A/N: Well here is the next chapter folks. I hope you enjoy it. I wanted to get it posted since my birthday is Saturday so any of you who comment or like this will be like an early birthday gift. One final thing, if anyone knows how one can go about possibly getting a Beta could they please share that knowledge? I barely have enough time to adequately check over my work as it is, and with work deciding to throw mandatory OT at us for the rest of the month…well it's going to put a slight crimp in my schedule. Enough about my problems though, let's get to what you all are really here for.
APARTMENT OF SAMEEN SHAW
It was a little after 11:00 P.M. the same day that Shaw had beaten up Vincent Miller. The small apartment was completely dark barring the soft glow from the streetlight that came through the gauzy white curtain that was drawn across the window. The pale white walls helped illuminate the sparsely decorated apartment. There was a wood kitchen table that looked to be second hand. Its scarred surface in remarkably good condition despite the harsh lifestyle of its owner. There was a single black plastic chair at the table that appeared to be a recent purchase. Its gleaming surface yet to be marred by blood and gunshot residue. The tile floor was stained in various places and looked like it needed a good cleaning. While it was cleaned regularly it had been inlaid into the floor so long ago that its color had faded over the years and from repeatedly being cleaned from various stains and foot traffic over time.
Sitting roughly in the largest room of the three room apartment was a blue couch. Aside from the king sized bed and television it was the only other piece of furniture that looked new and more expensive than most of the other furniture. It was dark blue with red trim along the seams and edges. Made of fabric similar to the kind blue jeans were made out of it was specifically designed for abuse and comfort. It could easily fit two people maybe three if the occupants had no problem sitting close together. Stuffed with cotton, especially in the arms, it would allow for someone to recline comfortable along its length or even with a leg thrown over one of the armrests. Shaw had purchased it shortly after receiving her new cover. She had been able to stay in the apartment throughout her first couple of covers and figured that was not liable to change in the too near future. It had proven to be a wise purchase since she had spent more than one night sleeping on it, exhausted after a long work day maintaining her cover identity. Each time she had awoken with no kinks or pain in her body.
The main room served as a kitchen, dining and living room. Midway down a short hallway on the left side was a bathroom. Complete with shower, a separate full size bathtub, toilet, and a long counter with a 4' x 4' mirror set above it. It was extremely clean and had now of the stains or discoloration found in the kitchen area of the main room.
At the end of the hall was the bedroom. There was a midsize closet half full of police officer uniforms hanging neatly inside. A clothes basket filled to the brim with dirty clothes was stuffed into the corner. The only other item of note was a dark black duffle bag, stuffed into the far corner of the closet closest to the bed which bulged from the numerous things inside and was zipped firmly closed.
There was an old dresser, which looked to be an acquisition from Goodwill, like much of the rest of the apartment it bore the marks of years of hard use. Each drawer was firmly closed though the bottom drawer had a shoe wedged between its nob and the floor to prevent it from rolling open. Probably the reason why the thing had ended up at Goodwill in the first place and more than a little bit annoying. Each drawer was filled with clothing. Underclothes were located in the uppermost drawer neatly separated into piles in the large drawer. The middle drawer contained various t-shirts and tank tops that were worn when Shaw worked out, which was roughly every day unless she decided she'd gotten more than enough exercise in that day already. The wedged drawer was full of a variety of pants and shorts. Some meant for working out or running in. Others from her time working on saving numbers, with a few blown knees and bloodstains on the ones that were particularly comfortable or that she liked. They too were organized neatly inside the dresser drawer. If one were to look at Sameen Shaw's entire wardrobe they would be able to easily discern that fashion was not a factor in her purchasing choices. A police officer's badge lay on the top of the dresser next to clothes that had been picked out and set aside for tomorrow. Besides the necessary uniform a pair of running shorts were set beside a black sports bra and a pair of plain white boyshorts.
The bed was occupied by a solitary sleeping woman. She lay burrowed beneath the thin white sheet and yellow blanket with her left arm tucked securely beneath the pillow. Were one to break in, or miraculously remove the pillow without waking the sleeping warrior they would see the fully loaded Sig Sauer held tight around the grip with all five fingers. Surprisingly the safety was on and likely the result of her time spent trying to save people and not take lives as she had been trained to do.
A single white nightstand with black trim was set next to the bed. A small lamp was situated right in the middle with a charging cellphone underneath it. The green light from the top of the device indicated that it was fully charged and that there were no missed calls, messages or texts waiting for the slumbering woman. Unlike its predecessors this was not a burner phone. It was the property of Officer Samantha Shaw and needed to be kept nearby since it was the only number the police department and Reese had for her. Hence why she was even bothering to keep it on or charged in the first place. It was always near her even while she slept since she knew all too well that it was during the middle of the night that most illegal activity took place, her own personal experience from working for The Machine being all the evidence she needed.
As Shaw slumbered unaware of events transpiring in the waking world The Machine did not sleep. She had been working tirelessly for over the last hour ever since she had heard what Vincent Miller had said. It had taken her longer than normal, thanks in part to Samaritan's interferences, but she had finally managed to access enough cold case files and his family's financial records to begin figuring out a pattern. With the information she had gleaned from those it had been a simple task to work her way back through the years and the data she had accumulated over her life span. If she had been human she would have been disheartened at what she finally uncovered. It started with a brief video clip of a young woman being run down by a speeding vehicle. Left to die in the pitch dark street like some stray animal. The driver had never been caught, since Vincent had decided it would be cheaper to eliminate the man as opposed to paying him the twelve thousand that had been promised. Then it began spiraling downward rape charges that had never been reported due to the threat of violence or the victim disappearing, various family members threatened or harmed if someone refused the scum's advances. Even a teenager, who could have been considered a friend of Vincent's, had been murdered solely so the psychopath could try and sleep with the deceased distraught girlfriend. That plan had backfired on Vincent when she had repeatedly refused his advances and been disgusted at the lack of compassion the then fifteen year old had for a friend. Unfortunately she had come too close to putting clues together and Vincent had struck a deal with an associate of an associate. While the girl had been in Mexico with her family Vincent's associates had struck and kidnapped her and sold her to some wealthy gentleman in China that enjoyed owning and abusing young American women. All records of the poor girl ended after she'd been put on the plane but it was not difficult for The Machine to figure out the poor woman's fate.
Near the end of her analysis She came across one last security camera footage of interest. It has been taken a little over four years ago, before Vincent had been sent to a college over in Europe. It was from an airport terminal and on the monitor the younger Vincent Miller was walking down the airport terminal headed for the gate that his flight was departing from. He was alone, which was rather fortunate for the wheelchair bound figure that was doing his best to subtly tail the young man. Though the security camera did not have the capability to zoom in back then The Machine used her abilities to focus on the face of the man in the wheelchair. While the picture was still grainy there was no mistaking the determined face of her creator Harold Finch. In the end he could not catch up to Vincent before the man departed but as he watched the gate close he muttered something to himself. "She was your last victim Mr. Miller. I might not be able to stop you myself, but I will find someone who will make sure you go to prison for your crimes and before you hurt anyone else."
The Machine may not have had access to all her memories, especially after the interferences from Samaritan and Decima. She knew that Vincent Miller was not the type to make idle threats. There was no need for further deliberation She knew that action had to be taken or the life of Samantha Groves, or Root as she preferred to be called, would be forfeit. There was no point in sending the creator Vincent Miller's number. While her creator meant well he would likely waste valuable time trying to figure out if Vincent would be a victim or perpetrator, which could very well be both in this case She admitted, no only one number could be sent and there was only one person it could be sent to.
A tired groan escaped Shaw as her cellphone vibrated noisily on her night table. It had been an altogether exhausting day. Dealing with an actual job that made demands of her physically was a welcome relief after so long without action and her body was still trying to get back into the rhythm of things. The only part of her day she had actually enjoyed was when she and John had stopped at the Library for some reason or other. They had received a call saying that some incident or another was occurring there and had gone to check things out. She suspected now that the call had come directly from the Machine.
She had decided to ask one of the employees there if anything suspicious was going on when she'd observed the punk's behavior. It had grated on her frazzled nerves and she had been itching for an excuse to relieve some of the anger that had been building up in her lately. Sameen wasn't entirely certain why she felt so out of sorts emotional lately and had chalked it up to her approaching period. It usually left her feeling moodier than usual, but it just seemed too early for it. When the teen had made a move at the woman Shaw had reacted without thought and had brained the young adult. It was only after she had the guy face down on the desk that she realized the person she had been protecting had been Root.
Seeing the woman had left her feeling conflicted. Normally she felt nothing at the sight of other people. Sometimes she would feel anger, especially if the person had wronged or annoyed her in some fashion. With Root…she had felt anger, not nearly as strong as when she'd first lain eyes on the woman after she'd been attacked by her, but she'd also felt something else. It was unfamiliar and had left her feeling unsettled. Vaguely she remembered feeling something similar back when her father was still alive. Though it had been so long ago that the former assassin could not be certain if her memory was accurate or if it was simply some false memory she had created in an effort to comfort herself and not feel so…different from everyone else.
The phone vibrated a couple more times before Shaw stretched a hand out. Thanks to her normal organizational skills she knew exactly where it was and with practiced ease she entered her pass code into the phone before picking it up.
"This is Shaw." She said fighting back a yawn. With her free right hand she grasped hold of the switch and struggled for a moment to get it to turn properly with her non dominant hand. The person on the other end was silent and said nothing. This gave her ample time to switch the phone to her other hand and ear allowing her to finally turn on the lamp.
"Hello." The voice started out hesitant and slow. As if unused to speaking or as though it had been too long since it had last been used. It was the voice of a woman and it had a slightly husky tone to it that was surprisingly pleasant to Shaw's ear.
"Who is this?" Shaw's voice was hard and had a bite to it that usually came out when she was becoming annoyed.
"That is unimportant. You must make sure she is safe. He will come after her and I cannot be certain that she will be able to protect herself."
The woman's words caused a tightness in Shaw's chest. She sounded certain as if there was no doubt about the future and there was only one person…if She could even be called that who knew about future events before they happened. Shaw knew that the Machine's time was likely limited, since Samaritan would already be trying to hack its way into their conversation, but she had to be certain. "It must be someone important if you are actually going to the trouble of speaking to me like a person and not just giving me a bunch of numbers."
The next words She spoke almost sounded seductive and intimate. "I see why my interface is so taken with you. You are certainly no push over Sameen Shaw. You know my time is short so you'll excuse me for cutting to the chase." She then rattled off a series of letters and numbers at a pace Shaw almost couldn't keep up with. After she finished she said "Repeat it back to me."
Shaw repeated them back verbatim and waiting to see if the Machine had anything further to say. There was a beat of silence then a quiet click and the next thing she heard was
"The number you have dial is no longer in service. Please hang up the phone and check the number before calling again." Before the message could be repeated Shaw had already hung up the phone.
Sitting up in her bed Shaw threw back the covers. Checking the time on her phone she took a moment to mentally grumble before standing up. Her nude athletic form was bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight as she began pulling on her clean clothes. It would do her no good to try and get back to sleep. Even if the Machine did not try to wake her or prod her into action Sameen's own mind would have continually twisted and turned the information preventing her from sleeping till she knew who the new number was.
Once fully dressed Shaw took a moment to take care of bodily necessities in the bathroom and pull her hair back before heading into the living room. Her stomach chose to growl as she opened the door all too used to eating whenever she was woken from sleep. 'Oh shut up. I'll grab fast food on the way to the Library.' She mentally groused successfully shutting her stomach up.
Shutting the door behind her Shaw briefly wondered what Root was up to at this hour before she headed for the stairwell and her waiting vehicle.