| Subject: Redemption 2 |
Author:
Rox
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Date Posted: 14:34:04 12/15/01 Sat
In reply to:
Rox
's message, "Redemption (Sequel to Mea Culpa)" on 20:54:56 12/13/01 Thu
“Hi, Nikita.”
“Hi, Walter. Who’s your friend?” Nikita reached behind her head, unclipped her chignon and shook loose her hair. It fell to her shoulders, glossy as spun sugar, and made her look much younger than her 20 years. Young enough to interest an 18-year-old boy.
Walter pressed his lips together to keep his opinions to himself. “This is Brandon. He’s been temporarily assigned to help me.”
Nikita heard the slight emphasis on the word help and realized Walter had already formed an opinion of the young blond at his side, and it wasn’t a positive one.
“Hello, Brandon. I’m Nikita.”
“Yeah, I know.” Brandon bit his lower lip as he inspected Nikita up and down.
“So, you know about guns?”
“Yeah. Born and raised with them.” He popped a clip into a 9mm with a macho flourish and grinned at her.
And proud of the fact, Nikita thought with disgust, but she forced a radiant smile and replied, “Cool!”
Walter shot her a look of total disbelief then frowned. “Uh, Brandon, I need another banana clip. There’s a box in the store room -- bring me one.”
Brandon rolled his eyes and stepped away to do as Walter asked. When he was out of ear shot, Walter grabbed Nikita by the elbow.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“Well, he’s kind of cute, don’t you think?”
“No! I don’t -- and you have better taste. What’s up?”
Nikita sighed. Walter was too astute to be fooled and could easily ruin things unless she clued him in. “It’s in the mission profile,” she whispered in his ear, hoping he’d take a hint to let things alone.
Walter grimaced, instantly understanding the situation and not liking it a bit. “Be careful, Sugar,” he said quietly, through clenched teeth. She nodded, then the brilliant smile returned. Brandon had reappeared.
“Nikita.”
It was a relief when Nikita heard Michael’s voice. She was quickly running out of gushy things to say to Brandon. This mission was going to be harder than she first thought.
“Yes, Michael?”
“If you are through, I have time to back-brief you on this morning’s meeting.”
“Yeah, okay, sure. Be right there.” She turned to Brandon and forced a sigh and a smile. “Gotta go to work. See you around?”
She got a cocky grin in return. “Sure thing, babe,” Brandon said. “Maybe you’d like to come watch me shoot tomorrow. Walter’s having me do some weapons’ testing.”
“Sure. Love to! What time?”
“1400 hours.”
“I’ll be there. See ya!”
Nikita turned to find Michael still standing there, waiting, his face like cold marble. He waited until she stepped out of Walter’s area to follow, then turned and walked towards his office. He was already seated at his desk when Nikita walked inside. She shut the door out of habit and went to sit in the chair opposite Michael’s desk.
For a moment they looked at each other in an uncomfortable silence, then Michael opened his laptop.
“How have you been, Nikita?” He spoke, but to the computer screen.
Nikita noticed that he wouldn’t make eye contact. That, in itself, was unusual. How many times had he looked at her in the past and lied so prettily with the straightest face? She’d lost count.
“I’m fine, Michael. What happened at the briefing this morning?”
He ignored her question, opened his drawer and tapped in the code that would block any surveillance to their conversation.
“I’ll be leaving in the morning. We have a cold op in progress -- infiltration and Intel gathering.” There was a slight pause, then he continued. “What did Madeline want?”
For a moment, Nikita was taken aback that Michael hadn’t been at least informed as to her mission, even if he wasn’t running it. But since Madeline had emphasized she wasn’t to discuss it with anyone in Section, Nikita looked Michael in the face and lied.
“Oh, nothing much. She kind of welcomed me back and brought me up-to-date on what’s been happening since I’ve been off-line. I think she wants me to take over training some of the new recruits, but hasn’t decided which material will be mine yet. What’s the cold op all about?”
“It’s classified -- need to know only.”
“Oh. Okay. So is that all?”
“I see you have met Walter’s new assistant.”
“Yeah. It’s nice to see a new face once in a while. His name is Brandon. Have you met him?”
“No.”
“Seems to be a nice guy -- relatively speaking.”
Michael gave no comment, but his eyes searched her face.
“So, is that all -- about the briefing, I mean?” She scooted forward in her chair as if to get to her feet to leave.
“Yes. That’s all.”
“Well, thanks for the back-brief -- I have some errands to run. Good luck on your mission.” Nikita stood and walked to the door. Some sixth sense made her turn around, and she caught Michael’s muttered, “Be careful, Kita.”
It was said so softly, Nikita wasn’t quite sure she had heard it correctly. Michael had already dismissed her presence and was busily typing on his keyboard.
* * *
Nikita arrived in Section at 0500 the next morning for her meeting with Madeline. The main assembly room was filled with activity as it usually was during an operation, but Nikita was puzzled. Cold operations were usually low-key, and while operatives were always armed, they certainly weren’t as heavily armed as all the team members seemed to be that morning.
She walked over to Walter, who was busy handing out clips of ammunition to someone with short-cropped hair, dressed in camouflage pants, a black T-shirt and boots.
Must be somebody new, Nikita mused as she approached the newcomer from behind.
“Hello Walter. What’s up this morning? Michael said the next mission was a cold ops?”
“It is,” came a reply from nearby.
Nikita turned with some shock to learn that the “newcomer” was Michael. All of his beautiful shoulder-length hair was gone, cut almost to his scalp. He wore a silver stud in his left ear that upon closer examination was a tiny skull. Completing the ensemble was a tattoo of two stylized lighting bolts on his left bicep that looked like two of the letter S, side by side.
“Michael?”
Her shock at his severe change in appearance seemed to amuse him. A faint smile escaped him as he slipped an arm into a black flak jacket. “Yes, Nikita?”
“I thought you said your next mission was a cold ops -- this looks like preparation for World War III.”
Her remark seemed to sober him again, but Michael didn’t comment.
“It could very well turn out that way,” muttered Walter as he handed Michael one of the prototype automatic rifles he’d developed for Section. Michael took it and adjusted its black strap so he could sling it over one shoulder.
Mowen, Garrison and Phillips approached, all as changed as Michael. One by one, Walter equipped them with the new prototype rifle.
The sound of a cellular phone got Michael’s attention. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone that was barely the size of an audio cassette tape. It unfolded, doubling its length, and Michael put it to his ear. “Yes?”
There were a few moments of silence, then, “It’s been arranged. Contact has been made. We start the sequencing in two hours.” That done, he folded the device and replaced it into his breast pocket.
“It’s time to go.” He reached down and lifted a full, military-issue pack off the floor and slung it over his other shoulder.
Nikita watched him leave with the others with a dull ache in her heart. It was fear -- fear of never seeing him again. Despite all Michael had put her through, despite the lies and the games, she still loved him. She couldn’t help it. Feeling this way made her angry at herself. It wasn’t in Nikita’s nature to let anyone walk over her -- and yet, no matter what Michael did to her, Nikita couldn’t hate him. 'Come back safe', she said mentally, before heading to Madeline’s office.
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