CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #1: Welcome back everyone! It would seem that you wonderful ladies and gentlemen enjoyed the last chapter, the reviews were practically glowing. Considering this Thursday is Thanksgiving here in America, I figured I'd post this chapter early. This chapter is another action-packed affair. As I said last week, things are escalating in this story as events unfold all around Chuck, Sarah, and Molly.
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #2: Thanks to the amazing nevr for helping me with the beta of this story. Thanks for the help Nev!
The Monster You Made Me
A Story by
CharmingCharles2896
Chapter Six
A Woman of Violence
Woodwardville, Maryland
August 10th, 2023
3:22 PM EDT
Chuck carried Molly into a Shell station, having heard the gunshots and police sirens. Chuck was terribly afraid for Sarah, he hated leaving her behind, but getting Molly away from there had to be the top priority. His poor daughter was quiet, shaking like a leaf in his arms as they'd left that urgent care clinic. Chuck carried Molly over to the small section of the shop that had medicine. Sure enough, children's chewable Pepto was right there on the shelf. Chuck grabbed one box of the pink tablets and moved them both to the bottled water.
Every few seconds, Chuck would glance at the door, hoping beyond hope that Sarah would walk in safe and sound. The minutes wore on, first fifteen minutes, then thirty minutes passed without Sarah showing up. Knowing his daughter needed to take the Pepto, Chuck crouched down onto the ground, letting Molly stand on her own. Chuck tore the cardboard flap open and pulled the small, pink bottle out of the cardboard packaging. Glancing at the dosage instructions, Chuck opened the bottle, tore the protective seal off of the bottle, and poured a single, round tablet into his hand. Chuck looked over to Molly and held up the single tablet.
"Okay, Mollybear, I know your tummy is bothering you. I need you to chew and swallow this for me," Chuck said, handing the tablet to Molly who put it in her mouth and began chewing. Molly grimaced instantly, making Chuck smile.
"I know it tastes icky, but it will help your tummy," Chuck said as he watched Molly chew and swallow. Twisting open a bottle of water, Chuck held it up to her lips and helped Molly take a sip of water. With that now done, Chuck screwed the cap back on the water bottle and stood up. "Okay, Mollybear, lets pay for this stuff," Chuck said as he led Molly to the checkout counter. The thick, bulletproof glass in front of the counter reminded Chuck once again of just how dangerous society had become in the last few years. Images of gunfire, death, gruesome mutilation, flashed through Chuck's mind in the blink of an eye. Bullets tearing that poor woman to shreds, walls exploding, the deafening roar of high-caliber gunfire. It was all so fresh in Chuck's memory, his ears still ringing.
"Do you wish to purchase those items, Sir?" came a thick accent, pulling Chuck from his mental fog. Chuck refocused on the man behind the counter, nodded his head, and slid the water bottle and the Pepto under the glass. Chuck waited for the Sikh man at the register to ring the items up.
"That will be fifteen sixty-six." The Sikh man said emotionlessly, clearly having done this a thousand times already during his shift. Chuck reached into his back pocket and pulled out the roll of cash that Sarah had given him. Sirens filled the air as emergency vehicles flew past the gas station towards the crime scene just down the road. Chuck glanced to his right, outside the window in time to see FBI, Woodwardville Police and Fire Department vehicles blast by in a flash.
"Must be some emergency," came a feminine voice, grabbing Chuck's attention. Chuck looked to his left to see a short, Mexican woman, in a Baltimore Ravens jacket. She had an assortment of items in her arms, which is when Chuck remembered why he was standing where he was. Chuck pulled a twenty dollar bill off of the roll and slid it under the glass to the Sikh man. Chuck smiled at the Mexican woman, apologetically. Quickly making change, the Sikh man slid four dollars and forty-four cents back to Chuck. Taking the items and his change, Chuck led Molly from the gas station, leading her back to their parked car. As Chuck arrived at the car, he saw the blood from Keller, dripping down the left fender. Death seemed to be following Chuck around like a physical entity, stalking him and his daughter. Scores of people were dead because of him, two awful, morally bankrupt assassins, but also who knows how many innocent people that Quinn and his associate killed looking for him. How was Chuck supposed to accept that? So much death, because he'd done something he wasn't supposed to.
Opening up the rear passenger's side door, Chuck lifted Molly into the car. "While we wait for Sarah to get back, why don't you lay down on the seat," Chuck said. Molly silently nodded in agreement and laid down on the backseat. Chuck sat down on the seat as well, Molly's little feet resting beside him. The sun was shining and the weather was beautiful, but Chuck's demeanor was stormy. The images and sensations of death wouldn't leave him, so much horror, playing on a loop in his mind.
The world seemed to swirl around him in a maelstrom of noise; sound and fury amplified a thousand times over. Chuck's head fell into his hands as he tried to shut out the world, tried valiantly to turn it all off, but failed. The shaking he felt all over his body wouldn't abate, the events of the last thirty-six hours all crashing down upon him at once. It felt like Chuck was slipping away, teetering on the edge of a cliff, knowing that if he fell, he'd never return. Chuck had only ever felt like this one other time in his life, the first night after he'd buried Nora. Chuck hadn't been able to sleep, falling to pieces as he tried. He'd called Ellie, unable to verbalize what was hurting him. Ellie had raced over and held him all night. It was the only night he'd ever needed her help, but the feeling was all too familiar in this moment.
"How is she?" came a soft voice off to Chuck's left. Looking to his left, Chuck saw a pair of muddy flats. Chuck looked up from the shoes to see a disheveled looking Sarah Walker, concern on her face. Chuck didn't respond, almost looking past her.
"What?" Chuck asked, as if his mind hadn't even heard her question at all. Sarah looked at the state that Chuck was in and knew instantly that he was in shock. Nodding to herself, Sarah walked over to Chuck, crouching down between cars, in front of him.
"I need you to look at me, Chuck," Sarah said softly as police sirens in the background echoed off the buildings around them. Chuck looked at Sarah, then past her, to the ground. Chuck saw the rifle case and the sound of violent horror flashed through his mind. Chuck shook his head to chase away the memory, his skin as pale as a bedsheet. Sarah took ahold of Chuck's shaking hands, giving them a tender squeeze to steady him. "It's going to be okay, Chuck," Sarah said softly, a small, concerned smile on her face. "Let's get out of here."
Chuck nodded absently and turned towards Molly. Sarah watched Chuck wake up Molly and belt her into her seat. After Chuck got out of the backseat, Sarah covertly stashed the rifle case on the floor same as before. Sarah watched Chuck, observed the way he moved, almost zombie-like. It was as if that spark inside Chuck that she'd observed in him the last several days, was missing, snuffed out. Sarah moved around to the driver's side and climbed in. The passenger-side front door opened and Chuck climbed in as well. Sitting there silently, Sarah looked over at Chuck. As their eyes met, memories of Sarah in a firefight with a crazed assassin flashed back into his mind; vivid memory, full of frantic, half-remembered thoughts. Sarah started the car and the three of them sped off into the distance, Sarah hoping for a moment of peace after the hectic day they'd had.
~X~
John Casey enjoyed retirement, he hadn't thought he would, but Gertrude made what could have been perceived as boring life, simply exhilarating. Having been in DC for the last two weeks to settle some affairs for a buddy of his, John Casey wasn't surprised to get the call from his Aunt Diane. However, the fact that her call had been a professional one had shocked him. He'd been meaning to call her while he was in town, but he'd been busy. The problem that she'd dumped in his lap was a doozy. Langston Graham's Enforcer, the most feared CIA agent in the last twenty years, was rogue. Beckman had told him her theory about the situation and it did make sense, there was just no evidence to support it, yet.
Walking onto the crime scene was like stepping onto a war-torn battlefield. The dead corpse on the parking lot was a shock. It wasn't every day that John Casey saw an old associate of his, laying on the pavement, essentially headless. Casey had known Keller before the towers had fallen, before Keller had changed into something that Casey just could not abide. The single shot that had killed Keller had come from the direction of the clinic, likely Walker's handy work. Walker was the best shot that Casey had ever seen, having looked into her test scores at the Farm over six years ago. Walking through the front doors into the clinic, Casey was greeted by a sight he hadn't seen in a while. Dead corpses were everywhere, doctors, nurses, civilians all of them. He'd shown the police officers the credentials that Beckman had given him and Gertrude in order to get onto the scene of the shootout. Looking at the scene, the corner wall in the back hallway had been torn apart by an incredible amount of gunfire, rifle caliber if Casey had to hazard a guess. Looking around the waiting room, Casey's guess was confirmed by the hundreds of spent 5.56 NATO shell casings on the ground, as well as numerous empty magazines.
Stepping out of the waiting room and into the hallway in the back, the mangle corpse of a nurse or PA greeted them, a massive spatter of blood on the wall behind her. Casey hated civilian casualties. He'd done a fair amount of killing in his time, but this was beyond anything Casey could imagine.
"Whoever did this, came in here with the intention of doing some serious damage," Casey said as he pointed to the bits of plaster and dry wall on the ground, as well as the hundreds of holes in the adjacent wall.
Turning the corner, Casey and Gertrude saw the corpse of Nicholas Quinn. His right arm had been almost completely blown off and he had an enormous wound in his chest. "Jesus," Gertrude said as she took in the sight of the dead man, clad in black, a Steyr AUG in his hand.
"I'd wager a bottle, that's Walker's handywork," Casey said as he pointed to Quinn's dead body.
"Point blank range," Gertrude muttered to Casey from behind him.
"This was done by a rifle, a very powerful rifle," Casey said, pointing at the entry and exit wounds on Quinn's chest.
"Bigger than those 5.56 casings in the lobby," Gertrude observed, getting a nod from Casey in agreement.
"Whatever Walker is packing with her is one big sonofabitch," Casey said as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind the two of them. Casey and Gertrude turned around to see a tall man, in his fifties, salt and pepper hair visible beneath his hat.
"Who are you two, and what are you doing in my crime scene?" came the gruff voice of the Sheriff, his star clear to see pinned to his chest.
"We're with the NSA," Casey said, showing the Sheriff their credentials. The two retired NSA agents watched the Sheriff nod, a small smile on his face.
"Diane sent you? She said she had people on this case," Sheriff Farley said as he handed their credentials back to Casey. "Joe Farley, I'm the Sheriff around here," Sheriff Farley said as he shook Casey and Gertrude's hands.
"Gertrude Casey, and this is my husband, John," Gertrude said politely. Sheriff Farley gave the two of them a nod and pointed over towards Quinn.
"I'm telling you, the lady who did this to him is something else," the Sheriff said to Casey and Gertrude before waving for them to follow. "Might as well follow me, we've got the security tapes in our van, outside," Sheriff Farley said as he waved for them to follow him. "This Sarah Walker that you two are after is one ice-cold woman. She shot that guy on the floor back there two times with some rifle none of my men have ever seen. Ms. Walker is driving around in a stolen car, a blue, two-thousand and sixteen, Honda Accord. Mr. Bartowski and his daughter are with her," the Sheriff said to bring Casey and Gertrude up to speed as the three of them arrived at a large, black and blue police van. The inside of the van was outfitted with computers and all manner of surveillance equipment.
Trust me, Quinn, as long as I draw breath, nothing is going to happen to that little girl.
Smith will find her. You should kill them both; call it a mercy killing.
Your life is going to end right here, her's is going to go on until this is nothing but a distant memory.
The audio of Sarah Walker's ice-cold voice was played on a loop as the surveillance tapes played on screen. Casey stepped into the van and watched Agent Walker shoot it out with Nicholas Quinn for over ten minutes. Seeing her try to protect Bartowski and his daughter all but confirmed that Beckman's theory was correct.
"Look at her; look how she keeps checking on the little one," Gertrude said in shock as she watched the entire exchange play out.
"There is no way she is rogue," Casey said, sharing a look with his wife, seeing her nod in agreement. Casey and Gertrude looked back towards the screens and watched once more. On screen, the image of Sarah shooting Quinn twice with a large rifle appeared.
"That's an XM7," Casey said in shock, pointing to the rifle. "That's the new, experimental service rifle developed by Sig Sauer for the military. It's got its own, bespoke ammunition, 6.8 x 51mm, muzzle velocity of over three thousand feet per second. This thing is designed to penetrate modern, steel body armor at ranges up to six-hundred yards. I don't know where or how Walker got one of those, but it means she can do some serious damage," Casey said with clear urgency. On screen, they all saw, Sarah pick up her brass, and then leave the scene of the crime. "That is one cold bitch, she didn't even blink," the technician operating the computer in the van said as he watched the tape over and over.
"Looks like the little girl was sick, so they took her to this urgent care," the Sheriff began. Casey and Gertrude looked over at the Sheriff as he continued. "Mr. Quinn walked in about three minutes after they went back into an exam room. He used some form of gas to incapacitate everyone else in the clinic, killing them all shortly after. The fact that he arrived so soon after they did, leads me to believe that he'd been following them." Casey and Gertrude nodded in agreement as the Sheriff continued. "From the way she looks at that little girl, Walker is clearly protective of the two civilians. Considering what you mentioned about her weapon, as well as her obvious combat training, she's armed and extremely dangerous to my people. Might have to call for SWAT," the Sheriff mused to himself.
As the Sheriff finished, Gertrude and Casey shared a look, both of them knowing what that meant. "Do we have any leads on where they were heading or where they came from?" Gertrude asked as she watched Agent Walker and the two civilians, on camera, talking by their car before Walker sent the two civilians away.
"Not at this time, but I have FBI looking into it; I've got too much to deal with here," Sheriff Farley admitted. Casey nodded, deep in thought, before looking at the screen again, in time to watch Bartowski cradling his daughter in his hands as he fled incoming fire.
When the security tapes finished and restarted, Casey spoke. "Is this the only copy of those security tapes?" The technician nodded. Casey reached for the computer, pulled the SD card out of the computer, and slipped it into the front pocket of his shirt.
"What are you doing? That is evidence," the Sheriff said, as Casey held up their credentials.
"This is a class A national security matter. This SD card doesn't exist, Ms. Walker, Mr. Bartowski, and his daughter were never here. Mr. Quinn and Mr. Keller were killed by an unknown gunman who remains at large, understood?" Casey commanded as he climbed out of the van with authority. The technician went to protest, but Sheriff Farley beat him to it.
"With Respect, Mr. and Mrs. Casey, this is my jurisdiction. I am the law around here, not Diane Beckman." Casey sighed to himself before returning to Sheriff Farley and speaking in a quiet, intense tone.
"Sarah Walker isn't some killer on a spree, she is a highly trained assassin. In CIA circles, Walker is known simply as 'The Enforcer.' This woman is the physical manifestation of death; a blonde-haired killing machine who lurks in the shadows, waiting for her next target." Casey's intense gaze shocked the small-town Sheriff. "This woman has spent the last seven years of her life killing for the CIA, and she's never failed. Nobody knows anything about her past; almost as if she materialized out of thin air, and began working for the CIA."
Casey was on a roll and continued, knowing he had to make his point in this moment, if only to save some lives. "Walker is known for her meticulous planning, her tireless dedication to her task, and her seemingly superhuman ability to absorb pain and continue until the job is done. This woman is John Wick, Jason Bourne, and Charlie Baltimore all rolled up into one. You saw the way she looked at that little girl, Sheriff. If she thinks for even a second that you and your men are there to hurt the little one, she'll kill every single one of you without any remorse." The Sheriff looked petrified, the weight of Casey's words beginning to sink in.
Taking a deep breath, Casey spoke one last time. "Walker is one of the good guys in this entire mess, but she doesn't know who to trust. After what happened here, she'll be even more on edge. Trying to bring her in will only ensure that she dies and you bury several of your people along with her. It isn't meant as a shot, Sheriff, but your people are not prepared for the level of violence that this woman could bring to bear. Let the NSA handle this one; this is what we do." Sheriff Farley merely looked over at the urgent care clinic that was shot to pieces, its entire staff murdered. Understanding Casey's meaning, Sheriff Farley nodded silently.
Casey nodded thankfully back at the Sheriff and then looked to Gertrude. "Call Beckman, tell her that Walker and the two civies just survived an attempt from… hostile entities," Casey said, glancing at the Sheriff. "We need more eyes out here if we want to have any hope of finding them." Gertrude nodded and pulled out her phone, dialing quickly and stepping away to talk.
Casey turned back to Sheriff Farley and stuck out his hand, which Farley shook. "I'm sorry this fell into your lap, Sheriff, this business is an ugly one," Casey said solemnly.
"Give Diane my best when you see her next," the Sheriff replied softly as he let go of Casey's hand. Gertrude walked back over to Casey and the two of them walked away, knowing much was left to be done.
Casey and Gertrude returned to their SUV, the two of them sitting in silence. Eventually, Gertrude spoke up, her voice quiet. "Seeing all of that death never gets any easier," she said quietly as she merely watched the emergency workers and police handle the scene.
"I didn't miss the sight of dead civies, that's for sure," Casey replied, his voice equally subdued. The silence was interrupted by the sound of Casey's phone ringing. Casey pulled his phone out and saw that Beckman was calling.
Answering the call, Casey cleared his throat and then spoke in as even a tone as possible. "Director," her began as Gertrude started the engine and got their vehicle moving.
"What does 'hostile entities' mean, John?" Beckman asked quickly.
"Less than an hour ago, CIA agents Nicholas Quinn and James Keller took a shot at Walker and the two Civilians with her at an urgent care clinic in Woodwardville. Seven civilians were killed by Quinn alone before and during the intense firefight that broke out."
"Good god," Beckman began, shocked by the collateral damage from Graham's Enforcers. "Bartowski and the child?" she asked, unsure if she wanted to know.
"Fled through an emergency exit at Walker's direction after she killed Keller in the parking lot. She shot him in the head from over fifty feet away with a silenced pistol." Just talking about that shot impressed Casey, that was not an easy shot for any shooter.
"She's the CIA's best for a reason, John," Beckman replied matter-of-factly. "What about Walker and Quinn?"
"Walker returned to the clinic, flanked Quinn, and shot him twice with an XM7, killing him. Security cameras show Walker collecting her brass off the floor, stepping over Quinn's dead body and fleeing the scene to join the two civilians. We have no present whereabouts at this time for any of them." As Casey finished his SitRep, he realized how insane this entire thing was. The CIA didn't work this way, needlessly killing civilians, public violence in the open, it was all so strange.
"What's your take on it, John?" Beckman asked. Knowing John both personally and professionally gave her a tremendous appreciation for his mind, not to mention his skills with observation.
"Quinn gloated about Agent Vincent Smith finding Bartowski and the daughter, Walker said she'd protect them," Casey said as his eyes scanned the slice of suburban domesticity all around him. The mid-afternoon sun gave everything a peaceful glow, but Casey could see the storm brewing, a confrontation was coming, one that would be felt the world over.
"If I had to take a stab at summarizing this whole mess, I'd have to guess that Graham ordered Walker to kill Bartowski and his daughter. Walker couldn't do it, all of the sudden rediscovering her morals. Knowing that Bartowski has something damaging to either Graham and the CIA or just himself alone, Graham ordered his Enforcers to hunt down and kill Bartowski by any means necessary.
"I never liked Graham, but this is ridiculous, even for him. How does Graham expect to make this go away? Seven dead civilians, very public collateral damage, it all adds up to the type of mess that can't be suppressed by waving a badge," Beckman mused aloud.
Casey continued to brief Beckman. "Walker and the two civies are in a stolen car. External security camera footage revealed the license plate. I need a location on the car ASAP; license plate reads 6GL2875. The car is a blue, two-thousand and sixteen, Honda Accord."
"Got it, I'll get back to you with a location on that car. In the meantime, stay on the trail as best as you can," Beckman said before hanging up. Casey set his phone down in the cup holder and took a cleansing breath.
"What did she say?" Gertrude asked Casey, who looked over at her.
"This confirms her theory; Walker is one of us. We're to stay on the trail as best as we can." As Casey finished speaking, he began to contemplate. How did a rogue Enforcer go about getting to Beckman when everyone was looking for her? Fort Meade was obviously where Walker was trying to go. That said, she wasn't stupid enough to go there with all of this heat on her. Walker had to be holed up somewhere, close by, but not actually that close. Given the capabilities of the CIA, she'd have to be staying somewhere that took cash, somewhere that wouldn't care about names or credit cards.
"A motel," Casey muttered to himself. Gertrude glanced over at her husband, confused by his unusual muttering. Casey opened his iPhone and raced to the internet, to google maps. Typing frantically, Casey began to search and search.
"What's wrong, John, you look a little manic?" Gertrude asked as she continued cruising down Annapolis Road.
Casey continued searching before finding what he was looking for. "Turn around, we're going the wrong way." Gertrude had never seen this level of urgency in her husband, she was rightly concerned.
"What is going on? You're not making any sense, John."
Casey looked over at his wife of ten years and spoke quickly. "Walker is meticulous, she prepares contingency plans for her contingency plans. Even before Quinn and Keller took a shot at them, Walker will have figured out that the CIA is watching Fort Meade and the area is crawling with eyes looking for her." Gertrude nodded, following her husband's train of thought so far.
"Walker knows the CIA would track any credit cards, so even cards made in aliases would be found. Because of this, she'd be dealing exclusively in cash for every purchase," Casey said, his eyes manic as he explained.
"I'm following you so far, why do we need to turn around?"
"Walker needs to lay low with the two civies she's protecting, that means a room somewhere. She can't stay at any hotel, not one that requires credit cards for incidentals. She's on a limited budget, so that means cheap motels, especially ones that take cash, no questions asked. There are two such places in the area, one is across the street from the public entrance to Fort Meade."
Gertrude cut in as Casey spoke, starting to understand what he was getting at. "That's too close, that would be suicidal." Casey nodded, happy that she was following the yarn he was spinning.
"The other one is southeast of here in Woodwardville. This place is the cheapest motel within fifty miles, and it's moderately far from the base, in an area they'd never look. The little girl got sick, so they needed a doctor. Their options were limited because of their budget and need to stay under the radar."
"Hence the urgent care clinic!" Gertrude said, now understanding. "They left their motel in Woodwardville to get her some help and Quinn tracked them to the clinic." Gertrude cut across traffic to get off the road and turn around. Whipping the car around in the parking lot, Gertrude mashed the throttle and raced back out into traffic. Cars honked at her as she screamed down the road.
"Quinn likely let Graham know what car they're in and where they were when he found them," Gertrude said, continuing her husband's line of thought.
"Walker may be walking into a trap and not even know it," Casey said as he reached back behind Gertrude's seat for a hard, plastic gun case he kept there. Entering the four-digit combination for the lock, Casey opened the gun case to reveal a pair of Sig Sauer P320 pistols. Engraved on the slides of both pistols were a pair of names, "John" and "Gertrude." Each pistol had been customized for their user, triggers changed, lighter weight parts, all depending on the user's preferences. Pulling his pistol out of the case, Casey grabbed a loaded magazine, slid it into the gun, and wracked the slide. Flipping on the safety, Casey leaned forward, balancing the gun case on his knees precariously. Casey tucked his pistol into the back of his belt before grabbing his wife's gun.
"I'd hoped that I'd never have to use that thing again," Gertrude grumbled, shaking her head.
"Me too, but that little girl is going to die if we don't do something. Walker can't handle the hell that Graham is about to rain down upon her." Casey said as he loaded Gertrude's pistol, readying it and then flipping the safety on. Gertrude leaned forward so that Casey could tuck her pistol into her belt at the small of her back. Once she returned to her normal position, the feeling of the cold steel on her back was strangely comforting and disturbing at the same time.
"I just hope we're not too late," Casey said as the feeling of his own pistol against his back gave him a familiar sense of calm. The husband-and-wife duo, two people who'd been partners in the NSA off and on for nearly twenty years, were once again in the line of fire.
"I don't know how we seem to get ourselves into these situations, but at least we're in this one together, this time," Gertrude said to her husband. Casey reached over and gave Gertrude's hand a tender squeeze as they raced down the road, a date with destiny on the horizon.
~X~
Sarah was a thousand miles beyond exhausted. The CIA agent hadn't gotten good sleep in well over a day. The two people she was protecting were civilians and keeping them safe was turning out to be more complicated than she'd anticipated. More than that, a part of Sarah was growing to care about the two of them. Chuck was a good guy and little Molly was a wonderful, little girl. Sarah hadn't needed to use deadly force in months, her missions as of late having been less intense than was the trend. The looming threat of Langston Graham had become much more present in her mind after Quinn's attempt on her life and the life of her two charges. Chuck looked to be in shock and poor Molly was likely scarred for life by the violence and horror that had played out before her eyes.
Sarah needed a nap, but she had two people who needed her help first. Seeing to it that Molly was feeling better was a priority. Making sure that Chuck wasn't completely melting down was also at the top of her list of things to do. It was moments like this where Sarah wished she had help. Having Carina by her side would be amazing in a moment like this. Alternatively, having Daniel by her side would have been a huge help too. Daniel was apparently a different person after his wife, his high school sweetheart, was killed in Afghanistan back in two-thousand and thirteen. Still, the man was good at his job and she could use that right about now.
Looking over at Chuck, Sarah saw the ghostly white color of his skin, as well as his lack of emotion. The poor man was still in shock and Sarah wasn't exactly sure how to deal with that. Sarah had always been used as a weapon, never as someone who comforted or helped others. Graham liked Sarah's deadly precision and relentless planning. He'd attached her to work with others for stretches, but he always pulled her back into his grasp to do his dirty work when needed. That's how the Enforcers worked, they spent time as normal CIA agents, but when the time came, they did what Graham demanded of them. Daniel and Carina both had known what she was, at least on some level, and Sarah knew it used to scare them. The idea of knowing one of Graham's killers was a chilling concept. The legend of what Graham's Enforcers were asked to do was often times greatly exaggerated, but it was what people believed nonetheless. Sarah had used that reputation, unwarranted as it was, to great effect. Sarah had used what people thought of her to advance her career outside of Graham's yoke. Her reputation as a bloody, murderous Enforcer for Graham had helped her get ahead, even as it had kept her largely alone.
Refocusing on the task at hand, Sarah saw the motel coming up on the left side of the road. A sense of relief came over Sarah as the perceived safety of the motel room beckoned. Between the gunfight, the constant driving, and the ten days of surveillance before this mess even began, Sarah was finding it hard to focus, hard to stay alert. Slowing down, Sarah pulled into the lot for the motel and drove to their room. Things looked largely the same as when they'd left, so Sarah wasn't worried. Stopping the car in a spot twenty or so yards from their room, she turned to Chuck and spoke. "Stay here, I'm going to check if the coast is clear. If I'm not back in two minutes, leave and head for Fort Meade. If I'm not able to keep you safe, then the NSA is your only chance." Chuck nodded, his mind seeming to focus a bit as she spoke. Sarah gave Chuck a small smile and turned to make for the motel room.
Sarah pulled her pistol out of the small of her back and crept towards the door. Things looked fine so far, so she inserted the metal key into the lock and turned it. The lock gave way and Sarah pushed the door open, letting it open all the way before she entered. Checking her corners, Sarah glanced to the left and saw nobody as she walked into the doorway. Looking to her right, a hand came out of the shadows, grabbed her pistol and pulled her into the room. Sarah clumsily flew into the small motel room, her legs impacting the single bed. In a flash, Sarah catapulted over the bed, landing hard on the other side of the room. As Sarah tumbled, she lost track of her gun. Focusing, Sarah glanced back towards the door in time to see Sidney Prince, one of Graham's other Enforcers. Prince was a fan of knives, most of her kills having their throats cut open.
Prince laughed as she pulled an imposing-looking knife out of a sheath on her belt. "I know I could have killed you right then and there, but I've wanted a crack at you for years," Prince said with a wicked smile. Sarah rose to her feet, reaching for her ankle holster, only to find the knife missing. "Uh oh, was somebody unprepared?" Prince asked mockingly. Damn her exhausted mind, how had Sarah forgotten to pack her knives in her ankle holster when she'd picked up her equipment in Phoenix?
Rising to her feet, Sarah assumed a fighting stance.
"I don't need a weapon to kill you, Prince," Sarah growled. "I hear all I need to do is order you to your knees and you'll do whatever the fuck I want. At least, that's what all the men say about you."
Prince's eyes burned with furious rage in the wake of Sarah's barb. "You bitch, I'm going to enjoy this almost as much as I enjoyed killing your boyfriend. What was his name again? Danny? Donny? I never bothered to find out between rounds in the bedroom." Prince saw the shock in Sarah's eyes after that remark.
"Didn't you know? Danny Boy fucked everything on two feet. When Graham ordered me to eliminate the man who was distracting his favorite Enforcer, I knew the easiest way to do it was in the bedroom. Slitting his throat felt so good; almost better than the sex we'd just had." Anger and betrayal raged within Sarah. She'd been told by Graham that Daniel had been blown up on an assignment in Chechnya! Even though Sarah had never felt particularly close to Daniel, she'd been faithful. Learning the dual truths about his death and their relationship had Sarah off balance to say the least.
"Enough talk, Prince, let's get this over with," Sarah practically hissed as that focus descended over her mind again. A wicked grin overtook Prince's face in that moment as she tightened her grip on her knife.
"With pleasure," Prince said as the two of them sprang into action. Sarah dodged Prince's first slash, striking Prince on the wrist. The scream of pain that came from Sarah's opponent was followed shortly by said opponent dropping her knife. Prince countered with a right-hand cross that hit Sarah flush, stunning the blonde. Prince followed up her punch by charging at Sarah, pushing the blonde through the old wall at the back of the motel room. The two women careened into the bathroom with a tremendous bang; drywall cracking and flying as the two agents of death flew through the flimsy barrier. Landing hard on the old, tile floor, Sarah felt the air leave her lungs. Thinking fast, Sarah threw a punch at Prince, barely missing as Prince reached for Sarah's throat. Sarah planted her feet on the ground and lifted her body, pulling Prince towards her as she did so. Prince's head impacted the old tub/shower combo with a thud. Sarah used that opportunity to shift her position just enough to escape from beneath Prince. Sarah's window to escape was short lived as Prince lunged at Sarah from behind, tripping Sarah as she tried to leave the bathroom.
Looking back, Sarah kicked Prince's bloody face, knocking the assassin away. Prince flew back from the impact, the wound on her forehead growing worse. Sarah could see her pistol on the ground, if she could reach it, she could end this. Sarah scrambled across the floor for her weapon, reaching it with her right hand. Sarah spun on the floor and trained her weapon towards Prince, but Prince was closer than Sarah had anticipated and knocked the gun away with a single swing. Once again, Prince was on top of Sarah, blood flowing from her forehead, down the bridge of her nose in a grisly sight.
Sarah blocked Prince's first punch with her right arm, shielding her face from a second strike. Reaching out, Sarah grabbed ahold of Prince's hair, the brunette screaming in pain. Swinging violently, Sarah crashed Prince's head into the TV cabinet to her left, the door to the cabinet buckling from the impact. Prince went slack briefly, allowing Sarah to get clear of Prince. Getting to her feet, Sarah looked around for her pistol, but couldn't find it. Prince stood in that moment and ran after Sarah, who blocked the wild punch with a left-hand counter punch of her own, which also missed. Prince, deflected Sarah's left-hand cross, countering with a right knee to Sarah's ribs. The grunt of pain from Sarah was drown out by the sounds of combat as Sarah stumbled backwards and to her right to gain some distance from her attacker.
Prince was relentless and pursued her foe, throwing a right-hand jab, that hit Sarah on the left cheek, further stunning the blonde. Sarah finally regrouped, blocking Prince's next punch, by grappling with Prince, throwing her to her right, onto the bed. Prince tumbled over the bed and onto the floor with a huff, allowing Sarah the chance to leap onto and across the bed to pursue an end to this fight. Sarah leapt from the bed, intending to end things with a hard kick to the head. Prince's left foot springing into action, shocked Sarah, who had anticipated a dazed enemy. Sarah's legs went flying, the blonde landing on top of Prince with a thud. Sarah had no time to regroup from the painful landing as a left elbow to her head stunned her. Sarah pushed off of Prince, trying to collect herself, only for Prince to rise to her feet with her knife in her hand. Prince must have found the blade.
"That figures," Sarah mused as a bloody Prince swung the knife wildly, grunting and screaming as she did so. Sarah blocked some of the attacks, dodged others, giving ground as she did so. Prince swung her knife, sure this strike would make contact, but Sarah deflected it, the blade hitting the open front door. The blade actually snapped, so much for Graham's so-called 'quality materials.' Sarah went on the attack, throwing an overhand right that staggered Prince. Sarah followed that up with a round house kick, intent to end this once and for all. Prince caught the kick, swinging Sarah behind her, into the bathroom. Crashing through the wall, Sarah groaned as she landed, this fight sucked. Looking around, Sarah saw the kick just before it made contact with her stomach. Sarah managed a half-hearted block with her elbow, that was going to bruise. Knowing she needed to get off the floor, she caught the second kick in her hands, twisting Prince's foot. Prince cried out and stumbled, giving Sarah a chance to get to her feet. Both of them were bloody and hurting at this point, but both of them knew that this wasn't over until one of them was dead.
"I thought you were supposed to be tough, Prince," Sarah said through labored breaths. Sarah stepped around the dazed Prince, wanting to retreat from the bathroom and find her fucking pistol! Searching the floor of the trashed room, Sarah couldn't find it, completely confused. The sound of Sydney Prince's primal scream filled the room mere moments before the metal pole from the shower curtain impacted Sarah on the back. Sarah tripped and fell, the impact from the metal pole extremely painful. Sarah fell to her knees, then onto her stomach, her exhausted body unable to cope with that particular hit.
"Fuck me," Sarah groaned as she tried to get to her feet, but failed, instead flopping onto her back. In a flash, Prince was on top of Sarah, a crazed look in her eye.
"Die," Prince growled as her hands encircled Sarah's throat. Sarah struggled against Prince's hands on her throat, but she couldn't pull them away. Sarah choaked and struggled for long moments, her feet kicking at anything to escape. As the world began to grow dark, Sarah's hands clawed at Prince's hands, drawing blood with her fingernails, but Prince wouldn't be denied.
"I don't usually kill kids, but I'm going to enjoy killing Bartowski and his daughter when I'm finished with you, Walker," Prince growled as Sarah began to fade. In spite of the harsh truth that she had failed, Sarah continued her fruitless attempts to escape. Trying to reach for Prince's eyes or her ears, Sarah instead found her strength leaving her. Chuck was going to be on his own in a world he was not even remotely capable of surviving. Molly was going to die and Graham was going to get away with his crimes. All of these horrible things were going to happen, because Sarah failed. With nothing left with which to fight, Sarah's mind slipped into blackness, the sound of a loud crack filling the air, not that Sarah heard it.
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #3: CLIFFHANGER! I know i'm mean, but I couldn't resist ending this chapter here. I won'y be too cruel and make you wait until next thursday for the seventh chapter. Instead, i'm going to give you the seventh chapter on this coming Thursday. To learn the fate of our heroes, tune in Thursday, November 23rd, 2023 for The Monster You Made Me, "Chapter Seven: Roads Less Traveled."
CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #4: Considering reviews are about the only metric I can use to gauge reader interest and the like, your reviews really go a long way in telling me what all of you think, one way or the other. For that, thank you all so much for the numerous reviews, please keep them coming!
Until Next Time :D