Title: Forever Isn’t Enough
Author: DOZ (aka Clea)
Rating: PG --> R (Only once
)
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, except for a few characters I created.
Chapter 1
It was almost midnight and countless stars had adorned the pitch-black sky. The beautiful city roads of Panama were silent, except for the slight breeze that blew against the trees and the occasional car driving home after a late shift at work.
Panama was similar to any city, buildings everywhere, some were corporate-looking and some plainly obvious that it was used for purposes other than business. Many would say the city was an industrial district, others, a tourist destination, some, a romantic getaway, but to a selected few, a location suitable for headquarters for a secret organization.
Who would have imagined that the wonderful city of Panama housed a base for an organization involved with deadly weapons, extortion, and espionage? This syndicate’s headquarters consisted of a medium-sized building with an exterior that appeared to be in desperate need of refurbishment. The building was created to look like a seedy hotel that had more than its fair share of bad luck and had no choice but to shut down. That was how it seemed to the public eye, nothing more than an excuse for a cheap place to stay, that unfortunately ran out of business too quickly.
But like the saying goes: “Appearances can be deceiving.” And in this instance, it was most certainly the case. When entering the building, it was evident that the hotel had been abandoned for some time. Dust, cobwebs and other unimaginable filth had accumulated in the small lobby. Straight ahead, was the elevators that looked dangerously unstable if boarded. One of the metal doors hung lopsidedly, causing the lift not to close properly, leaving an approximate inch of a gap in between.
Little did the outside world know that the area below the building was being used as an operations centre for a group of people with a cruel and dangerous reputation. Employees used the entrance in the alley beside the hotel and the dodgy-looking elevators to take them underground, where they resumed their work regarding a mysterious man named Milo Rambaldi.
This group had only acquired and deciphered bits and pieces of information concerning the so-called eccentric. But what was of utmost importance, was the prophecy foretold by the man:
“This woman here depicted will possess unseen marks. Signs that she will be the one to bring forth my works. Bind them with fury. A burning anger, unless prevented. At vulgar cost, this woman will render the greatest power unto utter desolation. This woman, without pretence, will have had her effect, never having seen the beauty of my sky behind Mt. Subasio. Perhaps a single glance would have quelled her fire.”
Many people have died and many would gladly sacrifice their lives to discover the true meaning of Rambaldi’s aspiration and the promised power that would be granted when it ultimately came to pass. Irina Derevko was one of many who found herself caught up in the obsession of Rambaldi, but came to appreciate and understand the more important things in life: her undying love for her family and her unwillingness to give up in making them believe that.
She sat in her bedroom in her villa thousands of miles away from the building of operations of the Rambaldi-crazed organization, staring at her laptop that had a perfect view of the said building, both exterior and interior. Her eyes shone in the darkness; the slightly open window allowing a sliver of moonlight to escape and shine in her room. A still figure sat beside her with one of her legs crossed over the other also staring stoically at the laptop before them.
Without the aid of any light, no one could see the two women sitting unmoving in the darkness. Irina Derevko was by no means considered anything other than beautiful; there was a fine line between good-looking and beautiful, she crossed ‘beautiful’ a long time ago and was as far away from that line as she was from the building she was staring at. She had wavy chestnut hair that always fell gracefully to her elbows, stunning deep brown eyes that could pierce a stone if the occasion called for it and an enviable physique that most women would die for.
After another several minutes, Irina broke the silence, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
The girl softly said, “I’m sure.”
Irina replied, “Alright.” She took hold of the remote detonator that lay beside the laptop and handed it to the girl. “It’s all yours.”
The girl did not hesitate at all in pushing the button on the detonator and before their very eyes; the building on the laptop screen came crashing down. The road seemed to split at the impact, but held as a muffled explosion that appeared to come from below the building was heard.
The two women looked at each other and Irina again broke the silence, “Come on, it’s time to go.” Irina gathered her laptop and they both slipped away into the dark of the night.
~*~*~*~
Los Angeles, 3 hours later
Jack Bristow was not one would consider a happy or cheerful person. He hardly smiled and a sincere laugh was even rarer. But a person could label him serious, determined, hard working. He took his job very seriously; being a secret agent was not something to be taken lightly, he was definitely determined, especially when it concerned the safety of his daughter Sydney, but most especially, he was hard working. His career was his life, he valued it in a way no one could possibly understand and on some level, allowed it to consume him to fill the void his life became.
However, he was not the type to go into work after being called up by the APO at 2:30 in the morning for a meeting, emergency or not. So naturally, Jack Bristow was not happy when he walked through the bullpen with a glare that would make his colleagues run away in fear. But still, as usual, he was dressed impeccably in a black suit and shiny leather shoes.
As he sat down for the meeting, he tried his best not to fall asleep. Sydney didn’t even attempt to stifle the yawn that escaped her lips and Vaughn’s eyes were slowly drooping. Weiss had his head tilted back and was already snoring softly, whilst Marshall looked like he was on drugs seeing how awake he was. Director Chase briskly walked in and dropped a folder in front of each and every one of them. She especially slammed it extra hard in front of Weiss, to help him out of his now sleep-talking reverie.
“Approximately 1 hour ago at 1:27 am,” Chase began. “There was a bombing in Panama. An entire building was demolished, leaving no trace of whatever was in or below the building or the bomber themselves. We've been notified by CIA sources that The Order had a building based there, but it was never confirmed.”
“Do we have any idea who did it?” asked Vaughn; it was always his role to ask questions in meetings and it seemed to come naturally to him, seeing as he was doing this half-asleep.
“We're not certain but we have a team there now investigating.”
Interrupting Chase was her cell phone that began ringing. She scowled at the disturbance and picked up her phone. “Chase.” Her face quickly changed to that of urgency. “OK, I'll be right there.”
“There's been a development. The CIA had a walk-in who claims to have information regarding the bombing.” Chase said. “I’m going to go there now and I expect everyone to meet at CIA 8:00 tomorrow morning to watch the… interrogation of the witness. Remember that most people at the CIA think you’ve quit so make sure you use the…other entrance to avoid being seen.”
“Walk-in? That's a good thing, isn't it?” Sydney asked. She seemed to have fallen asleep like Weiss before Chase began and was only able to tune in when she mentioned a walk-in.
“It would be if the bombing had been publicised and if the source wasn't a teenager.”
“He's a teenager?!” Vaughn cried, wondering, like everyone in the room, how a teenager would have information on an attack like that, also considering that bombers were not usually that sloppy, that there might be witnesses.
“Actually, she's a teenager.” corrected Chase. “And also looks similar to the person who is currently #6 on the CIA's Most Wanted List.”
~*~*~*~
Few minutes earlier
It was a cold winter's night in Los Angeles and the streets were deserted. A young woman walked into the CIA building, dressed up in a way that deemed much too formal for the occasion. She wore an expensive suit, much like someone before her, with her head held high, emitting an air of confidence and superiority that was all too familiar. She was completely oblivious to the looks she was receiving from people who should have been at home resting in such an ungodly hour.
She reached the receptionist and stopped for a moment as if to size the elderly woman up. She said in a sweet yet serious tone, “I have valuable information concerning the bombing in Panama.” She paused. “I know who was responsible.”
TBC
Author: DOZ (aka Clea)
Rating: PG --> R (Only once
)Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, except for a few characters I created.
Chapter 1
It was almost midnight and countless stars had adorned the pitch-black sky. The beautiful city roads of Panama were silent, except for the slight breeze that blew against the trees and the occasional car driving home after a late shift at work.
Panama was similar to any city, buildings everywhere, some were corporate-looking and some plainly obvious that it was used for purposes other than business. Many would say the city was an industrial district, others, a tourist destination, some, a romantic getaway, but to a selected few, a location suitable for headquarters for a secret organization.
Who would have imagined that the wonderful city of Panama housed a base for an organization involved with deadly weapons, extortion, and espionage? This syndicate’s headquarters consisted of a medium-sized building with an exterior that appeared to be in desperate need of refurbishment. The building was created to look like a seedy hotel that had more than its fair share of bad luck and had no choice but to shut down. That was how it seemed to the public eye, nothing more than an excuse for a cheap place to stay, that unfortunately ran out of business too quickly.
But like the saying goes: “Appearances can be deceiving.” And in this instance, it was most certainly the case. When entering the building, it was evident that the hotel had been abandoned for some time. Dust, cobwebs and other unimaginable filth had accumulated in the small lobby. Straight ahead, was the elevators that looked dangerously unstable if boarded. One of the metal doors hung lopsidedly, causing the lift not to close properly, leaving an approximate inch of a gap in between.
Little did the outside world know that the area below the building was being used as an operations centre for a group of people with a cruel and dangerous reputation. Employees used the entrance in the alley beside the hotel and the dodgy-looking elevators to take them underground, where they resumed their work regarding a mysterious man named Milo Rambaldi.
This group had only acquired and deciphered bits and pieces of information concerning the so-called eccentric. But what was of utmost importance, was the prophecy foretold by the man:
“This woman here depicted will possess unseen marks. Signs that she will be the one to bring forth my works. Bind them with fury. A burning anger, unless prevented. At vulgar cost, this woman will render the greatest power unto utter desolation. This woman, without pretence, will have had her effect, never having seen the beauty of my sky behind Mt. Subasio. Perhaps a single glance would have quelled her fire.”
Many people have died and many would gladly sacrifice their lives to discover the true meaning of Rambaldi’s aspiration and the promised power that would be granted when it ultimately came to pass. Irina Derevko was one of many who found herself caught up in the obsession of Rambaldi, but came to appreciate and understand the more important things in life: her undying love for her family and her unwillingness to give up in making them believe that.
She sat in her bedroom in her villa thousands of miles away from the building of operations of the Rambaldi-crazed organization, staring at her laptop that had a perfect view of the said building, both exterior and interior. Her eyes shone in the darkness; the slightly open window allowing a sliver of moonlight to escape and shine in her room. A still figure sat beside her with one of her legs crossed over the other also staring stoically at the laptop before them.
Without the aid of any light, no one could see the two women sitting unmoving in the darkness. Irina Derevko was by no means considered anything other than beautiful; there was a fine line between good-looking and beautiful, she crossed ‘beautiful’ a long time ago and was as far away from that line as she was from the building she was staring at. She had wavy chestnut hair that always fell gracefully to her elbows, stunning deep brown eyes that could pierce a stone if the occasion called for it and an enviable physique that most women would die for.
After another several minutes, Irina broke the silence, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
The girl softly said, “I’m sure.”
Irina replied, “Alright.” She took hold of the remote detonator that lay beside the laptop and handed it to the girl. “It’s all yours.”
The girl did not hesitate at all in pushing the button on the detonator and before their very eyes; the building on the laptop screen came crashing down. The road seemed to split at the impact, but held as a muffled explosion that appeared to come from below the building was heard.
The two women looked at each other and Irina again broke the silence, “Come on, it’s time to go.” Irina gathered her laptop and they both slipped away into the dark of the night.
~*~*~*~
Los Angeles, 3 hours later
Jack Bristow was not one would consider a happy or cheerful person. He hardly smiled and a sincere laugh was even rarer. But a person could label him serious, determined, hard working. He took his job very seriously; being a secret agent was not something to be taken lightly, he was definitely determined, especially when it concerned the safety of his daughter Sydney, but most especially, he was hard working. His career was his life, he valued it in a way no one could possibly understand and on some level, allowed it to consume him to fill the void his life became.
However, he was not the type to go into work after being called up by the APO at 2:30 in the morning for a meeting, emergency or not. So naturally, Jack Bristow was not happy when he walked through the bullpen with a glare that would make his colleagues run away in fear. But still, as usual, he was dressed impeccably in a black suit and shiny leather shoes.
As he sat down for the meeting, he tried his best not to fall asleep. Sydney didn’t even attempt to stifle the yawn that escaped her lips and Vaughn’s eyes were slowly drooping. Weiss had his head tilted back and was already snoring softly, whilst Marshall looked like he was on drugs seeing how awake he was. Director Chase briskly walked in and dropped a folder in front of each and every one of them. She especially slammed it extra hard in front of Weiss, to help him out of his now sleep-talking reverie.
“Approximately 1 hour ago at 1:27 am,” Chase began. “There was a bombing in Panama. An entire building was demolished, leaving no trace of whatever was in or below the building or the bomber themselves. We've been notified by CIA sources that The Order had a building based there, but it was never confirmed.”
“Do we have any idea who did it?” asked Vaughn; it was always his role to ask questions in meetings and it seemed to come naturally to him, seeing as he was doing this half-asleep.
“We're not certain but we have a team there now investigating.”
Interrupting Chase was her cell phone that began ringing. She scowled at the disturbance and picked up her phone. “Chase.” Her face quickly changed to that of urgency. “OK, I'll be right there.”
“There's been a development. The CIA had a walk-in who claims to have information regarding the bombing.” Chase said. “I’m going to go there now and I expect everyone to meet at CIA 8:00 tomorrow morning to watch the… interrogation of the witness. Remember that most people at the CIA think you’ve quit so make sure you use the…other entrance to avoid being seen.”
“Walk-in? That's a good thing, isn't it?” Sydney asked. She seemed to have fallen asleep like Weiss before Chase began and was only able to tune in when she mentioned a walk-in.
“It would be if the bombing had been publicised and if the source wasn't a teenager.”
“He's a teenager?!” Vaughn cried, wondering, like everyone in the room, how a teenager would have information on an attack like that, also considering that bombers were not usually that sloppy, that there might be witnesses.
“Actually, she's a teenager.” corrected Chase. “And also looks similar to the person who is currently #6 on the CIA's Most Wanted List.”
~*~*~*~
Few minutes earlier
It was a cold winter's night in Los Angeles and the streets were deserted. A young woman walked into the CIA building, dressed up in a way that deemed much too formal for the occasion. She wore an expensive suit, much like someone before her, with her head held high, emitting an air of confidence and superiority that was all too familiar. She was completely oblivious to the looks she was receiving from people who should have been at home resting in such an ungodly hour.
She reached the receptionist and stopped for a moment as if to size the elderly woman up. She said in a sweet yet serious tone, “I have valuable information concerning the bombing in Panama.” She paused. “I know who was responsible.”
TBC