Chapter Three: Into the Storm
It was silent in the hall outside Garrison's 'court' (really just a large office) save for the endless ticking of the clock down the hall in the lobby. The walls were kept blank and clean, which would have made the hallway desolate were it not for the windows that looked down onto the parking lot two floors below. Sasha stood alone in front of one, watching silently as lightning threaded through the dark clouds above, heralding the thunder that shook the window panes.
He was about to turn away when he noticed Milla's car backing out of her spot before speeding out of the parking lot and down the road that led to the security checkpoint. He frowned slightly; it wasn't like her to leave without saying goodbye. Harpham had no doubt given her little time to reach her destination. It would just be like him to give someone a case at the last possible second.
After silently wishing her luck and a safe return, he peered down at the thick manila folder clutched in his gloved hands and began to idly trace the words he had written across it so many years ago. The ink was faded, the cover worn, and some of the paper he had written his report across had turned a faint shade of yellow from age. He hadn't thought about this case in years, and the memories that resurfaced after he read his personal report were not pleasant. He fought to keep them from his mind, and found a welcome distraction in the conversation he couldn't help but overhear inside Garrison's office.
The voices were raised to such a high pitch that he couldn't help but hear the conversation taking place and he was able to easily picture the scene behind that polished door, as the subject under questioning was a powerful clairvoyant and, as with all psychics under heavy stress, she was unwittingly projecting the proceedings to any unblocked psychic within one hundred feet of her.
Inside, the room was furnished with a heavy wooden desk, red carpet, and bookshelves full to the brim with slightly outdated books on law, legal proceedings, and criminal procedure. It also held the recent editions detailing every law concerning psychics and the use of psychic powers passed by Congress. A heavyset man in his late fifties sat behind a conspicuously neat desk, paging through a file not unlike the one Sasha held in his hands. There was almost nothing remarkable about him, save for the gray beard and the malice behind his eyes. The woman across from him was slowly beginning to lose her patience if her body language was any indication. She was of Asian descent, slim, and if her muscles tensed any further Sasha feared her spine would erupt from her back.
"Let me get this straight," Garrison said, looking utterly bored behind his desk. "You claim that your actions were justified because you had some sort of daydream—"
She cut him off, glaring at him. "A clairvoyant vision, as I've said before—"
"A vision told you he might have murdered the child and buried him in the park." Garrison paused, and then snorted. "I can see why you didn't try to get a warrant. Any judge with half a brain wouldn't come near it, let alone sign it."
Unable to help herself, the woman exploded. "For God's sake, he was burning the little boy's schoolbag to get rid of evidence!"
"In your vision, you mean."
There was a long pause and Sasha feared the woman would leap across the desk and rip the man's head off. Finally, she spoke.
"Yes. In my vision." Her voice had turned cold, "Which has so far helped your government locate no less than three psychic terrorists within this very city."
"I won't deny that your insight hasn't been helpful, but your actions have not. Harassing a senator's son and accusing him of being a pedophile murdering children…" He shook his head.
"I did not accuse him of anything! I asked why he was seen at the boy's elementary school so often—"
Garrison sighed, and when it was clear he wouldn't listen to her, Agent Kim went silent. The man sounded bored, as if he were speaking of the weather. "You are hereby stripped of any and all field duties for the remainder of this case, which will be reassigned to one of our own agents. You are to continue recording your visions and provide whatever insight you may have to them, but you will not engage in any actions towards the suspect in the field or otherwise."
Kim was stunned, then angry. "You can't be serious--"
"You're lucky, Agent Kim, that I didn't have you returned to your home agency. I'm not sure how you people do things in Korea, but here we have rules that have to be followed." He was sure to make eye contact with the fuming agent, as if daring her to speak again. Finally, when the Korean agent turned away, he leaned back with a slight sigh. "Dismissed."
Kim stormed through the door, passing Sasha and muttering darkly in Korean, loudly expressing her suspicions about Garrison's sexual practices with barnyard animals through her thoughts. Whatever hope Sasha had of appealing to the man's logic had long since faded; explaining psychic abilities to Garrison would be like describing color to a blind man. Pointless and infuriating.
"Ah, Agent Nein. I see rumors of your promptness are based on fact. Come in, and close the door."
Sasha reluctantly did as he asked, closing the door behind him as the storm raged on outside.
WARNING: Pressing the 'yes' button will permanently delete the files specified. Do you want to continue? Yes/No
He had been staring at the computer's monitor for over three hours, his hand hovering over the mouse, wondering if he could do it. Ever since the phone call downtown, he realized that he would never be free from the madman's grip. He would simply be used a pawn, time and time again.
Not for the first time did he think of confessing his treason. And, just like every other time, he pushed the thought away. It would be suicide to admit his crimes now. He would be sent to prison, among the very criminals he had helped put there. Criminals with long memories and all the time in the world to plot revenge.
That didn't include what would happen to him if Vladimir discovered his betrayal. He would be lucky to be put in prison then.
In the end, it was fear that finally gave him the courage to do it. He clicked 'yes,' then slumped back into his chair as the computer went blank. Every other computer that shared the network would follow suit shortly. It was temporary, really, but it would last enough to do what Vladimir needed to have done.
Harpham placed his head in his hands and waited for the first panicked report to filter down to his office.
"Caleb Betruger…he was the man you were sent after, correct?"
"Yes, it is. A paranoid telekinetic that wasn't in control of his powers and was absolutely convinced there was some sort of government plot against him."
"Hm. It says here he blamed the government for giving his mother drugs that made him psychic?" Garrison snorted, reading through the file. From the way the man's eyes moved, Sasha could tell he was merely skimming over the report.
"It also says he placed the blame squarely on the doctor when he discovered his mother died during childbirth. He started harassing the doctor, first with threatening letters and then phone calls when the mail was discarded."
Garrison glanced up from the file to look at him. Sasha had never been one for responding to social cues, but he knew from that look that Garrison had made up his mind concerning the case. And the verdict was not in his favor.
"I can read, Agent Nein." He said coolly, "And all of this seems fine, right up until your plan to apprehend Bertruger. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out what it was that made you kill the man in front of a dozen witnesses!" He slammed the file down with such force that Sasha almost started out of his chair. "I respect you, Agent Nein, but this…
"You not only put the doctor's life at risk, you endangered the lives of civilians and nearly killed a fellow agent when your plan went to hell, not to mention the sheer amount of property damage." He shook his head. "My God, Sasha, you should've been thrown out of the agency for this."
Sasha's migraine was steadily growing worse and he found himself struggling to keep control of his temper. What could he say? That he was young and impatient? That he underestimated a desperate man? That he was lucky to have kept the body count down to just one? The man had never once been put into a situation where his actions could lead to the capture of a wanted criminal; he wouldn't understand the pressure and tension even if he cared to try. "With all due respect, sir, you're oversimplifying the situation—"
"It seems fairly simple to begin with." Garrison said evenly, closing the file and quirking a brow at the Psychonaut. "Frankly, I'm surprised Agent Cruller didn't suspend you himself. Of course, if your branch was a bit more responsible for the actions of its agents, I'd be out of a job—"
"I believe," Sasha said through gritted teeth, "That the file you have in your hands clearly details the investigation Agent Cruller launched after the incident, as well as the results of said investigation."
"Yes, and were he sane I would ask him why he thought you deserved to carry around that badge. You're suspended from fieldwork until further notice. Perhaps this will give you time to catch up on all of your paperwork." After a brief moment, he spoke softly. "You're dismissed, Agent Nein."
Sasha sat there, dumbfounded, furious, and utterly at a loss for words. He was being suspended due to a mistake he had made as a junior agent well over a decade ago. "You can't possibly—"
"You are dismissed, Agent Nein."
Sasha snapped his mouth shut and stood up, walking stiffly out of Garrison's office.
"Oh, close the door behind you, would you?"
The force behind Sasha's slam was enough to knock the door's hinges loose.
Milla, in general, was very much a people person. She loved them. In fact, she would spend hours at parties and clubs just talking to the strangers she met there, happily sharing stories of parties she'd been to in the past with them. She was even kind to those who, for whatever reason, decided to try and pick fights with her. But she had her limits.
And the woman standing behind the car rental desk was very close to stepping over that limit. If forced to give an approximate distance, she would say the woman was all but tap dancing across the frayed edge of her nerves.
"I'm sorry, Miss Vodello, but all of our cars are currently unavailable." The woman said curtly, ignoring the fuming agent in favor of a computer screen that displayed a game of Solitaire. "Perhaps one of our competitors—"
"Darling, there are five cars outside of this very window with your company's logo stamped into the windows." She was tired, annoyed, and simply wanted to be out of the airport before she was forced to kill someone. Every 'random' terrorist screening they had been put through inevitably ended with her explaining why she was traveling with a twelve-year-old boy who was clearly not her son. And, once she managed to convince them that she was not kidnapping Razputin and had no intention of murdering or molesting him, she suffered through four hours of turbulence only to repeat the process when plane landed and allowed its passengers to disembark. After suffering through it for a second time, she was faced with a representative from a car rental facility that seemed intent on making sure her traveling experience was a living hell. "I am not blind, nor am I stupid. Now. If you would kindly arrange for me to rent one of them, I would very much appreciate it."
After a brief staring contest, the woman behind the desk muttered and started the paperwork that eventually won the annoyed agent a sleek car meant for city streets. Every inch of it was polished and the lightning from the storm that had cheerfully followed them from headquarters reflected across its surface.
Razputin was beside himself as he loaded up their clothes and luggage Milla bought at the shops in the airport. "This car is so cool. I bet it was your eye judo that made that lady give it to you."
Milla peered around the driver's seat, giving the young agent a confused look. "My what?"
"Eye judo. Like, you threw her down with a look." He said this as if explained the concept completely, shutting the rear passenger door before poking his head in through the driver's window. "Can I drive?"
"…You don't know how to drive, darling." She gently pushed him back outside the window, rolling it up as he ran around to the passenger door and jumped inside.
"So? You can teach me."
"Not during a rainstorm in a car that isn't mine." She replied, a little amused despite herself, "Ask Sasha to teach you when we get back."
Raz sighed as she started the car and began to drive through the rain. "He just gets this panicked look on his face and says he has to go have a cigarette." He paused, gazing out of the window. "Man, it's been raining a long time."
"It always rains like this during this time of year, darling. The change in the weather causes it."
The rest of the trip went smoothly, much to Milla's relief, until they reached the outskirts of Condenar. The storm had gradually gotten worse the closer they got to their destination, and turned outright violent when they passed into the city limits. The wind threatened to tear control of the car away from her and she was barely able to see the car in front of her through the rain and hail. She managed to keep it under control for a few more miles, braving the storm.
Or, she did until the front right tire blew out and nearly sent the car into a nearby tree. After a sharp curse and epic struggle to keep the car from spinning out of control, she managed to limp over to the side of the highway. She leaned back with a deep sigh.
Raz was peering out of the window, oblivious to the rain. "Uh, Milla? I think the car has a flat tire…"
Milla slammed her head into the steering wheel, and then sighed and got out of the car to go inspect the damage. A car swerved around her, honking angrily, before speeding off into the distance. She ignored it, hoping to replace the tire before she managed to catch a cold.
The driver that sped by her muttered darkly, then dialed in a number on his cell phone. He'd been tailing them ever since they left the airport, though how he managed to keep track of her through the storm was nothing short of a miracle. "Boss? They're here."
Vladimir had made himself comfortable in Jack's apartment which caused no end of agitation to the unstable pyrokinetic. This was his home, his property. He shouldn't have to answer to some pathetic crime lord in his own house. The man had gone so far as to have his pawns call Jack's number to report in. He hadn't even pretended to ask for permission! Jack managed to keep control of his temper, but he wouldn't forget this. Every assumed privilege was a slight against Jack that he fully intended on repaying.
He was, in a way, a little envious of Vladimir.
Vladimir was anything if not thorough, and the respect he commanded from his underlings was something that Jack found admirable. It was also infuriating, particularly when Vladimir so readily assumed he would follow whatever command he was given. He was not one to bow to the will of anyone save his own, and to be ordered about so casually, to be reminded that he was locked under the thumb of this petty crime lord was more than just annoying. It was an insult to everything Jack had achieved in his life, and everything he still had yet to achieve.
Vladimir stood above him, casually hanging up Jack's phone. He seemed pleased with himself, and expressed it through the neutral tone in his normally cold voice. "It's time. Do what you want with the girl; just see to it that she no longer poses a threat to us. Your prize will lead you to her."
Jack hid his scowl with a smirk. "Such ruthlessness. I'm impressed, Vlad."
His smirk grew into a grin as Vladimir turned to give him an annoyed look. Jack reveled in his control over the Romanian psychic, no matter how slight it was. "Not everyone would throw their own family to the dogs."
"You're no stranger to murdering family yourself. Some of us, however, have valid reasons to do so." He snapped back. "Charlie and Gustav will accompany you."
"What's the matter, Vlad? You don't trust me?" Jack sneered, pointedly ignoring Vladimir's barb. He was already on his way out the door with Vladimir's pathetic henchmen shadowing him.
"I would sooner trust a starving wolf with a fat lamb." He replied coldly.
Jack's laughter echoed back to him, and he scowled. Being forced to rely on such tactics was distasteful, but necessary; treating Jack Dougal as anything more than the mad beast he was only proved how dire his situation had become. Were his grandmother still alive, Jack Dougal would be begging at their feet for protection.
After replacing the tire with the spare she and Raz found in the trunk and then becoming lost numerous times, Milla finally came to a stop outside of their destination. The storm had, for the moment, calmed down to a steady rain with the occasional rumble of thunder. Brook Hollow Inn was a depressingly small bed and breakfast that, like most of Condenar, seemed to be stuck several generations behind the rest of the nation.
Shutting the car off, Milla turned to look to at Raz, who seemed to be more than ready for action.
"Alright, darling. You know what to do?"
Raz grinned back at her. "Yep. Go in, pretend we're lost, you say something about a room and then we find Andrea Rus…Russel..Russelbutter or whatever her name is."
"Ruszkiewcz." She replied, stepping out of the car and going towards the entrance.
"Okay, seriously, how are you able to say that?"
She chuckled, opening the door for Razputin before following him inside and placing her hand inside her purse. "Go to Iceland. You'll pick it up."
An elderly man, hunched over from the weight of the years and barely taller than Raz, hobbled up to the front desk as they entered, giving them the first genuinely kind smile they had seen since they left the airport. His hair had long since disappeared from his head, and lines had etched themselves across every inch of skin. "Afternoon, strangers! What can I do for ya?"
Milla smiled, "I was hoping you had a room available." She paused, then pulled her hand out of her purse and slid a thin envelope across the counter to the gentleman. "Preferably with a view of your beautiful city."
The old man narrowed his eyes, then took the envelope and opened it. His eyes widened and he smiled again, sliding the envelope back over. "I'd love ta help ya, lady, but there's only one room available. You'll haveta share with another guest, if that's alright."
"That's perfectly fine, darling." She returned the smile as the innkeeper glanced around the empty room before leaning in to speak softly.
"Be careful. The storm's made her twitchy." He leaned back again. "Room's upstairs and to the left. Best view of Condenar in the city. If ya need anything else, find me down here."
Milla nodded then walked upstairs with Raz following close behind. The old man sighed in relief when they left his sight. It was bad enough he took sides in the middle of a family dispute. It was almost unbelievable that he allowed two Psychonauts to come through his home and business untouched.
But then, he thought, it was frightening to think of what would happen if he hadn't helped Andrea.
He glanced up when two more customers walked inside, customers he knew. He grinned, walking around the counter with open arms. "Charlie! Gustav! I haven't seen you boys in years! What're you guys up to these days?"
Finding the room was no problem. Getting the woman inside to open it proved to be another matter entirely. It took the two of them fifteen minutes and a flash of Milla's badge to get the woman to open the door and allow them inside.
Andrea was a small woman, barely reaching five feet tall and dressed in clothes two sizes too big for her frail body. Her movements were quick, jerky, and she constantly looked over her shoulder and around the room, as though expecting an attack to come from every direction at any moment. The only time she held still was when they reached the inside of her room, where she stopped to stock of them. Her brown eyes widened in shock at Raz, and she snorted in bitter laughter.
"Unbelievable," She said, "To save me from my own family, they send my family's greatest enemy."
Raz looked mildly confused. "What, people with vowels in their names?"
Milla was tense; something didn't feel right and she watched the door carefully. "Razputin, did you notice anyone following us?"
Raz blinked and was about to reply when the first gunshot rang out downstairs.
Gustav lowered the still smoking gun and casually over the old man's body. Charlie stared after him, and then snapped at him, swiping blood off of his jacket. Dammit, Rachel's gonna kill me. He could already hear her bitch at him now. "What the hell did you do that for?"
Gustav quirked a brow, mildly amused by Charlie's attempts to get rid of the blood on his clothes. "The weirdo said no witnesses, yes? I was merely following orders. You've got brain on your shoulder."
Charlie snorted, idly kicking the body over. The elderly man rolled on top of his back, staring blankly at the ceiling with a shocked look on his face. "Could've just erased the guy's memory."
Gustav shrugged, walking up the stairs. If the gunshot hadn't flushed their prey out into Jack's ambush, then he'd have to chase them out. "Too messy."
"Says the man who just blew a guy's head off. How're we gonna explain that away? Vlad said no unnecessary casualties. And I'd call that a pretty fucking unnecessary casualty."
Gustav rolled his eyes, "We are to make this look like suicide, yes? Sometimes, people don't want to go alone."
"Yeah, yeah…You're a fuckin' psycho, man. A regular fuckin' psycho." Charlie grumbled, following him upstairs.
Gustav kicked the door down and, as expected, found an empty room with an open window that let the rain inside. He snorted, clicking the safety back on his gun and putting it in his pocket. "I was hoping they would stay and fight."
"Eh, you know the type, Gus." Charlie peered out of the window, frowning. "They won't fight unless you corner 'em real good. And then they go nuts and shoot people. Like you."
Milla had been forced to levitate herself, Andrea, and Razputin down to the ground and was struggling to keep them upright during the storm. The three of them had managed to run down a nearby alleyway behind the Inn, staying out of sight and stopping for a brief moment to catch their breath behind a dumpster.
Andrea was beside herself in fury. The rain plastered her hair to her scalp and her clothes sagged heavily from her body, dripping water in a steady stream down her sleeves, making her look not unlike a homeless lunatic. "You led them to me, you damned fools--"
Raz was too busy catching his breath to reply, but Milla cut her off. "Be quiet. They'll find us much easier if you keep talking."
Raz glanced around, frowning a little. None of his missions had ever gone bad like this—a fact that excited and worried him. They had to get Andrea to safety and call for backup, or at the very least keep moving so that they weren't easily found. He looked over at Milla.
She met his gaze. Stay with her, darling. I'll scout ahead for a safe route.
Raz nodded and stood guard near Andrea before helping her move from place to place in the rain with Milla as their guide. Andrea eventually went silent and kept close, glancing over her shoulder nervously.
Milla was beginning to think they would manage to salvage the mission and make it out of this mess unscathed when she noticed the shadows down a particular alley seemed off. Frowning, she kept hidden, looking for a way to scout ahead without exposing herself. A rat scurried out of a trashcan that had been knocked on its side from the wind. It paused, sniffed the air, then scurried down the alley.
Milla wasted no time. She focused on the rat's small form and opened a faint link between them, letting her eyes glaze over while she briefly shared senses with the rat. She wasn't seeing as much as she was feeling; rats had poor eyesight and relied on their whiskers for direction in some cases. This rat in particular seemed to know the alley pretty well—every crack along the wall was familiar, every pebble and piece of trash normal. When it felt something different—something other—the rat froze…then squeaked and scurried down into the sewer.
Milla broke the link, pale and shaking. Oh God, no--
A low chuckle came from the shadows of the alley, "You always did have a talent for clairvoyance, Agent Vodello."