Geoffrey slammed the door of his car shut loudly, not caring if anyone
heard and doubting anyone would. Who in their right mind would be hanging
around a police station at night?
Raising his head, he felt a slight twinge left over from the morning’s
hangover, but ignored it and instead looked at the low, brick building in
front of him. There were no windows, and only one door. That meant there was
only one way in and one way out.
If he could do it, could actually get away with it, he’d walk out through
that door. If he couldn’t, he’d be arrested immediately… That was the bad
part of breaking into jail cells. There was always the inconvenience of
having police in the building.
Hopefully, the man on duty would be unprepared for what was about to
happen, and would be unable to stop it from progressing.
The man looked up towards the sky for a moment while part of his mind made
a last-ditch effort to talk him out of it. It didn’t work, though; his mind
was set on going for it. He was as ready as he’d ever be, and he knew it.
“God help me… for once,” he muttered to the chill night air, than started
forward.
His feet slapped onto the dry, gritty pavement, making a slight grinding
noise that sounded unpleasant to Geoffrey. He set his jaw, shook his head,
and ignored the noise. Nothing was going to stop him, especially not the
little things.
As he reached out to grab the doorknob, he felt a slight sort of jolt and
dropped his hand. Was it fear? He could feel beads of sweat on his brow, but
felt that they were from anxiety.
No, it was more than likely his mind acting up. “Took it long enough to
find me,” he thought without humor, than entered the building.
Once again, the lights were dim, and visibility was low. It struck Geoffrey
that the guard could be armed, but he didn’t care after all, and walked over
to the man. With a strange sort of relief he found that it was the man who
had been in last time.
“Can I help you?” the man was once again looking through a hunting
brochure.
“Yeah, I’d like the keys to the jail cells,” Geoffrey replied casually,
keeping any fear out of his voice.
“Ha, ha, ha, very funny,” the man sounded as if he were in no mood for
jokes at the moment. “Seriously, pal.”
“Yeah, I’m serious all right.”
“Don’t make me use this,” the guard patted the butt of a gun protruding
from his drawer.
“I won’t,” Geoffrey suddenly lunged forward, grabbing the guard by the neck
with both hands. The man’s eyes bulged from their sockets, and he clawed at
Geoffrey, screaming as best he could with a half-closed windpipe.
Geoffrey felt himself starting to feel sick, than reminded himself that the
alternative was to be shot. He has started, now he had to finish. If he
didn’t, he’d be in jail too, and that wouldn’t really be of any help at all.
The screams had died down into half-assed whimpers, and the clawing had
become occasional slaps at the air. Geoffrey felt as if he were watching a
dog trying to swim in slow motion. A dog that had been thoroughly abused.
There was a look of shock and horror in the man’s eyes as he began to go
limp. They were wide, disbelieving. What the others had warned him about had
happened, and he hadn’t been ready. He was paying for it.
Geoffrey felt a slight pang of pity as he dropped the man to the floor, and
another of guilt, but again he shoved them aside and looked over the desk.
After shuffling through the large amount of papers, nearly all of them junk,
he realized they weren’t there, and started opening drawers.
In the first there was the gun, a typical police handgun. He picked it up,
looked it over, than tossed it back down. The thing was a piece of shit, and
would probably misfire anyway.
Beneath that drawer was a stack of thick files in manila envelopes. After a
quick look at those, he tossed them back in, than shut the drawer again.
As he was reaching for the bottom drawer, he somehow stepped on the arm of
the guard’s limp body, and nearly fell to the ground before he caught
himself. Once again he was faced with the silent horror, a horror that he
felt he knew, but wasn’t sure and didn’t want to be sure.
He reached for the bottom drawer and, thankfully, found the keys. He picked
them up, examining them in the light. There were twelve in all, each with a
number engraved on it.
“Let’s see, he’s in number eleven…” Geoffrey ran his hands over the keys,
stopping to look at some of the numbers. When he had finally found numbers
eleven, he headed back for the cell.
The hallway between the cells was covered with a layer of dust, and as he
headed down it Geoffrey realized that he was grateful for the set-up of the
lighting. From various cells came various remarks by the men and women
inside, including phrases of encouragement.
Yes, they had heard what had happened, and had guessed the results. He
figured that if the police asked any of them, they’d say someone attacked
the guard. Fortunately, they didn’t know what he looked like. He was safe on
that aspect.
After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the cell. He turned to face
it, than placed the key in the lock and shoved the gate open. “It’s time to
get the hell out of here.”
From inside the cell came the sound of footsteps, and in the next moment
Giovanni stood facing him. “Geoffrey?”
Geoffrey simply nodded, not feeling he needed to say anything, than rubbed
the keys on the jacket of his suit coat. “Better safe than sorry,” he
thought, though there were probably so many prints already on the ring it
wouldn’t matter.
Giovanni stepped out of the cell, not bothering to look around. Even after
his stay at the jail, he held an air of confidence, of being ready for
whatever would come. His black eyes turned towards the desk, and, Geoffrey
guessed, spotted the man.
“You killed him,” it wasn’t a question, but felt as though it needed an
answer anyway.
“Yes, now let’s get out of here,” he knew he was impatient to leave, and
truthfully didn’t care. He felt that if they stayed any longer, the chance
that they’d be caught would be even greater.
“Right,” Giovanni’s voice faltered slightly, and he coughed uncomfortably.
“I, uh… well… Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Geoffrey started down the hall, and his brother, or
half-brother, as he reminded himself, followed. He knew Giovanni wasn’t good
at being gracious, it happened when you ran a criminal business.
They were standing outside of the door when Geoffrey looked back at
Giovanni. “Stay here for a moment.”
The other man looked up with a slight bit of what may have been concern,
than shrugged. “All right.”
Geoffrey nodded, than strode over to his car. Reaching in, he pulled out a
set of clothes, one of his suits. He had figured they’d come in handy.
Normally people got suspicious when they saw someone wearing prison clothes.
He quickly walked back over to Giovanni and handed him the clothes. “Take
these.”
With a nod, Giovanni headed back inside, and Geoffrey leaned against the
wall to wait. He still couldn’t believe he had done it…
He didn’t regret it, though. Strange as it seemed to him, he was glad he
had done what he did. -
Giovanni pulled the door to the small bathroom shut, than leaned against it
slowly, his eyes widening, than closing.
He couldn’t believe, couldn’t accept what had just happened. He had been
broken out of jail by his brother, the brother he hated, had hated since…
Well, since he had left.
Giovanni remembered that night, remembered it with a clarity that nearly
matched the memories of Ashley. It had been the fight between his father and
his brother… the one that had ended in Geoffrey leaving and never returning.
Geoffrey had never even said goodbye, never tried writing or calling
afterwards.
He himself hadn’t found out why Geoffrey had been so angry until two years
after, when his dad finally found the courage to tell him. Once that had
happened he had understood, but he had never quite forgiven Geoffrey for
leaving him with Edward Oak.
What had happened that night had changed things slightly. Once again, and
to the disgust of part of him, he found himself admiring his half-brother.
He always had, he guessed it was something most younger siblings did. He
didn’t like it much, but it was there.
What Giovanni knew was that he could stand to be civil with Geoffrey, to at
least try and respect his feelings. Part of him said it couldn’t be done,
not after the amount of time he’d gone without respect for nearly everyone.
Another part, though, a deeper, more understanding part, knew he could do it
easily.
With a certain amount of resolve, he decided to go through with it, to see
what would happen. There were alternatives, but he knew what most of them
led to, for him at least.
At the moment, he preferred not to think about it.
He took off the prison clothing, sighing with relief for the first time.
Just having the itchy clothing off was good enough for him, at least for the
moment.
Realizing the urgency of the situation, though, he pulled on the clothing,
finding that it was black. It was also a bit too big for him, but he’d
expected it, since Geoffrey was at least three inches taller than he was.
He smoothed back his hair as best he could, but it was hard. There wasn’t
much to do with it. Running a bit of water into his hair, he rubbed it in,
hoping it helped a bit, than exited the room.
When he walked out, Geoffrey was sitting in the car, waiting. He walked
over and slid into the passenger’s side, uneasy about what was to come. He
was relieved when, without a word, Geoffrey started the car and pulled out
of the lot.
One question kept nagging at him, though, and he decided to ask before he
found out for himself. To him, knowing what was coming was better than not
knowing until you get there.
“Where are we going?”
Geoffrey looked at him out of the corner of his eye, than shook his head.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
“Geoff…” Giovanni started to take on the tone he used with his employees,
than stopped himself.
“Remember, he’s helping…” his mind insisted.
“Maybe it’s all a lie,” another part put in, but he pushed that aside
easily. He’d seen his brother when he lied, and this wasn’t it. He’d seen
his brother when he was trying to do something for someone, and this was
that time. Still, he wanted to know.
“Why can’t you tell me?”
“You’ll see when we get there,” Geoffrey’s tone was clipped, conveying that
he wouldn’t answer the questions.
Giovanni found himself feeling like a kid, decided he didn’t like it,
nearly yelled at Geoffrey, than leaned back and clenched his teeth together.
He hated when people were stubborn, he hated when people talked. For the
moment, he decided that he wouldn’t talk, and it’d be better if he didn’t.
As the car sped through the night, he found, with some relief that he could
keep from speaking.
Dan’s eyes widened as he watched the woman run away into the night, leaving
behind her a devastating sight. She was headed for town, he observed with a
start of horror. The town, where she could do even worse…
What he had seen in her eyes had she had saluted was a madness, one he had
never seen before. From what he knew it was uncontrollable, even by the
person afflicted. The only other part he knew was that the person would
become dangerously violent.
He turned around slowly, his mind spilling with thought. He didn’t want to
be stuck in this, didn’t want to be in anything remotely like it.
Unfortunately, he was, and he knew he should’ve seen it coming. After all,
he had volunteered to help.
The first thing his eyes caught was Trae’s dead body, sprawled on the
reddening bed sheets, and the splatter on the wall behind her, as well as
the bullet hole from the shot that had hit her in the head.
Almost immediately the young man turned away, holding back a wave of vomit,
and looked at the others. Shadow’s face had gone white, and he half-glided
over to her, putting his hand on hers.
“Dan, she did it, didn’t she?” Shadow’s voice was unsteady, shaking with
shock.
“Yes, yes she did.” The girl’s hand’s were shaking terribly, and had turned
a white as a sheet. Up until then he had never even thought that was
physically possible.
“Are you okay, Shadow?” the concern in his voice ran deep. He felt for her
as much as he felt for his own self.
There was no reply. Shadow had looked up and past Dan. Dan followed her
line of sight and saw Ginger glancing around, her eyes taking on a hardness
he had never seen before. “We need to get her…”
The words hit Dan with an intensity that was almost rage. He wanted to kill
Felicity. Never in his life had he wanted death, yet at that moment he did,
because she had killed Trae, had killed Trae and insulted all of them…
And she had frightened Shadow, damnit. Scared a girl who hated to show the
least bit of fear possible.
For that, he wanted Felicity dead. -
Shadow wanted to hold Dan closer, wanted to hear him reassure her that
everything was all right, wanted to be able to tell him he’d be fine.
She knew that would be a lie, though. It’s make both of them feel better,
but it’d be a flat-out lie. That much she knew didn’t need to be added to
the mess.
Dan was concerned for her, and he showed it directly. “Why can’t I do the
same for him?” her mind buzzed, and she sighed inwardly. Even despite what
had happened, her old troubles were plaguing her. She couldn’t go to Dan,
kept finding herself turning away.
“Well,” she thought dimly. “At least I didn’t run off when he held my
hands.”
Looking down, she realized that he still was. His hands had become bone
white, though, and he was clenching hers tightly. Looking into his eyes, she
saw a sort of primal hate in them, a hate entirely unlike the Dan she had
known.
There, in the depths of his gray-brown eyes, she saw that it was true. He
wanted to kill Felicity. He wanted it because of what the woman had done to
hurt them… but most of all, what she had done to hurt her.
Inside of his eyes was the hardness of a true Rocket, and she felt a cold
chill as she realized that she felt the same way.
Deep inside, down where there was no feeling besides emotion, she felt that
Felicity needed to die. She felt it with the same urgency Dan had, and was
ready to go… Except that her nature prevailed.
She wanted more information, needed to know what she was getting into
before she leapt in and joined the fun. She wasn’t carefree, never had been,
and she knew it. However, she also recognized that the trait helped her
drastically at times, had even saved her life.
By being informed about what she was going to do, she could make sure the
job was done right. With Felicity, she wanted to be absolutely sure.
Turning her head, she once more looked up into Dan’s eyes, feeling herself
disconnect from her body slightly, as always. He looked back at her with
that loving face. Even with the coldness, the love for her was openly
visible.
“Dan…” she finally spoke, and he looked at her. “What are we going to do?”
-
Matt shoved the gun back in its holster slowly, shaking his head. He had
been slow on the draw, and he knew he had. He knew he should have been able
to hit her. He also knew he should’ve arrived sooner, should have been more
alert. After all, that’s what he’d been there for.
However, he also knew there was no room for should have, no room for what
he didn’t do. They needed to focus on what they would do.
He had seen Felicity’s eyes, had seen the fiery power of the insanity. What
he knew about the disease was far less limited than what Dan had known, and
he realized what they were dealing with.
With a look at Trae, he quickly confirmed what he had suspected about
Felicity. The slaughter had a terrible air to it, looking as though she had
been shoved through a grinder. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Felicity
HAD shoved the girl through a grinder, though he knew damn well what she had
done, and that she had used her treasured revolver.
Inside he felt no real pity for Trae, he had never liked her. He knew he
should’ve, had often considered why he was so unfeeling when it came down to
the deaths of people he felt no connection with. Even in the darkest human
souls there is pity for everyone, or so he had been told.
To Matt, that was a bunch of bullshit. A BIG bunch of bullshit. He knew
what he felt when people died, or when he killed. He felt absolutely
nothing, not even the slightest twinge.
When it came to those he cared about, though… That was a different story.
What he didn’t want to see was the remaining group dead. Especially not
Ginger, he didn’t know if he could take that blow.
If Felicity was to be stopped, certain measures would have to be taken. To
do that, he’d have to talk to everyone before they got out of hand.
Moving his eyes across the room, he saw Dan and Shadow standing together,
trying to comfort one another. They loved each other, it wasn’t hard to
tell, but he felt a nagging suspicion in the back of his mind, a feeling
that something was going to happen to their love, maybe already had.
Mike was standing off to the side, a blank expression of surprise pasted on
his face. The shock had surprised him, all right. That much was obvious to
anyone who cared to look.
Ginger was looking around rapidly, a growing fury in her eyes. Matt had
seen that look before, and knew what usually went with it. It was the same
look he’d seen on her face when he had asked about Jessie and James. The
expression had been fleeting than, but it was the same one all right.
He had also seen it after a mission one time, when she had found out that
an agent had squealed on the team. She had been ready to take care of the
man herself, to do the honors of silencing his mouth. Even after they found
out it had been a rumor; she had retained that hate for the man.
When he saw that look in the bedroom, and saw the intensity of it, he knew
she couldn’t be stopped, knew that whatever she planned on doing would be
done. He didn’t want her to go, but, God, there was no way of stopping her…
The only solution was to find a way to stop Felicity. To do that, he’d have
to keep himself composed and get the group to listen carefully, and to
settle down. Taking a breath, he spoke through the almost deafening silence.
“We need to discuss this.”
“Discuss? What’s there to discuss?” Dan sounded disgusted for the first
time since Matt had known him. The way he spoke made Matt want to strangle
him, but he remained still. The pressure was on all of them, and they were
taking it differently. Dan was obviously going to be hard to talk with.
“More than you might think,” Matt managed to retain a level voice, and he
eyed them all, daring them to say more.
Ginger dared. “I’m leaving.”
“Ginger!” the words flew out of Matt’s mouth, and were in a tone that
expressed more surprise than he liked. He’d known she was going to do it,
but when she actually did, he felt a pain inside of him.
A pain that signaled something was going to happen, something was going to
go the wrong way. That something was going to backfire.
“Matt, don’t try to stop me, please!” her voice was pleading, and he felt
it tugging on his heart.
“Ginger, I can make you stop…” he knew he wouldn’t though. Judging by the
expressions of the others, they knew it too.
Shadow offered her help, though Matt figured she knew just as well that it
was futile. “Ginger, please stay and listen.”
Ginger shook her head tiredly, and Matt felt a pang of sorrow for her so
deep he thought it would well out of him. “I can’t stay, and you know it.”
He did know it, and he had a feeling the others did, too. Ginger felt it
inside that she had to go, because Felicity had taken on the Rockets, had
threatened them even after the downfall. The hate that lay within that was
uncontrollable, something he didn’t dare mess with.
“Good luck, Ginger,” he spoke quietly, but knew they all heard.
Ginger nodded and walked over to him easily, her movement slight and
cat-like. When she reached him, she looked into his eyes, and he looked into
hers, those emeralds he loved so much.
For a moment she closed her eyes, as if struggling with herself, than
embraced him, reaching her arms around his waist and pulling him to her. He
hadn’t expected it, but he was glad of it. In those few seconds, he only
knew that the two of them were there, holding each other.
“I love you, Ginger,” he heard his own voice from far away, as if it were
an echo of someone else, of another time, another world.
“I love you too. Thank you.” The words rang in his ears, and he thought he
felt her soul aching as his did.
Than it was over, and she released him. “I must leave now… I hope to see
you all again.” Her words sounded strange, metallic almost.
“I’m going with you,” Dan strode forward. “It’s time I took my stand.”
“Dan, no!” Shadow gasped, her hand reaching out for him as he walked
towards Ginger.
“I have to. Just as Ginger has to… I must face what I’ve been called for,”
his eyes were baring into hers with an expression Matt guessed meant worlds
to Shadow.
“Goodbye… and come back,” Shadow’s voice was painful, but she didn’t try to
go. It was her nature to know before going, and her need to know came before
her need to rush out.
Ginger and Dan walked through the open door and down the hall. Matt felt a
part of him clench tightly as they walked down the stairs. He didn’t wanted
her to go, everything in him said to keep her back…
But he couldn’t do that, it would be terrible. She had to do what she had
to do. As Dan had said, it was destiny.
“Let’s go downstairs and talk,” he motioned out the door as they heard the
click of the downstairs door.
“But what about the mess?” Mike spoke in a tone that suggested he was
trying unsuccessfully to make a joke, and that he knew it, too.
“We’ll clean it later,” Matt spoke in a matter-of-fact tone that made Mike
shiver slightly. “Now let’s get the matter at hand taken care of before
anything else happens.
Shadow and Mike looked at each other, nodded, than followed him out into
the hall. As they were walking down the stairs, Matt felt the sense of
foreboding once more.
