(A/N) Hey guys, sorry that this is coming so late! Had no internet access this weekend, and this is the first opportunity I've had to try and get back on top of things, so expect a few more The Freelancer Collaboration updates today, and one might even be for our collection of X-Ray and Vav one-shots! Going to keep this short, and get to work on the others, but a shout-out to the writer of this chapter, LanaLlama, writing for Agent Joel Heyman, and away we go.

Enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Four – Prison Break

Agent Joel Heyman

Written by LanaLlama

"I've known people that the world has thrown everything at to discourage them...to break their spirit. And yet something about them retains a dignity. They face life and don't ask quarters." - Horton Foote

Joel pulled a face as he lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and found that it was empty. He sighed, putting the cup down and dropped his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm so that colours and patterns burst to life amidst the darkness. It would have been nice to just fall asleep, right here and now. He could just about feel that familiar drag towards his favourite plane of being when he was knocked suddenly to the side, arms and head banging against the desk in a jarring manner.

With his instincts kicking in Joel jolted to his feet, only to come face to face with his partner, who held a small smirk on his lips having finally caught the dark haired man unaware. It quickly faded away when he remembered what he was here for, and his face changed to reflect the gravity of his following sentence.

"We've got to get going." The tone was serious enough to wake Joel up completely, knowing immediately that something big had happened. Burns wasn't one for idle chit-chat, but Joel felt it necessary to ask the obvious question.

"What's happened?"

"The police need us; everything's gone to hell at the station." It was now that Joel chose to notice that other agents were running about and yelling orders at each other; well, more than they normally did, and in a much more blatant fit of agitation. "Some asshole broke into the prison, freed the prisoners and gave them guns, and they're now running about the city while the cops are holed up inside the building."

Joel let out the deepest, most frustrated sigh of his life and ran his hand over his face. He whipped his coat from its place on the back of his chair and nudged Burns so that they could get going. It took him a moment, but eventually reality settled in. The deeper it sank, the faster paced his steps became and in next to no time they had retrieved their own handguns from their lockers and were rushing out of the door amongst many of their co-workers.

The curly-haired man of the pair plopped into the driver's seat, hands gripping at the wheel and fingers tapping impatiently for the briefest of moments while Joel moved around to the other side of the car.

"Hurry up!" His words were curt and explicably stressed. Around them rang shouts and the sounds of ammo being distributed, and agents pulling on bullet-proof vests, as the Bureau got prepared for an all-out war..

Burns didn't even wait for the door to shut before slamming his foot onto the accelerator, throwing them both back into their seats. Wind roared past them for a brief moment, whipping hair back and slapping their cheeks with cold; then it snapped to an end when Joel shut the door.

Sirens came to life around the pair as other agents fell in behind the two or shot past at seemingly impossible speeds. The passenger of the car shut his eyes for a moment, trying to still the adrenaline that made his heart pound so hard that he could feel it beat against his chest.

They may have been warned that a day like this would come, they may have trained for something like this, but still nothing scared Joel more than to know that he would probably have to kill men and women before the night was out.

"Do we know who's behind this?" He had to break the silence within their bubble somehow, and learning more of what they were getting into seemed like a good place to start. He opened his eyes just in time to see Burnie's shake of his head from the corner of his eye.

"Not yet." The curly-haired man pursed his lips and never once moved his determined, blue eyes from the car that they followed down the road.

"I should try calling X-Ray and Vav. We could use all the support we can get for this," Joel murmured, suddenly taken over by the idea. He wrenched his phone free of his coat pocket and glanced back to his partner, whose face showed obvious disapproval. "We should have a bat symbol or something for them," the agent muttered as he scrolled through his contacts with a flick of his finger before putting the phone to his ear.

With each ring Agent Heyman became more agitated and his fingers drummed against the arm of his chair faster and faster. When it moved on to the voice message system Joel pursed his lips and glared before trying again, after a huff.

Still, without a response he felt the worry grow as he was forced to try to call the other half of the team; the man tried to rationalise his thoughts - maybe they already knew, or X-Ray had just dropped his phone down the sofa - yet he knew that the fear wasn't just coming from the battle that they were about to enter.

"I can't get an answer from either of them." Joel announced after the fourth call to Vav, swearing under his breath as he snapped his phone shut.

"Let's just hope it's because they're already there." Even Burnie could feel how strange it was, despite his dislike of the two superheroes. No matter the situation, the two had never failed to answer Joel's calls, and help out with whatever he needed. That was why they were heroes, for crying out loud!

Not too far away shouts and the occasional sound of gunfire could now be heard and they were forced to slow down, pulling up at the edge of the perimeter the ACPD has established. Joel was achingly aware of civilians that fled the scene, all of them coming to life as they turned the final corner and the brakes were slammed, throwing Joel forward with a small yelp of surprise.

For the briefest of moments his recently calmed heart thundered against his chest while the squealing of the tires died away. Then he lifted his head, and was out of the car, pistol in hand as his partner informed him that they were to meet up with other agents on the scene; further up the road Agent Heyman spied the odd SWAT van and his lips twitched. There was something about the presence of these specialists that diminished his worry.

They gathered with a group of SWAT members who were in the process of discussing how best to attack this problem and get the police free from the prison, with minimal casualties. That's what had been worrying Joel, he grudgingly admitted to himself, though he had known it all along; he was dreading the idea of having to kill anyone, though he knew it necessary.

"Still no word on the brilliant man that started this nightmare?" Burns asked the group, receiving little more than blank or resigned looks and a shake of the head.

"'Fraid not, sir." The SWAT team's captain seemed to be the only one that didn't seem to mind disappointing a man like Burnie Burns, his voice crisp and unwavering as he delivered the information. Joel could feel his heart sink at the fact that they were once again facing an unknown, something that the Feds had become all too used to dealing with recently.

It was obvious that Agent Burns was struggling not to voice his thoughts on this topic when he next spoke, frustrated, like Joel was, at the minimal information that they had been supplied with to organise this operation.

"Regardless of the situation, we're in charge of recapturing the prison, okay? That's our goal. So we get in, free the hostages and then worry about getting the prisoners back in their cells, or, which is sadly more likely, dropping them, if needs be?" he said, flipping his curly brown hair from his eyes with a small jerk of his head.

Joel nodded slowly. "Sounds like a plan," he murmured, looking away. He glanced over to the SWAT Captain, his eyes moving up and down in auto-pilot. "What's your name?" he asked, as Burnie turned and began firing out orders to the assembled SWAT teams, revelling in his role as leader, like always.

The captain gave a slight cough and looked at the red-haired woman on his right before replying. "Ashton, sir."

The formalities sounded rather forced to Joel's ears, but now was certainly not the right time to be worrying about whether some SWAT member had a problem with him.

"Alright, enough chatting, we need a plan!" Burns was as official as ever, and rightly so at this point. It would be nice to have the two superheroes here right now to just ease the tension. Just by being around they would probably make things easier for Joel, if they could stay away from his partner's throat long enough; and now that he thought about it, there was neither hide nor hair of either of them, from what he could see. This was enough to force his fear to sink and twist its way deeper into his guy before it was knocked away at the sound of Burnie's words.

"Myself and Agent Heyman, along with Captain Ashton, along with four of his best men, will make up the seven that will attempt to infiltrate the building–"

"Make that eight"

Joel almost jumped out of his skin at the voice over his shoulder. He turned to find himself meeting the unnerving half metal face of Achievement City's denizen cyborg. The man sighed in relief and mentally reprimanded himself for being caught off guard so easily, when he should have been completely alert.

"Right." Burnie's slight nod was the only hint of acceptance that Ryan received. "Eight's good; we can make two teams of four. While your little robots are good for helping out, they don't exactly compare to actual people. So while I take four men around the back, you and Heyman can lead an attack out here."

Joel's heart suddenly began to thump as Ryan nodded, and his tongue traced the edges of his mouth as it dried up, twitching slightly at the thought of taking on the armed prisoners head on.

Ryan's golems began to pull up around them, as they made in onto the scene after their leader, and the FBI agents and SWAT team held their collective breath as they viewed the collection of walking weaponry that now surrounded them

"We're to be the distraction, I take it?" Ryan asked the question almost casually, while Joel prayed for Burnie to reject his assumption, terrified that it should prove true.

"Is that a problem?" When the only response was Ryan's wry smile and a slight shake of his head Burnie turned to the team, giving them an appraising look and gesturing to the three that he wanted to accompany him, sending his own partner to the side with the remaining two, Captain Ashton and his red-haired friend.

"Are you two any good with firearms?" Joel asked, then immediately winced internally as the stupidity of his question caught up with him. They were SWAT members, of course they were good with guns.

"Laura here holds a few records," Ashton replied wryly, giving his teammate a small nudge with his elbow before grabbing his carbine off his back and checking over its clips.

"Good, because I'm not, so you guys are going to have to pick up my slack," Heyman joked. Despite what they were about to do, and the very real causes for fear and worry, Joel offered a smile of encouragement. God knew they could all do with it. "What we really want to do is go for their their legs if we get the chance, not kill them outright. We are the good guys, after all."

"So aim low," Laura concluded, looking up from her own carbine, eyes lit up by a clear eagerness to get the show on the road.

"Why?" The single word from Ryan took Joel aback, and he glanced over at him curiously, before memory caught up with him once more. He had forgotten, for the briefest of moments, what had happened to the poor guy. "It would make more sense to kill them and be sure this doesn't happen again. Wounded hostiles still present a threat, and the odds are already seriously against us."

Of course, to Ryan, with his computerised brain and cyborg body, lacking in the wonders that are empathy, pity and mercy, this would make perfect sense. Joel hadn't the faintest of clue how to explain the way morals and ethics affected their actions here to a seven foot tall cyborg, and found himself looking to the SWAT agents for help, their faces blank and unhelpful.

"You know what ethics are, right?" He hoped for a positive response; hoping against hope that Ryan was merely being forgetful, rather than homicidal. The logical ones always were homicidal. As were, admittedly, the illogical ones. Joel shuddered slightly while remembering the O'Malley trials ten years ago, when a surgeon had turned out to be moonlighting as a serial killer. Thank god that asshole was behind bars now though.

"I do." Emotionless, dead, mechanical. It must be terrible for him, not being able to...feel any longer.

"Well, they come into this, and let's just say that incarceration is better than death in that book." It was clear that the man-machine was processing this and trying to find which would make more sense. Joel hoped he'd see it his way. He really didn't want to have to try to stop him killing people.

Soon they moved on to asking exactly what Ryan's golems could do, how good their targeting system was and so forth, and eventually, on the cue of Burns throwing a walkie talkie at him, they left the safe zone that was the border of vans and cars and moved on to face the prisoners and captured prison officers.

Already bodies scattered across the ground, from when the prisoners had attempted to storm out through the front doors of the prison, and the police had been forced to put them down, and blood mingled with the asphalt of the road. Had he time to regret the loss of life Joel would have done so, for this whole thing was absolutely pointless, and entirely the fault of whomever had handed these prisoners the guns in the first place. Community work, no doubt, he glumly acknowledged as they marched through the no man's land between the prison and the police encampment, wondering once more when X-Ray and Vav where, and what on earth had happened to them. Adrenaline burst to life at the thought, the idea of learning who it was that had started this, and getting a hold of him, pinning him and finding out why he, or she, had done this in the first place.

They burst through the front doors, and immediately began grappling with the prisoners who had been left of guard duty, and the black haired man found himself in place beside one of Ryan's golems s, darting forward, swiftly, and getting his arm about one of the attacking prisoner's necks, foot snapping forward to catch the underside of the messy haired man's knees, forcing him to the floor, just as there was the sound of a click from his walkie-talkie. Joel bit down on his lip as he mustered his strength to stomp on the man's legs, and actually breaking one of them with a sickening crack that could be heard amidst the yell of absolute pain.

"And stay down!" he yelled before snatching his walkie-talkie and clicked the button, answering the call.

"What is it?" he asked, before Burnie's voice burst out in reply.

"We're having a few problems getting inside; the doors are locked pretty tight." Agent Heyman's eyes roamed as he listened to his partner, his mind whirring furiously.

"Well, it's a prison; it's not supposed to be easy to get into," he returned with a snort.

A body crashed into him in the next instant, his walkie-talkie flying from his hand and scraping across the floor with a grating sound. Joel wheezed and coughed, attempting to get up and disentangle himself from his attacker. Hands gripped at his wrist and he could have sworn he heard a called out "Sorry!" from somewhere in the distance.

Joel's dark eyes met the surprisingly bright and sparkling eyes of a blonde haired woman who couldn't have been any older than 25. She smiled down at him, attempting to simultaneously pin his hands and reach for the gun that he had dropped. Her grip was strong and she bared her shining teeth at him, face strained and red with the effort that she had exerted whilst fighting. He couldn't help but wonder what she had done to land herself in such a situation when she looked so innocent and sweet.

There was an awful lot of tugging, pulling and rolling about on the floor, each of them attempting to gain and maintain the upper hand long enough. Some small part of his brain just about registered the sound of his talkie being kicked closer, and the click of static that indicated that his partner wanted to speak with him again.

Finding himself underneath her once more his eyes caught the unmistakable form of Ryan and he just about had the power to call out for the help. "Ryan!" Catching on the woman's hands went for Joel's throat just as he opened his mouth again, calling out louder. "RYAN!" still the man didn't hear him and there were hands driving the air and his ability to speak away. Desperately, with shaking, nerveless fingers, he attempted to pry himself free.

Ryan turned, and Joel's attacker turned her head around, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the hero. Her hands let go of her throat, and she smiled slightly, looking down at Joel. "Looks like this is the end of the assembly line for me, doesn't it?"

Ryan just grinned and stepped forward, but this was swiftly wiped from his face as the girl flipped over, dodging the golem that had been sneaking up on her, and winked at the downed agent before disappearing into the next room, a half dozen golems pursuing her.

With weak arms he pushed her away and stumbled to his feet, sparing a thankful glance for Ryan's back and yet again finding himself with the wish that his favourite superheroes were here to help out and kick ass. The thought was fleeting, he had other matters to attend to. Rubbing at the sore spot on his throat, and trying his best to get air he retrieved his talkie and finally responded to Burns.

"Jo-Joel here," he stuttered, wincing at the unexpected croak in his voice.

"Where the hell have you been?" his partner whispered angrily. "I've been trying to raise you for ages."

"I was being killed; sorry I couldn't answer your call." Now was certainly not the time for Burnie's usual bullshit and abrupt anger.

"We're inside, and en route to the guards, how're you doing?"

It took every ounce of willpower that he had at the moment to not just respond in a bitter or sarcastic manner. Instead he paused to actually assess how his team were doing. Ryan's Golems seemed to have done an awful lot of the work, having apparently taken on-board Joel's insistence that they don't kill everyone they come across, leaving dozens of puddles of groaning messes on the floor. His two SWAT members seemed to be working together nicely, and the half dozen incapacitated prisoners that lay on the floor, legs bleeding, attested to that. Hell, there were even some prisoners that seemed to be laying down their arms and raising their hands in surrender or simply sinking to the floor.

Some small pang of guilt racked Joel when he responded. "Excellently, the number of hostiles is declining rapidly and many of them now surrendering. I think Ryan's scared the shit out of them. They must think we've gone all Robo-Cop on them." He'd not contributed much, and it was obvious how tired the other fighters were, and how many had suffered from this. But this was his job, and he had more work to do. "Come on," he said wearily to his team. "Let's get this over with."

While Burns' released the imprisoned prison guards Joel found himself detaining those that he could, snapping handcuffs around many of them and separating the injured from the merely bruised, and the living from the dead. It was one of those tasks that made him regret his choice in his line of work. There was so much Joel could have done, and he went for this. Hell, he could have been an actor or a stock investor, but he just couldn't resist the glory and wonder of being an FBI Agent.

One last group of prisoners rushed out from a previously barricaded room, but immediately dropped after a burst of fire from a pair of Ryan's golems, tranquiller darts embedding themselves into their targets, knocking them out instantly. Joel raised his talkie to his lips, and contacted Burns, who was now outside with the freed captives, waiting for Joel to announce the building cleared.

"We're done here," he murmured, and turned away, aware that, despite the fact that they had thoroughly combed the prison, they hadn't found the girl who had attacked him. A battle for another day, he feared.