Post by YŪREI on Jul 19, 2020 15:04:04 GMT -5
Special Agent Donald Mosley often occupied a strange space, a mindscape polluted with the remnants of those he pursued. Occasionally those fragments of evil would rise to the surface; a glimmer of malevolence in Mosely’s tired reflection as he shaved in the morning. Sometimes though the horror would manifest in a different way, the occasional glimpse of a Quantico colleague whose expression seemed to contort into a sadistic grin as the FBI man slipped his coffee and averted his eyes in a crowded corridor.
The fear seemed formless until it wished to return. Hiding in the tall grass as it slithered and stalked.
Interrogations were the worst for Mosely though, for they refused to allow the agent the crawlspace his fragile mind craved, no precious haven to escape the pangs of dread that welled up inside like a septic tank, twisting a dagger into his subconscious until his weakened heart pounded against his ribs for mercy, searching for an exit from this broken, haunted world.
“Good Day, Donald”
John Rabid’s voice echoed across the bleached white room, yet only Mosely could hear the ripper’s smug inflection. A serpent living rent-free inside the mind of the man that had pursued him doggedly for nearly five years. And yet, Jason Rush eluded Mosely, returning only to conjure up a new terrifying game for them to play. Their annual cat and mouse escapade that would unravel whatever progress religion or psychiatry or twelve steps to enlightenment managed to provide Mosely in the interim.
Mosley took a shallow breath as his left hand instinctively searched his jacket pocket for a crucifix, his shaking digits coiling themselves around the steel cross until his skin was fit to break.
A silent prayer followed. A moment of peace. Now Mosley was ready to face her.
“Send her in”, barked the special agent. Mosley was as authoritative as he could muster; a command tinged with anger and regret, after all, he was the one that chose former agent Riko Tanaka. He was the one that paired her with Vincent Merlin. Now Merlin was dead, and Riko?
Was shackled and in prison orange. She was held without trial. Without bail. And her location was withheld from her lawyers. All in line with the “new normal” that America now occupied. A shadowlife without clear lines of good and evil. Without justice. Without due process.
Mosley observed the cut across Riko’s lip.
“That’s an unfortunate accident,” Mosley remarked, knowing full well the circumstances behind it’s arrival. Yurei didn’t reply as she was chained to her metal chair by two agents, her expression resolute but weary as she simply smirked.
“Playing tough guy isn’t going to work in here, Riko. I want to know what happened to Vincent.”
“I think you’ll find he died due to extreme heat”. Yurei replied flatly.
“You gave him the keys. You must have known”
“Known what? That the following had rigged my rental to explode?”
“You rented the Jeep in your own name, knowing full well you were under surveillance”
“Yeah, surveillance...ordered by you. You’ve held me now for over seventy-two hours without charges and without consultation, Mosely. You didn’t even give me a chance to change out of my damn fight gear. Is this how you operate now? Like a goose-stepping drone?”
“We’ve provided...clothing. Now we want some answers. Why did you follow Vincent Merlin?”
“Because he brought in on the following. Because they’re dangerous and he was my lead. I didn’t expect the ambush that followed. They were organised. Some were clearly ex-army”
“And how do you know that?”
“They took up standard flanking positions. Managed to ping me off the road. I had to take cover and work my way around.”
“With help?”
Riko paused.
“I didn’t need help. It was just me.”
“Bullshit. You’re good Riko, but you’re no one-woman army. Give us names”
“Y’know, it hurts when you underestimate me...Donald. Case in point.”
With a flash of movement, Yurei had managed to wriggle her wrists out of her handcuffs, her feet were still chained to the floor but her hands were free as she leaned over the aluminum desk and grabbed a startled Donald by the lapel of his crisp, navy blue suit, knocking a manilla folder to the floor.
“What are you not telling me, Donald? Are you working with the following? Are you funding them?”
“Let...go!”
Three agents entered the room with tasers, Yurei was a half-second away from being subdued when Donald waved his hand.
“Wait! Look down, special agent.”
Yurei’s gaze scanned the contents of the manilla envelope.
“Fuck!” Yurei signed, slumping back down into her chair. Fire extinguished from her posture.
Below her, photographs of Vincent and following personnel taken with a telephoto lens.
“Operation: Ballpark” marked on the envelope.
“He was our man on the inside, Riko. He was our way in. Now that door is closed and we have you to “thank” for that”
Yurei couldn’t bring herself to look into Donald’s eyes. Her thoughts searching frantically for answers.
“Why did you keep this from me?”
“We hired you back to do a job. Nothing more. You didn’t honestly think you were all the way back in, did you? You lost your badge the first time because you beat an agent half to death. We weren’t going to forget that.”
“He beat his wife half to death first. Seemed like a fair trade. I thought you understood. After all, you know what it’s like to live in fear, right?”
“Don’t”
“Or what? Wait, he’s coming, isn’t he? John Rabid. Your special friend is coming home”
Slowly, Donald leaned down and gathered the contents of the folder, flicked through the photographs, and plucked one from the pack. Mosely turned it over, raising it up, the color draining from his hollowed-out expression.
Vincent is seen on a luxury yacht, with Rabid.
“He’s already here”
The fear seemed formless until it wished to return. Hiding in the tall grass as it slithered and stalked.
Interrogations were the worst for Mosely though, for they refused to allow the agent the crawlspace his fragile mind craved, no precious haven to escape the pangs of dread that welled up inside like a septic tank, twisting a dagger into his subconscious until his weakened heart pounded against his ribs for mercy, searching for an exit from this broken, haunted world.
“Good Day, Donald”
John Rabid’s voice echoed across the bleached white room, yet only Mosely could hear the ripper’s smug inflection. A serpent living rent-free inside the mind of the man that had pursued him doggedly for nearly five years. And yet, Jason Rush eluded Mosely, returning only to conjure up a new terrifying game for them to play. Their annual cat and mouse escapade that would unravel whatever progress religion or psychiatry or twelve steps to enlightenment managed to provide Mosely in the interim.
Mosley took a shallow breath as his left hand instinctively searched his jacket pocket for a crucifix, his shaking digits coiling themselves around the steel cross until his skin was fit to break.
A silent prayer followed. A moment of peace. Now Mosley was ready to face her.
“Send her in”, barked the special agent. Mosley was as authoritative as he could muster; a command tinged with anger and regret, after all, he was the one that chose former agent Riko Tanaka. He was the one that paired her with Vincent Merlin. Now Merlin was dead, and Riko?
Was shackled and in prison orange. She was held without trial. Without bail. And her location was withheld from her lawyers. All in line with the “new normal” that America now occupied. A shadowlife without clear lines of good and evil. Without justice. Without due process.
Mosley observed the cut across Riko’s lip.
“That’s an unfortunate accident,” Mosley remarked, knowing full well the circumstances behind it’s arrival. Yurei didn’t reply as she was chained to her metal chair by two agents, her expression resolute but weary as she simply smirked.
“Playing tough guy isn’t going to work in here, Riko. I want to know what happened to Vincent.”
“I think you’ll find he died due to extreme heat”. Yurei replied flatly.
“You gave him the keys. You must have known”
“Known what? That the following had rigged my rental to explode?”
“You rented the Jeep in your own name, knowing full well you were under surveillance”
“Yeah, surveillance...ordered by you. You’ve held me now for over seventy-two hours without charges and without consultation, Mosely. You didn’t even give me a chance to change out of my damn fight gear. Is this how you operate now? Like a goose-stepping drone?”
“We’ve provided...clothing. Now we want some answers. Why did you follow Vincent Merlin?”
“Because he brought in on the following. Because they’re dangerous and he was my lead. I didn’t expect the ambush that followed. They were organised. Some were clearly ex-army”
“And how do you know that?”
“They took up standard flanking positions. Managed to ping me off the road. I had to take cover and work my way around.”
“With help?”
Riko paused.
“I didn’t need help. It was just me.”
“Bullshit. You’re good Riko, but you’re no one-woman army. Give us names”
“Y’know, it hurts when you underestimate me...Donald. Case in point.”
With a flash of movement, Yurei had managed to wriggle her wrists out of her handcuffs, her feet were still chained to the floor but her hands were free as she leaned over the aluminum desk and grabbed a startled Donald by the lapel of his crisp, navy blue suit, knocking a manilla folder to the floor.
“What are you not telling me, Donald? Are you working with the following? Are you funding them?”
“Let...go!”
Three agents entered the room with tasers, Yurei was a half-second away from being subdued when Donald waved his hand.
“Wait! Look down, special agent.”
Yurei’s gaze scanned the contents of the manilla envelope.
“Fuck!” Yurei signed, slumping back down into her chair. Fire extinguished from her posture.
Below her, photographs of Vincent and following personnel taken with a telephoto lens.
“Operation: Ballpark” marked on the envelope.
“He was our man on the inside, Riko. He was our way in. Now that door is closed and we have you to “thank” for that”
Yurei couldn’t bring herself to look into Donald’s eyes. Her thoughts searching frantically for answers.
“Why did you keep this from me?”
“We hired you back to do a job. Nothing more. You didn’t honestly think you were all the way back in, did you? You lost your badge the first time because you beat an agent half to death. We weren’t going to forget that.”
“He beat his wife half to death first. Seemed like a fair trade. I thought you understood. After all, you know what it’s like to live in fear, right?”
“Don’t”
“Or what? Wait, he’s coming, isn’t he? John Rabid. Your special friend is coming home”
Slowly, Donald leaned down and gathered the contents of the folder, flicked through the photographs, and plucked one from the pack. Mosely turned it over, raising it up, the color draining from his hollowed-out expression.
Vincent is seen on a luxury yacht, with Rabid.
“He’s already here”