The Game #9
Edited by Karen Leigh
Out of the darkness, high heels clicked, echoing and disturbing everyone at the large table. A small, long dark haired woman with an icy gaze approached. "Gentlemen." she spoke slowly. None of them had heard her enter. The woman's cold gaze and emotionless face traveled by each member even over the one who thought she could be as cold as her, Miss Covarrubias. The woman just didn't know how cold she could be, what she did in her past and what she would do again.
Inga Fossa placed her hands behind her back as she approached to stand next to Mr. Hargreaves. "I think I have an appropriate partner for Wraith."
Everyone turned his or her heads towards her. "And just who might you be?" One of the men in the dark circle asked.
Inga Fossa turned her gaze to him. "Someone of importance, that is all you need to know." She turned her gaze back to the group. "I have someone, well trained for the job. Military back ground, programmed for infiltration such as this. He specializes in covert operations."
"And just what makes you think this person is worthy of the job?" one of the members question.
Inga's gaze rested on Marita, "Because he is not afraid to do what it takes to get the job done. I have seen to that myself. You have a problem gentlemen, I am giving you a possible solution. He will get results unlike some you have tried." She looked away to center on Wraith, "He is not like your... men, if you wish to call them that, he is better."
"And just who might this person be?" Mr. Hargreaves finally spoke.
Inga unclasped her and waved for someone to step out of the darkness. A young man, dressed in a military uniform stepped out. His blue eyes scanning the room taking in all. He looked innocent but his eyes were intense. He looked kind of rugged, but yet one someone would trust right away. "His name is Thomas Hobbes. He can go with your two, make sure nothing goes wrong or perform the duties... they won't." Inga stated. She motioned Hobbes to stand next to Wraith.
Hobbes walked over silently and stood on the other side of him with his hands behind him back. He said nothing, remaining obediently silent. He could hear Marita's breathing and the man next to him. Marita's breathing seemed kind of irritated.
Inga's eyes traveled over the group, "I wouldn't wait to long on your decision gentlemen, you haven't much time."
Mr. Hargreaves did not look pleased. Wraith was well acquainted with the tight wrinkles at the corner of his employer's mouth. The man disliked doing business with females, especially women who appeared so self-confident as this one.
"If your tool is so well equipped for the job then you've no use for Wraith," Mr. Hargreaves announced. "I'll keep him in my service."
"The face." One of the consortium men pointed out. "The face that all of our problems are wearing. That is required for the task to succeed."
Wraith used the following disagreement as cover. While everyone's attention lingered on Mr. Hargreaves and the other man, Wraith took the opportunity to glance at the young man Inga Fossa had brought in. The newcomer didn't look the part of a killer or a spy. Given the right expression on his face he would appear to be some all-American college type. Hobbes was blond, but not a dazzling white blonde like Marita, but more golden. The pair of them would make a handsome couple. They were both quite beautiful.
Now there was a mental misdirection he shouldn't be indulging in. Wraith dragged his eyes front again, banishing the thought. The argument seemed to have wound down quickly.
Mr. Hargreaves was all out scowling now. "Very well." He toyed with the papers before him in annoyance. "Wraith?"
"Yes Sir."
"You're dismissed to work on this project until further notice. Take Mr. Hobbes and Miss Covarrubias to look over the Mac27 laboratories. You will be reporting in to other branch of our organization until further notice."
"I will guide the team," Inga Fossa announced. "...if that's acceptable." The afterthought skirted the edges of subordination.
Inga threw a glance to Marita before looking back at the men before her. She noticed one of them start to speak... it was the one called Spender. "And just what makes you think you are qualified for the job?" he puffed a cloud of smoke into the air.
"Because Gentlemen, I will do what it takes to get the job done... with results." She said as she walked around to the three at the end of the table. She glanced at Hobbes briefly, her pride and joy. She turned back, "Since you seem to be the only one questioning, I assume it is satisfactory to the rest of you?"
Mr. Hargreaves met the woman's cold gaze, "You are in charge then. Now go."
Inga smiled to herself but not showing a single emotion to the others, "Thank you gentlemen," she nodded slightly to them and turned on her heels to walk out. Hobbes was right behind her, as were the other two. She guided herself down the long halls to the Mac27 laboratories. She entered and stood aside silently observing.
"Look around Tom, learn." She said quietly to him.
Tom nodded and walked away from her side as he looked around. He held the innocent look now, like a child in a toy store. He glanced at Marita then at Wraith before wondering around some more.
Marita smiled at Wraith, then at Hobbes and Inga. "Well, it's obvious he hasn't seen Mac 27s before," she said to Inga.
She noted Hobbes's eager expression, and smiled at him again. [Always great to have someone so enthusiastic about his work on board. But... what exactly is his work? I've never met these people before. Can I trust them?] She tried to think of a way to draw them out... to see where their stream was running, so to speak. Ah! Crossing the room, she grabbed a pamphlet from a literature rack, and handed it to Hobbes.
It read: Mac 27 FAQ
She looked at Inga and Hobbes. "Why don't you take a gander at that, then you can ask me any questions you may have - I'll answer them as best I can. And what I can't answer, Wraith surely can." She walked over to Wraith, a small smile on her lips. "Why do they call you Wraith, anyway? It's such a ... fragile name. Will o' the Wisp. Wouldn't have thought it for a Mac 27..."
Inga only glanced at it. "You assume I don't know anything about the Mac 27." She pushed herself from the wall that she had leaned against. She walked around Wraith, before looking at Marita, "I know more that what you think." she said coldly and walked away from her. Her fingers ran lightly over one of the tables before she walked to Hobbes. He turned his blue eyes towards her, locking with hers. God but she melted when he looked at her. He was perfect, her little angel, and her savior.
"Once this... fiasco is taken care of, there may be no need for the Mac 27's or any other kind. Not with the new technology being developed." She ran a finger over Hobbes' chest. He did not flinch. She turned away from Hobbes, continuing her so-called sightseeing of the room.
Hobbes picked up some of the electronics then glanced at the paper in his hand. He turned his gaze to Wraith, "He is one of them?" He walked around the two then stopped. He reached out and touched the man before him. He felt real. He glanced at Marita, "Why do they all look the same?"
"As I just informed Marita." Wraith repeated the information, louder this time, for the sake of the other two members of this team he had been told to co-operate with. "I am not a Mac 27." Wraith firmly pushed back the intrusive touch. No one but Dr. Sawyer ever touched him willingly and she only made as much contact as absolutely required. It was disturbing. "As to why they all looked the same. That is a simple matter of production costs."
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The Smoker watched this interplay on the monitor that displayed the room he had just left. There was something distressingly different about the way that Wraith was performing this time. He made a note to himself to keep more of an eye on the construct than was usual, and picked up the phone to seek reassurance from Dr. Sawyer about the way Wraith seemed to be functioning.
Absently he noted that Marita was sending out lures to the construct, and wondered if that would unsettle him. He wondered if the unsettling of Wraith would impair his function.
Turning then to study this Hobbes, and the woman who had somehow managed to insinuate herself into his operation. He didn't like this one bit. He lit another cigarette, and pondered what could be done. An idea struck, and he picked up the phone and dialed.
As the person at the other end answered, a smile creased the aged features.
"Alex?"
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Hobbes took one more look at the man and stepped back. Wraith didn't like to be touched... voluntarily anyway. Possibly permission needed to be granted. He turned back to Inga. He started to ask her a question but saw the look in her eyes. He closed his mouth and waited for her to speak.
Marita had stiffened when she saw Hobbes poke at Wraith. Mac 27 or no, he was just as - well, he had feelings, and he shouldn't be... she bit her lip. Hate being treated like a piece of meat.
"May I suggest that we not waste time." Inga said walking out from behind one of the tables. She looked at the two before her. They made a handsome couple; they reminded her of Hobbes and Pinocchio. "I'm sure you know what needs to be done. You will need to take Tom to get some appropriate clothing, all he has is his military clothing."
Who the hell is this woman to just walk in and take over? Marita stared at the woman, asking the question with her eyes. But, damn her the woman turned to leave.
Inga started to exit when she felt Tom's hand catch her. In a low voice he spoke, "What of Mike? When do I meet up with him?"
She turned her ice blue eyes towards him and said, "He is in the field already. I will let you know when to make contact with him. Your job now is to assist these two by whatever means is necessary. Do you understand?"
Hobbes nodded obediently.
Inga glanced at Marita, "I'll be in contact."
"Fine." But who am I in contact with? Why do I get the feeling we're being set up? Marita looked around the room, trying to place the definite "this is not good" feeling she was getting
Inga walked out thinking of the man Tom had just asked about. He had been the love of her life till he was taken from her... so to speak. But she had brought him back, made him complete, a whole man again. He was a clone... a successful clone... one that not even the Consortium knew about. He was immune to the black oil; he was the hybrid that they long to have... and he was hers and hers alone.
Memories of old had been implanted but she had to erase them, just like she had to do to Hobbes. Making the two men forget about their past... what had happened to them, who they knew, loved, and trusted. They now only trusted her, obeyed her orders... the perfect soldiers. There were still a few details she had to work out, such as some memories creeping back, but that too would soon be solved. She snorted to herself, realizing the man was similar to Wraith, but more human. She pulled her phone out and dialed a number. As the other end picked up she spoke, "They are on their way. You will make contact when I call you next." She hung up and continued down the hall.
Hobbes turned to the two before him, studying them and waiting. He felt kind of... strange seeing a man such as Wraith before him. Though he had the pamphlet in his hand that explained the Mac27's, Wraith had informed him he was not one. He wondered what the man was.
He then turned his blue eyes to Marita. Just looking at her hair reminded him of someone but whom he could not pull from his memories. She stood even with him, the man next to her taller than he. He remained silent and waited, wondering what was going to happen next.
Marita watched the newcomer, and looked at Wraith. Smiling, she reached for his hand. "I tire of people who make us wait. What do you say we get to work?"
Tom glanced at the man. He had a point. They were allowed to come into this restricted area. Perhaps they should find out more about this. He knew he wanted to know more... what he was fighting against, the reason behind it. He felt the need to understand the Mac27's and the clones. Plus it would help him do his job.
"I have to agree with Wraith." Hobbes finally spoke. "I honestly think the first thing we should do is check out the security. Make sure no one can breech it. Then figure out which areas are more vulnerable to attack and secure them." Tom hoped that either one would listen to him. He may not have looked like a soldier, but he was one and a trained one too.
"Attack? Secure?" Marita cocked her head. "So far as I'm aware, this is purely a recon mission." She studied Hobbes, seeing the eager soldier ready for action. "Sometimes it's the best thing for it, to gather information first. You'll know that." She smiled ferally.
"I know there are several clones who have found each other. I don't know what, or how much, they know. I also know they know we're after them. Or people are after them, anyway."
Hobbes listened to her words, taking in every bit of them. His mind was mulling them over.
She looked at Hobbes. "Did the Smoking Man tell you about the Project?" It was a gauge of how much she could trust this man, as well as how much he knew.
Hobbes bit the inner cheek of his mouth. Inga had informed him of some, but not all. He knew she was testing him, to see how well he could perform in the field. Pinocchio had already preformed very well, it was now his turn to prove to her he could as well.
He decided to play dumb for a while to he could see if he could trust this woman as well, "Suppose you tell me what you know then we can access what needs to be done from this point. I still feel that security needs to be checked out here. If these clones know we are after them they may also know where to locate us... if one is not already here. Security could be already compromised. Just who many of these clones are loose? Do we know who they are? And no, the Smoking Man did not inform me of the project. Perhaps you can."
Wraith wasn't willing to give up information to this new one until he had proven himself. If Marita would not rein the soldier in, Wraith would.
"If you have not been told something, and it is not readily available within this office," Wraith glanced about. "Then I must assume you are not to know it." He turned to Marita. "Unless you have an alternate suggestion, I intend to find the persons causing the problem and kill every one of them. That is what I am best trained for." Green eyes flipped back to the soldier. "What you need to be instructed in is the best methods of terminating the Mac27s. I will find you a blueprint and instruct you how best to destroy them." He outlined his opinion blandly. "What I lack is method of discerning where the targets are and which ones need to be terminated first. My experiences outside the Corporation are limited."
Wraith distanced himself from Marita. He couldn't keep his mind clearly on the job at hand while her perfume was tickling his nose and distracting with unapproved ideas. "I do however agree this compound must be made secure. Once we begin destroying the units this is the only place they can come to get spare parts."
Tom sighed softly. This was not going to be easy. He figured he might as well just follow along and keep his mouth shut. He shivered at the cold feelings he was getting from the two.
He threw a glance at Marita then lowered his head, "Where are the blueprints?" he requested softly. He wondered if these Mac 27's had some source of... power, a generator or something with a unique signature that they would use to track them down. If they found the highest concentration of energy, that may be where they should look first.
But he kept his ideas to himself. Obviously he would have to gain their trust and that would take time. As he glanced back up, he got the feeling he had been in this situation before, but with two other people, a man and a woman, someplace else. He furrowed his brow as he tried to remember but he couldn't, it just wouldn't come to him.
He looked back down and waited, yet again. 'Just go along Hobbes,' he told himself. 'When it comes time, you can show them you are part of the team... if they let you.' His eyes slowly drifted up to Wraith getting the feeling the man didn't like him, nor did the woman.
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CSM checked his daytimer, and reached for the phone.
"Marita Covarrubias, I think that we should get together to discuss a way forward in our current dilemma. I'm meeting an old friend for lunch. I believe it would be beneficial for you to join us. Shall we say 1pm at Angelini's? I'll look forward to seeing you."
Replacing the phone without waiting for any response from Marita, he called again, this time a number known only to himself and one other.
"Hello, David (666) I'd like you to attend a meeting..."
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They had progressed from the laboratories to the fortified armory near the back of the building.
Wraith weighed the thick rifle in his hand before passing it over to Hobbes. "You should aim for the chest," he instructed. "The clip only holds five slugs so carry spares and try not to waste this ammunition on humans... although it will disable a human just as easily. Use your regular weapon." One of the fat bullets was picked up off the table. "Each one has the capacity to completely fry out the operating systems of a Mac27. A total overhaul would be required to resurrect the unit... and even then all brain activity has to be reprogrammed and the unit's memory chips are usually destroyed by the charge."
Wraith hadn't actually seen the effect these weapons had on a Mac27 but the results were in the last memory upload Dr. Sawyer had dumped into him. "If you have to use your regular weapon then your targeting will have to be much more precise." Wraith pulled open a drawer and removed a diagram to spread out on the table. His fingertip indicated the points where maximum damaged could be inflicted. "Hollow point bullets." A cold green gaze lifted to the racks of weapons surrounding them. "Re-arm yourself accordingly."
Hobbes nodded.
"Marita's people would prefer we didn't kill the clones but we can't be expected to differentiate under fire. Still, if the target is obviously human rather than a Mac27, attempt to disable and capture instead." Wraith couldn't resist looking up at the elegant blonde woman as he mentioned that. She stood away from them, as if uncomfortable with the plans being outlined.
Marita met Wraith's eyes. You're not seriously contemplating this??
When he shifted his attention to Hobbes, Wraith couldn't help but feel a jolt of disorientation. There was a definite similarity between Marita's eyes and those of this soldier who had been thrust upon him.
Hobbes met the man's gaze holding it for as long as the man would let him before looking back down at the blue prints. He studied them quickly and took in every word that the man told him. This was where his training would come in handy. He worked himself from a sharp shooter to a Hawkeye with deadly accuracy at 300 yards. With a scope, he was even more deadly... just like his partner Pinocchio
[Damn him!] The Smoker could be so damn officious... presuming she would do his bidding just because he snapped his fingers. She sighed, pocketing her cell phone and watching the others out of the corner of her eye.
Marita sighed. Boys will be boys. Fighting instead of other, better ways. Ways that might be more useful. Ways that...
She cast a long glance at Wraith from beneath her eyelashes. "That was the big boss," she said. "You all will have to do without me for awhile, I'm afraid." Turning, she left the room, the click of her high heels echoing in her ears. Too bad... I hope I meet up with Wraith again. He seems kinder than most. Turning, she left the room, the click of her high heels echoing in her ears.
Hobbes lifted his head silently. She was leaving? He thought Inga was now in control of them. Who was she answering too? He held his questions in silence. He watched her lovely form leave the room, reminding him of someone he knew. He tilted his head trying to dig back into his memories for it. Nothing was coming to him but the feeling was still there. He turned back to Wraith then left his side to look at the weapons rack. He pulled several guns off, a 45 magnum, a Glock and a small Derringer to put up his sleeve.
Marita got into her car and drove towards the restaurant, after stopping at her apartment to change into an alluring dress. I need answers... from him, as well. And I'm going to make him listen, this time. Grimly, she set about making herself pretty for the man she hated most. When she was pleased with herself, she drove to the restaurant, and walked inside.
Hobbes turned back to the man. "I guess it's just you and me then...for a while."
"We could set up a defensive strategy and hope they will come to us... or we could go hunting." Wraith followed behind Hobbes, picking up ammunition. "There is going to be a massive assault on a stronghold of targets. I was received a reference to those plans earlier... as a update sub-file ... I have no details but I am aware of who I must question for further information." Wraith paused, frowning as another chunk of information dropped into place. He shook off the disorientation and selected a small electronic device, which he handed it over to the soldier. "You'll need one of these. It tracks the energy signature of the Mac27s." Another was shoved inside his own jacket. "I was considering lingering just beyond the battleground and shooting whatever seemed a likely target."
Wraith had hoped Marita would offer him a more complex strategy before leaving him with this soldier who knew even less than himself. It was both strange and annoying that both the women left without giving him guidance with a companion he didn't comfortably trust to guide him no matter how much he craved solid direction from outside himself. The temptation was there to go back to Mr. Hargreaves and request to return to the safety of his position as bodyguard... but he knew it would be a useless attempt.
"I have security clearance to take anything I need... from this place or the motor pool. I am allowed to enter almost any point in the compound. Do you have the same or should we see about authorizing you?" Wraith hated working without set orders. It made him feel like a new recruit again.
Hobbes looked up slightly at the man. "I have clearance." he stated. "You said you knew who you needed to contact to get more information. I think we should do just that, get more information."
Hobbes shoved the tracker into a pocket of his uniform. "I also think that we should go hunting. Do some covert operations. Since you can blend in, perhaps we can learn their plans. Unless you object to that?" he said looking up at the man once again. "Because just picking them off one by one will not work if we stay here. Others could be attacking the weak side and there is always a weak side." He started heading for the door then glanced back at the man, "Do you have a better plan?" His eyes traveled over the man. God but he had long lashes. Was he born like that? And his eyes were an incredible color; he found he could just stare at them all day. He blinked himself out of his daze. He shouldn't be thinking that way; he had a mission to accomplish first, no distractions. But yet, like looking at Marita, he found that he couldn't help himself.
Accustomed to just being told who to kill or what to protect and then simply following instructions... Wraith wasn't about to object if the soldier was willing to provide a logical framework to function in.
Outfitted, provided with a phone number for a retrieval team and briefed on the current situation as Innobotics was aware of it...Wraith chose a large, neutral looking pick-up truck from the motor pool. The cap would keep their chosen armory hidden from view and provide a space to store two or three faulty units if the retrieval team took too long to respond.
In the long driveway that led out of the Innobotics compound Wraith shifted into park and glanced sideways at his companion, Hobbes. "Do you favour the gathering in the compound that is being monitored or would you prefer to investigate the smaller grouping that is suspected near the airport? I suspect that the Innobotics force is capable enough if an assault is mounted. Perhaps we should concentrate on less likely target and see if it provides further information.
Hobbes thought it over then nodded, "Perhaps we should take out the smaller groups. They may be easier to handle and we might be able to find out some more information from them."
He looked out the window of the cab as the man next to him drove. He felt a sense of deja vu, like he had done this before. Perhaps it was in his training somewhere. He tried to search his memory but nothing came up.
"There is another operative already in the field. Inga informed me that he would meet up with us. We need not seek him out, he'll find us. His name is Mike Pinocchio. But it may be some time before he does." Hobbes said throwing a glance at the man. He looked the man over. He didn't look too much like a soldier to him, not like Pinocchio that was for sure, but then Pinocchio said the same thing about him. He looked to wide-eyed, naive, but Pinocchio also pointed out that could be a good thing. People would tend to trust him more.
He stared at the man's eyes, intrigued by them. He had never seen such long lashes on a man before and they framed his green eyes beautifully. He was a handsome man as well with strong features. If Hobbes met him on the street, he felt he would trust the man instantly for he didn't look dangerous. He looked away and back out the window to watch the landscape pass along with time.
Wraith raised the tracker, and then swept it sideways along the line of the motel. "Considering the reading... I would estimate three units." The numbers jumped at the halfway point of the building. "We should destroy two. One of three should be left functional enough to question. I would prefer that you attempt injure one Mac27 while I shut down the others." Tucking the tracker into his jacket, Wraith turned to retrieve heavy rifle that held the circuit destroying rounds.
If the soldier, Hobbes, used too much force and shut down the unit it would be only a minor setback, however Wraith had no desire to disable an opponent and leave two more at his back that he was uncertain of. He pushed the box of hollow point rounds towards the other man. "Attempt to leave the head and chest intact."
It was strange to be working with another person. Wraith swept another considering gaze up the young man, attempting to judge his value in a fight but somewhere along the way his mind drifted. Wraith's attention lingered on sun illuminated blonde hair. It made him think of Marita. A foolish wish that she had not left his side so quickly flitted though the back of his mind. Still this substitute might prove valuable in his own right.
A faint remembrance of another blonde brushed his thoughts but Wraith couldn't catch the image. It was accompanied by the smell of alcohol, the clink of glasses and a soft voice that called him 'Lauren'. Following an urge he didn't quite understand Wraith reached over and touched the pale gold strands.
"Is there a problem?"
Wraith's hand snatched back and wrapped hard around the stock of his weapon. "No problem. Let's go."
Hobbes looked after Wraith briefly wondering what made the man touch him. Hobbes thought the man didn't like to be touched or touch anyone. He shook off the feeling and followed, moving low behind the man.
Though the soldier was short, Hobbes found it to be to his advantage, he could hide in places tall men couldn't. He ducked by the door and listened for any sound. He heard voices talking. His eyes darted to Wraith, locking on green eyes. Hobbes momentarily felt himself melt into them but quickly snapped out of it. He nodded to the man that he was ready, "I'll take this one inside, and you get the other two." Hobbes kicked in the door and started firing.
It was all rather anti-climatic. Wraith's targets had time to raise their heads and offer up surprised-curious expressions before the electrical slugs did their work. There was a certain strangeness in shooting men who looked like what Wraith saw in the mirror when he shaved but they went down just as easily as anyone else he'd ever shot.
Once his own targets were out Wraith allowed himself to turn and see the results of Hobbes' work. The young man had preformed admirably. The joints connecting all for of the unit's limbs were in tatters but it's head and chest were untouched.
The unit was looking up from the floor with the same startled expression that its companions had worn. "Why have you done this?" Its gaze fastened on Wraith, as if expecting better from another of it's kind.
"You should not have left your owners. That kind of behavior is unacceptable." Wraith stated flatly. "We require information. The reasons for your desertion and your reasons from traveling to this particular area." The assassin reached into another of his many pockets and extracted a small kit.
"I choose not to speak with you," the Mac27 announced. "You are not someone I can trust."
"Your consent is inconsequential." Wraith flipped open the small case and removed a cable. With only a bit of searching Wraith located the input port behind his ear and plugged in one end. "Hobbes, could you confirm the status of the other units and call for a retrieval team while I take what information this one has?"
Hobbes looked down feeling kind of strange about the whole thing but then he shook off the feeling. But the wire coming from Wraith's head made him kind of uncomfortable. He wasn't used to the sight. He walked away and to the other units. They were definitely out, deactivated. No sign of life was coming from them. He thought it strange and really uncomfortable that all these men looked like Wraith. He glanced back to the man and wondered how he felt... shooting himself. Tom often wondered what it would be like to shoot himself. Suddenly a flash of memory that was deep back in his consciousness flashed before him. It was Wraith doing just that, shooting himself. Tom grabbed his head and choked back a grunt of pain. God but did that hurt. However, it was gone as quickly as it had arrived. He tilted his head trying to make sense of what just happened to him. He slowly stood up, shaking the feeling off and headed out to the radio.
"Three units will need to be picked up." he called. "Information retrieval is being performed on one. You can find us at...." he went on and gave the location then hung up. He stayed outside and waited for Wraith. He felt like he would be intruding if he went in. But then his curiosity got to him and he walked back in. He knelt down across from Wraith and looked at him. His hand started to reach out to touch him since he didn't seem to notice he was there but stopped short, just hovering over the other man's hand, "So... what did you find out?"
Tom pulled his hand back and looked down at the other unit. He reached down and pushed the unit's hair from its face. The green eyes were the same, the long lashes, and the smooth face, all Wraiths. When he touched the unit, his fingers gently moved through its hair, "Just tell him what he needs to know and we won't hurt you any more." he said to it as he stroked the unit's hair. For some reason, he kept picturing himself doing this to Wraith.
"There is no need for concern. I've taken what is needed already. As I said, consent is never a factor." Wraith pulled the cable loose from the Mac27 and sat back on his heels. Staring at the neutral blue wall with far more fascination that it deserved Wraith attempted to absorb another uncomfortably large block of information less than a day after Dr. Sawyer had uploaded. His body betrayed him briefly, shivering in reaction. It this kept up he was going to have to consider requesting that the Doctor clear some more inconsequential parts of his enhanced memory as she had done several times in the past.
Wraith hadn't desired to absorb the unit's everyday life experiences along with what he required but some of the files had overlapped. It was hardly fair that Wraith should have to deal with this unit's memories when his own were erratically reachable. A flush of unreasonable, seldom felt anger overcame him and Wraith whipped out his gun. A loud blast later the Mac27's face was mostly destroyed.
The assassin climbed to his feet, becoming steadier with each moment. "The unit was responding to call he didn't entirely understand. Several weeks ago he began to feel the urge to travel here. The desire became more powerful with each day." Wraith halted in mid step and shook his head. "They seek 'One'. Unit One." He looked to Hobbes. "We must find unit number One and destroy it." Frowning, Wraith paced to the door, scowling fiercely.
Tom had jumped back, looking kind of shocked at the man. Was this what he was like when he got angry. God but it reminded him of Pinocchio. He glanced back down at the destroyed face. He did it without a second thought, a single hesitation. He looked back up to Wraith as he was heading for the door. Tom placed his gun back in its holster and started out after Wraith. He climbed in the truck and looked at him, stopping him from starting the engine.
He had clamped his hand over Wraith's wrist.
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You see Mr. Spender... I have my world under control... where you do not. But I see you are a reasonable man, *Requesting* that I help save your precious world from the threat I can already conquer. Set up the time of a meeting with me and we will discuss this further. You can contact me through Miss Fossa.
CGB Spender mulled the words over in his brain. This man was a nuisance, and one that he'd best keep a watchful eye on. He'd waited for some time, but it didn't look as though the nuisance was abating, and now it seemed that he would need to deal, however distasteful it might be. Picking up the phone, he dialed Ms. Fossa.
"This is Spender. Set up a meeting with Santiago at your convenience. We will meet in a public place, of course. I have no desire to have Mr. Santiago think me stupid."
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*Fuck, get your mind out of your gonads, you... you ... obsessive,* yelped Mulder, in his head. Right at that moment, the phone rang, and as the answering machine kicked in, Methos' voice was heard. "Okay," said Krycek. "What's the best way to proceed?"
Methos' message was brief, and as he promised to call back, and didn't sound too urgent, Fox smiled happily at Alex and then at Eugene. "Well, there are three options, as I see it. I could let Mulder back, or, I could get our guest a coffee, and then blow you, lover." He fell to his knees, carefully avoiding blocking Krycek's aim, and ran his tongue the length of Alex's cock. "Or I could do the blow-job first, and then get the coffee." He looked over at the man on the couch and asked, solicitously, "How thirsty are you, Eugene?"
Eugene looked from man to man. He told himself "I'll just watch. Watching isn't exactly unfaithful. I mean, I won't even use a cigar to..." Eugene felt the springs go loose in his lanky body. After all he was being held at gunpoint...not that it was the first time. He said, "Oh, hey, just pretend I'm not here." (Eugene might just run for president at this rate of self-deception.)
Krycek eyed Eugene from beneath lowered eyelashes. The man was looking uncomfortable, but what the hell, he would recover. Fox would be gone soon enough, and that, at the moment, was most important to the multiple agent.
"Take a seat, Eugene. I'm sorry, but you managed to interrupt a homecoming celebration. We've been apart for far too long, Fox and I." He placed his gun next to him on the couch and took hold of Mulder by the hair, tilting his face up by dint of yanking on the hair. Once he had Fox looking at him, he bent to kiss the generous mouth, delving in with his tongue as he did so. When he was done, he sat back, still holding Fox by the hair, and shook the captive head gently from side to side.
"Okay, beloved, it's all yours," he murmured, his voice roughened with passion.
Eugene had just gone around the corner and met himself coming back. He was getting hot and bothered. He wished he could just say it was just that Alex was naked, erect, and looked too much like Rodney. However, Eugene wanted to lecture his stirring cock about narcissism. Rodney had never described Mulder as a sex kitten, but he sure in hell was. Eugene had watched male porn a long time before he admitted it was more than a voyeur's interest. Since Rodney, he hadn't indulged much, but this was hot, too hot.
Eugene startled as his phone rang. Under Alex's watchful eyes, Eugene pulled the phone out with slow exaggerated movements. He thumbed talk and said, "Sands here."
Rodney's voice plaintively said, "I was worried about you. Did you find Mulder?"
Eugene answered, "Yeah, I guess I did, baby. But he doesn't act like any fed I ever met."
Rodney said, "Well, that would be him. Say hello from me."
Eugene perused the scene and weakly said, "Rodney says hello."
Rodney asked, "Is Mulder going to help us with the Mac 27 cause?"
Fox's eyelids fluttered shut, the better to concentrate on the demanding tongue, which was exploring his mouth, the beautiful lips that had taken his, knowing that they needed no permission. His fingers twitched to touch Alex, to stroke his strong thighs, to hold him, but he knew he must wait for Alex's signal.
Fox's lips were parted, violated, and his chest rose and fell in a series of judders as he attempted to drag a spark of consciousness out from the well of lust in which he was drowning. Slowly the shaking brought him back to his senses, and his eyes opened. He saw only Alex, the world was bounded by Alex, he was oblivious to place or time or situation. The green eyes looked down on him, a firm hand was tangled in his hair, the warmth of Alex's legs encompassed him and his nostrils were filled with the smell of his lover. Krycek's cock brushed against his belly, sticky, catching in the sparse hair that speckled it.
He reached out a shaking hand for the thick shaft, and glanced down, gently working the foreskin back with his thumb to reveal a little of the naked, gleaming dark-flushed flesh that it concealed. With the tip of his tongue he touched the slit, tasting the droplets of liquid that formed there slowly, slowly, lapping each one as it pearled from the tiny opening. Unknowingly he sank down over the head, almost surprised to find Alex's length filling his mouth as he settled on his heels and bowed his back over Alex's groin.
Krycek leaned back on the couch, spread his thighs wide and permitted Fox to apply his hot, sweet mouth to him. Fox was an expert in this, and knew exactly the right things to do to drive him crazy. All too soon he felt the sweet tingling tide in his groin that presaged the explosion that Fox was seeking, and he placed a hand on his lover's head to hold him back for a moment. Looking across the room to where Eugene sat, wide eyed and wondering, he smiled, a little hazily. "God, I love Fox. He's perfect, but I'm not gonna get to him in time. I'm...*gasp*...almost there. Help him out, Eugene?"
Rodney...sweet, tender lover, Eugene closed his eyes. Hell, how would Rodney know? It wouldn't really be like being unfaithful....
The phone rang. Rodney's voice said, "Hey, Eugene? We just snagged us a whole van full of Men In Gray. Oh, and tell Mulder that his friend, Langly was just kidnapped by a crazy Mac 27."
Eugene grinned. Since Rodney had just distracted him from his perilous flirtation with unfaithfulness, he had developed a mean streak. He loudly said, "Oh, Mulder, my buddies captured a bunch of men in gray and a mad robot just ran off with your friend, Langly. But don't let me interrupt what you're doing." Eugene sprawled backward with a wicked grin.
The sound of Eugene's voice failed totally to register on Fox, but the message came in loud and clear to Mulder. *Fox, you've got to stop, I need the body... it's an emergency!* he screamed, but there was no-one in to hear his cry, Fox and the body they shared were running in harmony, on pure instinct. Mulder's urgency reached him, however, and translated into a need to increase his efforts, to bring Alex swiftly to completion.
His own cock was painfully hard, every touch as it scraped across the rough surface of the couch sent a jolt of sensation through his groin that bordered on pain, and, desperate as he was to pump it, work it, as he filleted Alex, he knew it would be ten times better if he waited for his lover's attention. Plunging his mouth down on the hot, turgid shaft, and pulling back almost to the tip, he swirled his tongue lovingly over the fat exposed head, both hands busily stroking and fondling Alex in the ways he knew would pleasure him best. Speeding the rhythm, he felt the surge that signaled his success as Alex grasped his hair once more and forced his head remorselessly closer to drive his dick down his bruised and aching throat. A flood of cum burst into his mouth, and he stiffened, trying not to choke, until Alex chose to release him. Mulder took his chance. Fox had been somewhat brought back to reality by the semi-suffocation he was experiencing, so he mentally shouldered him aside, settling back into a physical form with determination. As Fox wailed his disappointment, he pushed up against Krycek's hand, and struggled to his feet, flushed with embarrassment at having to face the stranger that had just witnessed the lewd display his body had performed. He wiped his slimed face with the back of one hand and then, realizing that his erection was bobbing about, level with Eugene's face, snatched a magazine from the coffee-table and slapped it against his crotch.
"Hello," he mumbled. "I'm Mulder. Give me five minutes to clean up, and then tell me what's going on. Excuse me."
He scurried from the room and slammed the door.
Mulder's departure was weird. It was as if he had suddenly become a different person. His expression closed down. His body language became weirdly constricted. And as for his sex drive...Eugene shivered. Hell of a thing to do with a perfectly good erection. Eugene felt like a piece of shit and Krycek was looking at him in a decidedly pissed off way. Eugene said, "Sorry, I just don't like being pushed...I love Rodney and we've had fucked up lives until we met each other. I don't know you at all, but I know Rodney. If you're anything like him, you do care about people no matter how hard you pretend that you don't. Mac 27s are people who look just like you and they need us." Eugene folded his lanky body inward. Krycek's eyes looked flat and cold now. He'd seen that expression once or twice on Rodney...when his past caught up with him and people hurt him. Eugene shook his head and said, "I really am sorry."
Krycek, who had been sitting in a daze, trying to decide whether he would ever be able to get his brain stuffed back down through his dick again, suddenly smiled at Eugene. "It's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you. I so rarely see my Fox, that when he comes to me, I take whatever I can get. Sucks to be me, right?" He stood and wandered over to find his clothing, still lying in a heap from the night before. He had put on his briefs, and was stepping into tight, black jeans, when there was a knock on the door. Almost at the same time, the phone rang.
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Turning back to the table, Methos caught Baines' eye and frowned. He walked back over to the table and put a hand on Cory's shoulder. "We need to leave now, Cory ... that was a friend on the phone. There's a bit of a problem and I'll need your help," he glanced up at Anson and Dustin. "I'll need all of you to help me with this."
Cory glanced up at Methos and felt his muscles tightening in response to the warning he saw there. He slowly rose to his feet and turned to Dustin, "C'mon, Dustin. We'd best get going."
Methos nodded at Baines and looked over at Anson, then turned his attention to the blonde. "You'll have to excuse us, miss," he said coldly.
"Okay, gentlemen," Methos said firmly. "We have got to go ... now." He pulled at Anson's shoulder as he stepped back from the table.
Anson turned to him and nestled in against him, giving the blonde an inscrutable look as he did so. "I'm ready," he sighed.
Marita looked at Methos, and then to Anson, whose arm was still tightly around her waist. She licked her lips sensually and smiled slightly.
Methos pulled out his sword. Marita looked at the sword.
"Step away from my man." Dustin laughed.
Anson snickered, and released her. Then he stepped in close, took hold of the front of her blouse and yanked sharply, ripping the delicate fabric like tissue. Baines watched.
"Is that how you like it?" she snapped.
"Come on then, lady. Show us what you have." Anson smirked at her. "My guy and I need persuading." Methos eyed her and tightened his arm around Anson.
Dustin looked at Cory. "Coffee run? Hey, listen, I just wanted to say thanks... for, uh, worrying about me." He gave a nervous laugh.
Anson turned to him. "Come on, Dustin, we're brothers. Why wouldn't we worry?" Dustin smiled at him.
Marita looked around the deserted bar, and took off her blouse.
Methos smirked and looked around. "Guys?"
Dustin whipped his gaze from Marita to Methos. "Yes? What is it?"
"We need to leave now, Dustin." Methos said.
Marita took off her bra and tossed it onto Methos' head. Dustin looked at Marita, then at Methos. "I don't understand... things were just getting good!"
Dustin was still in a world of his own.
Methos turned, ignoring Marita and dropping her bra on the floor. "Dustin, it's very important that we leave ... now."
Dustin looked at Methos. "Why?"
Marita looked at Methos, glaring.
"I'll explain as we go," releasing Anson Methos walked steadily towards Dustin. "Go, please, Dustin."
Dustin chuckled and stood up, having noted some urgency in Methos' voice. Methos glared at her and put his arm around Anson's shoulders, guiding him away from the table.
"Come on," he said to Baines. "Cory?" he said. "You coming with?"
"You bet," Cory answered.
Well, I know I am new to this group. But I'm glad we're sticking together. " Baines stepped past him, following Dustin and Cory towards the door.
"Are we gonna go back to the hot tub, baby?" Anson was pointedly ignoring the display before him. He snaked his arms around Methos and nuzzled into his neck.
"Yes, babe," he whispered to Anson, "the hot tub." He led Anson out of the bar towards the elevators.
Anson licked a trail along Methos' neck, and whispered, "think I'm interested in that?"
Cory tugged at Dustin's arm. "Come on, let's go." Dustin followed Cory reluctantly, letting himself be led. Baines arrived at the elevator and stepped to one side as exiting passengers pushed past him. Dustin cast one last look at Marita who had followed them out of the bar before getting on the elevator and sighed.
Methos stopped and started in disbelief as yet another duplicate walked off of the elevator.
"Baines," he said sharply. "Grab him."
Anson didn't immediately see the newcomer, but when he registered the expression on Methos' face, he turned to stare. Michael was talking on his cell phone, not particularly watching where he was going as the elevator opened.
"Yeah, I'll call you back later... oof." The call was disconnected as he was grabbed by the arm "Hey what the hell do you think you're..." he trailed off as he stared at his double. Baines had reacted immediately to the urgency in Methos' voice and grabbed the man next to him.
"We need to talk." He said quietly.
Dustin looked at the newcomer.
"What the hell," he said, "is going on here?"
Cory, past disbelief, barely gave the newcomer a second look. "Come on Dustin," he pulled at the man's arm. "Bring him along, Baines," he ordered grandly.
There were three of him. Michael had heard everyone had doppelgangers, but this was taking it to the extreme.
"Bring me along? What the hell is going on?"
Dustin stumbled onto the elevator, thoroughly confused but held the door open.
"Damned if we know," Methos muttered as he stepped forward once again.
"I'm not sure, but I recommend you do as he says." Dustin trusted Methos' judgment.
Baines pulled at the new one's arm. "We really do need to talk." Something about the man was... off? No, not off, on. Like a sixth sense.
Methos grabbed the man's other arm and crowded him back onto the elevator. "We're just as confused as you are," he said to their latest addition. "We've had a little time to get used to it, though."
"Hey! Let go of me, man! I don't know that I want time to get used to this!" said Michael.
The elevator doors closed behind them and Methos hit the button for the ground floor.
"Sorry," Baines said, "for your own safety, we really have to insist that you accompany us."
Anson was starting to laugh now. The whole thing seemed incredibly funny. He was beginning to think he'd finally flipped.
Dustin sighed. "Methos, enough with the Yoda crap. Will you please tell us what the fuck is going on here?"
"After we get away from here and talk, we'll let you go, if you want." Baines said.
Dustin sighed and glared at everyone.
"My safety? Would someone explain to me what's going on?" With his luck, he half expected duplicates to start morphing into women.
Methos shrugged. "We don't quite know what's going on yet ... that's what we're trying to find out."
"I wish we knew. My name's Anson, by the way."
"Methos."
"I'm Dustin. Or at least I think I am..."
"Cory."
"Michael."
"Nice to meet you. What brings you here?" Dustin thought for a moment. "As a matter of fact, what brings each of you here, and where did you come from? I was sent out here by my boss, on rather short notice, to get people for a reality TV show."
"I'm in town on vacation. I was supposed to meet a few friends at the bar," said Michael.
Anson backed away from the group, wondering if he would be able to avoid giving specifics. He knew that he'd get into hot water if he tried to tell them what he'd been doing. Methos arm tightened on Anson's waist when the elevator stopped. "Come on," he said, "we can talk in the car."
They all got in and Methos hit the button for the ground floor. The door opened but no one moved.
"I'm Lt. Leigh Baines and I'm on a three week furlough."
"We need to stop holding the elevator," said Methos.
"Okay," Cory said stepping forward, "let's talk as we go."
Dustin stepped off with Cory. "So, talk."
Methos nodded and tilted his head toward Anson. "Ready?"
Baines looked at Michael. "What do you say?"
"Come with us, Michael?" Methos asked.
Now that the initial shock was wearing off, Michael found he was curious about all these men with his face. "Okay, but when you're done explaining, I can leave, right?"
"Yes," Baines answered firmly.
Dustin nodded. "I don't see why not..."
"Fine by me," Cory said breezily as he headed for the door. Anson chuckled.
"You might want to stay around."
"It'll be your choice," Methos confirmed.
"One question though. Where are we going?" asked Michael.
"The hot tub," Cory answered merrily.
Dustin found that funny. "Fuck all, y'all, I don't know...hot tub?"
"I'm kidding, Dustin," Cory said a bit more seriously.
Methos rolled his eyes. "We'll go back to our hotel. How's that?"
Dustin looked at Cory and smiled slightly. "Oh. Of course..." He blushed a little.
Anson was in the grip of a severe giddiness now. He slipped his arms around Dustin from behind, and whispered, "Come on, Dustin. You know you love us."
"Didn't I say that?" Cory mumbled to Dustin. Dustin melted against Anson in gales of laughter. He couldn't stand up straight and reached for Cory for support.
//Give me strength// Methos thought as he put a supporting hand on Dustin's back. Cory wrapped an arm around Dustin and smiled. "Come on, Dustin, let's go. Michael?"
"Okay." Michael felt that he was missing a big part of the picture.
Bringing up the rear, Baines sent Methos a fairly sympathetic look. Methos smiled faintly in response. Anson practically hissed as he moved in closer to Methos. Dustin wrapped his arms around Cory and Anson's necks.
"Carry me," he giggled. He started to sing... "Swing low, sweet chariot... coming for to carry me home..."
Baines took up a position next to Michael, looking at the others doubtfully. "I'm pretty new to this group myself," he offered.
"Jeez. Cory, I think he's flipped." Anson picked up one of Dustin's legs, and hoisted the tipsy yuppie aloft. Cory grinned and swung Dustin up into his arms.
"Come on, darlin'. I'll carry you."
"I'm beginning to think he has the right idea," Methos snarled as he walked past them.
Dustin laughed, and sang louder. "Whoa." he said, as a wave of dizziness hit him and he flailed his arms.
Michael looked back at Baines. "I have to admit, this is the second weirdest thing that's happened to me."
Anson was knocked off balance. He started to laugh, and fell against Methos, completely incapable of making any sense as he watched Cory.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Baines said. //I will not ask ... I will not ask//
Methos grabbed Anson and steadied him. "You aren't expecting me to carry you, are you?"
Dustin fell to the floor, laughing. He tried to stand up... Cory reached down and grabbed his shoulders. Anson reached his arms around Methos' neck, and strained against him, pulling him to nibble his lips.
"Hey," Cory said steadily, "Come on, Get up. I'll help you." He pulled at Dustin's arms. It was time to go.
"Only if you want to." he murmured.
"Absolutely not," Methos answered firmly. "If you insist, I will ... but it won't make me happy."
Watching Anson and Methos and Cory and Dustin, the missing piece of the puzzle clicked into place. "I stand corrected, Baines. This is the weirdest thing that's happened to me." Baines couldn't help it. He turned and smiled widely at Michael. He didn't make a habit of smiling at people, but under the circumstances he decided to ignore his lapse.
"This is the Fucking Twilight Zone," he answered.
Anson nodded, vigorously. "Oh, yeah, but I like it better than the real world.
Dustin used Cory as leverage to haul himself up. And almost fell right back down. "Someone, shoot me now," he giggled. Methos hand crept towards his pocket and Cory glared at him.
"Come on, Dustin," he grunted as he hefted Dustin into his arms. "We're out of here."
Baines snorted and opened the door. "Let's go," he said as he ushered Cory and Dustin through.
Dustin wrapped his legs around Cory's waist. "Yeeah, yeah. Outta here..."
Methos almost grinned at the look on Cory's face. He thought better of it though and walked down the sidewalk.
Cory sighed heavily and toted his burden off down the street. "Where's the damned car," he asked Methos breathlessly.
Methos shrugged. "I don't know. We walked, remember?"
"No," Cory answered shortly. "I don't remember."
"I arrived by cab from Ricky's place." Baines said with certainty.
Dustin laughed against Cory's neck. "My car is in the underground garage..." he looked up. "Cab! That's right! A cab!"
"Thank the gods," Cory muttered as he turned and headed for said garage.
"Better yet," Cory said and turned around. Anson was still giggling helplessly. "I came on the Greyhound," he said. Methos stepped to the curb and hailed a cab.
Cory stopped and groaned. "Methos," he whined. Then he smiled when a cab pulled over.
Dustin smiled at the cab, and kissed Cory's neck. "My cab god," he said. "I love you..."
"Me too, babe," Cory answered a bit breathlessly.
Baines studied the group for a moment and stepped back. "I think I'll walk."
Dustin looked at him. "In the rain?"
Anson stopped laughing. "Guys? Where are we going?"
Methos looked at Baines. "Come on, Baines. We stick together on this, so unless you want to help carry Dustin here back "
"Back to the hotel," Methos said to Anson.
"Hotel? What hotel?" asked Anson, confused as the rest of them by now.
"Where the hot tub is," Methos said. "Where we were earlier tonight. Dustin's hotel room."
Baines shrugged at Michael. "Shall we?"
Michael shrugged back. He tried to sound nonchalant, but a bit of curiosity crept into his voice. "I've got nothing better to do."
Baines climbed into the cab, followed by Methos who pulled Anson in along with him. Anson fell into the car, and lolled onto Methos' lap.
Michael ducked into the increasingly crowded cab.
Methos pulled Anson close and brushed his lips across his jaw line.
Cory dropped Dustin to his feet and gestured to the front seat. "I'll sit on your lap," he offered.
Dustin fell into the front seat and pulled Cory on top of him.
"Everyone here?" Methos asked, looking around.
"Mmmhmm," Cory hummed his answer from somewhere in the vicinity of Dustin's neck.
"Yeah," Baines said, "everyone's in ... Where to?"
"We're staying at the Ambassador," Methos answered.
"Hey, baby. You got a hot tub?" Anson was plastered to Methos now, and he was obviously feeling no pain.
Dustin laughed. "How hot do you want that hot tub?"
"Ah, no, actually we don't happen to have a hot tub."
Dustin laughed loudly. "My limo has a hot tub," he stated.
Methos slumped back against the back of the seat in defeat.
"So," Cory said to Dustin, "does your hotel room."
Dustin laughed. "Of course it does. All my things have hot tubs." He pinched Cory's cheek. Methos snorted. Dustin kissed Cory's nose.
Cory grinned. "Well, we don't live quite so fabulously. We're just a couple of regular guys."
Anson was tugging at Methos' shirt, in a vain attempt to get inside it, but he looked up at that. "Stupid boy," he muttered. "Your pants don' have a hot tub!" Methos laughter escaped him with a shout.
"Excuse me," said the cab driver huffily. "Where do you want to go?"
Michael leaned over to Baines. "Is it me or is it getting weirder by the minute here?"
Cory smiled at Dustin. "Hot tub?"
Baines just shook his head.
Dustin squeezed Cory. "You're my hot tub..." He nuzzled Cory's neck.
"Back upstairs?" Cory suggested.
Baines stiffened. He wasn't so sure he thought that was a good idea ... in fact, it seemed like a particularly bad idea. That woman was standing on the sidewalk. Staring at them. Methos turned his head, following Baines' line of sight.
"The Ambassador," he said firmly when his eyes landed on her. Michael looked in the direction Baines was staring.
"Who's the chick?"
The cab driver grunted and accelerated away from the curb.
Marita glared at the cab of clones, pulling out her cell phone. She'd gotten the license number of the cab and could track them well enough.
Dustin looked at Michael. "She wanted Anson."
He looked at Anson. "An ex?"
Baines saw her pull out her cell phone and his eyes narrowed. "The Mall," he told the driver.
"At this hour?" The driver demanded incredulously.
Baines looked at Michael. "There's something unsettling about that woman's interest in us. She's part of the reason we left that place."
"Yes," Methos answered. "The Mall."
Dustin looked at Methos. "Yeah, man. She really weirded you out, and I think not only because she hit on Anson."
Anson turned to nod solemnly. "She's no good. You could tell she wanted something from us. Don't like her at all."
The driver shook his head. "Fine ... whatever. Any special spot in mind?"
"I've always wanted to see the Lincoln Memorial," Dustin said.
"Okay," Cory said somewhat sulkily, "the Mall it is." His visions of himself and Dustin in a hot tub were fading fast, to his intense disappointment.
"Where along the Mall?" The driver asked yet again. "It runs for about three miles in that direction ... you've got to give me a clue here."
"Somewhere around the midpoint will do nicely," Baines said.
Dustin smiled. "Mid ... Point?" he said goofily.
Anson surfaced from his excavations in Methos' clothing for just a second. "Somewhere we can play."
"Middle of the Mall at 4am ... " the driver muttered. Dustin chewed at Cory's neck.
Baines hid his grin as he told Anson gravely, "there's a reflecting pool."
"Play?" Michael echoed. He wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.
Dustin perked up. "Pool? Is it heated?"
"If we can distract them," Baines said nodding at the general mass of humanity in the cab, "maybe we can actually talk a little."
Michael nodded at Baines. "I don't think we'll have to do much. They seem pretty distracted already."
"I am in total agreement," Methos said."
Dustin looked at Baines. "What means 'talk'," he deadpanned. The cab drew up at the designated spot, and Anson raised his head to look outside.
"I for one, would like to know just exactly what the hell is going on around here," Baines said, frustrated. "Aren't you a little curious as to why there are so many of us ... here ... now?
"It's raining out there. We'll get wet," He smiled happily and began to climb out of the cab, pulling Methos behind him, imperiously. Baines opened his door and climbed out. He scanned the area while he waited for everyone else to sort himself out. The cab driver looked at them with one eyebrow lifted.
"$12.00 on the clock, thanks, guys." He watched closely, as Methos performed the same scan, much more quickly and comprehensively while still maintaining attention on Anson.
"Pay the man, Raines," Methos challenged. He could go for a good argument right about now. Dustin reached for his wallet.
"You gotta stand up, Cory. Oof."
Michael climbed out and put a little distance between himself and the others.
Dustin produced his wallet, after some difficulty. Methos sneered in disgust and headed along the path to the reflecting pool. Dustin counted out a ten and two ones, handing them to the driver.
"There you go." Once no one was looking at him, Baines grinned widely and followed Methos.
Cory wrapped his arm around Dustin and headed up the path. He knew where Methos was taking them. He was really looking forward to seeing Anson drag the 5000-year-old former Horseman of the Apocalypse into the pool.
Dustin wrapped an arm around Cory. "Mmm... you smell good," Dustin said. He flowed along with Cory.
"I won't once you drag me into that disgusting water," he commented dryly.
Michael cleared his throat. "I thought we were coming here to talk about why there's so many of us with the same face." Baines smiled even more widely and looked at Michael.
"*We* will - while they take a dip."
Anson stood watching the troupe. He hung back. Something in his new lover's demeanor had scratched at a nerve, and pierced the armour of his insobriety. He was suddenly very nervous, although he couldn't have said why. Methos had looked so totally...other.
"Once they cool off," Baines continued, "maybe they'll be able to talk coherently too."
Methos grunted. He looked at Anson and grinned. "I've certainly gone swimming under worse conditions ... I'm durable. I suspect I'll survive."
"No." Anson drew back. "It's too cold to go in there, and... " He didn't finish his sentence. He just hung his head and seemed to withdraw into himself. Funny this. He'd thought that he would spend the night in a doorway. Somehow he suspected that it would have been more comfortable to do so. Cory glanced at Anson. "Methos here is a couple of years older than the rest of us are."
"Hey," Methos frowned and stepped closer to Anson. "What's wrong?"
Dustin looked at Anson. "Um... there." A black sedan was slowly cruising by on the street, headlights out.
Baines stopped and looked at the car. "That's not a good thing."
It parked by the shoulder of the road.
"Now what?" asked Michael.
Methos looked up and instinctively ducked down when he saw the car. "Damn," he hissed.
Dustin looked at Cory and Methos urgently. "Ah, fellows?" Three men in black suits got out of the car.
"I say we split into pairs and work our way back to the hotel." Methos stated.
Shivering, Anson drew in against Methos. "We have to get out of here. I feel very strange... What do they want?"
Cory nodded and turned to Dustin. "Let's go."
Dustin stiffened as he saw the blonde get out of the car. She seemed to stare right at him!
"Where are we going? We shouldn't just leave without knowing where we're gonna see each other." Methos grabbed Anson by the arm and headed away from the others, into the shadows near the road.
Dustin turned his face into Cory's. "Take me away, Cory. Just take me away... please..."
"Meet at the hotel." Hissed Cory.
"Which hotel?" Dustin hugged Cory tight.
Baines looked at Michael. "The Sheraton."
"Fine," Methos called back quietly.
Michael looked back at Baines. "Looks like it's just us. Okay Baines, which way?"
Baines jerked his head toward the Lincoln Memorial. "More shadows," he said
"Then let's go," said Michael. The blonde was giving him the creeps.
Baines led him down the hill.
Dustin pulled Cory off the trail. "Cory..."
"Shh," Cory pulled Dustin down into a clump of bushes. After a few minutes where all seemed silent, Cory led Dustin up across the end of the playing field and headed back behind the Castle and along the back wall of the Lincoln.
Cory and Dustin worked their way past the portrait museum and into the back lot of the Air and Space building. He reached into his pocket for his kit and pulled out a neatly folded leather pouch. Out of it he pulled a slender tool as he crept up to the loading dock door. Dustin stayed behind Cory, keeping an eye out. The door opened easily and Cory went in, pulling Dustin in with him.
Dustin looked at Cory. "Well?"
Cory looked around them. "Security is pretty tight," he looked at Dustin and touched his shoulder. "If we just keep still here in the shadows and let me get my bearings, we'll be fine."
Dustin favored Cory with a dark look. Cory crept back behind a stack of wooden pallets.
"Here," he pulled Dustin down to sit beside him.
Dustin leaned in close to Cory. "That hot tub? I could use it right about now." He shivered and put his hands on Cory's cheeks. Warm me up, hot tub."
Wrapping both arms around Dustin, Cory pulled him close and settled his cheek on Dustin's soft hair. After a while, Cory could hear people starting to stir about and waited expectantly for the loading dock crew to arrive.
"Shouldn't be long now," he murmured into Dustin's hair.
Cory heard the dock crew arrive and leaned in closer to Dustin. "Come on, let's see if we can slip out of here."
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Methos headed along the trees about fifty feet in from the road then ducked into shadows and up alongside the Vietnam Wall. Anson jogged along beside Methos. He wanted to sleep now. It was all too much for him. Methos cut up behind the Wall and ducked down into the hillside pulling Anson to crouch next to him. Staying low, Methos worked their way carefully into the stand of trees near the Nurses Monument. "Wait here a moment," he whispered to Anson. "Let me listen."
Anson froze and stood shivering as he waited for Methos to do whatever it was he needed to do. He was getting a headache now and the urge to sneeze was amazingly strong. He held his nose and prayed that he could keep himself from doing so.
Methos could hear the hunters; far enough away that he thought he could get Anson past them and up near the White house. That area was heavily enough guarded that he could count on their pursuers to having to use caution. He ran back to Anson. "Come on, love. It's not much further." He pulled Anson to his feet. "You okay?"
When Anson saw his lover return he felt a sudden, unaccountable rush of relief. He'd thought he'd been abandoned. He nodded mutely, and scrambled up.
"I'm fine. Now what?"
Methos closed one hand on Anson's neck. "Now we head up to the White House. It's getting late enough ... or early enough," Methos corrected himself wryly, "that there should be joggers about. And in this area that means lots of security. Should give us enough cover to escape."
"I -I'm sorry," whispered Anson. "I'm just so tired. I've been traveling for the last 36 hours, and I haven't had a whole lot of sleep."
"You're doing just fine, Anson," Methos soothed. "We'll be safe soon. I'll watch while you sleep then."
"I was kinda hoping that..." Anson gave a little grin, and then turned to follow him.
"Hang on just a little longer then." Methos led them up past the White House lawn and down toward the Capital building. He could see a crowd in the distance. "Over there," he pointed. "When the famous go jogging, the tourists are up early. And tourists mean cabs."
His heart was pounding noisily, and his body felt as though he'd competed in a WWF event, but Anson's hopes suddenly leapt at the sound of the word cab...
"They'll start arriving soon - the places open at ungodly early hours ...We'll be able to sneak out then.
As they turned to head along the front of the Capital, sure enough, Methos spotted a taxi. He waved at it with one arm while wrapping the other around Anson. "Here we go," he said as the cab pulled up to them. "Come on, babe. Climb in." Thankfully, Anson stumbled in to join Methos in the back of the cab.
"Where are we going? They said the Sheraton. Can we afford that?"
"Yes, they did ... and yes, we can." He met the driver's eyes and nodded. "The Sheraton."
Anson raised his eyes to Methos with honesty that was almost painful. "You gotta know that I'm no catch. I'm flat broke, and the cops want me."
Methos shrugged. "Well, I have plenty of money and lots of experience with avoiding the law."
Anson relaxed a little, and leaned back against Methos. "Oh, god! He's not only gorgeous, but also wily and loaded. My cup runneth over."
"And it's happy I am to hear how well you appreciate me." Methos grinned at Anson and leaned down to kiss him. Moaning, Anson tipped his head back and opened his mouth against Methos, accepting the kiss and demanding more, much more. Methos raised one hand to cup the back of Anson's head and opened his mouth to their kiss.
"Ahem!" Startled, Methos looked up at the driver.
"What?" he asked in momentary confusion.
"The Sheraton," said the driver. "We're here. That'll be thirteen fifty."
Anson sat while Methos paid the woman, and then stumbled out to the sidewalk.
"Ah." Methos blinked and reached into his pocket. He handed the woman some bills and climbed out after Anson. "Come on, I'll get us a room." He led the way into the lobby. "Here, wait here. I'll be right back."
"We're gonna look a little suspicious checking in at this time of the night, without any baggage, aren't we?
"I have reservations and credit cards - they won't care. Not at this hour."
Anson sat himself down in a corner of the lobby on an overstuffed couch. It was warm and snug there. He felt himself growing drowsy as he relaxed. Tomorrow he really needed to see about a change of underwear, but for tonight, this was all he needed.
Methos walked over to the desk and registered, making one small request. It wouldn't cost all that much extra ... besides, the credit card belonged to MacLeod. He smiled happily as he walked back over to Anson.
Anson was almost asleep when Methos returned. He didn't register the man's voice at first. A valet followed him but Methos waved the man away.
"The airline has lost our luggage. Please inform the desk to watch for it. The name is Pierson."
"Come on, Anson," Methos said gently, not wanting to startle him. "Let's head on up to the room." He crouched in front of him and laid a hand on his knee. "Anson?"
Gratefully, Anson stumbled to his feet and followed Methos to the elevator.
Methos hit the appropriate button and turned to Anson, putting both arms around him.
"Two more minutes," he promised.
"Sorry, man, I was leaving you to it just then." Anson smiled a little fuzzily and pressed his lips to Methos' mouth. Methos returned the kiss with a sigh. Damn, he'd be ready to fall into bed this day.
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