Chapter Eleven - P1(R18) -- The Beta Board

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Date Posted: 14:07:33 02/02/04 Mon
Author: Cyanide
Subject: Chapter Eleven - P1(R18)
In reply to: Cyanide 's message, "Acephaly." on 20:12:12 01/21/04 Wed

She had awoken not in some hellish afterlife or blissful paradise - but within nausea's embrace, in a sparsely decorated room, lying upon a particularly uncomfortable bed. The nausea abated; no demons came to claim her and no angels serenaded her with their harps. Quinn came to the conclusion that she remained a resident in purgatory - she had lived.

Her first days passed slowly; one boring hour blending into the next, watching the minutes pass on the wristwatch her captors had kindly left her. The cell was a three meters square space - no windows, one door - crammed with a bed (bolted to the wall), a desk (bolted to the floor), a chair, a toilet, a small basin, and what one could charitably call a shower.

Her only contact to the outside world was through a slot in the door. Through the slot, she daily received clean clothing and towels, three meals of hospital standard, bottled water, and any necessities - such as toilet paper and soap - that were required. If she placed her dirty dishes, clothing, and towels in front of the slot, they were removed; if she did not, they remained in her cell. No one came in; no one spoke to her.

The first two weeks were spent staring at her watch, eating, exercising in the small space available, or sleeping - there was nothing else to do. Every evening - at precisely 10:00 PM - the lights began to dim, slowing fading till 11:00 PM - when darkness reigned. At 6:00 AM the lights were turned back on, gradually gaining intensity; by 7:00 AM they were up to full power. She thought it was a rather kind gesture.

After two weeks alone she was starving for human contact, bored out of her wits. On the 16th day of her captivity, she received four books with her breakfast. Each was an exceedingly thick tome on the psychology of the human species - she finished them all by the week's end.

The very next day she received another four, five days later she received ten tomes of varying subjects: medicine, mathematics, hunting, geology, chemistry, weapons, military tactics, martial arts, logic and ethics.

She had never read more in her life.

************************************************************************************************************************

It wasn't over, but it soon would be.

Before her, six men, each worthy of a special place in hell; she felt not the slightest bit of fear. When the first offered his hand, the one that met it was steady enough for surgery. When the second kissed each of her cheeks, her plastered-on smile did not slip. When the third bowed, she bent not a single degree too far when returning it. When the fourth coughed in her face, she did not flinch and when the fifth came forward, she slit his throat in one clean action. Then - drenched in his blood - she calmly inclined her head in greeting to the sixth, before offering each remaining man a seat.

She felt not a single measure of fear.

Two female assistants entered, bringing refreshments for the men and a towel for her.

One of the men - Hand - was so subtle as to glance in the direction of the twitching body before pushing his drink away. The others simply ignored theirs; in a show of solidarity, she ignored her towel.

"Thank you ladies; have Richard come in please," she spoke in a low monotone that fit nicely with her blood-caked appearance.

They nodded and left.

Richard had to have been waiting by the door as he entered almost immediately. He visibly paled when he saw her; his eyes quickly surveyed the room and when he sighted the body, he shuddered in comprehension.

"Set up, Richard," she instructed, motioning towards the seat beside hers.

He managed to move the few paces required and took the seat. He opened his laptop and a few minutes later muttered that he was ready. Richard had never enjoyed the sight of blood; he kept his eyes on his screen.

"We are ready for the transfer," she announced.

Hand found his voice. "I think an explanation is in order."

She smiled, or rather, grinned maniacally. "Regarding?"

"Our lately departed colleague," he replied.

She dropped the grin. "He betrayed my Uncle to his death." She added some heat for effect.

Hand paused, considering. "I wasn't aware of that."

"Now you are." She maintained eye contact.

He nodded slowly. "Now I am." Then almost as an afterthought, he said, "He was a great man, your Uncle."

"Yes, he was," she responded softly. "If that is all?" She swept her eyes around the room, no one else appeared to have a problem. "Richard will confirm the transfers."

"How can we be certain you have what you claim?" asked Cheek.

"You wouldn't be here if you believed I was lying." Even with the blood, she thought she appeared reasonable.

"I want some proof." Bow backed up Cheek.

"Proof costs money." She smiled, showing lots of teeth.

"How much money?" asked Hand, rightly suspicious.

"20 billion dollars." She aimed for sweet.

"You can't be serious." Cough was shocked into speaking.

"20 billion for your proof - the rest you may have for free."

Nod laughed loudly, seemingly amused. The others waited for him to quiet down before continuing their campaign.

"Would you be more flexible if we broke your fingers?" Cheek politely inquired.

She had expected the threats to start earlier and be much more inventive. She caught Cheek's gaze and curled the fingers of her right hand around the little finger of her left. She snapped the finger back, breaking it with a sickening cracking sound - in her peripheral vision she saw Richard jump. "I shouldn't think so," she said in a calm, even tone.

It wasn't difficult to keep the pain from her voice; what was difficult was keeping the surprise from her face - it hadn't actually hurt. She'd felt it all right, the burning, the sharpness, but it was merely sensation - neither painful nor pleasant.

Nod started clapping. "Very well done."

"I'd like my money now." She kept her tone pleasant.

Aside from Nod, they all shot her murderous looks, perhaps hoping she'd drop dead. When that didn't happen, they obediently slipped out their cell phones and made their calls; Nod cheerfully followed their calls with one of his own.

"Confirmed," Richard muttered, still glued to his screen.

"Excellent!" She theatrically clapped her hands. "Your people should now have the means to destroy the Sections - or rather, they will have in 25 hours, when I send them the decryption code."

Nod broke out in a fresh gale of laughter, drowning out the others' threats.

"Should my money disappear, or should I die an untimely death in the next 25 hours, you won't get the code and the files will self-destruct."

They stopped yelling.

"If you need to make another phone call, please do so now."

Hand and Bow quickly complied; Nod continued laughing and Cheek looked embarrassed enough to convince her he hadn't even thought about it.

"A toast!" said Nod.

She smiled widely; he'd saved her some trouble. She hit the intercom. "Champagne."

Less than a minute later, the women returned carrying a bottle and glasses. She motioned towards Hand, and they took it to him. "If you'd be so kind?" she directed at him.

He took the bottle and carefully examined it. Deciding it was acceptable, he opened it with a flourish and poured each of them a glass.

She stood, sculled hers back and then held it out to be refilled. Holding up her second glass, she made her toast. "To the end of the world."

"Hear! Hear!" Nod affirmed before gulping down the alcohol.

Richard looked as though he could do with something stronger, but drank it all the same.

Cheek, Bow and Hand each took a small sip - it was more than enough. In a little over a year, it would begin; if they were lucky they would die quickly. Death would not be coming as a friend.

Business concluded they wasted no time in leaving - none other than Nod offered a farewell; she wished him luck in return.

"That went well," she observed to Richard.

"You should go clean up, so we can leave," he said, still not looking at her. "Why did you have to kill him anyhow?"

"He doesn't drink," she said, crossing the room to the adjoining bathroom.

"Weren't they suspicious?"

"I told them he betrayed my Uncle," she informed him, stripping off her bloody clothes.

"Did he?" he asked, as though the answer was important.

"Of course not - I did." Silence greeted this statement. "Tell Di to send in the cleaning crew," she ordered, entering the shower.

The blood was stubborn - clinging to her flesh - it took some time to remove it all. When she had, she quickly toweled off and dressed in the clean clothing someone had left out for her.

When she returned to the office, cleaning was well underway - Di supervising from a corner. Richard was inspecting a crack in the far wall, conveniently close to an exit.

"No more blood," she announced, coming up behind him.

He turned to inspect her. "Much better."

"Got everything?"

He patted his laptop. "All in here."

"Good. Let's go."

Richard didn't need any more encouragement. He turned to leave; he was reaching for the door handle when she plunged the needle into his neck. It was over before he even realized what was happening - his death quick, if not exactly painless.

She picked up his laptop and handed it to Di, who had come to stand beside her. "Give it to the woman in 204, with my compliments. Once I've left, see her safely on her way."

Di nodded and left through an exit on the other side of the room.

When the other woman had disappeared, she pulled the door as far open as Richard's body allowed, and slipped out into the reception area. As expected, they were waiting for her. "Henry. Elizabeth. It is a pleasure to finally meet you both."

Each smiled widely in response.

Janet felt no fear.

************************************************************************************************************************

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[> Chapter Eleven - P2(R18) -- Cyanide, 14:12:38 02/02/04 Mon

Things had worked out better than expected. Not only was Nikita dead, but so were her most ardent supporters - Janet had done exceptionally well. Too well. Section One's new Operations would have to take care of her.

Of course, they need to appoint him first; which was why they were meeting again so soon.

This time, however, there were additions to their numbers - namely the three operatives currently in charge of Center and the leaders of the other Sections.

It made him somewhat uneasy having every member of the leadership in one place at the same time; but it could not be helped. They were in the most secure location available - 500 meters beneath the earth - surrounded by the best operatives Section had to offer. Nothing had been left to chance.

Well - almost nothing, he amended.

Heavy fog in San Francisco meant that Sue's arrival would be delayed - indefinitely. She would be arriving late, if at all. Luckily, there was no need to wait for her; she had already announced her intention to support his candidate who was - incidentally - completely loyal to him.

"Shall we begin?" he asked pleasantly - he could afford to be pleasant.

"Sue has yet to arrive," Masters pointed out, no longer quite so arrogant.

"She has instructed us to proceed without her; I already have her vote." He smiled brightly.

Masters opened his mouth to object, but then seemed to think better of it.

Not as crazy as you make out, are you?

In truth the meeting wasn't necessary; Curtis had already ensured he would win the vote.

Might even be unanimous, considering the change of fortunes. He had been proven correct; it was unlikely anyone would oppose him. Especially now, just after Center had appointed him Chairman of Oversight.

He smiled widely; smiling came easily to him these days. "All those in favor?"

He counted hands.

"Opposed?"

Not a one.

"Abstentions?"

Johnson.

He was victorious and, with the election of his candidate, he would be unstoppable.

It doesn't get any better than this.

************************************************************************************************************************

It was to be her final assignment; once completed, she would be free.

Her fingers flew over the laptop's keyboard; she felt alive for the first time in years. Six to be exact. That was how long she had lived alone, with her grief and regrets. Six years without him.

Actually, it had been longer - she'd been without him eight years. The first two had been her fault; she accepted that. She had hurt him deeply, tossed aside his love - as though it meant nothing - and lost him.

The first two were her fault; these last six were not.

Tears burned in her eyes; she wiped them away, but more followed. Now was not the time for grief; now was the time for revenge - she needed to focus.

I have to succeed. Tears blurred her vision, jumbling the code on the screen.

"I have to focus," she repeated to herself out loud.

I tossed aside his love as though it meant nothing. It had meant everything. He was everything, but she had only discovered that when it was too late.

NO.

Not too late - not till THEM.

She might have had the opportunity to set things right. She might have earned his forgiveness; given time, she might have won back his love.

Time they took from me. From us.

She angrily wiped away the tears, clearing her vision.

With the codes Janet had provided, she once again sailed through every security measure. In no time at all, she was deep in the system, able to access every level in the enemy camp. She knew what to look for and found it quickly.

Gotcha! "So very predictable," she mumbled to herself, as she accessed the appropriate system. Her fingers danced over the keys with a life all their own.

Finally, she finished; the code was complete.

It was right. She knew it. She believed it. And yet, she hesitated.

It's not just them; there are others. She reminded herself. Did she have the right to decide those others' fates as well?

Too bad, if she didn't. Her hate for them was all consuming, a hunger that could only be quenched with blood. Theirs would cleanse her of her hatred; only if they died, would she have the chance of a future.

I wanted the chance to earn his forgiveness and they took him from ME.

She had wanted that chance; she took this one.

She hit enter. Though the laptop offered only a beeping acknowledgement of her success, in her mind, Gail watched them burn.

************************************************************************************************************************

53 days after she was captured, she was awakened with a sharp jab to her ribs.

"Get up," a cold voice ordered.

She opened her eyes; it was still dark.

Another sharp jab. "Follow me."

She watched the darkened figure walk out the door; she jumped to her feet and rushed out after him. She found herself in a long, dark corridor that appeared to stretch out forever in both directions. There was movement on her left, she went that way.

"Try to keep up," the man said.

Above her a light blinked on; it was weak, casting a pool of light no more than a meter in diameter. Along the corridor, a number of others blinked to life - spots of light at regular intervals. Up ahead, her mysterious guide passed through a shard of light, allowing her a brief glimpse of a tall, well built imposing frame with dark brown hair sprinkled with grey. He marched through the pool of light and appeared in another further along, disappearing completely in the hanging darkness between.

She quickened her pace.

Along the left side of the corridor there were doors; each appeared no different than her door, each resided in a pool of light - she counted them as she passed. On the right side, there didn't appear to be anything, but she couldn't be certain.

He left one pool of light and did not appear in the next. She stopped. Where the hell?

"Hurry up," he said.

She moved cautiously forward, following the sound of his voice. She discovered another corridor to the right. When she entered, another set of lights came on as the lights in the first corridor went out.

He was five pools ahead - she ran.

After weaving through another six corridors, she lost her bearings. If the man decided to abandon her, she would never find her way out.

At length, her guide stopped in a pool of light and waited for her to catch up. When she came up beside him, he took her arm and entering the next span of darkness, led her to a door. He opened it and pushed her through.

She came out into a well-lit corridor. It was a relief. It appeared warm and inviting; the same could not be said of her guide who looked positively sour.

"Someone will come." He disappeared behind the door.

She didn't have to wait long; barely a minute later a tall wiry man came striding towards her. She was surprised. "Simon?"

He smiled brightly. "How you doing?"

"What are you doing here?" She suddenly thought she would have been more at ease back in the dark corridors.

"I work here," he replied.

"You work for terrorists?" Bastard!

"Hardly," he said as though he found her deeply amusing. "Enjoy the tunnels?" he asked pleasantly.

"Not particularly," she mumbled. What the hell is going on?

"Be glad they turned the lights on, they usually don't."

"They?" she tried to sound neutral.

"Henry and Elizabeth's personnel."

Henry and Elizabeth? Surely not... "You don't mean..."

He cut her off; "They are really quite lovely when you get to know them - wicked senses of humor."

I'm in the twilight zone. "I'll take your word for it."

He grinned. "No need, we work quite closely with them."

"We?"

"You and me, honey buns." He pointed down the corridor, "Shall we?" He didn't wait, just started walking.

"What is it we do?" she asked when she had caught up.

"I run Psych Ops - when you finish your training you'll help me."

"You run Psych Ops?"

"I'm not as dumb as I look." He winked at her.

"And how am I supposed to help you?" she asked, curious.

"You'll be my Second," he said.

"Your Second?"

"You are going to be a barrel of laughs, I can just tell." He stopped outside a pair of double doors.

"Are we in Section?" She rather thought not, but decided to ask anyway.

"Nope. Section doesn't exist anymore, nor does Oversight. Nikita is dead. Jacob is dead, pretty much everyone is dead," he said seriously.

"Nikita is dead?" she repeated. "How?"

"Janet shot her in the head - who would have thought a head shot could kill her?" He winked again.

"Janet shot her?"

"Didn't I just say that?" He grinned.

"And Janet works for who exactly?"

"Herself. She helped us on occasion." He opened the doors.

Past tense. Hmmm. "Janet was contracted to destroy the Sections'?"

"When the timing was right," he explained. "Janet loved a challenge."

Past tense again. "And now she's..." she trailed off.

His shoulders tensed. "Debriefing." He didn't meet her eyes.

What kind, I wonder? Janet interested her, she wanted to find out all she could. "How long have you known Janet?" She tried to keep the eagerness from her voice.

He laughed. "Never have - no one really knew Janet." He sobered. "I've met her a few times." He motioned her inside the room.

She looked around the room. It was a large boardroom, like one you'd find in corporate offices. Simon didn't follow her in; he stood holding the doors.

"What was she like?"

"You're to wait in here," he said, ignoring her question.

"Who am I waiting for?" she changed the subject, deciding it was pointless to push.

"The Boss."

"The Boss?" she repeated.

"Well, one of them," he amended.

"And they are..." she trailed off again.

He smiled. "You'll find out soon enough." He began to pull the doors closed; when they were half-way, he paused. "She was sparkling," he said so quietly she barely heard him.

Janet. "Was?"

"She is..." he trailed off.

She waited.

"I do not know what she is, or even if she is."

She didn't understand his meaning.

"Janet had to win," he added and closed the doors.

She stared at the closed doors, confused. Is Janet dead? Alive? Something in-between? Is she free? Has she turned? What?

"Good morning, Kate."

She hadn't heard anyone enter.

I know that voice.

A shiver traveled up her spine; she turned to face him.

It can't be.

The air rushed from her lungs. She blinked hard. "Jesus Christ." She barely recognized her own voice.

"Not quite." His eyes twinkled.

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