Famous Last Words #8
Title: Famous Last Words
Author: jendavis
Fandom/ Pairing The Losers (comic 'verse, with some help from the movie), eventual Jensen/Cougar
Rating: R overall
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: Cougar was bleeding all over the bomb in his lap, the last time Jensen saw him. But that was then.
Link to Master List & Previous Chapters
---
Cougar had felt a little better after sleeping on the beach for seven stupidly careless hours, but far from rested.
Another twelve hours crashed out in a stolen hotel room hadn't helped as much as he'd hoped, either, and it was making him uneasy. As much as he would've liked to tell himself he was coming down with something- a cold, even the flu- he wasn't an idiot. Something was missing. A few cells, maybe, or a hair-thin layer of muscle, somewhere.
He supposed he should've felt lucky his brain was still intact, that it hadn't been worse, but he knew how luck worked, and mostly just wondered how much time he had before it turned into something worse.
It wasn't the sort of thing he'd want to talk about on the best of days, but staring at himself in the mirror, examining himself for lesions and fingers arms that looked too thin, he was maybe ready to admit that it would've been nice, having the option to tell someone he didn't want to fucking talk about it.
Of course, that pretty much meant Jensen, who he'd be seeing in two days, who couldn't do anything about it, and who'd probably just tell him more bad news the moment he got on the line.
Still, though, this entire line of thinking is enough to push him out the door, all the way out to the airport, and onto the next Chicago flight. If he's just going to be checking the clock every three minutes, he might as well get the traveling out of the way.
This time, once the plane is in the air and he's thinking about finding something that looks like home, he stays put.
---
Jensen wasn't sure how long the flight lasted, being as how he was unconscious for at least a little while, and the assholes had taken his watch when they'd divested him of everything besides his clothes.
That, actually, was nearly enough to make him like them, and even though they hadn't gone so far into character as to be wearing dark glasses and matching suits, they were definitely the quietly surly type. As far as kidnappings went, this one was fairly comfortable, even if his jeans felt like they were going to fall off.
He was crammed into the window seat of what felt like a very small plane, and surrounded by security, because apparently they thought he was insane enough to try hijacking a plane with no weapons or even shoes. Stegler was in the next row up, across the aisle, talking in hushed tones to the blonde woman sitting next to him.
He closed his eyes again, out of complete fucking boredom, vaguely aware of the fact that he could probably start one hell of a ruckus if he wanted to, but that only worked in the movies. But soon, he promised himself. Once they were on land again, and he had an exit that didn't involve hurtling down at the earth at a thousand miles an hour, the ruckus would ensue.
---
They threw a hood over his eyes as soon as the plane started to descend, in case Jensen was so good at geography he could tell what airport they were flying into based on the shapes of a few lakes and a highway grid, but the best chance to get gone is once they're transferring him into another vehicle.
Besides, this was always going to have to happen, at some point. And yeah, it would've been nice to be prepared, to not be going in- literally- with blinders on, but it's not like that's something he had a lot of experience with, anyway. It's been the story of his life, more or less.
So whatever. Most of the time, his job was to break into a place and then break out again. This way, his job was already half done.
Jensen's mental pep talks were getting weirder every year.
---
Jensen could feel the concrete changing underneath his feet, becoming smoother as they stepped inside, then quieter as they turned to cross over a swath of commercial carpeting. That the elevator they boarded next was heading downwards was no surprise, and the same went for the return of the carpeting.
He was jerked to a halt again by the tight grip on his cuffed arms, forced to wait for a moment, before being pushed across another change in the floor. Cold metal, then, that echoed underneath their footsteps.
The room was a lot brighter than he'd thought it would be, almost blinding after the darkness inside the hood, and it took him a few moments to make out any features at all. Three walls made of concrete brick, painted white, and the fourth, behind him, made of reinforced glass. The door itself was metal, but didn't shine with the same polished sheen as the floor.
Most surprising was the fact that there was something in the corner that looked like a toilet, or at least what a toilet would look like if designed by Apple. Already, from where Jensen stood, it looked depressingly seamless. Anything he could find in there to fashion into a tool was out of reach.
He was going to be here for a while, then.
And that, right there, was where the flight response began to kick in, but it only lasted a moment before the current ran through him and he was falling to the floor.
---
"More news, now, on the massive leak of documents describing contracts between the US DOD and Goliath, a top secret project that has a lot of critics wondering what it's all for. As you know, this story just becomes stranger and stranger. While the authorities search for the perpetrator of the leak, and Goliath officials seek to minimize the damage, thousands of people, around the world, are reading and discussing the files."
It was nearly noon on October 7th, and Cougar had been sitting in an uncomfortable terminal chair for nearly three hours.
On the television screen next to the airport monitors, the hourly news cycle was starting again, only this time, he was paying attention.
"It's becoming apparent that part of this research, at least, includes the creation of containment units, what some sources are calling molecular-level prisons. No word, as of yet, why the DOD is interested in this kind of technology this, or how, exactly, this relates to Goliath's massive investment into higher education, but we will be bringing you this afternoon's press conference at the Goliath Office in Saint Paul, Minnesota, with reports and updates throughout the day, here, on CNN."
As soon as they cut to a commercial, Cougar began trying to sort out what he knew.
One, this had Jensen's fingerprints all over it. Two, he probably wasn't the only one who knew it.
A woman's prerecorded voice came over the terminal's PA system to announce that the local time was twelve noon, and Cougar locked his eyes on the departures screen.
Three, Goliath had tapped Aisha to come after him, and somehow, it was all tied up with the current headlines, but already some of the details of what he'd heard were fading in the mix. He already knew she wanted him dead. Knowing why was purely academic.
Besides, points four and five were much more troubling.
If Jensen couldn't get to his phone, it was easy enough to assume he's try to get a message out some other way, confusing as it was.
It was twelve thirty, now, no delays had been announced, and Jensen wasn't answering his phone.
Something was very, very wrong.
---
Cougar considered his options.
It didn't take long. He didn't have all that many.
Whatever the hell was going on, the only location he had a lock on was St. Paul, and the next flight out there was boarding in five minutes. He could work out a plan en route.
---
Stegler was standing over him when he came to, and Jensen was so intent on trying to kick him in the head that it took him a few moments to notice the three guns aimed at his head.
Stegler smirked. "You done? Because frankly, waiting for you to wake up again after having your head smashed in is just a waste of time for all of us."
"Yeah." Jensen said, slowly backing himself up against the wall, as unthreateningly as possible, with was, at the moment, easier than he would've liked it to be. It did, however, give him an opportunity to scan the gunmen again. Their guns, the nifty suits they wore. "So, what's going on? CIA's upped their dress codes, now?"
One of the gunmen, standing next to Stegler, smirked disconcertingly with a sidelong glance at Stegler.
"They're not agents," Stegler smirked. "The Agency has me out on loan, in order to protect the nation's best interests. And at the moment, we're quite interested in you, and I assume you already know why."
Jensen grinned, nervously, and hoped he could pass it off as charm. "So. About that entire hacking Goliath thing. The bad news is that it can't be undone, even with all my genius at my disposal, and we all know it. The good news is that I'm sorry."
"We're already aware of that, as well as your tendency to spout massive amounts of bullshit under duress," the smirking gunman cut in.
"And every other waking fucking moment," Stegler agreed. Apparently that gunman, at least, wasn't such a drone that he was supposed to keep his mouth shut. "But you've got to know, by now, that you're not why we're here."
"Then why?"
"Carlos Alvarez."
"He's dead."
"We both know that's not true."
"Can't blame me for trying," Jensen shrugged, frowning before looking up at Stegler again to ask the useless question that he'd been dreading ever since the taser, or whatever it had been, hit him. "Don't suppose you'd believe me that I have no idea where he is?"
"Actually, I would. It's been sticking in my craw for weeks, now. Thankfully, you already solved that problem for us."
"Huh?"
"Don't think he's seen the news," the head gunman pointed out.
"Oh, that's right." Turning to Jensen, he explained. "Well. No matter. I'm sure Alvarez has. He's probably already on his way. Your ridiculous little stunt, and don't think you're sliding on that, I mean, you did just piss off the most powerful military contractor in the history of all mankind, but at least there's a silver lining. You're leading him right to us."
"Why the hell would he come out because of a bunch of leaked files that he knows nothing about?"
"Because you're the one who put them out there. And you happen to be the only person left in the world that Alvarez could call a friend."
Jensen scoffed, pretending not to notice the gun on the right shifting slightly. "Yeah, you made sure of that, didn't you? Real nice, going after his family like that."
Stegler shrugged. "A soldier that can't be killed is worth killing for. Your congressman probably agrees."
---
As soon as they were gone, Jensen let go a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.
Fuck.
He curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest, and managed to get his feet on the other side of his cuffed wrists, which was a little more comfortable. Not that there was much to do with his hands, here, but if something arose, at least he'd be ready.
Fucking Stegler, man.
If what he said during his Bond villain speech was right, then Cougar was on his way here already, wherever here was. There were a lot of offices mentioned in the files he'd leaked. A lot of labs, too. But maybe the news reports were going off in a direction he didn't know, and it wasn't as if Goliath was incapable of directing the story any which way they wanted to.
It was long past the point where he should've been hacking into O'Hare, setting up their rendezvous point, but Cougar would've figured out that something was wrong by now. He'd know that Jensen was screwed, and that a trap was being set.
He also knew that it probably wouldn't stop him coming, and it was ridiculous, being so undecided about that.
On the one hand, whatever they had in store for Cougar couldn't be good. On the other, Jensen hadn't seen him in weeks. And yeah, he would've much preferred to meet him out for a beer, somewhere, but.
Hell, if they hadn't caught him yet, it meant he was still alive. It was actually a comfort. Not much of one, granted- it was hard to hang on to any sort of optimism when locked down and sitting on your ass- but it was there, nonetheless.
---
Jensen's muscles were sore after the first hour or so, so he stood up and began to pace, surveying his new domain and learning absolutely nothing new. The walls went all the way up to the ceiling, the floor went all the way out to the walls. The darkened hallway outside the window was mostly empty but for another door across the hall that opens once as a woman in a lab coat steps out, heading down the hall with barely a glance in his direction.
His feet were still tingling, a little bit, from the earlier shock, and it's kind of disgusting to think anyone would build a room like this.
Eventually, he was bored out of his mind, impatient, and hungry. He pounded on the glass, trying to attract attention from an empty corridor, but no response came.
There was a flickering in the lights, though, a few moments later, and a slight buzz in the air that was probably the fluorescent bulbs up above.
Eventually, he began to feel heavy. Nothing worrying-well, nothing drastic, but he found himself easing himself back down to lie on the floor, because it was all catching up to him, and gravity, sometimes, was too hard to resist.
---
Besides dozing off for interminable stretches of time, there wasn't much to do, there, but lie on the floor and think about the many shitty things that were probably being planned out for him.
It was Cougar that they wanted, yeah, but it wasn't as if they'd be able to catch him, torture him. So they'd do the next best thing, they'll tell him that they can shut off the current arcing up from the floor, scouring Jensen's brains, as long as Cougar does what they want him to do.
And he probably won't do it.
And we're back to recreational electrocution, once again. Awesome.
Or worse, maybe he would.
He hadn't eaten in more than a day, and was too lethargic to do much more than think about all the varied ways he hated his life.
---
Cougar was the first one off the plane, keeping himself just tightly bound enough to rush through the terminal without being seen. His first stop was the security center, through the wall into the lost and found, where he emptied every wallet he could find and pocketed the cash before dispersing himself again, and passing through the wall.
He hesitated on the outside, just for a minute, still wary of leaving any traces of himself. Once he was sure he was all there, he pulled himself together just tightly enough to gain enough speed to rush through the airport, following the arrows pointing towards the baggage claim areas and ground transportation.
Once he got down there, though, the number of signs seemed to multiply, and he had to pause for a moment to figure out where the hell he could catch a taxi. He was trying to figure out where, exactly, the sign was pointing, glancing out the windows towards the parking ramps, when a better answer revealed itself.
Aisha was over at the next carousel, hefting her suitcase and sidestepping to make room for a few college kids in matching sweatshirts.
He followed her carefully, considering. In all likelihood, yes, he was heading towards something bad. If Jensen had been compromised, maybe he'd talked. Maybe they were waiting for him.
But if they were, they wouldn't be expecting him to show up with Aisha.
---
It was easy enough to slide through the door into the front seat as Aisha tossed her suitcase in the trunk, rattling off an address in St. Paul. The driver, a Somalian man, was chatty, but she wasn't the type to overshare with strangers, so Cougar watched her, as they wove their way through rush-hour traffic, and learned nothing.
Downtown St. Paul was a confusing mess of lights to the east, but as they pulled off of the highway, the cab went north for a short while on the surface streets, eventually pulling up in front of a business park that looked far too busy for this time of day.
"Pull around back," Aisha instructed, and Cougar could see why- most of the vehicles in the lot are media vans. Newspaper and television and radio. Following a curve around the building, he caught sight of a dais, sitting up on the front steps, framed in bright lights, but the stage was empty. Whatever had happened, here, they'd missed it.
Odds were, though, it wasn't why he'd come, anyway.
---
He was through the door before Aisha slid her key card through, and he had to wait for her to check her bags at the security station, but finally, unencumbered by the weight, she was moving more quickly, now. Through an impressive reception area, then through a door leading into a long corridor, where she nodded at a distracted looking man coming from the other way, his car keys in his hand.
She went around a corner, then, and at the end of the hallway was another security checkpoint, where she had her retinas scanned and her thumbs printed. Cougar slid through the open door behind her.
Aisha stopped at the first bank of elevators and called one up to take her down, and finally, falling into step next to her, the scenery was starting to change. There was an open door to the right, and she ducked her head in to ask, "I heard Jake Jensen's been brought in?"
"He's in containment," one of the guards said, nodding at two others, who pushed themselves away from their desks. "We'll come with you. Protocol, and all that."
After that, the group passed laboratories on the left, then stopped at a bank of windows on the right, and all he could see was Jensen.
It was obvious that Jensen could see the guards through the glass, but his eyes were locked intently on the heavy door, wary at the sound of the door being opened, and he was starting to stand.
---
The second guard slid sideways, covering him, and then Jensen saw her.
"Aisha?!" Jensen was pretty sure he hadn't managed to get all the hatred into his tone when he spoke, so he followed his admittedly surprised expression with a glare.
"Hello, Jensen. Long time no see. How was Antigua?"
How was Juarez, you backstabbing bitch? "Lovely. What the fuck are you-"
"Doing here? My job, such as it is. Visual confirmation."
"Of what, that I'm sitting around with my thumb up my ass?"
"Actually, yes," Aisha grinned at him, nodding at the guards, who covered her as they backed through the door, and she followed them out, glancing around the room with a final smirk. "Both of you."
The hell?
The moment the door was shut, the lights overhead began to buzz again, faintly, but that wasn't what held Jensen's attention.
He was too busy staring into Cougar's stunned eyes.
---
Chapter 9
Author: jendavis
Fandom/ Pairing The Losers (comic 'verse, with some help from the movie), eventual Jensen/Cougar
Rating: R overall
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: Cougar was bleeding all over the bomb in his lap, the last time Jensen saw him. But that was then.
Link to Master List & Previous Chapters
---
Cougar had felt a little better after sleeping on the beach for seven stupidly careless hours, but far from rested.
Another twelve hours crashed out in a stolen hotel room hadn't helped as much as he'd hoped, either, and it was making him uneasy. As much as he would've liked to tell himself he was coming down with something- a cold, even the flu- he wasn't an idiot. Something was missing. A few cells, maybe, or a hair-thin layer of muscle, somewhere.
He supposed he should've felt lucky his brain was still intact, that it hadn't been worse, but he knew how luck worked, and mostly just wondered how much time he had before it turned into something worse.
It wasn't the sort of thing he'd want to talk about on the best of days, but staring at himself in the mirror, examining himself for lesions and fingers arms that looked too thin, he was maybe ready to admit that it would've been nice, having the option to tell someone he didn't want to fucking talk about it.
Of course, that pretty much meant Jensen, who he'd be seeing in two days, who couldn't do anything about it, and who'd probably just tell him more bad news the moment he got on the line.
Still, though, this entire line of thinking is enough to push him out the door, all the way out to the airport, and onto the next Chicago flight. If he's just going to be checking the clock every three minutes, he might as well get the traveling out of the way.
This time, once the plane is in the air and he's thinking about finding something that looks like home, he stays put.
---
Jensen wasn't sure how long the flight lasted, being as how he was unconscious for at least a little while, and the assholes had taken his watch when they'd divested him of everything besides his clothes.
That, actually, was nearly enough to make him like them, and even though they hadn't gone so far into character as to be wearing dark glasses and matching suits, they were definitely the quietly surly type. As far as kidnappings went, this one was fairly comfortable, even if his jeans felt like they were going to fall off.
He was crammed into the window seat of what felt like a very small plane, and surrounded by security, because apparently they thought he was insane enough to try hijacking a plane with no weapons or even shoes. Stegler was in the next row up, across the aisle, talking in hushed tones to the blonde woman sitting next to him.
He closed his eyes again, out of complete fucking boredom, vaguely aware of the fact that he could probably start one hell of a ruckus if he wanted to, but that only worked in the movies. But soon, he promised himself. Once they were on land again, and he had an exit that didn't involve hurtling down at the earth at a thousand miles an hour, the ruckus would ensue.
---
They threw a hood over his eyes as soon as the plane started to descend, in case Jensen was so good at geography he could tell what airport they were flying into based on the shapes of a few lakes and a highway grid, but the best chance to get gone is once they're transferring him into another vehicle.
Besides, this was always going to have to happen, at some point. And yeah, it would've been nice to be prepared, to not be going in- literally- with blinders on, but it's not like that's something he had a lot of experience with, anyway. It's been the story of his life, more or less.
So whatever. Most of the time, his job was to break into a place and then break out again. This way, his job was already half done.
Jensen's mental pep talks were getting weirder every year.
---
Jensen could feel the concrete changing underneath his feet, becoming smoother as they stepped inside, then quieter as they turned to cross over a swath of commercial carpeting. That the elevator they boarded next was heading downwards was no surprise, and the same went for the return of the carpeting.
He was jerked to a halt again by the tight grip on his cuffed arms, forced to wait for a moment, before being pushed across another change in the floor. Cold metal, then, that echoed underneath their footsteps.
The room was a lot brighter than he'd thought it would be, almost blinding after the darkness inside the hood, and it took him a few moments to make out any features at all. Three walls made of concrete brick, painted white, and the fourth, behind him, made of reinforced glass. The door itself was metal, but didn't shine with the same polished sheen as the floor.
Most surprising was the fact that there was something in the corner that looked like a toilet, or at least what a toilet would look like if designed by Apple. Already, from where Jensen stood, it looked depressingly seamless. Anything he could find in there to fashion into a tool was out of reach.
He was going to be here for a while, then.
And that, right there, was where the flight response began to kick in, but it only lasted a moment before the current ran through him and he was falling to the floor.
---
"More news, now, on the massive leak of documents describing contracts between the US DOD and Goliath, a top secret project that has a lot of critics wondering what it's all for. As you know, this story just becomes stranger and stranger. While the authorities search for the perpetrator of the leak, and Goliath officials seek to minimize the damage, thousands of people, around the world, are reading and discussing the files."
It was nearly noon on October 7th, and Cougar had been sitting in an uncomfortable terminal chair for nearly three hours.
On the television screen next to the airport monitors, the hourly news cycle was starting again, only this time, he was paying attention.
"It's becoming apparent that part of this research, at least, includes the creation of containment units, what some sources are calling molecular-level prisons. No word, as of yet, why the DOD is interested in this kind of technology this, or how, exactly, this relates to Goliath's massive investment into higher education, but we will be bringing you this afternoon's press conference at the Goliath Office in Saint Paul, Minnesota, with reports and updates throughout the day, here, on CNN."
As soon as they cut to a commercial, Cougar began trying to sort out what he knew.
One, this had Jensen's fingerprints all over it. Two, he probably wasn't the only one who knew it.
A woman's prerecorded voice came over the terminal's PA system to announce that the local time was twelve noon, and Cougar locked his eyes on the departures screen.
Three, Goliath had tapped Aisha to come after him, and somehow, it was all tied up with the current headlines, but already some of the details of what he'd heard were fading in the mix. He already knew she wanted him dead. Knowing why was purely academic.
Besides, points four and five were much more troubling.
If Jensen couldn't get to his phone, it was easy enough to assume he's try to get a message out some other way, confusing as it was.
It was twelve thirty, now, no delays had been announced, and Jensen wasn't answering his phone.
Something was very, very wrong.
---
Cougar considered his options.
It didn't take long. He didn't have all that many.
Whatever the hell was going on, the only location he had a lock on was St. Paul, and the next flight out there was boarding in five minutes. He could work out a plan en route.
---
Stegler was standing over him when he came to, and Jensen was so intent on trying to kick him in the head that it took him a few moments to notice the three guns aimed at his head.
Stegler smirked. "You done? Because frankly, waiting for you to wake up again after having your head smashed in is just a waste of time for all of us."
"Yeah." Jensen said, slowly backing himself up against the wall, as unthreateningly as possible, with was, at the moment, easier than he would've liked it to be. It did, however, give him an opportunity to scan the gunmen again. Their guns, the nifty suits they wore. "So, what's going on? CIA's upped their dress codes, now?"
One of the gunmen, standing next to Stegler, smirked disconcertingly with a sidelong glance at Stegler.
"They're not agents," Stegler smirked. "The Agency has me out on loan, in order to protect the nation's best interests. And at the moment, we're quite interested in you, and I assume you already know why."
Jensen grinned, nervously, and hoped he could pass it off as charm. "So. About that entire hacking Goliath thing. The bad news is that it can't be undone, even with all my genius at my disposal, and we all know it. The good news is that I'm sorry."
"We're already aware of that, as well as your tendency to spout massive amounts of bullshit under duress," the smirking gunman cut in.
"And every other waking fucking moment," Stegler agreed. Apparently that gunman, at least, wasn't such a drone that he was supposed to keep his mouth shut. "But you've got to know, by now, that you're not why we're here."
"Then why?"
"Carlos Alvarez."
"He's dead."
"We both know that's not true."
"Can't blame me for trying," Jensen shrugged, frowning before looking up at Stegler again to ask the useless question that he'd been dreading ever since the taser, or whatever it had been, hit him. "Don't suppose you'd believe me that I have no idea where he is?"
"Actually, I would. It's been sticking in my craw for weeks, now. Thankfully, you already solved that problem for us."
"Huh?"
"Don't think he's seen the news," the head gunman pointed out.
"Oh, that's right." Turning to Jensen, he explained. "Well. No matter. I'm sure Alvarez has. He's probably already on his way. Your ridiculous little stunt, and don't think you're sliding on that, I mean, you did just piss off the most powerful military contractor in the history of all mankind, but at least there's a silver lining. You're leading him right to us."
"Why the hell would he come out because of a bunch of leaked files that he knows nothing about?"
"Because you're the one who put them out there. And you happen to be the only person left in the world that Alvarez could call a friend."
Jensen scoffed, pretending not to notice the gun on the right shifting slightly. "Yeah, you made sure of that, didn't you? Real nice, going after his family like that."
Stegler shrugged. "A soldier that can't be killed is worth killing for. Your congressman probably agrees."
---
As soon as they were gone, Jensen let go a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.
Fuck.
He curled in on himself, bringing his knees to his chest, and managed to get his feet on the other side of his cuffed wrists, which was a little more comfortable. Not that there was much to do with his hands, here, but if something arose, at least he'd be ready.
Fucking Stegler, man.
If what he said during his Bond villain speech was right, then Cougar was on his way here already, wherever here was. There were a lot of offices mentioned in the files he'd leaked. A lot of labs, too. But maybe the news reports were going off in a direction he didn't know, and it wasn't as if Goliath was incapable of directing the story any which way they wanted to.
It was long past the point where he should've been hacking into O'Hare, setting up their rendezvous point, but Cougar would've figured out that something was wrong by now. He'd know that Jensen was screwed, and that a trap was being set.
He also knew that it probably wouldn't stop him coming, and it was ridiculous, being so undecided about that.
On the one hand, whatever they had in store for Cougar couldn't be good. On the other, Jensen hadn't seen him in weeks. And yeah, he would've much preferred to meet him out for a beer, somewhere, but.
Hell, if they hadn't caught him yet, it meant he was still alive. It was actually a comfort. Not much of one, granted- it was hard to hang on to any sort of optimism when locked down and sitting on your ass- but it was there, nonetheless.
---
Jensen's muscles were sore after the first hour or so, so he stood up and began to pace, surveying his new domain and learning absolutely nothing new. The walls went all the way up to the ceiling, the floor went all the way out to the walls. The darkened hallway outside the window was mostly empty but for another door across the hall that opens once as a woman in a lab coat steps out, heading down the hall with barely a glance in his direction.
His feet were still tingling, a little bit, from the earlier shock, and it's kind of disgusting to think anyone would build a room like this.
Eventually, he was bored out of his mind, impatient, and hungry. He pounded on the glass, trying to attract attention from an empty corridor, but no response came.
There was a flickering in the lights, though, a few moments later, and a slight buzz in the air that was probably the fluorescent bulbs up above.
Eventually, he began to feel heavy. Nothing worrying-well, nothing drastic, but he found himself easing himself back down to lie on the floor, because it was all catching up to him, and gravity, sometimes, was too hard to resist.
---
Besides dozing off for interminable stretches of time, there wasn't much to do, there, but lie on the floor and think about the many shitty things that were probably being planned out for him.
It was Cougar that they wanted, yeah, but it wasn't as if they'd be able to catch him, torture him. So they'd do the next best thing, they'll tell him that they can shut off the current arcing up from the floor, scouring Jensen's brains, as long as Cougar does what they want him to do.
And he probably won't do it.
And we're back to recreational electrocution, once again. Awesome.
Or worse, maybe he would.
He hadn't eaten in more than a day, and was too lethargic to do much more than think about all the varied ways he hated his life.
---
Cougar was the first one off the plane, keeping himself just tightly bound enough to rush through the terminal without being seen. His first stop was the security center, through the wall into the lost and found, where he emptied every wallet he could find and pocketed the cash before dispersing himself again, and passing through the wall.
He hesitated on the outside, just for a minute, still wary of leaving any traces of himself. Once he was sure he was all there, he pulled himself together just tightly enough to gain enough speed to rush through the airport, following the arrows pointing towards the baggage claim areas and ground transportation.
Once he got down there, though, the number of signs seemed to multiply, and he had to pause for a moment to figure out where the hell he could catch a taxi. He was trying to figure out where, exactly, the sign was pointing, glancing out the windows towards the parking ramps, when a better answer revealed itself.
Aisha was over at the next carousel, hefting her suitcase and sidestepping to make room for a few college kids in matching sweatshirts.
He followed her carefully, considering. In all likelihood, yes, he was heading towards something bad. If Jensen had been compromised, maybe he'd talked. Maybe they were waiting for him.
But if they were, they wouldn't be expecting him to show up with Aisha.
---
It was easy enough to slide through the door into the front seat as Aisha tossed her suitcase in the trunk, rattling off an address in St. Paul. The driver, a Somalian man, was chatty, but she wasn't the type to overshare with strangers, so Cougar watched her, as they wove their way through rush-hour traffic, and learned nothing.
Downtown St. Paul was a confusing mess of lights to the east, but as they pulled off of the highway, the cab went north for a short while on the surface streets, eventually pulling up in front of a business park that looked far too busy for this time of day.
"Pull around back," Aisha instructed, and Cougar could see why- most of the vehicles in the lot are media vans. Newspaper and television and radio. Following a curve around the building, he caught sight of a dais, sitting up on the front steps, framed in bright lights, but the stage was empty. Whatever had happened, here, they'd missed it.
Odds were, though, it wasn't why he'd come, anyway.
---
He was through the door before Aisha slid her key card through, and he had to wait for her to check her bags at the security station, but finally, unencumbered by the weight, she was moving more quickly, now. Through an impressive reception area, then through a door leading into a long corridor, where she nodded at a distracted looking man coming from the other way, his car keys in his hand.
She went around a corner, then, and at the end of the hallway was another security checkpoint, where she had her retinas scanned and her thumbs printed. Cougar slid through the open door behind her.
Aisha stopped at the first bank of elevators and called one up to take her down, and finally, falling into step next to her, the scenery was starting to change. There was an open door to the right, and she ducked her head in to ask, "I heard Jake Jensen's been brought in?"
"He's in containment," one of the guards said, nodding at two others, who pushed themselves away from their desks. "We'll come with you. Protocol, and all that."
After that, the group passed laboratories on the left, then stopped at a bank of windows on the right, and all he could see was Jensen.
It was obvious that Jensen could see the guards through the glass, but his eyes were locked intently on the heavy door, wary at the sound of the door being opened, and he was starting to stand.
---
The second guard slid sideways, covering him, and then Jensen saw her.
"Aisha?!" Jensen was pretty sure he hadn't managed to get all the hatred into his tone when he spoke, so he followed his admittedly surprised expression with a glare.
"Hello, Jensen. Long time no see. How was Antigua?"
How was Juarez, you backstabbing bitch? "Lovely. What the fuck are you-"
"Doing here? My job, such as it is. Visual confirmation."
"Of what, that I'm sitting around with my thumb up my ass?"
"Actually, yes," Aisha grinned at him, nodding at the guards, who covered her as they backed through the door, and she followed them out, glancing around the room with a final smirk. "Both of you."
The hell?
The moment the door was shut, the lights overhead began to buzz again, faintly, but that wasn't what held Jensen's attention.
He was too busy staring into Cougar's stunned eyes.
---
Chapter 9