Disclaimer : Still own nothing. Just having fun.
Warning : Intense subject matter. Description of an attempted rape/violence.
Author's Note : Thanks for the favs and follows. Also, many thanks for those who left reviews.
If you're getting this alert again, I posted this chapter and forgot the warning. Instead of just updating the file, I deleted the chapter.
Sorry...hope you're enjoying!
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Wednesday, October 25, 2006 – 11:01pm – Just Outside a Brownstone in Georgetown, MD –
Anthony Masterson's days blend together so seamlessly that Tony feels as though he headlines in a poorly produced gangster film. From collecting outstanding debts to intimidating witnesses for their continued silence, Tony falls back into this former life with reckless abandon. With every passing day, he recognizes himself less in the mirror. The fights have peppered his jawline with bruises and the sleepless nights give him the sunken eyes of a world-weary man.
Thankfully, the hard work doesn't go unnoticed.
Seemingly impressed by the theatrics, Carreras takes a mounting interest in Tony's presence. As the tasks increase in complexity and sensitivity, Tony manages to repair his fractured relationship with the Angel Caido. Even though he's quickly earning his old position within the cartel as one of Carreras' most trusted enforcers, he's still not immune to grunt work.
When one of Carreras' newer recruits failed to arrive for an evening shift, Tony got the call to accompany one of the girls and her 'handler' on a job. Sagging against the passenger seat of a rundown Chrysler LeBaron, Tony stares numbly at the brownstone across the street. He shifts his weight, making a face when the vinyl squeaks under his back. Checking the time on the dashboard, he wonders just how long it'll take for the ordeal to be over.
The smell of greasy French fries assaults Tony's nose as the man in the driver's seat plunges into his bag of fast food they picked up on the way over. Ramon Rodriguez purposefully unwraps a cheeseburger, grinning at Tony's angry glare. When he holds the burger out, Tony rolls his eyes dramatically before snapping them back to the house. While the agent keeps himself alert for pedestrians who might be suspicious of the rusting vehicle parked in an upscale neighborhood, Ramon demolishes his burger in a few bites before rummaging through the bag for another.
Tony scowls at the window.
Maybe the Probie isn't the worst partner in the history of stakeouts.
At least he keeps his attention on the surroundings while he eats.
"Come on man, quit makin' faces like that. If you wanted one, you shoulda bought one."
"Nah, I'm not hungry. Just thinkin' about all the places I could be right now."
"Me too man, me too," Ramon agrees, staring intently at his burger before diving in.
Dipping down in his seat, Tony squints through the grimy film accumulated on the car's exterior to study the picturesque house on the quiet city street. With its window boxes brimming with fall flowers and the carefully crafted red wood door, it resembles an affluent city-dweller's American dream. Lights on all three floors burn in the night. Tony watches two shadows duck past the curtains, wondering what the man who lives there would want with a teenage girl.
He leans his hands onto the dashboard, tapping his fingers until his nail sticks to something in the dark. He finds a piece of candy that's melted into the change on top. Cringing he drops his hands into his lap, checks the time again, unable to believe that only minutes have passed.
Exhaling raggedly, Tony reaches for his phone just when a muffled scream shatters the silence.
"You hear that?" he asks.
Balancing his sloppy burger against his chest, Ramon wipes his hand across his pants before he stretches towards the radio. Tony swats it away, straining his ears until he hears a softer shriek.
His heart rises in his throat.
Why did I bring her here?
"Tony, you alright, man? You don't look so good. You sure you're not hungry?" Ramon asks slowly, passing his fast food bag to the agent.
There's another quiet shout, and Tony catches his own reflection in the side view mirror. Unable to look himself in the eye, he swallows hard.
Can I really listen to that girl getting raped?
Tony throws open the car door, barreling into the frigid night. He's halfway up the front steps, hands balled into tight fists, when Ramon grabs his shoulder.
"Look, man, I know this is your first time doin' this gig. But we've got one rule out here….never go inside. Don't matter what you hear or see, you never interfere with a customer. Drop off and pick up, that's it. If necessary, clean up. What they do…that's their business."
When Tony glances back to the window again, he sees a smaller figure dart past before a larger one follows. Wrenching his arm from Ramon's grasp, he bolts up the steps and throws himself against the front door. The strangled yelp inside tightens his chest. He rocks his weight back, kicking the door open. Rushing over the threshold, Tony barely manages to suppress his urge to announce himself as a federal agent.
He storms into a perfectly decorated sitting room, nearly wiping out on a settee. His eyes dart over the carefully coordinated furniture until he locates the teenager cowered on the other side of a sofa, face buried in her hands. Directly in front of her, an older man stands frozen in shock. When their eyes meet, his kind features twist maliciously. Tony stares at the man's receding hairline and thin build for a long moment, desperately trying to place the face. When he raises his finger accusingly, Tony realizes that he'd seen the same movement in a television ad that ran for a local politician.
I can't believe this is the guy who's trying to get elected because he's a family man.
Disgust bubbles in Tony's chest.
"You're supposed to stay –"
Tony's fist colliding with the man's face ends the thought.
Flailing backwards, he slams into the wall before he slides to the floor. When the blood begins to drip from his nose onto his shirt, he stares slack-jawed at Tony.
Just inside the doorway, Ramon stands frozen, watching the scene unfold.
"Tony? What did you do?"
Tony holds up a warning hand and heads towards the man again. A quiet sniffle makes him turn back to the girl huddled behind the couch instead. His heart clenches when she murmurs something unintelligible. He holds his arm out, and she scrambles off the floor, burying her face in his chest the moment she reaches him.
Her tears soak through his shirt.
"You aren't supposed to be in here," the man growls, voice nasal as the blood pours through his fingers.
"And you aren't supposed to be a monster."
Using the wall to support himself, the man pushes to his feet. When Tony glares at him, he squares his shoulders. When he sets his jaw to seem threatening, Tony bites back a laugh at the way he appears anything but.
"I'll have your head."
Tony pulls the girl closer, shielding her eyes as he retrieves his Glock from the back of his jeans.
"Whaddya gonna do? Call the cops?" Tony cackles, shaking his head. "You had a good time tonight, got what you paid for. You will not call for our services again. If you do, I'll be coming back alone. Do you understand?"
The man sags deeper into the wall, the anger melting from his face. They wait in tense silence until he finally nods slowly. Ramon exhales loudly, running his hand over his face. Swiveling to glare him down, Tony keeps his gun pointed at their customer.
"Everything went as planned, got it?"
Fear blasts through Ramon's eyes as he bobs his head. Without another word, Tony tucks his gun away and guides the girl out. The chilly air instantly cools his boiling skin and he shrugs off his jacket, wrapping it around her bare shoulders. With tears brimming in her eyes, she smiles tightly before she speaks animatedly in a foreign tongue. Tony opens the backdoor of the car and eases her inside, listening to her pleading tone utter words that he doesn't understand. Crouching on the sidewalk, Tony takes her hand.
She recoils under his touch, sliding away from him in the backseat.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, sinking into the seat next to her.
When he presses his lips together, she collapses into his shoulder. More tears come. As they soak through his shirt, he knows the FBI must move before any more of these girls' lives are destroyed. He slumps against the backseat with a defeated sigh.
Who do I even call?
Schaller just wants more evidence. He doesn't understand how many lives an ironclad case will ruin.
And if I call Gibbs, it'll cause more trouble than my team needs right now.
Tony listens to the quiet sobs that fill the car, feeling his heart break at her trembling.
I need to end this.
Tony stares blankly out the window at a thin tree that sways in the wind. When Ramon slides into the driver's seat, Tony doesn't take the hood that's held out. Instead, he glares at the thug until the ignition turns over and the car moves away from the curb. Rubbing the sobbing girl's back, Tony watches the lights of the store fronts outside the vehicle blend into a continuous stream of indiscernible color.
Trying to calm himself down, he counts the number of side streets on the way to the warehouse. When Ramon takes a right to avoid a red light, Tony gapes at the logo on a car they pass. He'd recognize the insignia of the only pizza place that uses the good kind of Parmesan cheese anywhere. Peering over his shoulder through the back window, he watches the red and white emblem fade into the night. His nerves are on edge as the illuminated storefronts are replaced by derelict warehouses.
When Ramon parks his battered car behind Carreras' hideout, Tony's chest tightens.
We're only a few miles away from the Navy Yard.