~You
see him in your nightmares
You see him in your dreams
He appears out of nowhere but he ain't what he seems
You see him in your head
On the TV screen, hey buddy I'm warning you to turn it up
He's a ghost, he's a goblin, he's a man
You're one microscopic pawn in his catastrophic plan
Designed and directed by his red right hand~
He stared through the window with a evil smile of satisfaction. This was almost to easy. He would have thought that security would be a high factor here but obviously it was not. Placing the package down by the window he was confident that it would be seen. The wrapping was a brilliant, metallic red and shone with force when light hit. He glanced at the sleeping figure in bed and longed to go inside and play.
"Soon," he whispered to himself in the ebony covering of the night, "Soon."
Leaping down from the windowsill the figure
draped in black made his escape.
Nikita opened her eyes and stretched the length of her body from the top of the bed to the bottom. The sunlight filtering through her french windows was amazingly bright and Nikita had to wonder how long she had slept. Swinging her legs over the left side of the bed, Nikita pulled on a robe and walked into the kitchen. She began to boil a pot of tea and crossed off another day from her calendar. October 18. Just another day of her life going by. She retrieved her cup of tea and walked back to her bed room, flicking on her CD player. As she was crossing the room something caught her eye. A bright flash of red just outside of the french doors.
Nikita opened the doors and stepped into the cool, crisp air. Tightening the robe around her body, Nikita picked up the metallic package and hurriedly stepped back into the warm house. Her curiosity piqued, Nikita sat on the white couch and balanced the package on her knee.
"Maybe I shouldn't open it," she though, "Maybe I should bring it to Section and have it checked out." Reason overcame curiosity and Nikita put the package on the foot table. She tapped her foot and sipped the cup of tea, pretending that she wasn't curious as to what the object held.
"Forget this!" Nikita exclaimed aloud, setting the cup on the table with
a clang. She ran to her room and pulled clothes out in a frenzy. For once
she couldn't wait to get to Section
Madeline walked down the hallway with the self assured clicks of her heels being the only sound for the moment. She was scheduled for a meeting and did not intend to be late. Not that the man would know the difference.
Pausing in front of the heavy steel door, Madeline checked her step and
put forth a calm, expressionless mask. With that done, she opened the door
and stepped in.
The man in front of her was in his mid thirties,
dark brown hair and a pallor color to his skin. Madeline knew what she
wanted and was sure she would get it.
"Good day Mr. Cardansa." The man looked at her with a surprised face. Then he began to talk.
"No entiendo. . . ellos. . .ellos. . . no entiendo." A look of unpleasant surprise found it's way across Madeline's aristocratic features. This had not been mentioned in all the research she had done. Well then. She knew his secret.
"Cometer noe jugar esta con usted, Senor Cardansa. Decir usted por tu saber.*" The man smiled and shrugged.
"So you speak the language. Can you blame me for trying?" Madeline shook her head. They were all the same. She circled around him in her usual fashion and proceeded to pick apart his psyche bit by bit. When she had her information she shot him without remorse and left the room, her "mission" complete.
Nikita could barely keep still as Walter preformed numerous tests on the still closed box. Shifting her weight from one foot to the next she leaned over his shoulder.
"Ok, ok! I'm done. Nothing of dangerous origin is in it! Take it and stop hovering!" Walter exclaimed, pushing the package toward Nikita. Nikita took it in her excited hands and had to keep herself from running down the hallway.
She reached Michael's office, who actually wasn't there, and figured that it was the perfect spot. She wouldn't be bothered here.
Ripping the red paper off of the white container, Nikita pried open the
lid. She picked up the first of many objects inside of it and cried out
in shock. This was not what she had hoped for.
*Cometer noe jugar esta con usted, Senor Cardansa. Decir usted por tu saber.
" Do not play games with me, Mr. Cardansa. Tell me what you know." (Roughly
translated)
Nikita dropped the photo in shock and stared, trembling, down at it. The Polaroid was well handled but Nikita could still make out the person in it. It was Michael, bound and gagged to a chair. The room was dark with only a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. It appeared as though Michael had been drugged.
Nikita raised her hand to her mouth, muffling a cry of anguish. Her movements felt forced and machine like as she rose from the couch, picked up the photo and box, and proceeded to walk down the hall. She felt the shock wearing off as she neared Madeline's office. Raising a fist, Nikita ignored the keypad near the door. She banged loudly and didn't stop until she heard Madeline from inside.
"Hold on a second." Madeline voiced, her usual calm, serene voice laced with irritation and a hint of anger. The door swung open silently, leaving Nikita with a view of the sterile, off white room. Madeline sat at her desk, mask back into place and fingers intertwined precisely.
"And what can I do for you today Nikita?" Madeline asked with just the right amount of sarcasm and chastise so that Nikita knew not to do that again.
"Look at this." Nikita said bluntly, dumping the box on Madeline's immaculate desk.
Madeline rose her eyebrows and figured the picture. It was one of three objects in the white shoe box shaped package. There was also an envelope and a pressed rose.
"Is this everything?" Madeline asked, looking up from the "evidence" in front of her.
"Everything but the paper. That's still in Michael's office." Madeline poorly hid a small smirk.
"Michael's office, hmm?" Nikita felt a flush creep up her neck from the combination of Madeline's razor sharp words and her intense gaze.
"In any case, go get the paper and anything else you happen to remember. Bring it here immediately and tell no one else. Understood?" Nikita nodded and headed for the white door.
"And Nikita," Nikita turned back around from her decent, "The keypad is there for a reason."
Nikita handed the red paper over and watched as Madeline studied intensely.
"Where was this found?" She asked suddenly, disrupting Nikita's train of
thought.
Thoughts of Michael. Thoughts of the torture
he might be going through. Someday, Nikita decided, someday she might thank
Madeline for that interruption.
"Outside of my french window. Near the far left of the balcony." Madeline nodded thoughtfully.
"I assumed as much." She placed the paper down on her desk.
"Whoever this was wanted you to find the package at the earliest possible time. That is why it was on the balcony, the paper is made of four types of individual plastic which makes it highly recommended if you want to attract sunlight. I am guessing you saw it almost right away?" Madeline asked as she lightly touched the unopened envelope. Mutely, Nikita nodded.
"Yes well. . ." Madeline left that thought hanging and picked up the sealed envelope. She carefully made a tear in the side and slipped a piece of light tan colored paper out. Reading silently to herself, Madeline's eyes conveyed surprise and then anger. Nikita was about to jump up and rip the page from Madeline's grasp when, unexpectedly, Madeline handed it over. Nikita read and re-read the contents of the letter. Then, still not fully comprehending what she had obtained here, looked up and met Madeline's gaze. This wasn't good. Not at all.
Nikita rubbed her eyes and sat back in the chair. Madeline was staring at her again, as if expecting the answer to be written on Nikita's forehead. Nikita mentally reviewed the contents of the letter.
It had stated that Michael had indeed been taken and he would be killed if the steps in the note were not fulfilled. Apparently one step was to figure out exactly what the note meant. They were supposed to find the next "clue" to the "game" and in order to do so they had to understand the given phrase.
"Whereas I was blind, now I see," Nikita remembered sourly, "And I am supposed to decode a mad-man's rambling?"
Madeline had informed Operations of the present situation immediately. He had agreed with their plan. Tell no one, trust no one. It had seemed easy at the time.
"Well?" Nikita asked, exasperated with the progress rate. Madeline raised an eyebrow and placed a hand under her chin, effectively giving the impression of relaxation and calmness.
"I don't know." Those words were less reassuring. Nikita sighed and picked up the note for the hundredth time in the foolish notion that the answer would suddenly be written there. Frustrated with lack of accomplishment in this action, Nikita threw the paper to Madeline.
"I think I have it." Madeline stated serenely, not removing her hand from her chin or changing her expression. Nikita leaned forward, anticipation jumping over her features.
"What is it?"
"Now be certain to take into consideration that I may be wrong. This is obviously not a definite answer." Nikita nodded, wishing Madeline would just get to it. Madeline rose gracefully from behind her desk and walked to her bonsai trees.
Nikita tapped her foot impatiently, resisting the urge to scream at her. Just as she was about to lose it Madeline turned around with a smile on her face.
"St. John's Church."
"Huh?" Nikita asked, for the moment forgetting how to use her language.
Madeline barely refrained the urge to roll her eyes at Nikita's grammar.
"The phrase. It is from a section in the Bible I believe. . .under John.
Chapter Nine, Phrase 25. Go to the church Nikita. We don't have much time."
Nikita flew out of her seat and Madeline watched her go, a pleased expression
written over her features.
Two men rushed at her from her left and right. Nikita, startled, did not react quick enough to avoid a kick in the ribs. She was shocked out of her surprise quickly despite the brutal kick and attacked the man on her left, using him as a shield to protect herself from the man on the right. They were unconscious before they barely had time to react. Shaking from the exertion, Nikita made her way to the package. The first thing she noticed was the piece of paper resting atop of the box. Nikita picked up the paper and read allowed.
"Congratulations. You have made it to round two. Take the box to Section and proceed as planned." Nikita crumpled the paper in a ball and placed it in her pocket. Taking the box under her arm, she brought it out to the car and drove away without a second glance.
"Do you need to go to MedLab?" Madeline finally asked Nikita. Throughout
Walter's examination she had been restless and fidgety but favoring her
left side. Nikita shook her head and proceeded to ignore any further discomforts,
waiting impatiently for Walter to be finished. When he was done, Madeline
took the package under her arm and, trusting that Nikita would follow,
proceeded to her office.
Madeline entered her office with Nikita directly behind her. Nikita wrung her hands together nervously, not really sure that she wanted to see what was in the package. She had a feeling it was not going to be good. Madeline turned around and handed the package to Nikita without a word, not explaining her motivations or reasoning. Nikita took it and sat in her usual seat.
Unwrapping the white paper, Nikita was faced with a green box. She pried open the cover and pulled out a letter written on red paper with white lettering. She read it to herself and passed it over to Madeline.
The letter was a simple childish rhyme.
"Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet eating her curds and way. Along came a spider that sat down beside her and frightened Miss Muffet away." Madeline recited from the paper in her even tone.
She lowered the paper and shot Nikita a look. Nikita began to pull objects
out of the box with hurried motions. A small pile formed in front of her
including a tape, rope and a pair of wire mesh gloves. Nikita stared at
the gloves in horror as what she had to do dawned on her.
Nikita made her way through the darkness with the practiced precision of a jungle cat. Dressed in black form fitting pants, black ribbed turtleneck and black combat boots she almost felt invincible. Almost.
The building was directly ahead of her, looming in the brisk air. Nikita repressed a shiver as she slipped the mesh gloves on. She was directly underneath the slight overturn above the step. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Nikita reached out and opened the faded maroon door.
The sight in front of her was not really one that she had looked forward to seeing. Cages, thousands of them, loomed in separate corners of the museum. Nikita heard the unmistakable sound of the rattlesnake and grasped the doorframe to steady herself. She had a terrible fear of snakes and even worse, spiders.
Nikita walked slowly down the center of the room. There was a variety of
spiders and snakes ranging from a garden snake to a tarantula. At the far
end of the room Nikita saw the subtle glimmer of deep purple. She quickened
her pace until she was at a dead run. When she reached the new package
she almost keeled over right there. In order to get the package and the
clues inside of it she had to retrieve it from a certain section of the
room. Where the Black Widows were born and raised. They were lose everywhere.
The man rested a black combat boot on the seat of the chair and leaned further toward the screen. Leaning a elbow on his knee, he balanced his cigarette between his lips and punched a few numbers into the keyboard. The image of Michael disappeared and one of Madeline's office came up.
Pressing the arrows on the keyboard, the man explored all the corners of the room from floor to ceiling. Madeline was sitting at her desk, talking with Nikita and holding a picture of Michael. The tape was two hours old but the observer analyzed it as though it were occurring at the exact moment. He adjusted the screen to show both women and smiled, thinking of what Nikita was going through.
Blowing a mouthful of smoke directly into the image of Madeline's face, the man smirked evilly.
"You'll get yours soon, my dear. Soon." Pressing simple commands into the
computer's memory, the figure leaned back and watched as Michael slept.
Nikita suppressed a shiver as she walked into the room. She could have sworn that something just dropped down the back of her shirt.
"Oh god, what if it was waiting there. . . hanging from it's web. . . and now is on me!" Nikita's breathing rate went up rapidly and she closed her eyes, knees getting weak.
"No," Nikita thought to herself, "I will not go down. Michael needs me. Michael needs me." Nikita, repeating this to herself, walked further into the room. Black spiders hung from corners, furniture and the ceiling as the spun their webs and ate their prey. One skittered across the hard tile floor and over Nikita's boot. Shuddering, Nikita breathed deeply and continued.
She could see the bright purple wrapping even in the darkness. Reaching out, Nikita breathed deeply and grabbed the box. Too late, she saw the spider lurking on the ribbon. It jumped on her chest, causing her to drop the box and frantically swat at herself. The spider went flying across the room, hitting the wall with a sickening splattering sound. Nikita barely controlled her shaking as she bent down and retrieved the box. Head high, Nikita walked out of the room at a fast pace. She had never been so glad to leave a room.
Placing the box on the backseat of her Intrigue, Nikita glanced down as she closed the door. A ebony colored spider danced around her foot. Disdainfully, Nikita brought her boot clad foot up and squashed it under the heel.
Whispering a curse or two, Nikita got in the car and began to drive back
to Section.
Michael moaned and turned over. The nightmares were getting worse. The figure held his head in his hands and whimpered. The headaches were becoming unbearable. Who was the cause of this? He didn't deserve it. Glancing up at Michael, an evil gleam filled the kidnappers eyes. Picking up a hypodermic needle from beside the keyboard, the man rose and walked to the door of Michael's room. He opened the heavy barrier and stood in the doorway, watching the man on the floor.
With only a pause for thought, the figure advanced toward Michael, needle
dripping a strange yellow fluid.
Madeline shifted through the newest package with tightening features. Nikita was looking over her shoulder, still unconsciously rubbing her hands together with thoughts of the spiders.
Closing the box, Madeline spoke clearly, her voice not betraying the slight
edge of apprehension working it's way inside of her. Why it was there,
she did not know.
"It looks as though you will be traveling
to Spain Nikita. Do you know the language?" Madeline asked, eyes trained
on a spot above one of the bonsai trees in the room. Something about this
particular riddle made her uneasy. It didn't fit. The riddle was too clear
in its' meaning. Madeline wondered if a trap was being set up. Through
her thoughts, Madeline realized Nikita had begun to answer her.
"No, I never got the hang of Spanish." Madeline nodded and rose from her desk. Pacing the length of the room, she suddenly looked up.
"I will have you bring a com unit, that should help you with communication." Nikita nodded and started out of the office to get it from Walter.
"Nikita," The young woman turned around and waited, "I want you armed also."
"Of course." Madeline observed that
Nikita had adopted Michael's way of dealing with emotions. She wasn't as
good as it of course, Madeline could still see the fear and anxiety in
the clear blue eyes, but she was improving. Her posture also contradicted
her inner feelings.
Madeline ran her carefully structured nail against the pad of her hand absentmindedly. Her thoughts were returning to the mission. She had to get herself collected and under control. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Madeline pictured her favorite place. It was a place of quietness and freedom. Hard won freedom at that. Opening her chocolate ice eyes, Madeline made her way to Systems.
Outside of Weapons, Nikita slumped against the cold grey wall with force. It was hard to keep doing this, out of her character. She was trying to be brave, if not for her own sake than for Michael's. Her face was now quite a contrast to ten minutes earlier. Conveying anger, hurt and sadness, all were weaving out of the way and leaving this particular operative alone.
Nikita closed her eyes and willed away the urge to scream, be sick or both.
Feeling more under control she proceeded her set course to Weapons.
Michael swallowed, a thick dry sensation clouding his throat. Eyes still closed, Michael used other senses to figure out his surroundings.
He was laying on a hard floor, most probably a tile form. The room was damp, cold and a slight wind brushed over his bare chest. Shivering a bit, Michael drew his arms around himself. He cracked an eye open and saw nothing but darkness. Yawning, Michael tried to assess the situation. He remembered being at home and looking through the TV channels. It had been so long since he had watched his TV that he wasn't familiar with any of the shows. There were a few that sounded familiar, Reunion, Ambition and Scales of Justice, but nothing concrete came to mind. Then he had sensed a presence in back of him. Before he had time to react, a sharp, needle like object was injected into the back of his neck. After that, he had awoken here.
Shaking his head to clear it, Michael sat up and rubbed his hands up and down the length of his bare, muscular biceps. He realized he was clothed only in his jeans, his shoes and shirt had disappeared to an unknown destination. Ears tuned in, Michael heard the sound of a PA system.
"Did you have a nice rest?" A hoarse, throaty voice asked with a thick accent. Michael stood in the middle of the room and looked around for the location of the device.
"Where am I?" He finally asked, hands dropping to his sides.
"Somewhere where no one will ever find you." The man answered, the laughed an evil, unmistakably mad laugh. Michael began to wonder if he was right.
Michael felt his head splitting in two directions. One knew that something
was happening to him and he had to resist. The other wanted to comply with
the voices he was hearing. His resistance was slowly fading as the voices
overwhelmed him. Slowly he stood up and listened. The knew what to do.
They would not hurt him as Section had. Section. They were the enemy.
Madeline's heels clicked against the tile as she made her way to Systems. The tight feeling of apprehension in her stomach was getting to annoy her. She hadn't felt this for years and was not anxious to feel it again anytime soon.
Ahead in the shadows, Operations watched her. Madeline was an intriguing creature even to him. He who had shared everything with her for so many years. It wasn't until after that relationship had ended that he realized just how little she had given about herself. Now, in the current state of their relationship, it was not appropriate to ask such questions. Though, if he really wanted to know, she would tell him on orders. But Operations held a certain respect for the auburn haired woman that he was not willing to name. And he most certainly wouldn't order her to divulge into her past for his enjoyment. Stepping out of the corner to join her, Operations set his pace to match her long legged stride.
"Any new intel?" He questioned, awaiting her answer.
"Nikita is on her way to Spain for the next "clue". I am assisting her with Spanish in Systems. I have also scheduled a session for her and Mia Verone for later this month. Nikita needs to brush up on her foreign languages." Operations smiled softly. That was his Madeline.
"Whoa," He thought to himself, "Better not to go their buddy."
"That sounds good. Keep me informed." Operations stopped and she mocked him, turning her body to face his, with that serene expression that seemed to be permanently painted on her face.
"Of course." Madeline stated with a tilt of her head and cryptic smile.
She turned on her heel and walked away. Operations stayed in place, watching
her retreating form.
Nikita fanned herself with a limp hand. It was hot in Spain. Hotter than what she was used to. She inserted a com link into her left ear and spoke softly.
"Madeline?" Almost immediately a smooth, low voice answered.
"Yes Nikita, I'm here." Nikita continued her walk, passing many and noticing few.
"Nikita, at the next right I want you to turn. You should be faced with a outdoor market." Madeline described, trying to remember from her last visit. Of course she hadn't seen much of the city with that particular get away.
"I'm here." Nikita's voice shook Madeline from her reverie and she continued.
"Walk up to the first person you see behind the stand. Then I want you to say this."
Madeline launched into what seemed like hours of the language and Nikita let out a short, harsh laugh.
"You want me to say what!?" Madeline sighed heavily and buried her face in her arms.
The man twirled his cigarette between two fingers. Raising it to his lips, he inhaled and puffed out the smoke.
"Now Michael, I want you to listen carefully." His husky voice spoke into the microphone and echoed in Michael's mind. Everything was going as planned.
Michael woke up to a cold, freezing room in a rare moment when his thoughts were his own. He was beyond confusion as he debated with himself precisely what was being used on him.
Running a shaky hand over his increasingly dirtying chest, Michael couldn't control the shiver that coursed through his body. The cool, aloof expression that usually occupied his exquisite features had gone long ago. He wanted answers. Answers to who the voice was that hypnotized his thoughts so frequently. Answers to what that voice made him do when he was, in a term, "unconscious".
Lowering his head and studying his hands in the dark, Michael thought of
Nikita. Her smile, her laugh. How he wished that he could be with her at
this moment. Her soul, gentle and kind, and her compassion, pure and frequently
given. He really didn't deserve someone that perfect Michael knew.
Shaking his head and bringing himself back to the present, Michael knew
that he would have to act soon. The voice would be coming back. It always
did. And when it did, Michael would be here. Helpless to defend himself
against anything the voice requested.
Madeline's throat was sore, scratchy and felt like it was on fire. Her face was buried in her arms and she was about ready to murder anyone who came near her.
"Madeline, did you get that?" A sugar sweet voice questioned in her ear. Madeline sat up with her eyes closed for a moment.
"Yes Nikita. He told you the same thing everyone else has said. Keep walking."
Madeline heard Nikita's audible sigh and smiled lightly. The situation was not a humorous one though, and all smiles were quickly erased. Everyone that Nikita had asked had either never heard of the place that the note had specified or told them, in more vulgar terms, to leave them alone. Both women were at the "end of their rope" as the old saying said.
Madeline focused on the note again, picking the smudged yellow paper up in her tampered hand. She could hear the sounds of Spain through the com link. Wonderful exotic music, flowing conversations of both male and female and sounds of traditional street acts and plays cascaded through the equipment to meet her ears. She could almost feel the hot sun that Nikita was cursing at this moment. Madeline placed the note on the desk in front of her and rested her chin on her hand.
"There has to be something we are not seeing," she whispered.
Nikita heard her but did not visibly react. She continued to walk down
the blistering hot streets, between brick buildings and rainbow colored
tarps. The city was alive with music and sound but Nikita had blocked all
of this out. In her mind was a permanent vision of Michael, tortured and
gagged on a dirt floor somewhere. And, despite the yellow rays beating
down on her, Nikita felt a coldness seep through her.
The man coughed and held his throat. Everything was good but at the same
time bad. Things disordered and twisted. People who weren't there were.
Things that shouldn't exist did. This was his world. His own prison. Created
by the people who he had once trusted most. Who he had served loyally for
many years. Focusing in on the Michael, an evil, sadistic
grin spread over the features of the kidnapper. Thoughts and memories flashed
before him, threatening to fill his mind forever. He could make them pay.
They would pay. All of them.
To Be Continued......