handle that safe by touch, and wouldn't be afraid to knock over a government site."
Fuery jumped in. "The video was out for a short time until Agent Breda managed to get power, and the cameras didn't catch anything before the theft."
"Fitzgerald said that Agent Maria Ross was fired at, and Mustang saved her. But why take that shot? It was unnecessary." Rebecca thought aloud. "Was it just so they wouldn't find out immediately that they stole the plans and not the weapon?"
"You're right, it's odd. That wouldn't be a good way to plant more evidence because Mustang's team would verify that he was definitely not the guy that shot at Ross."
Rebecca nodded as she contemplated. "With no video record, though, it'd be the word of Mustang's team against the rest of the evidence. People might think his whole team was involved."
"I got a response from Barry," Fuery informed them. "A John Doe was just found dead behind a bar in D.C. It's Terrence." He paused before adding, "Also, I'm picking up chatter that Mustang and his team will be suspended while the investigation proceeds."
"Shit...whoever this is has some serious pull." Riza shook her head. "Freya, take us to the D.C. safe-house."
"What do you have in mind?"
She stripped off her shirt, changing out of her CIA outfit. "Well, someone is seriously fucking Mustang and his team over...and we're the only ones that know about it. I'm going to have to talk to him."
"Holy shit." Fuery's voice held a great deal of surprise, and she shared another look with Becca. "I proofed the video from the night Gavilán died...You're not gonna believe this."
Later that same evening, for reasons partially beyond his comprehension considering recent events, Roy was seated at a table in a small restaurant in downtown D.C. The table was relatively secluded, with an acceptable view of both the front entrance and the hall leading to the restrooms, the kitchen, and the rear exits. He had agreed to meet Raven, who had some updates for him and who, for some reason, decided they should meet in public. He was most certainly having second thoughts since a large part of him wanted to stay home with a bottle of whiskey. Overall, he felt as though he was losing his mind, and could not determine their ideal next step.
A waiter arrived and he ordered a beer for himself, noticing how naked he felt without the badge in his pocket and a firearm at his hip. He shook his head as his ruminations again turned to everything that had happened. He still had a difficult time believing it. He'd raked his hands through his black hair so many times that it likely stood straight, and he very much wanted to go to the range and fire off a ludicrous number of rounds. The scar on his abdomen from when Berthold had shot him seemed to twinge, as if realizing how pissed he was and thinking it was the perfect time to remind him of that fiasco.
His eyes rose when he heard the door open and he gave Raven a nod when he saw him walking through the entrance. The man was so tall, he seemed to barely fit in the restaurant at all, and when he sat the table was comically small compared to him.
The two men shook hands. "Well, kid, how are you holding up?"
"As well as can be expected, I suppose." He took a drink of his beer and glanced around the restaurant, exhaling heavily. "This is bullshit, Gene." Hughes had been furious, too, when he told him everything that had gone down.
"Shit, you're preaching to the choir." Raven glanced around, looking for the server. "We'll get this all sorted out, but it will take time. I know that's not what you want to hear."
"As long as my team comes out clean. We didn't have anything to do with this." He looked up again as the front door opened, and he saw a woman enter and scan the room, apparently looking for someone. She glanced at him, not quite catching his eye, then made her way to the bar and took a seat. The woman ran a hand through blonde hair and it briefly reminded him of the phone-drop in that bar in Paris.
"I know. I have agents scouring everything they can get their hands on. There has to be something tying it back to the true culprits somewhere." He paused. "I'll be honest, I still like Loki for it. You were getting close, maybe she spooked and decided to try to get rid of you."
Roy shrugged, his facial expression showing his skepticism. "I don't know. That crew is..."
Suddenly, Raven held up a hand to stop him as he looked at his phone. "Sorry, kid. I have to take care of something. I'll call you later."
"What…?" His voice betrayed his frustration and indignation as he watched, wide-eyed, as the older agent rose from the table without another word and quickly exited the restaurant. He stared at the door for a few seconds, mouth open in shock, as he considered what just happened, and wondered why Raven ran out of here like his ass was on fire.
The server naturally chose that moment to return to the table and, picking up the menu, Roy said, "Just one second...I'll take a quick look."
He was wondering if perhaps he should just finish his beer, call it a night, when someone took possession of the empty seat to his right around the square table. He looked up, puzzled, to find the woman that he had seen walk into the restaurant only minutes beforehand. She was quite pretty, with lustrous hair hanging down over one shoulder and dark, mocha-brown eyes that met his own. Her features bore a slightly amused smirk, and she only looked away when the waiter said, "Good evening, miss. Could I get you something to drink?"
"Good evening." She smiled as she took the menu he handed her and rapidly perused it. "I'll have a glass of chardonnay and the Three-Lily Soup, please."
As she spoke he became progressively more angry, his curious grin turning to a thin-lipped expression of ire. It was her: that voice, the face he'd seen only in glimpses. It was Loki. Her gaze again found his when she'd finished her order, eyebrows slightly raised in a questioning glance. The waiter directed his attention back to Roy and said, "And for you, sir?"
He barely even heard the man, his fury having resurfaced with a vengeance as he thought about the suspension, his superiors' suspicions of him, his team. He did not need to be mocked by the pain-in-the-ass thief they had been chasing.
Not surprisingly, she recognized the anger on his face and even as he made to stand she placed a hand on his leg to stop him. She watched him, waiting for his next move and giving him a look he thought simultaneously meant, 'You really need to stay' and 'By the way, I have a gun.' In the next moment, she handed the waiter the other menu and said, "Yes, he'll have another pale ale, along with the Scottish Lamb Stew." As soon as the server left she leaned toward him with a smile, as if they were on a date, and spoke softly. "I know you're innocent, Agent Mustang."
He held Loki's gaze as he drank his beer and absorbed the word 'innocent,' taking into account everything he knew of her, little though it was. She was obviously clever, had managed to keep a step ahead of them on multiple occasions, and had a mysterious connection with the CIA. No matter what, it was a fact that he no longer had his badge and would be unable to arrest her anyway. It might be worthwhile to hear what she had to say.
He slipped his phone from his pocket, wanting to let Hughes know that Loki had found him, and looked back up at her almost immediately. "My phone's not working." It caused an unusual combination of amusement and irritation.
She shrugged a shoulder with a smirk. "Hmm...That's odd." Loki leaned back briefly when the server brought their drinks and then sipped her wine. "I'm not here to gloat at your misfortune, Mustang. I think we can help each other."
He leaned on the table, keeping his own voice low. "First, let's talk about why the hell I should even believe a word you say. I can't be sure it wasn't you that set me up."
"Of course it wasn't." She sipped her beverage again, her expression implying he had just made a wholly asinine claim, and seemed at least mildly affronted by the suggestion. "Two guards dead, the shot on Agent Ross, the vault and cage just left open like that." She shook her head. "You know that's not our style. I like to think that our alleged work is a bit more elegant."
He stared at her. "How could you possibly know all that?"
"We have our ways." Her eyes stayed on his, and she was giving nothing away.
"Then you know I'm being watched...closely."
Her smirk made another appearance. "I think you'll find they're busy at present."
He once more sat back as the server set bowls in front of them and they each tasted their meals. Roy had to admit that, though he should probably be more concerned that he was dining with a criminal he'd been hunting, he was intrigued. She showed up, out of the blue, with more information than she should reasonably have. It was safe to say there was more to Loki and her team than he initially thought. And, as of that morning, he was no longer an active Special Agent with the FBI. In truth, he was still a little salty about that. "Shouldn't I at least know the real name of my dinner date?"
"That depends on you, Agent Mustang. I have a proposition for you."
"Will it convince me not to restrain you and call the cops?" He no longer had the authority to arrest her, but someone else could.
"Right, because your attempts to restrain me have worked so well in the past." She smiled as she reached for her glass.
He chuckled lightly. "Touché...I'll listen to your proposal, but I'm not promising I'll accept." He took a bite of his stew, washed it down with the ale, and was pleasantly surprised by how well they complemented each other. He gestured with his spoon. "This is really good, by the way."
Loki took a breath and said, "I can help you restore your good name, and that of your team."
He looked up at her, hoping she was not simply trying to manipulate him by pressing that button. "You have my attention." He did not exactly like that she knew that was all she would have to say.
Curling blonde hair behind an ear, she leaned closer and found his gaze. "I suggest we work together to recover certain...items, and in doing so get the proof you need to clear your names."
"And how do you know about certain items?" More and more seriously he began to consider that she was in all likelihood CIA, but he would need some proof to buy it completely.
"I told you once that things aren't always as they seem...I'm giving you the chance to know the truth." Opening her clutch, she reached into it and removed two envelopes, a business card, and a phone. Handing the items to him beneath the table, she said, "All I ask is that you read these before you decide. Take a look at envelope number one first. Think of the second as an olive branch...to begin mending our broken fences."
"And the phone?"
"Use it to call the number on the card within twenty-four hours...if you decide you're interested. Your own phone is tapped." She paused to drink, gesturing with the glass. "Give the receptionist the name Scott Mansfield. She will provide you with additional information if necessary."
"This is all very cloak-and-dagger." He smiled in amusement, feeling like he was in a spy flick.
Loki chuckled lightly. "How do you think I've survived as long as I have?" She took another taste of the soup, finished the wine, and stood, placing money sufficient to cover the bill on the table. She paused, and when he looked up at her again her expression held honest sympathy. "I am truly sorry about what you'll find in the second envelope. But I've always believed that everyone has a right to the truth."
He gazed at her in confusion after her last comment as, with one final smile, she turned and left the restaurant. As she walked away he watched her, and then the envelopes caught his eye once more and all other thoughts were pushed aside. The past twenty-four hours had been some of the strangest of his life, and he rather hoped the roller-coaster would be over soon.
Roy finished his meal, downed the rest of the beer, and let Loki's cash take care of everything seeing as she had left enough even for a generous tip. Stuffing the items she had given him into various pockets so the agents tailing him would not see them, he exited the building and headed for his vehicle. From there, he drove home, locked the door, and checked his apartment for cameras and other bugs. Satisfied that the FBI had not gone to such lengths to watch him after he'd removed the other devices they planted, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat at the table to look over everything.
The phone was completely ordinary, and on top of that was likely a cheap burner. The business card bore only a phone number, in what appeared to be Times New Roman font, with no accompanying information of any kind. He opened the first envelope and took a drink as he unfolded the pages, nearly losing beer through his nostrils as he fully realized what he was seeing in the photo on top. It was clearly Raven, with a man Roy recognized as Solf J. Kimblee, an especially slimy criminal and arms dealer. In the lower right-hand corner, in unfamiliar handwriting that could have been Loki's, was written: 'New Orleans, Louisiana. Two weeks ago.'
"Holy. Shit. That fucking bastard." His boss, Raven, the man he thought was doing everything he could to help him had in reality been the one setting him up. His hands formed fists but he tried to force them to relax, attempted to keep his fury in check in order to think objectively. He recalled that before, when Gavilán tried to steal the Stone, there had been rumors that Kimblee was interested in the weapon. If he was behind this, it was possible his boss had been working for the arms dealer the entire time.
Below the first came another photo, set in the warehouse where Gavilán was shot, which showed Raven's arrival. There was a short note in the corner: Check the time stamp. When he did, he realized it was a full thirty minutes prior to the time his boss had listed in his report of that night. Plenty of time to shoot his partner and then 'find' him dead.
He shook his head, moving on to the next photo which depicted the records repository Roy himself had visited a few weeks ago, this one of a man he did not immediately recognize. Terrence Wilson, a now dead thief implicated in numerous crimes around the world. Stole all files pertaining to the Stone, Berthold Gavilán, and the night you were shot. Files that conveniently disappeared the same evening you were at the repository. How did they know all this?
Then there was another photo, more grainy than the others, that must have been from some random security camera. It showed Raven in an alley with the thief in the previous image, and they were exchanging bags. After the photos there were several sheets of paper detailing the purchase of the gun registered in his name that he never bought, the use of his ID to access the cage, the use of his credentials to delete all digital copies of the missing files, that Raven asked for their suspensions, the contract offered by Kimblee for his assassination, etc. He sipped again and shook his head as he thought, Alright, Loki. You still have my attention.
He exhaled slowly as he eyed the second envelope, afraid of what it might contain and unabashedly curious at the same time. Taking yet another drink, possibly to prepare himself, he picked it up and opened it, slipping another stack of folded papers and photos from within. The instant he flattened them, the pile fell from his hands and he quickly stood, taking a couple steps back from the table. Not for the first time that day, his jaw hung slack and his wide eyes gazed without seeing.
From the table top, a crime scene photo depicting his dead, blood-soaked parents stared up at him. "What the fuck, Loki?" he muttered to himself. "What is this?" Suddenly, he was nine again, eyes locked on his parents prone forms as they lay on the kitchen floor, his entire world blown to bits. He paced around the room several times, hand alternately rubbing his jaw, covering his mouth, or running agitatedly through his hair.
When he'd finally calmed and regained control of the pit in his chest, he sat back down and began to visually examine the documents. He knew they came from a CIA file, having seem them before on multiple occasions, and took a few minutes to check the various stamps, watermarks, and other security features. He then gingerly picked up the photo, and there was a note at the top: Your parents were confidential informants who gave the CIA information on Solf J. Kimblee's father. Examining the photo as closely as he was able, he noticed more handwriting in the corner: Two in the chest, one in the head. A classic hit, not your average 'theft-gone-wrong.'
The angry part of him felt she was being a little too cheeky with that comment, while his more rational side explained that it was a valid, clinical observation. Roy took a long swig of beer and tried to breath deeply, though it was difficult with his rapid heart-rate.
He then took out the next photo, which was a close-up of both the bodies that focused on their torsos. Partially tucked inside his Dad's shirt pocket and tossed atop his Mom's stomach were small, black cards. They were identical in size and shape with the same symbol on the front: the uppercase Phi (Φ) from the Greek alphabet. There was another note, with an arrow pointing to each card: The calling card of a young Solf Kimblee, in his early days as a hitman for his father.
He stood so fast his chair flew backwards, his hands clenching into fists even as he fought the urge to punch a hole in the wall. He could not resist the impulse entirely, and settled for throwing a paperweight against the lone exposed-brick wall in his apartment. Roy made a few more absentminded circuits of his living room, disquieted and lost in thought. This whole fucking time they had been murdered. Fortunately for him, he now had the opportunity to go after the motherfucker and hopefully put a bullet or two somewhere excessively painful.
He had been so young when he found them that he accepted the burglary-gone-awry story for the truth. As he got older he started to wonder if he remembered everything accurately, if that story was true, especially since no one would tell him about it. He'd had no other theories, but he did learn not to take things at face value. Therefore, once he'd calmed himself as much as possible, he righted the chair and took a seat along with a drink. He could clean up the paperweight later.
What ensued was a careful review and critique of all the information in the file on his parents' death. He did his best to remain objective and, in the end, he had to admit that the file she'd given him had merit. When he looked at the clock, he determined it was time to collapse on his bed and digest everything he'd seen and heard that day. He had quite a bit to consider, and a decision to make regarding Loki and her offer.
AN: Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and have a great day! :)
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