Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.
AN: Hello everyone! I hope you're all having a good one, and Happy Holidays :) Responses to guest reviews from the previous post can be found at the end of this one. And I think I had more to say, but now I don't remember, so I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Character/codename: Riza/Loki...Roy/Tyr/Mr. Sexy Voice...Becca/Freya...Havoc/Dagr...Breda/Ymir...Fuery/Sig...Elicia/Little One...Olivier/Ice Queen
The Hammer and Anvil
Roy stepped out of the vehicle into the Mediterranean air, casting his gaze over the Port of Naples and the warehouse being used as their staging area. Even outside the structure there was activity, with some agents arriving, others leaving, and yet more groups going off to sweep the surrounding buildings. He shared an incredulous look with Havoc, who exited the car and joined him near the front.
His friend chuckled, shaking his head. "I almost forgot what having back-up feels like."
"So did I." He exhaled somewhat tensely, eyes drawn to the sea beyond the harbor, and muttered to himself, "Here we go."
They waited in silence a bit longer, both men well aware that the operation they were about to undertake could go horribly, stunningly wrong. The many trackers Hawkeye had planted on Kimblee's belongings back in Berlin indicated that he was in a warehouse he owned in the vicinity of the port. He had been there for several days, and the signals were still coming from the complex. A small voice of doubt within him wondered if it was all nothing more than a smoke screen, worried that the arms dealer had somehow managed to outmaneuver them yet again. He reassured himself with the thought that it would have been impossible for him to find and disable every tracker.
Based on the interviews conducted with Ross and her description of the facility, which had differed substantially from the plans on file with the city, they had drawn up schematics. Using those they had planned as surgical a strike as possible, but unpredictable variables remained, the most dangerous being Kimblee himself. He had proved to be on the diabolical end of the Machiavellian spectrum, and their greatest advantage would surely be the element of surprise. Roy simply hoped the man was unaware of their presence.
Roy had used his travel time to begin compiling a list of potential guardians for Ross' daughter, still shocked that the request had been made of him in the first place. During their confrontation, she did not appear to be his biggest fan, though she obviously trusted him to some extent. While he did not necessarily relish helping her after everything, he would ensure that her daughter would be protected. The girl was an innocent party in all this, and he would not let the so-called sins of the mother be a detriment to her.
He shared another look with Havoc, thinking they should join the chaos, and his friend abruptly held out a hand. "Just in case we die...it's been an honor working with you, Roy."
He shook his hand. "And the same goes for you, Jean. I like the optimism, by the way."
The blonde man gave an amused snort. "I said just in case."
They strode toward the building, raising the temporary badges they had been given for an agent to verify. Several pop-up canopies were located inside the warehouse, clustered under cover of darkness along one wall. A few covered a collection of tactical equipment, others a makeshift medical suite for emergencies, and still others housed Fuery's electronic set-up.
They geared-up at a few tents, outfitting themselves with body armor and weaponry before moving in the direction of the main canopy, where Hawkeye and Director Armstrong were deep in conversation. To his astonishment, the Director was dressed in tactical gear as well, from which he guessed she would be joining them. Becca was already prepped and waiting, with Fuery nearby, but their usual lighthearted joking was notably absent, this particular operation being quite possibly even more critical than any before it.
Hawkeye's expression was focused, serious, but when she glanced up at his entrance her features briefly broke into a smile, and he felt his lips curve. He'd decided earlier that, once this was done, he would ask her on an actual, mission-free date. After all they'd been through, a date seemed like a small gesture, almost trivial in comparison, but it was a good enough place to start. And he had a feeling there was a pretty good chance she would say yes.
He and Havoc reached the table and Breda appeared to his left, asking, "Did you get Elicia squared away?"
"Yeah, she's set." Roy made some adjustments to his tactical belt and holsters. "She's at a safe-house with a protective detail, and she is not happy about it."
Breda surveyed the tent and lowered his voice. "Fuery snuck her an earpiece, and set it to receive not broadcast. She'll be able to listen in."
"That'll make her feel a little better, at least." He was about to continue, but Director Armstrong started to speak, drawing the attention of every agent.
"Okay...the game plan is the same. We enter at these points..." She indicated on the map the few entrances into the building. "...and the clean-up crews will follow. Agent Sigurd, here, will quarterback." She placed a hand on Fuery's shoulder to confirm who she meant, the codenames being necessary given that they were covert operatives, and then looked around the group. "I am only interested in one prisoner, understand?" After receiving various nods in response she added, "Let's move out."
Roy stopped briefly in another tent, stowing a few more weapons on his person, and slipped his earpiece in place. He trotted to rejoin the group, falling into step between Hawkeye and Becca, the latter of which would be on his team. They moved through the darkness toward the warehouse, eventually splitting into the three teams that would ultimately breach the building. Havoc broke off to the left with Breda, and when Hawkeye headed to the right with the Director he caught her eye, giving her a look that meant 'be careful.' She nodded, her lips quirking, eyebrows raised in a way that said, 'you, too.'
She followed her unit, disappearing into a dark alley at a jog, and he picked up his pace, gesturing for Becca and the other agents to follow. They continually searched the surrounding area, full of unlit buildings and stacks of shipping containers, making sure they had not been found out. As they neared the target's warehouse, chatter over the comm devices increased.
"Alright, gang," Fuery started. "The cameras around the building have been on a loop since you left. I'll cut the power to the alarms and signal for you to enter."
Roy responded with 'Copy,' as did the other team leads Havoc and Hawkeye, and he raised a hand to signal for his group to slow as they approached the door. They group took up positions around the entrance, two agents standing on either side of the opening, a battering ram in-hand. Raising the combat rifle, he stood several feet in front of the door, with Becca beside him, and they waited.
Fuery's voice crackled once more. "All teams...check in."
"Red team, in position," Havoc replied.
"Blue team, in position," Roy quietly added.
"Gold team, in position." Hawkeye's voice was calm and even, and he pushed his concern for her to the back of his mind. He knew she could take care of herself, and he needed to concentrate, but part of him did not care for the fact that they were on different teams. He had grown accustomed to working with her.
"Copy. We're on the count..." Fuery told them. "Five...four..." He let his muscles contract for an instant, allowing his body to momentarily feel the full stress of the situation before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to calm. "...three...two..." There was some shifting around him as the other agents prepared themselves, and the sound of a chopper was just becoming audible, bringing the unit that would be dropped onto the roof to cut off any possibility of escape. For some reason, it felt as though the seconds dragged, until finally: "...one...All teams, move in."
"Copy." The agents holding the battering ram looked over, bashing the door in at his nod, and Roy was the first through, firing at the guard walking toward them down the hall. The sound of gunshots erupted throughout the building, but he only saw the one man near their entrance. "Clear." He turned back to the door and signaled to four men. "Hold this door...the rest of you are with us."
They started to pace cautiously along the hallway and Becca said, voice low, "Blue team is in."
His comm crackled again and he heard Hawkeye say, "Gold team is in."
"Red team is in," Breda told them.
"Target's signal is still stationary…looks like he's below ground." Fuery paused and Roy continued down the dimly lit walkway, squeezing the trigger when a man rounded the corner from another hall. He shared a look with Becca and crouched to check the adversary's pulse, nodding to communicate that he was down. "I'm reading heat signatures near your position Gold team," the tech guy continued.
"Copy, Sig," Hawkeye responded.
He waved a couple fingers in each direction and two agents started to head to the left and right along the walkway that crossed theirs. He and Becca had just taken a few steps when gunfire broke out further down the hall and they rushed backward, spinning around the corner to use the wall as protection. Switching his weapon to fully automatic, he swung his arm out and squeezed the trigger to spray bullets at the shooters, shifting back behind cover in time to see a bullet hit the portion of wall where his eye had just been. With a signal, he ordered a few men to try to use the passageways to get behind their attackers. Becca and another agent fired from her side, and then he fired again, watching out of the corner of his eye as the man behind him received a round to the neck, falling to the floor. "Blue team taking heavy fire...stand by."
Pausing to reload, he changed the selective fire setting to a burst of a few rounds and stood, taking aim as he avoided the impulse to duck. He pulled the trigger, his bullets finding one man's head, stomach clenching at the sudden, sharp pain in his right arm. "Shit," he muttered, stepping back to be fully shielded by the concrete wall, which was slowly becoming perforated by holes. Reaching over with his other hand, he pulled apart the tear in his sleeve, relieved to see that it was just a graze.
He hefted the weapon in his right hand, checking the level of pain he'd be dealing with, and again opened fire around the corner. Suddenly, the sounds of a firefight increased exponentially down the hall and then died away just as precipitously. He cautiously stepped back out into the hallway, moving forward at a wave from one of his men that had managed to attack the enemy from behind. "There were just four, sir."
"Copy...Blue team is on the move." To his group he added, "Let's pick up the pace. They clearly know we're here."
"You okay, Tyr?" Becca asked, glancing at his arm.
"Yeah, let's go," he nodded. "Sig, notify the sweepers we've got two agents down near this position."
"Copy."
They continued through the building, taking out the guards they came across and hearing the occasional conversation via comms, the rapport of gunshots echoing through the passages. Finally, they entered the large, open storage space in the warehouse, full of wooden crates and metal shipping containers. He broke into a run until they reached the door to a stairwell, signaled for one agent to open it, and then Roy stepped through. He squeezed the trigger, dropping a man at the foot of the stairs, and then hurried down to check the walkway beyond, agents following close behind. "Clear."
They followed it, glancing down halls that crossed, and surprisingly came across no more of Kimblee's security. He heard gunfire from elsewhere in the basement and, as they came to a particular door Becca informed the other teams, "Blue' team outside the office."
"Copy, Freya," Fuery replied. "Target should still be there...but be careful. I'm reading a ton of activity ahead of you."
"What kind of activity, Sig?" she asked, pausing for an instant.
"Honestly? I'm not sure. It's basically a shitload of outgoing signals."
"Copy," Roy replied, thinking something along the lines of 'that's a great sign' and signaling orders to his group. The team positioned themselves around the entrance and, glancing around to ensure everyone was ready, he kicked the door in. They rushed inside, opening fire on a doorway at the far end of the room through which Kimblee vanished in the same instant. A few agents were about to follow when the arms dealer tossed something back into the room before slamming the door shut and Roy shouted, "Stun grenade!"
The entire team dove back toward the walkway they'd just left, trying to close their eyes and cover their ears in the hopes of mitigating some of the effects of the device. The concussion from the blast shoved him forcefully against the wall, the back of his head knocking against cement, and he saw the bright flash of light beyond his eyelids, heard the loud bang even as he tried to muffle it. He slid to the floor and slowly opened his eyes, finding a thin haze of smoke dimming the lights, his vision only slightly compromised. He tried to rise gradually, regaining his bearings and, though his ears were ringing, it seemed his balance was mostly normal.
A couple members of Kimblee's security force burst through the opening their boss had just used as an exit, and Roy reached for one of his pistols. Before he could even raise it one man collapsed with a bullet to the skull and as the other turned back Hawkeye grabbed his weapon hand, swept his feet out from under him, and rammed his head into the large desk. He watched her scan the room, making sure everyone was alright, and when he saw a shadow through the haze approaching her six he raised his gun and fired. The blonde spun in response to the sound, weapon out in front of her as the man fell, and then found his gaze. "Thanks."
"No problem," he replied, somewhat relieved to see that she was unharmed. Her eyes came to rest momentarily on his bloody sleeve and he gave a little wave by way of telling her he was fine.
"Where's the target?"
Roy pointed behind her. "He went through there."
"Everyone okay?" Armstrong asked as she strode into the office, helping agents to their feet. "We need to get moving."
There were some mumbled replies but he did not pay attention, watching Hawkeye walk curiously toward the safe in the corner of the room. He paced in that direction, noticing that the small door was ajar, and they shared a look of confusion. She carefully pushed it open and softly said, "What the hell?"
Within the safe sat a rectangular device, cased in black plastic, with a dial on the face which was blank save for a blinking cursor at one end. He estimated the dimensions in centimeters at a length of twenty, width of ten, and height of five. It seemed strangely small, and he was having trouble figuring out what it might be. He felt it was a safe assumption, however, that the device was likely dangerous and deadly, thinking it unlikely that Kimblee would leave anything else. As he examined it, he thought it looked familiar, and his eyes widened when he realized he seen samples of schematics that resembled it before. "I think this is the Stone."
"Clear the room," Armstrong instantly ordered, and the other agents filed out to guard the doors. "Sig, take us off the party line."
"Copy..." A click was audible as electronics were disconnected, and Fuery's tone was anxious. "Did I hear that right?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out, Sig." Hawkeye looked at him in disbelief. "I was led to believe it was some kind of complex bomb. Everyone's been calling it a weapon of mass destruction."
"That's what I thought, but I see no explosives, no incendiaries. And with as small as it is, I don't see how on it's own it could cause even mild destruction." He carefully moved the object to the desktop and the women joined him, eying it as numbers ominously flashed across the petite screen. Another round of numbers scrolled across, followed by three more digits spaced as if on a digital clock, which started to count down from 4:00. Based on what he knew of Kimblee, and the rate at which the numbers changed, he figured they were dealing with minutes as opposed to hours. "Fuck...It's counting down to something." His mind was suddenly all over the place, thinking about how in hell to disarm the device before Kimblee could escape. "You guys should leave...I'll handle this."
Armstrong stood straight, checking the number of rounds left in her current mag. "Somebody does have to go after the target. Freya, you're with us."
"Red team has a visual on the target," Fuery told them.
He was only partially aware that they left the room, his thoughts already racing as he attempted to remember everything he'd ever heard about the Philosopher's Stone. However, the fact that he had only ever gotten a glimpse of the plans hampered his progress, not to mention the fact that 'glimpse' had taken place years ago, back when Gavilán was still alive. He looked up, instinctively raising his weapon when someone entered the room, before holstering it once more. "I meant you should leave, too, ya know."
"Too bad," Hawkeye retorted with a smirk.
"Yeah, forgive me for wanting you to leave the place that may soon explode."
"Hey..." She placed a hand on his arm for a second. "We've come through multiple near-death experiences together...and you don't mess with a streak like that." Though the comment was an attempt at something lighthearted, the look in her eyes was meaningful.
The significance of her return was not lost on him and, in another situation might have made him smile, but the light of the dial reclaimed his attention. "Okay," Roy said, exhaling slowly and using the blade of his knife to pry off the plastic cover in order to get a view of the electronics beneath. "Let's see what we're working with."
"Hey, good news," Fuery began. "Breda got shot in the leg, and the medics haven't gotten to him yet, so I'm putting him to work on this, too." There was a pause. "Well, not good news...you know what I mean."
The inside of the device was a confusing tangle of single-hued wires connecting the small display screen to a circuit board and what he deduced must be an emitter and receiver. For such a highly lauded weapon it was unexpectedly simple, however it was likely that therein lay the genius. The fewer systems working together, the lower risk for potential mishaps, and its onslaught of outgoing signals would impede any attempts to access it remotely. "How many signals did you say this is broadcasting?" he asked, taking a photo and sending it to the tech geniuses, hoping they might have some insights.
"Literally too many to count, but not all at once. So unless someone's looking for it, it would probably go unnoticed." The younger man sounded both amused and bewildered. "And they change constantly, without any recognizable pattern, so there's no way to jam it. I'm sure there's a pattern, but it would take me too long to figure it out….I'm looking at the image. Give me a sec."
"As you can see, we have a little under three minutes. And it's probably safe to assume that's not enough time to isolate which signals matter."
"Bingo. That would take a long time...with help," Breda informed him.
"I'm starting to feel awesome about this." He looked the stone over once more, shaking his head, and then something occurred to him. "Holy shit...It's a homing device. A stupidly impenetrable one...it's the only thing that makes sense."
"Similar to infrared without the potential weakness of false heat signatures," Hawkeye thought aloud. "With a beacon like this I'd say the missile would only have a receiver, so it would be untraceable...making it a semi-active guidance system."
Roy nodded. "In that case, it would be long range. And that means no cutting wires...even if we cut off the signal the missile could lock on to the last known location." He paused. "And we don't have time to figure out where it's coming from to try to arrange an intercept."
"I think I'd like it if it wasn't trying to kill us," the blonde next to him murmured.
"I've looked at the photos," Breda commented. "Theoretically, if I could examine the emitter, we could spoof a signal to make it detonate early, but there's no time for that now. And it's a solid bet the missile as already been fired."
The number of solutions that were already ruled out by a lack of time was extremely irritating and he exhaled, momentarily meeting Hawkeye's gaze. "Then we'll have to give it a new target." Without another word she grabbed the device, sprinting from the office, and he was not far behind. "This missile has to come from somewhere, Sig. Tell me there's something you can do in case we don't make it far enough. It's only a matter of minutes before an ordinance arrives with who knows what kind of payload." He tried to the remember the building plans Ross had described to them, tapping her shoulder and pointing down a hallway they were about to pass. They raced along it and then down another, toward the door that Havoc's team would have used to enter earlier. With dread in his gut he glanced at the timer: Sixty seconds.
"Ahh..." the younger man uttered tensely. "Okay...there is one possibility, but..." He hesitated. "Hey, Loki...scale of one to ten, how mad will you be if I tell you I still have a backdoor into the NSA's network?"
Roy heard her laugh as they burst through the door, bolting toward the water's edge. "If zero is not mad? Around a negative forty-eight. Do it."
"So, this tech is NSA, right?" the computer expert said. "And the target hasn't had it long enough to revamp it. I can't interfere with the Stone, but if I can find the satellite this system is using to boost communication, I think I can interrupt or alter the signal at that point."
"Sig." The strain from his mad dash bled into his voice. "Please be fast."
"Yep...on it." Forty-five seconds.
"Sig," he quietly said. "In case this doesn't work, tell Lici I love her." He knew they had been disconnected from the others, and that she was probably no longer listening.
A pause. "Okay."
He and Hawkeye ran on, jumping down a set of stairs onto a concrete pier and she pointed ahead, darting in the direction of a port-authority speed-boat located halfway down. They periodically ran past a lamppost casting a yellowish light on the dock, and the rest of the time he had to strain his eyes in the darkness. Through his comm, Fuery could be heard conferring with Breda about some piece of technological brilliance or other. "I found the satellite," he finally said. Thirty seconds.
He hoped that leading the missile into the bay would be enough to diminish the potential collateral damage. He hated that phrase, collateral damage, because it implied that there was a certain quantity of death and destruction that could be considered an acceptable loss. Twenty-five seconds. Jumping into the back of the boat she set the device on a seat and he quickly pulled out his knife to cut the craft free. She started it up, increased the speed, and he simultaneously looped a rope around the steering wheel to keep the boat traveling straight. Twenty seconds.
"Almost there," Fuery said, furious typing in the background.
Hawkeye stepped up onto a cushioned seat, diving off the stern, and he followed suit seconds later, swimming the fastest freestyle of his life. Fifteen seconds. The nearest ladder still seemed miles away, and after the sprint the impromptu swim was sapping his energy. It was almost as if he could hear the whistle of an approaching missile, though he knew he was imagining that. Ten seconds.
She started to slow ahead of him, the exertion no doubt weighing on her as well, and he tried to push on, counting down silently. They finally reached a ladder and grabbed the rungs to catch their breath, watching each other and hoping there was enough distance between themselves and that boat. He put his arm around her, wanting to make sure neither of them were thrown off the ladder in the aftermath but too exhausted to climb onto the pier.
Then there was an abrupt, deafening explosion and they jumped, grip on each other constricting in surprise. The detonation had come five seconds too soon and they relaxed in relief a moment later, looking at a point high over the bay to see the last few burning scraps of missile tumbling lazily to the water's surface. He released a sigh and she closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his chest, his arm still securely around her shoulders.
Slowly, she raised herself onto the wharf, turning to offer him a hand when he followed. The pair stood silently for a second, her hand in his, but his gaze shot back toward the collection of warehouses when he heard a string of gunshots at surprisingly close range. They shared a look, expressions equally exasperated, and he knew they were both wondering if it would ever end. They started forward slowly, picking up the pace, and as he removed the now useless earpiece he lamented the fact that both firearms he still had were water-logged. Not only would the weapons be far less effective, they would be far more dangerous to use, since water would undoubtedly remain in the barrels, acting as an obstruction.
Once back on solid ground they ran in the direction of the shots, approaching two shadowy buildings with an alleyway just wide enough for a vehicle running between them. He heard Hawkeye quietly say, "Liv," and when she sped up he could make out a figure on the ground, leaning against a wall. She knelt next to the woman, who had a hand on her abdomen, blood trickling out of a wound in her side. "Jesus, Liv. You okay?"
"Yes...I already called for medical." Her voice was low, pained. "Fucking explosion distracted me...Stupid mistake." She tilted her head to her left. "He went into that building."
A few agents were lying prone nearby and Roy took a couple pistols, exchanging them for his and picking up two more for Hawkeye. She was checking her friend's pulse, verifying that she was not fading and would be alright until the medics arrived. Evidently satisfied, she asked, "Was he alone?"
Armstrong nodded. "For now...he called someone."
Riza stood, holstering one of the weapons he handed to her, and they paced carefully into the space between the two warehouses. He heard nothing from within the building, and when they reached the first door he opened it for her, signaling to communicate that he would use the next entrance to approach from a different angle. He strode more swiftly, rounding the corner of the building and freezing for an instant at the sound of a single gunshot, wishing they had functional comm devices. He broke into a run, hurrying through the next door which was already open.
As he paced along a stack of crates he started to hear voices, changing his trajectory to move toward them. Nearing the northeast corner of the building, he came upon a small, open area close to the exit where Hawkeye and Kimblee stood, each with a gun aimed at the other. A man that must have been another of the arms dealer's employees lay on the ground, a bullet hole between his eyes.
Roy pointed his firearm at the back of Kimblee's head, who was in the middle of saying, "...Loki, right? Tell you what. I have more men on the way and, if you let me go, I'll order them not to kill you, just to shoot you so you can't follow."
He stepped into the dim glow from the building's emergency light on the wall. "I think you're outnumbered, Kimblee."
The man turned his head slightly, acknowledging the presence behind him. "Agent Mustang…you found us. Wonderful. I heard the explosion..."
"It was midair. I'm sure you'll be happy to hear there was no damage." Now that he once more had the arms dealer in front of him, images of his parents again assaulted him, his gut contracting as he remembered the piercing anguish of finding them. He thought of Falman, Gracia, Grumman, Denny, and the countless others whose deaths could be either directly or indirectly attributed to the man before him. He was loathe to admit it, but there was a part of him that wanted to shoot the motherfucker, that would gain some satisfaction from it. He hated that part of himself.
"You know me so well. How is Maria? I suppose I have her to thank for your visit. I'll have to remember to reward her accordingly."
"Drop the weapon, Kimblee," he replied, ignoring the man's comments.
"I'd rather not, for obvious reasons." At that moment two of their target's men joined them, one of them holding Roy at gunpoint, and Hawkeye gaze flitted to the other men before finding his. She gave him a look and he nodded imperceptibly that he understood. He eyed the others as she started to drop into a crouch and, in the same moment that he fired, she squeezed her trigger and flicked a knife at the man on her right.
He watched the three men fall, abruptly the only one left standing, and he was frozen for several moments, processing the fact he had just killed the man that killed his parents. He felt strangely calm, having anticipated the elation of vengeance or the guilt of having taken a life. Unexpectedly, he was at peace. His attention was drawn to Hawkeye and he took a few steps to help her up, stretching a hand out to the crates behind her and passing a few fingers over the bullet hold he'd put there via Kimblee's head. "That was kind of a crazy idea, you know."
"Yeah." She let out a chuckle. "One of us needed to draw their attention, and I was in the best position to do that. And...I suppose I preferred the idea of me being in the line of fire."
Roy turned to face her, taking her hand. "That's funny…the reverse would have made me feel better."
She smiled and shifted closer, putting her free hand on his chest. "Well they didn't get a shot off, so it doesn't matter, but next time you can be the one that might be shot." After a pause she added, "Are you okay?"
He nodded. "I am...I don't think it's sunk in yet." Taking a look at the bodies around them he said, "We should check on the Director, and Breda...and call a clean-up crew."
She tilted her head, listening carefully and stepping back as she cautiously reached for a weapon. "One may already be on the way." Sure enough, a team burst through the nearest door, followed by the unmistakeable sounds of other entrances being breached. Hawkeye gave the arriving team's lead agent a nod and, as they walked to the door he glimpsed the bodies, still not used to the fact that it was over.
The night sky was full of stars, a warm breeze flowing through the buildings, and for the first time in recent memory he felt unburdened. His team could return home, Elicia would be able to see her father, and he'd thought of a bar near his apartment that would be perfect for pre-dinner drinks. He could take Hawkeye there to kick-off their evening out, and he recalled several excellent restaurants in the area. His ruminations continued in that vein, and he stole the occasional look at her as they returned to the staging area. When they entered the building, he said, "I'm going to check on Breda...Back in a sec."
Hawkeye nodded with a smile and, as he strolled away, he saw her go directly to where Becca and Fuery were waiting, and the trio hugged. At that point he entered the medical tent, grinning since he could hear Breda chattering away even before he saw the man. He was clearly taking excellent pain killers by that time and, when his friend saw him, he loudly said, "Hey! Boss...have you talked to the Director yet about getting me one of those bears? I think it'd make me look crazy badass."
"I doubt the museum is just going to give you a bear, man, but I'll talk to her." The space was small, and Roy was shocked to find the Director was absent. "Where is she, anyway?"
Breda gave an exaggerated shrug. "No idea. She was here a few minutes ago, said she was fine, and left." He shrugged again. "Women." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "The Director is hot."
He grinned in amusement. "Right...so, you're feeling okay?"
"Yeah, Boss, I'm good. But I think I'm gonna ask for more pain killers in a minute. I got shot in the leg."
He shook his head. "I really don't think you need them." With a hasty look back he added, "Hey, I'm gonna go look for everyone else...figure out when we're leaving."
"Aye, aye, dude."
Roy slipped back out of the tent, searching the staging area for the rest of the team, but Hawkeye, Catalina, and Fuery had vacated the spot where he'd last seen them. He made a hurried circuit of the other tents, running into Havoc who was on his way to visit Breda as well. His brow furrowed as he continued through the makeshift base of operations, as he'd seen no sign of Director Armstrong either. Returning to the medical tent's entrance, he cast another glance around the area and his shoulders fell as he let out a breath.
She was gone.
AN: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked the chapter, and have a great day! :)
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