Captain: I *highly* recommend listening to 'A Storm Is Coming' featuring Liv Ash when you get about 2/3 down the chap ;) It is an epic song and I am thoroughly obsessed with anything Tommee Profitt produces.
I am headed out of town (again) but this time for a while and no internet service so it'll be longer before the next update, which is I know, it's *this* chapter, but ya know, that's usually how it works am I right? :D Please drop a review! I am a big sucker for them!
Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending. ~Maria Robinson
When Darcy began the slow and arduous journey back from the realm of blissful oblivion, it was the warmth that was trapped in the cocoon of blankets around her that drew her dreary attention first. It had seeped completely through every fiber of her being, willfully calling her back to sleep. Exhaustion still clawed at her mind, so the detective decided the best course of action in that very moment was inaction. Burrowing deeper into the blankets, she was deep in the arms of slumber within seconds.
What could only be minutes later, Darcy found herself drifting unwillingly back into consciousness. Pain trickled its way up her arm, each limb stiff and protesting any movement. A rather unwelcomed jackhammering was beginning to take up residence in her skull. Being awake was really the last thing on her agenda at this point. Burying her face into the pillow, she tried to ignore the world for at least another hour.
A nagging thought that worked its way to the forefront of her mind refused to let her; why had she woken up in the first place? Judging by the brief light she had glimpsed coming through the window, it was already passed seven, but she just plain didn't feel up to moving. If her conscious self couldn't figure out what her unconscious had, then perhaps it just wasn't that important. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt either way.
That was her thinking anyway, until a clattering of what sounded suspiciously like dishware penetrated the comforter wrapped over her head. It wasn't a particularly loud crash, rather more of a gentle sound; an accidental bump of one dish against another. Shoving the blanket off, she was accosted by other sounds the cover had blocked. The soft tinking of dishes coming into contact with the counter, cupboards being opened and closed, and unhurried footsteps of whoever was moving about. It was all very...domestic. Relaxed by the unfamiliar yet comfortable feelings the sounds evoked, Darcy found herself starting to drift off yet again.
Until her half-asleep brain finally jump started at a supremely important question. Who the hell was in her kitchen?
Eyes snapping open, she bolted upright and went for her gun in one fluid move. Or it would have been fluid, had the blood not rushed straight out of her head and caused the room to spin out from under her. Cursing as the pounding in her head increased tenfold, it took a full minute of steady breathing before the hammering reached a non-skull splitting level. At least whoever was in her house was content to stay in the kitchen for now, as the string of sounds never once faltered. Once the blood flow even itself out, she reached out to the nightstand, wincing as the drawer squeaked. No change to the noise rhythm meant it hadn't been heard, she was in the clear.
Grabbing her personal pistol tucked inside the drawer, she dropped it as fire shot through her veins. Swearing, she clutched her injured hand to her chest. Through the shoddy wrappings she had put on the night before, she could see red fighting to bleed through the white. Her right hand was temporarily useless. Brilliant.
Awkwardly grabbing the gun in her left hand, she stood and slowly made her way to the open door, using the wall for support. Her body was just so damn tired; where was the adrenaline spike when she needed one?
Slipping out of the bedroom and down the hall-barely remembering to dodge the creaky board at the last second-she slowly rounded the corner, raising the gun as she did so.
Her brain promptly stalled, her jaw falling open as the scene before her tore at the edges of reality. It had to be a hallucination, it had to be. She'd finally snapped and lost it completely. Because Row was not in her house, he was not watching as the soldier dug through her cupboards, and he was most certainly not holding several bags with IHop stamped across the front with a very sour look on his face.
Okay, the expression was reasonable, but not quite so the fact that he and the soldier were both in her house before she'd even gotten up and were...preparing breakfast. What?
"Hey, you're up!" the soldier-what was his name again?-stated jovially as he looked up from the drawer he'd been rifling through. "Where do you keep the silverware?"
Darcy could only stare at him, her mind stuck in a loop of incredulity at the odd turn of events. After a long moment, her brain finally figured out how to gather just enough wits to produce words. "Uh, by the stove."
But the soldier didn't turn towards the drawer in question immediately; instead he raised his hands in surrender, a cheeky smile working its way onto his face.
"Is this going to be a new habit for you?" he asked, lips twitching with poorly contained mirth. His eyes flicked back and forth from her to the tactician and Darcy couldn't decipher if he was laughing at her or Row. Most likely it was a combination.
"The hell is going on?" she finally sputtered, belatedly realizing she still had the gun leveled on the soldier. Dropping her arm back to her side, she found herself rather helplessly rooted to the spot, eyes flashing from the soldier who had gone back to digging through her drawers-and who let out a satisfied 'ah-ha!' upon finding his quarry-to Row, who was quickly schooling his expression back into his usual calm.
"Major Lennox informed me that providing a meal is the most effective way to correct any perceived wrong doings, and you have not consumed any sort of fuel in over twenty-four hours. Logically, breakfast from this I-Hop was the best option," Row stated, drawing out the restaurant's name as if he had never heard of it before. There was a long moment of silence as Lennox finally relieved Row of the bags and began pulling out the numerous boxes, which wafted delicious smells into the air the second they were opened. It was enough to remind Darcy of just how hungry she was and that it was probably the cause of her exaggerated exhaustion and headache. Her eyes widened as the soldier kept pulling boxes. There was enough food to feed a small army taking over her counter and only three people to eat it. Hopefully Lennox and Row had crazy appetites because there was no way she could even make a dent in all that.
"It's as much of an apology as you're ever going to get from him," Lennox stated, shooting the other man a pointed look when the tactician opened his mouth. The detective nodded absently, wondering just what was said in the conversation that had to have occurred to lead up to all this.
"How did you get into my house?" Her mouth was running on autopilot as her brain still struggled to reason what was going on. Row, arrogant, prick, and general know-it-all Row, had gotten her breakfast. What universe ending paradox had blown up so this would happen?
Row lifted an eyebrow in her direction. "You keep a spare key under the left side of the doormat and Major Lennox retrieved your keys from the totaled vehicle."
Said soldier lifted a finger without turning away from the monstrous amount of food, said keys spinning from the digit before he dropped them on the counter. Gold glinted on his left hand as he started filling his own plate and it all clicked into place. Row was relatively-more or less completely-clueless when it came to normal human interaction; Lennox had firsthand experience and had no doubt coached the faux-agent on what to do. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that. Yet Row had still gone through the trouble of physically retrieving the food. Perhaps he wasn't as horrible as she had originally pegged him. On the job yes, but maybe there were a few elements of a decent person buried under that scowl.
With that thought serving as enough to straighten her brain out, she moved to dish her own servings. The abundance of food before her made it tempting to just jump right in and gorge, but she knew from experience she'd thoroughly regret it later, so she settled with a more acceptable serving portion before sitting next to the soldier on the other side of the counter.
"I have noticed your stores are abysmally lacking. Is it a common occurrence among females to not be able to care for themselves and so why the majority of them engage in a union?" Nevermind: scratch, shred, burn, and bury all those decent thoughts out of existence.
Lennox groaned, shaking his head and dropping his chin to his chest while Darcy glared, stabbing a little too harshly into a pancake while envisioning the fluffy food as Row's hand. Nope, he was an asshole through and through, on the clock and off.
"Prowl," Lennox chided in exasperation. Darcy frowned, there was that verb-name?-again. Well, they were a military group, they were bound to all have callsigns for each other. While Prowl was as weird a nickname as any, it kind of fit the guy.
Row hardly blinked, "I was simply asking a question, Major, as you yourself are united with a femme who often has a list of tasks she needs you to accomplish when you return home."
The detective stared blankly at the man. He...was it actually possible for someone to be a complete ass and not even realize it? Before all of this she would have called bull, but the tired annoyance on the soldier's face and the obliviousness on Row's stated that yes, yes it was possible.
Where the hell was this guy from? Mars?
"I will have you know that I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she ground out after finishing the bite of pancake she'd so viciously stabbed. "I've just had a few more important things to worry about than grocery shopping."
The eyebrow arched perfectly again, "Or other general care as evident by your bleeding palm. It hardly does anyone any good to allow yourself to fall into disrepair." He ignored a rather pointed look from Lennox as Darcy tucked said injured hand out of view. "Furthermore, it is yet another reason for you to step down; you can hardly function at the full capacity that is necessary when dealing with this group when you are not properly caring for yourself."
Darcy was more than half-willing to throw the fork in her left hand at him. "I've cared for myself just fine, thank you, and I certainly don't need judgement from a man who I haven't seen eat a thing once!"
Row was hardly fazed and she was beginning to suspect nothing short of actually stabbing him would get him riled. At this point she would be happy to test the theory. "I have already consumed my necessary fuel for the day."
Somehow his reply was not all that shocking. Apparently his inability to act like a normal person transcribed into everything normal people did. Lennox just shrugged when she shot him her own exasperated look. Clearly he was used to the strange mannerisms of the tactician. Right, best defense was to just ignore it then.
"I need you to tell me everything you know about recent events," Row stated the moment she'd pushed her empty plate away.
Darcy leaned back in her chair, stomach almost uncomfortably full as she tried to gauge how much of breakfast was supposed to be an apology and how much of it was supposed to have buttered her up for this moment.
"I will tell you just as soon as you fill me in on what you know," she stated in turn. Ignore it? Yeah, right, she was better at throwing it all back at him. The best defense was a good offense, after all. Row shot a look to Lennox, who studiously pretended not to see it and that the patterns of syrup left on his plate were the most interesting thing in the room. He definitely had something to do with all of this, played some big role. The tactician turned his gaze back on her and she met his stare with a wall of her own stubborn determination. She wasn't a fool, she knew exactly what he was trying to do. If she told him everything she knew, she would become dispensable and he would continue his pursuit in removing her from the case and the attempt to find John. If she made him share first, then even if he did attempt to ditch her, she could take her own steps from there, something she knew he was loath to let her do. It was something she wasn't exactly thrilled to do herself either. Just one of the psychos they were after had totalled her car and kicked her ass without ever actually getting out of his car. She did not want to have to face him again without serious backup on her side. But if Row left her no other choice, then she would do it.
It remained quiet as both refused to break first; until Lennox coughed and Row glanced towards him before letting out a suffering sigh, as if what he was about to do went against everything he believed in.
"The faction responsible for these crimes is large, globally so; they are organized and supplied with advanced weaponry. The Mustang you encountered goes by the handle of Barricade and he is among the worst of them. Should you ever encounter him again, run. He values the lives of others very little."
A ghost of a chill snaked its way down her spine as she recalled the way her bullets had reflected harmlessly off of the car. For once, she could agree with him on something. "Easy enough."
Row continued on, explaining how the faction's base-really he made them sound more militaristic than terrorist-was not in the state but most likely in one of the surrounding. She listened as she stepped around to look at the large map on her wall, taking in the rather perfect handwriting that had appeared on several of the victim's notes. Coming closer, she realized it was the time and cause of death that undoubtedly Row had been the one to add. It allowed her to relax just a bit; now that he was sharing information she hoped it meant he would lay off trying to remove her. She frowned at the tactician as he continued spitting out details, some of which she already knew, but the amount and depth of descriptions on her wall would have taken some time to write down. None of it had been there the night before. Just how long had he been in her house this morning? It was slightly unnerving she had slept through it as long as she had.
Silence fell as Row finished with what he was willing to share. Darcy knew he was still holding back. He had provided several pieces to the complex puzzle in front of her, but the center pieces were still missing and she had the feeling he was keeping them safely in his pocket, with no intention of sharing them with her. She wasn't clear to know everything about the secret war, but it limited how much help she could be in going after them. She didn't like going in half blind, but she wasn't going to walk away because of it.
Her mouth ran on autopilot, briefing what she'd heard from the coroner to Cade's cryptic call and the interaction with him on the mountain. All the while her eyes traced over the map, noting that several of her missing that had been identified had been killed quickly and brutally. Like Andrew and his friends or the ranger Tom, crushed or beaten but otherwise not exposed to the same long-term treatment of the others. Victims of chance, killed because they had gotten too close to the dumping grounds, or perhaps had seen one of the perps leaving after dumping bodies. Others were probably taken out of opportunity as they left, a chance presented and pounced on to immediately replace the ones dumped. Zero cooling off period, zero care for creating noticeable patterns. And yet they had managed to keep the dumping ground hidden for a year, through summer and the height of hiking season. If Row had not come along, she might not have found it still. And yet there was no real response from this group now that it had been discovered other than Barricade's attack. And if he was so deadly, why was she alive still? He had called her up there, had had plenty of opportunity to strike while she was uncovering Davis and the other bodies, could have done far worse than total her SUV. But he hadn't. He'd cut her hand, trashed her car, and left.
An attempt to kill her with the elements or a taunt that she only lived because he'd allowed it? Her eyes tracked over to Row. Maybe she wasn't even important in all of this, she was just another detective in another town. Maybe Barricade's attack on her had everything to do with Row, a personal beef between the two. There was definitely an influx of emotion whenever the tactician said his name; subtle, but there.
Definitely something personal there.
Knowing that her town's victim pool was only related to the dumping grounds meant any patterns she'd initially seen there were no longer applicable. Her missing and murdered only told her about the people they were against, she'd need to start from scratch on victimology and she'd need a lot more than just her small cluster.
Glancing at Row as she finished her spiel, she weighed her chances and went for it. "Do you have the reports from other states?"
Maybe there was a reason the group hadn't responded other than the taunting and dropping more bodies. Maybe Row had come up when he did for a reason he wasn't aware was intentional. Maybe they wanted him to find the bodies.
He looked momentarily surprised by the request before he dipped his head. "Yes, although they are not on paper."
Darcy nodded, waving a hand towards her laptop on the table, "As long as I can see disappearance and death details, I don't care what format it's in."
The reports from neighboring counties of their missing in the last year were already in her email, waiting to be gone through. They were still identifying bodies so she wouldn't know for certain which were involved in this case or not, but whatever matched details of Row's files might just reveal a pattern and way to identify who they might still have alive.
Row arched a brow, "Something you care to share?"
"A hunch, I'll let you know when I've got something that supports it," she muttered absently, grabbing a pen and marking those on her wall that had died the day they disappeared. Pausing, she studied the wall with a frown before adding a few extra marks.
"The files are on your mobile computer," Row stated. Darcy drifted over to it with an idle note of not having seen the man move and inch. Opening the new files, she immediately forgot about the strange happenings of the tactician as she was inundated with new cases, many more than had been found at the dumping grounds and as recent as yesterday. While it was obvious it was a big operation behind this; she hadn't imagined they'd been doing this much. When asked about the new missing reports, Row simply supplied a 'similar M.O.s'. She accepted it with a shrug, he knew this organization well, after all.
Style and time of each abduction, along with cause of death for those deceased determined where and how she moved each file as she separated them, mentally noting areas with an apparent higher number of disappearances.
"Could you take me to the station? I need to pick up a new cruiser and a bigger map," she asked, still fully absorbed in what she was doing. There were a lot of files to go through and as of yet there wasn't a clear pattern emerging, but there was something hanging just out of reach. So close but just out of her grasp. A bigger map would help fill in those blanks, she just knew it.
Lennox said something in a low voice to Row before he walked out of the door ahead of them. Darcy paid him no mind as she followed Row outside, nose still firmly buried in her tablet.
She was in the Charger and halfway to the station when she came across a report from earlier that day. Seeing the time stamp made her pause long enough to actually look at all of the details of the file. How Row had pictures and scene analysis already she didn't know nor care to ask. Her stomach rolled as the images flashed across the screen and the descriptions replayed what happened at three in the morning behind her eyes with disturbing clarity. The victim was Josh Anderson, a twenty-two year old male, and his botched abduction had turned quickly into a gruesome murder. It didn't escape her notice that 'Barricade' was boldly listed as the perpetrator. Every detail in the report was precisely printed out in a depth and scene-understanding that would normally take weeks to produce. Darcy cast a suspicious glance at the car's radio. While it had recently given no indication of having any sort of artificial intelligence, it didn't mean she'd forgotten the thing was uncomfortably advanced beyond her imagination.
As Row pulled into the station, Darcy pulled herself away from her musing and files long enough to find herself suddenly regretting selling her personal car two years ago. Getting another cruiser was going to be a pain, especially considering the chief had officially removed her name from the roster.
Unfortunately, she was right. While her desk hadn't been cleared nor her case closed, she was forced to spend over an hour arguing with the chief before she was finally able to walk out of the precinct with the keys to a retired Crown Vic. It ran well enough, so she couldn't find it within herself to care that it was bound for the scrap yard.
Row was gone when she walked out into the cold. It was then she really noticed the depth of the snow on the ground. She glanced doubtfully at the cruiser tucked in the far corner of the lot. Sure the main roads were generally kept plowed, but side roads and residential streets were on their own. The fact she hadn't even noticed until now had her inwardly cursing the Charger. For a muscle car, it had the grip of a 4x4 and then some.
Getting to the hardware store wasn't all that difficult; it sat on the end of the main drag of city center. Making it back home with the new maps and her sanity intact was quite another story. Even with newly acquired chains, the thing slipped and slid across the road on too many occasions. She missed her SUV. Damn Barricade for totalling it.
It took twice the time it normally did, but she made it home with only her nerves frayed. Carting everything into the house and moving to stand in front of her morbidly decorated wall, Darcy found herself stalling at the idea of tearing it all down and starting again. It felt as though she stood on a threshold. The moment she crossed it there was no going back, for better or worse. Somehow, in some way, she knew it would change her. One didn't take on a global threat and stay the same after. Casting a look about the rather bland and bare living room, Darcy ripped the old map off the wall; change would be good.
Up the completed map of the US went, taking up the entirety of the eight foot wall. Tablet balanced on the counter's edge, she started again with the pins, using different colors for the traits she had organized the files by. The task, depressedly enough, took her the majority of the day. Finally finished well after darkness had fallen, she took a step back to study the new array of color.
It was a very colorful and full map of the country.
"Ready to explain your hunch, Detective?" She jumped, hand flying towards her holster as the voice came from behind her. Whirling around, she found Row barely half a step away.
"Damn it, don't do that!" she snapped, letting her hand drop back to her side. Honestly, how was he so bloody quiet?
He didn't respond to her demand, his attention on the new map and the dismally large number of colored pins.
"You believe there to be a pattern and reason to the abductions other than a labor force?" he asked, eyes cutting to her for a breath. She returned his glance with a quirked brow. How did he know they were being used as a labor force? Sighing, she shrugged it off; he had more experience with this group, perhaps it wasn't such a stretch.
"These are all the places where multiple victims have been taken," she started, pointing out the few groups of red pins. "This one surrounded their dumping grounds, so I figure these others are either more dumping grounds or their base."
One was up in Washington's Cascades, another near the Oregon coast; the third was in the middle of Georgia, and the fourth smack in the middle of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. It was a disturbing reality. Either there were multiple dumping grounds, multiple bases, or a combination of both. Neither bode well for the victims still missing and presumed alive.
"These vics they don't seem to care as much about and kill faster than the others, sometimes outright or through prolonged torture. Vics of opportunity to keep secret whatever they're hiding there," Darcy continued, motioning towards the green pins that were vastly more spread out but equal in number to the red. "I think these were all specific targets. Each one was a single abduction, picked out of a crowd or down an empty road or from their own home. We found fewer of them in our dumping ground, so either they're being dumped somewhere else, or they're at least moderately trying to keep them alive."
She prayed she was right, it could mean John still had a chance, still had time for her to find him.
Row nodded as she broke herself out of planning a reckless rescue attempt. "So the question becomes what is it about those people that they want?"
Darcy blew out a breath, deflating a little. "That, I have no idea."
Row turned away from the wall to face her. "Then it appears we have work to do."
For two weeks the detective and faux FBI agent poured through the lives of the dead and the missing, looking for anything that could connect them, give them some clue as to who the perps might target next. For every lead there were ten files to dispute it, for every answer another question, and Darcy was quickly finding herself reaching wit's end. They were going in circles and every day Row had a new file to add to the pile, new victims and old cases they now knew were connected. While his stoic countenance hardly wavered, Darcy could see he was fed up with the goose chase as well.
Lennox floated in and out, generally serving as a reminder to take regular breaks for meals; but as his particular speciality was decidedly not in investigations, he spent the majority of his time...well, Darcy had no idea what it was he was doing. Her mind was too busy with everything else to have time to dig into what the soldier was up to.
It quickly became obvious that Row was still keeping secrets. There was something about these people they were after that he was refusing to tell her; something crucial by the way he and Lennox were able to shoot down some of her theories immediately but would refuse to explain why it was impossible. It was irritating to have such a glaring hole in her knowledge and made even more so as Row easily evaded every one of her subtle interrogation attempts.
They weren't doing her any favors by hiding things from her and she vowed to uncover what it was. It didn't matter if this was some multi-government secret, they had come back to work together and she couldn't be of much help if she didn't have the whole picture. It wasn't like she was asking for the technological secrets, just who exactly they were facing. Row was a lost cause, he knew exactly what she was doing and stone-walled her at every turn. Lennox promised to be a more fruitful venture, she just had to figure out how to catch him when Row wasn't around to interfere.
As it so happened, as they started into the third week of semi-cooperation, the unmistakable growl of one of the advanced cars pulled away as dusk fell on a white world. Darcy glanced up from the old file box she was digging through in the spare room. It had sounded like the truck Lennox always drove rather than the Charger, but a breath later she heard the soldier's voice down the hall as he answered his cell.
Slowing her movements, Darcy took extra care to only make the necessary noise to avoid suspicion while she strained her ears and tried to make something from the one-sided conversation. Apparently someone called Ironhide-who came up with these callsigns?-was out chasing down some kind of signal. The soldier's voice muffled beyond discernment as he stepped further into the living room. Darcy sighed; apparently the useful information wasn't going to come easily. Dropping the useless file back into the box she'd pulled it from, the detective started to silently make her way down the hall. Even if she did miss the rest of the conversation, with Row gone, she had her chance at the Major.
Pausing at the end of the hall, just out of sight, Darcy waited to see if he might reveal something crucial. Luck, it seemed, was not in her favor tonight. The soldier hung up and fell silent. One chance gone, another ahead. Opening her mouth, she went to call for him as she moved to step around the corner.
"Who was it?" She froze in her tracks. Who was what? And why was he asking her? There was no way he'd seen her yet!
"Motormaster." Darcy jolted at Row's voice. When and how did he get in without her hearing? She certainly hadn't heard the Charger come back or the door open! Was there a third member of their little party they weren't telling her was involved here? "He was gone before Ironhide could get close."
Motor master? Had to be a callsign for one of the terrorists; Row was using it in the same manner he did Barricade. If they used callsigns as a way to protect their identities, catching them was going to be even more difficult than it already was.
"What was he doing?" Confusion etched the soldier's voice, "Isn't he a little slow to be taunting us this close?"
"He broke into a power facility and stole their primary generators. My concern is the lack of vehicular carnage from his coming and going." Darcy pressed herself against the wall, moving as close to the corner as she dared. Perhaps luck was on her side after all.
"Meaning it wasn't something Starscream wanted attention drawn to," Lennox concluded. She could hear him shuffle around. "Who else do we know is around?"
Row, for his part, was eerily silent when he wasn't speaking, like he wasn't even there. "Knock Out and Breakdown appear to be the most directly involved with the abductions and Jazz decoded the signals of Wild Rider, Wreckage, and Skywarp. It is then logical to assume that with two of the trine planet-side, Thundercracker will not be far behind."
The detective felt like her head was spinning. It sounded like code of some sort, either way it made little to no sense to her. Lennox sighed, "It's going to take a full assault when we find their base. I take it you've already notified Optimus?"
"I have. He authorized keeping Detective Blake out of it here on out," Row stated flatly. Darcy felt her blood boil; even with the secrets, she had hoped two weeks of silence on the matter had meant it was dropped for good.. No way in hell was she not seeing this through to the end! He had to understand that by now.
"I still think she could help, we still don't know why the 'Cons are taking people." At least Lennox was somewhat on her side, she knew she liked him for a reason.
"Inconsequential at this point, Major. We will stop whatever their plans are once we know where the base is. The detective has served her purpose and is best kept out of it any further."
"She's not going to just sit quietly on the sidelines, no matter what you command," Lennox stated dryly. At least he had learned something of her over the last couple weeks, but there was a quiet resignation to his voice that Darcy did not like. He may not agree with what Row was saying, or support it entirely, but he wasn't going to fight against it either.
"As I have become well aware, Major. I have already formulated false leads that will take her to a trafficking ring working out of Atlanta. The FBI field officer there is awaiting her arrival at the end of the week." She ground her teeth, wanting little more than to deck the man plotting to get rid of her. Just what kind of authority did he actually have if he could get the FBI to accept an incoming small town detective from across the country?
Lennox sighed again. "I don't care if it's the right thing, I still don't like it. It doesn't feel right."
Having nothing but her hearing to focus on, Darcy found herself able to pick up on the slight shift in Row's voice. He almost sounded...regretful. "She has already been involved far past where she should have been. There are too many humans mixed up in our war as it is. Would you rather she be as tied to it as you have become?"
War? Sure she knew it was an international military organization against a global terrorist threat, but to hear it called an outright war was...daunting. And terrifying given it was a war that no one outside of the two groups knew existed. It wasn't a recent one either, the inflection of regret, the insinuation that there had been several other civilians caught up in it, all pointed to a fight that had been raging for some time. A fight both Row and Lennox were going to keep her out of if they could, which meant she couldn't trust anything they told her from now on when it came to new leads. Lennox was wrong though; in this instance, she was going to sit quietly, bide her time, make them believe she bought what they fed her. Only when they dropped their guard would she move back to the front line. Even if she hadn't formed an investment into all of the victims she couldn't save, John was still out there in the hands of psychopaths. If he was involved, then she was involved to her dying breath.
She swore an oath to protect people, she wasn't going to back down just because the threat got big and scary.
Slipping back down the hall when the men's conversation turned toward using jazz and a mirage to find the base, Darcy started plotting. Row was a tactician to the core and he had seen through all of her tricks before. Fooling him was going to be the hardest. She'd have to give absolutely no indication of knowing what she'd just heard, follow the fake information he gave her while digging into the real leads without him noticing. The difficulty of her work just tripled. Lennox was another issue. He understood her better and would no doubt be watching her closely in the coming days. There was a danger to that in and of itself. For all the things the Major had given away, he'd never revealed his specialty. It could prove disastrous if she didn't play her cards right.
A low buzzing ring from her pocket broke her planning, making her immediately thankful that she'd moved back into the spare room and wasn't still in the hall. The coroner's number flashed across the screen. "Tell me you have something, Dr. Conners."
The medical examiner didn't bother with greetings or small talk either, "More autopsies finished, not much new on that front, but lab results came in on that chemical."
The dread and anger from Row's upcoming plot faded away. Now she had something to work with. She paused before answering, it had gone suspiciously quiet down the hall, and it hit her then that she had never found out just how Row had known she was on the mountain when she'd run into Barricade. He'd somehow intercepted her call to the FBI field office in the very beginning; it was entirely possible he had her phone bugged. No way was she about to give up this advantage. "Tell me in person, I'm on my way."
Grabbing her jacket and keys, Darcy nonchalantly made her way down the hall and into the living room, fighting to keep her pace casual and expression neutral. At least it had stopped snowing a few days ago and had begun to melt off. Roads would be clear enough for her car to make it without trouble, meaning Row would have no excuse to give her a ride himself or insist she use his vehicle, which she strongly suspected he somehow used to spy on what she was doing.
"Where are you going?" he asked, blue eyes tracking over her coat and keys.
She turned to face the man, leaning her hip against the back of the couch. "The M.E. called, he has reports for more autopsies. Figured I'd go pick them up on the way to the store."
Raising her brows, she silently dared him to challenge her claim. Her cupboards were still abysmally empty despite Lennox's best efforts to get her on his regular eating schedule and it honestly was something she could do after talking to Conners. So it wasn't a lie, which she had discovered Row to be uncannily good at spotting. Half-truths were still truths.
He didn't do anything but stare at her for a moment and for a moment she wondered if he somehow knew anyway. But then he gave a short nod and turned back to whatever it was he and Lennox had been discussing when she'd walked in. Turning away from the men, she kept up the leisurely pace all the way out the door and to the Crown Vic, which looked old and sad next to the Charger. Lennox's truck was nowhere to be seen. So there was a third member of their little party they were hiding from her. Unless of course the advanced truck just up and drove itself away.
She'd worry about that unknown variable later, she decided as she pulled out of the driveway. Once out of visual and hearing distance of her place, she floored it. There was something new to work with waiting for her at the M.E.'s office. After so long going in endless circles, what Conners had for her was going to be a huge help. It had to be.
Maybe, just maybe, whatever the examiner had to say would shed some light onto the main question that had some infuriatingly revealed nothing of itself. It was also the one question that was the reason Row had kept her on for this long. Why? Why the victims that had been targeted? Why them and not some who would have been easier to get to? Until she could answer that, she had no hope of ever getting ahead of the enemy. It was a place hardly better than square one.
Darcy only slowed the cruiser when she passed the cemetery, paying her own kind of respects as she rolled by. Someone, in the midst of the sea of black, was being buried today. A hollow ache settled in her chest as the Honor Guard stepped out and twenty-one guns echoed hauntingly through the still air. So much needless death, so much needless pain. And she could only ever help after the fact. It was a painful realization she'd come to a long time ago, but it was never any easier remembering it. She drove on, picking up speed once the graveyard was behind her, idly wondering what part of the military they had been a part of.
The epiphany was a brick wall dead ahead and she went face first through it. Swerving to avoid the truck that had appeared in front of her, Darcy slammed the brakes, yanking the cruiser over half-hazardly in the process. When the car came to a stop, she spent a long moment staring blankly at the steering wheel without seeing it. That was it! That was it. That was it! It had been right in front of her face! Always look at the little details, nothing is unimportant! Damn it all, how had she missed that? It was so obvious now!
She could feel the beginnings of a grin making its way across her face. It didn't matter what Conners had now, she had a definitive heading, one even Row didn't have, and it was going to take her straight to the culprits; whatever the M.E. had was icing on the cake. Blinking back into awareness of her surroundings, she flipped the lights on and blasted down the road. Heaven help whoever tried to stop her now.
Conners was waiting for her in the lobby and quickly led her to an empty office. "I know this isn't what the FBI wanted me to do, but I wanted you to have this first."
He handed her the stack of autopsy files before flipping open the one he had kept. Darcy frowned, "Wait, what about the FBI?"
The examiner shrugged, "One of their agents stopped by last week, said that if any new developments came up that I was to call him directly first thing. I don't know him, but I know you; and I'm not about to give information for your case to some suit before you've seen it.
She narrowed her eyes, knowing even before she asked that her suspicion was spot on. "This suit have a name?"
"Agent...Row, I think." Her fists clenched of their own accord around the files. How dare he? In her own damn town no less! Apparently his plan to kick her to the curb had never changed, he merely altered his tactics.
"Now what I wanted to show you," Conners started, forcing Darcy's attention away from the future fight that may now be unavoidable. "The bugs were definitely from either Washington or Oregon, but they're so common in both states that the best I can give you is that they were picked up in a mountainous zone. But more importantly, that acid."
He had her full and undivided attention. "The chemical no one could recognize, what is it?"
He hesitated before handing her the open file. "That's the thing, we still don't know. It's nothing that's ever been seen before. It's some kind of oil based fuel."
The chemical chart was gibberish to her, but the results of some of the tests were clear enough. "So it's basically some mixture of gas?"
Gas with something extra packed into it to make it corrosive to human skin. Plus it was...blue. Conners shook his head. "Maybe a gas that's been condensed to the tenth and cleaned of everything but energy and yet something keeping it stable-ish."
"So it's...what?" If it was so unknown and new, perhaps it was whatever powered the high tech weapons. Hell, if it was a derivative of gas, it might be what powered those cars. She hadn't seen Row or Lennox stop for gas once.
Conners grinned, "It's a fuel! A pure, clean energy fuel that theoretically gives off almost nothing in emissions. But...no one can figure out what it fuels because all attempts of use, combustion or otherwise have resulted in...well, you have the results."
Darcy's brows rose as she read the very thing aloud, "Explosions. So it's stable enough for something specific to use it, but unstable with any misuse."
"Exactly," he nodded.
Definitely for their weapons or cars then. Row would be wanting this information buried as soon as possible.
"Thanks, Doc. Any chance you could wait up to twenty-four hours before calling Row about your findings?" See if he liked having his own medicine thrown back at him.
He smirked as he opened the door and stepped out of the room, tossing over his shoulder, "Might take me that long just to find his number again."
Conners' wife was a lucky woman, she'd definitely nabbed the best that family had to offer.
She started the trek back home with her mind of overdrive. The enemy had enough of this fancy fuel to take no issue wasting it to pour on their victims, to practically drown them in it, but why have it in the first place? What was so special about the cars that standard gasoline or diesel wasn't good enough? Surely not just for mileage? The scanners! An ordinary battery possibly couldn't take whatever machine ran the scanners or ejected knives out of hoods. There were probably a lot of features she hadn't been privy to yet as well. It was no doubt why Row had demanded results go to him first. He'd always known what the chemical was and didn't want her finding out anything more of their advanced tech.
The last light had long disappeared behind the mountains, the only light that of the headlights of the other car coming up another road. She thought nothing of it, wondering why a terrorist organization bent on world domination would take the time to pour and experimental fuel on victims of both opportunity and planning. For the joy of torture just didn't make sense if domination was truly their goal. How could torture further that goal?
The connection she'd made earlier, that had to be related. A way to remove an advantage, though as far as she knew they had yet to use it. Why the delay then? Because they weren't ready to use it, to reveal that they had it. There was a big plan at play.
Headlights blared through her side window, blinding her as a train's worth of force slammed into the side of her car.
The world exploded into a spinning kaleidoscope of flashing lights, shattering glass, and shrieking metal. For less than half a second she was weightless, pulled along through the air by the seat belt holding her firmly in place. It all came crashing down in a blink, sparks flying and a forgotten gear belt cracking against her head. Body pulsing in pain, she groaned, struggling to right an inverted world. Only one headlight remained functioning, revealing nothing in its reach. Nothing to see, nothing to hear as the wrecked engine gave out with a pitiful whine. Warm blood snaked a trail from cheek to hairline as she blindly reached for the seatbelt's release. She froze as the quiet was split by a snarling roar.
It was a sickeningly familiar sound and the cold hands of fear gripped her heart. Piercing white light stabbed her eyes, obscuring her vision and tripling the pounding in her head. Red and blue alternated behind the white, taunting, laughing at their irony. The Mustang's grill was only a handful of strides from her helplessly suspended body; her only protection a few pieces of mangled metal and broken glass. Barricade wasn't going to leave her with a cut hand and a totaled car this time. Whatever secrets she kept to herself now, she was taking to the grave. As the supercharged muscle car rolled forward, she knew it didn't matter what bad blood lay between her and NEST. The only thing that mattered was stopping these psychopaths.
Giving up the fight against the safety restraint, she reached for the CB at the same instant the Mustang hit the side of the car again. It jolted her, shoving a twisted hunk of sharp metal into her left shoulder. She swore as the car was pushed across the blacktop, sparks flying from the roof. The horrid screech threatened to drown out any sort of thought process. It was a small miracle she was able to switch to the right station and hold onto the mic. "Row! I know you monitor this channel, so answer damn you!"
Who knew how long Barricade would be content pushing the inverted car. She only prayed it was long enough to get the message out.
"What do you need, Detective?" Brief, bittersweet relief filled her. At least dying wouldn't be quite so pointless.
"Barricade has me pinned; I don't know how long he'll keep toying with me so I need you to listen. I know how they're choosing their victims." The sparks were boiling hot against her skin, the screeching threatening to drown out her voice. Blood rushing to her head was making her feel faint which only increased the panic and sense of urgency. She could not pass out before she told him.
"I thought I made it clear you were not to approach him." His monotone never wavered and it flared her temper. Damn it all, did he not listen?
"He found me! But that isn't important! I know why they're targeting!" Panic heightened further as spots danced across her already questionable vision.
Row cut over before she could gather enough breath to continue. "Try to hole up somewhere. I am on the way."
Darcy snarled, her woozy head getting lighter and lighter. "Shut up and listen, you won't get here in time. They're after NEST; they're taking the extended family of its members!"
A dark chuckle froze her blood. It wasn't coming from the radio; it echoed and purred from right beside her, as if it was coming from the Mustang.
"You found a clever one, Prowl, oh this will be fun," the voice purred and Darcy's fear multiplied tenfold. She couldn't move, couldn't do anything but stare at the grill of the car that was still pushing her down the road with utter horror.
Row's voice held a growl she'd never heard before and hardly recognized as him. "Leave her out of it, Barricade. Your war is with us."
Barricade laughed and Darcy let out a breath as he finally backed the Mustang away from her. His words, however, did little to relieve her fear. "Don't worry, I'll take special care of your pet."
Without warning, without reason, and without sense, the muscle car exploded. Thousands of metal fragments shot outward and up before coming together in some complex sequence to form what she could only describe as a metal monstrosity.
With that insane image dancing across her vision, Darcy finally lost the last hold of her consciousness and was only able to moan one word before the blood rush knocked her out.
"Help."