Behind Enemy Lines

Chapter One

Civilian

Day One.

Moscow, Russia. 9:00 AM.

The morning sunshine filters into the small, near empty room through the slits in the blinds covering the window. Its bright spring light reveals each dust particle in the air and casts prison bar like shadows across the room. At the room's center sits a tall blond a metallic table with matching chair. Her full lips are slightly parted as she exhales out the crisp spring air that chills her lungs and sends goose-bumps down her skin. Her delicate fingers flip through the pile of files on the freezing table top her icy blue eyes scanning every bit of information. The file contains profiles, some face familiar to the reader others foreign. Everything she needs to know is at her finger tips.

The first face in the pile is one of the current director and founder of Division, Percival Rose. The woman looks over the surveillance photo her boss had recovered. Percy was an older man, between the ages of fifty-five and sixty. He wears a serious, almost lethal expression on his face and a cold look in his eyes that hide every thought contained in his eidetic memory. You can tell through his posture and cunning appearance that this man is not one to be reckoned with without consequence.

Following the man in the power seat, is Division co-founder, Amanda. The woman who is no older than forty, has piercing green cat-like eyes, long waves of brown hair with auburn undertones and has perfect womanly posture. The woman scans over Amanda's profile with interested eyes, she finds that Amanda is a woman full of mysteries and is possibly even more dangerous than Percy himself.

The next profile is of a man with striking features; a strong jaw line, mysterious hazel-brown eyes, short dark brown hair contrasting his pale flesh and he wears an emotionless expression. The woman stares at his image for a moment having a sense of recognition; she had seen him before but can put her finger on where. She reads over his profile quickly in attempt to jog her memory, but his biography is too brief. The man by the name of Michael is the Head of Operations at Division and the head of recruit training. The blond quickly looks back at his image and looks over it with confused eyes that craved to be enlightened.

"Почему вы так знакомо? (Why are you so familiar?)" The words escape in a whisper from the woman's mouth and it draws the attention of the armed guard standing at the door of the room. The brute of a man lets out a grunt in response of partially hearing her question. She waves him off signalling that her question was not directed towards him. She tosses Michael small file before picking up the last file.

"Она умерла, да? (She is dead, yes?)" The woman questions as she places the file down on the table for the guard at the door can see. The profile belongs to Nikita Mears; former praised Division Agent who had died on a mission. The guard nodded slowly as he looked over the image of the woman of Vietnamese decent, her hair dark brown, straight and long, and eyes a deep brown. "Тогда почему я должен ее файл? (Then why do I have her file?)" The woman sounded her voice thick with irritation as she stood up from the table.

The guard approached her slowly and picked up the folder with his large hands before shoving it at her chest. "Учиться у нее. (Learn from her.)" He spoke his low and rough with age. The woman raised her arm and grasped the file in her hand before looking up at the guard. The two of them exchanged strong glances before he stepped away from her, opened the door and led her out.

Division Headquarters, Operations. 2:30 PM.

The footsteps of Division operative Michael echo through operations as he paces back and forth behind Seymour Birkhoff, or as he would like to call himself: The Shadow Walker. "What do you mean his tracker went offline?" Michael sounded his smoky voice laced with aggravation. People didn't just drop off the radar, not unless they were dead. His hazel eyes scanned the screen above Birkhoff, observeing the bright green lights contracting the black, displaying the location of the Division agents on scene but not a single light match the code that was given to Daniel Alexander Quinn and his wife. Both supplied Division with funds, without them, they would take a heavy financial blow.

"Pull up a visual." Michael ordered as he finally took a standing position behind Birkhoff and crossed his arms over his chest. His face was covered with impatience as the click of the keyboard under Birkhoff's quick fingers surrounded them.

"I can't get a visual." Birkhoff informed Michael; "There's some kind of interference. I'm getting nothing but static. I can have a team waiting for you in five." He continued knowing that Percy would want a team to investigate immediately.

"Make it three." Michael ordered before buttoning up his blazer and heading out operation's door.

Atlantic City, New Jersey. 4:15 PM.

The salt of the sea water was mixed in the humid air just off the beach. The golden grains of sand that lined the beach were heated by the radiant summer sun. The standard black SUV of Division came to a stop in front of the beach house that Mister Quinn resided in. Laughter could be heard from the private beach along the coast behind the residence. Michael stepped out onto the stone walkway, his mirrored sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He looked towards the house with large open window to let in the natural light, how could something so open and guarded become compromised? Michael looked to his team of three as he slid his Glock 17 from his hip holster; "You two take the outside, you are with me."

The agents gave him a nod before breaking off, their Heckler & Koch MP5A3 submachine guns tucked into their shoulders. Michael raised his gun and moved towards the front door of the house with quick steps. When he came to the entrance he quickly typed in the numeral code on the key pad before the glass door unlocked with a click. Michael pressed his hand against the clean glass and slid it open. "Mister Quinn." He voiced only to receive no response. Michael continued deeper into the house, through the living room that seemed untouched and into the kitchen. Michael lowered his gun and brought his free hand to remove his sun glasses when he took a step onto the linoleum floor of the kitchen. A crimson pool had begun to spread across the glossy finish. His eyes followed it to the body of Mrs. Jessica Quinn. The woman's blue eyes were still open with shock, her lips slightly parted and her bottle blond hair soaked with blood. "We have a body on scene. No one gets in or out." Michael spoke loud enough for his com to pick up before standing again.

A trail of crimson footsteps leads away from the body. Barefoot, no shoes Michael examined but did not remember seeing a pair out of place at the door. Whoever this person was had made themselves at home prior to the attack. Michael followed the trail slowly, his Glock pointed in front of him thought he would not fire to kill; he was not the one to make that call, if the trigger was to be pulled, Percy would make that order. The footsteps lead Michael down a narrow hall to the cracked double doors of the master bedroom. He opened them cautiously to view the elegant room filled with sunlight. It had a view of the beach that Michael would have admired on any other occasion, but there was another sight to see here, laying on the floor was Mister Quinn laying dead at the foot of the bed in nothing but his red satin boxers. Three sloppy wounds marked his chest, matching the ones that had torn through the blouse of his wife. This was not the work of a professional. Michael gave off a shallow sigh as he reached for his cell phone in his pocket but froze when he heard running water coming from the master bath to the left of the bed. With cautious steps he moved towards the mahogany door, gun raised once again.

His head cocked to the side slightly when he found the petite figure of a young woman hunched over the sink. She was wearing nothing but a black push up bra and matching panties making her protruding hip and rib bones even more apparent than her bony knees. Her cheeks were shallow and blood spattered skin almost ashy as if she hadn't seen sunlight in days. Her weak hands rested under the steaming water trying to rinse the blood away before splashing her tired face. The woman's blood-shot baby blue eyes looked up at her reflection in the mirror but Michael did not go unnoticed. She lunged for the SIG-Sauer P239 resting on the back of the toilet before turning around quickly to train the gun on Michael. Her breathing was sharp and rapid as she looked him over, causing the steadiness of her aim to waver.

"Gun down, now." Michael ordered to the frail looking woman, but she does not comply. Instead she lowers her finger to the trigger and pulls it back. Click. Click. Click. The woman looked down at the gun with a defeated expression when she found that the clip was out of rounds. Tears had built up in her eyes much like the sick feeling in her stomach. The gun slipped through her shaking fingers like silk and she followed soon after to sit slumped against the bathroom counter.

Michael lowered his Glock slowly; in no way did this woman appear to be a threat anymore. A relaxed sigh escaped through his lips as he slowly stepped back from the bathroom door and he slipped his hand into his interior pocket for his cell phone to call Percy. The phone barely had the chance to ring before Percy was waiting impatiently to hear an update on Quinn's condition. "Send a cleaner to my current location, Quinn and his wife are dead." Michael informed Percy strongly as she looked over Daniel Quinn's body on the white carpet. "There is a woman on scene, has what I assume to be the murder weapon. I will put her do-"

"You will bring her back here," Percy cut Michael off before he could finish. "I want to know who she is, who she works for, everything." He ordered before hanging up the phone. Michael flipped his phone closed casually before slipping it back into its place in his jacket. He made his way back over to the bathroom door and looked over the woman once again. She didn't look like she could work for anyone, in fact; she looked sick as if she had been locked away. As he approached her he noticed bruising on her wrists and ankles along with scars along her legs and abdomen. His face was free of any expression that would show any link to what he was thinking happened to the woman in front of him. He had seen it many times before in recruits and none of them ever did see that he felt sorry for what they had been put through, it would be a weakness of his own if they knew that he just wanted to protect them... like he did with Nikita.

He grabbed the woman firmly, one of his hands grasping each of her shoulders tightly before helping her up from the ground. His team had made their way into the beach house and were waiting for him in the master bedroom. "Cleaners will be here within the hour. We have orders to get her back for questioning." Michael explained their orders before removing his jacket from his torso and wrapped around the girl's shoulders. The four of them then escorted the unidentified woman out to the SUV and forced her into the back seat. It wasn't until she was seated that she went to speak but it was too late, one of the men pressed his fingers to the sensitive nerve on her shoulder causing her to black out instantaneously and slouch in her seat.

Division Headquarters, Operations. 6:22 PM.

Operations was in a buzz as Michael, Percy, and Amanda stood around one of the larger monitors as Birkhoff pulled up a missing persons report. The report had been flagged when the facial recognition system picked it up as a match to the woman who had killed Daniel Quinn. "Katherine Joni Quinn," Birkhoff's voice fills the room as Michael looks up at the image that shared a strong likeness to a mug-shot. At first he sees almost no resemblance between the woman he found in the bathroom covered in blood and the woman on the screen but after imagining the seemingly healthy looking woman in the image with protruding cheek bones, and tired eyes it finally becomes clear. "She is the daughter of Daniel and Jessica Quinn and was born November, fourth nineteen-eighty-nine, making her the prime age of twenty-one." Birkhoff continued as he turned to face his three superiors with an almost cocky expression.

Percy looked over the woman's profile slowly with an angry expression. Michael can feel heat radiating from his boss like a volcano that is about to erupt. Percy is not happy about how the mission had been interfered with by the Jersey born, missing person of three years. Even Michael can see that something doesn't add up. "Amanda," Percy's voice erupts from his lips as he turns to face the tall woman who stood at his side. "Young, Ms. Quinn had to have had a reason to kill her family. Find out why."

A/N: Hello, this should be the only author's note unless anything comes up. I just want to thank you all for stopping by and checking out Behind Enemy Lines. there is much more excitement to come and I guarantee that you will not be disappointed! Along with the story I have a Weebly page that has OC bios that will be updated when new information when it comes to light. It also has a video I put together for this fic, the "playlists" of songs that go with each chapter and soon a link to my Polyvore that will have the outfits of Katherine and other characters as the story continues. Hope to hear from you and that you continue to read. There are many twists and turns to come.

~Millie55