nt

Jess leans back, letting out a heavy breath, then turns to Brian.

"We need bigger guns."

"Guns, hell. What I wouldn't do for an RPG-7 right now..."

Brian sits back in the comfortable leather of the Agency jet, breathing hard. He turns to Jess and Carla, grinning.

"Have I told you yet how much I fucking hate Siberia?"

He leans his head back, then looks over to Elena. "Present company excluded."

The Gulfstream soars up into the heavens, breaking through a layer of clouds as the warm orange glow of the Sun begins to set over the western skyline.

This is you Captain. We've reached our cruising altitude of 35,000ft. Feel free to roam about the cabin. Per Nightengale's suggestion, I'd like to emphasize the availabilty of shower facilities and clean clothes aboard Agency-1.

"Dibs on the shower."

Slipping out of her clothes, Jess steps into the small shower; the warm water peels a layer of grime from her skin, but there's also a burning sensation all over her body as various small wounds and bruises demand attention. Absent-mindedly, she looks at her left hand, tracing a small scar with her thumb.

We're going to play a little game, Jessica...

Her eyes wander over the back of her hand, spotting a circular burn mark.

You do like it hot, right?

A bit below, a ring of chafed skin surrounds her wrist.

Oh, you poor little thing. Surely it didn't hurt that bad...

As her gaze wanders downwards, she takes a good hard look at her arm. Come to think of it, she'd been feeling rather fleet those last few days...but where'd those muscles come from?

That's it. Good girl. Just keep yourself up and it won't hurt you.

Jess shakes it off, finishing her shower and slipping into fresh clothes as soon as possible. There's probably much nastier souvenirs to find...and she'd rather get to an Agency hospital first and have most of them removed before she's seen them.

Look at me, Jessica. That's better. Do you understand why I'm doing this? Because I want you to remember. I want you to be worthy.

Toweling off her newly shortened, still bleached hair, Jess does a final check in the mirror before walking out.

I could've died out there. But I didn't, and I won't. Not until I'm done with you, Samantha.

Brian looks up from the leather chair he's half-awake in, taking in the very different Jess, still with slightly damp hair.

"All done then luv?" He stands, smiling somewhat affectionately at the very long-lost Hummingbird before occupying the shower himself. He turns the water on, letting it run cold...doesn't bother him that much anymore, and besides, with two others behind him in line, the hot water will probably be drained enough as it is.

He sighs softly, contemplating this last mission.

"Fucked up, royally. Wanted in Russia, Jess...much worse for the wear, Agency leaking like a seive. Getting too deep in this, high ground was lost a long time ago, you just didn't notice. Hell...she's got guns, a russian sniper and drives like a maniac...are you sure you actually rescued Jess?"

Jess walks back into the main cabin, looking around.

"So...what's the plan?"

Carla starts up. "One thing I have to get out of the way before we go any further. What the fuck happened to your face?"

She twirls her knife idly. She doesn't really suspect Jess that much, but sleeper agents have a way of putting your on your guard.

Jess subtly shifts her body into a defensive stance. There's no chance in hell that there could actually be a fight, but it's better to be prepared...

"I've been all over the news, there was no chance that I'd ever be able to get out of Siberia the way I looked. Elena knew someone who knew someone...bottom line, I got some plastic surgery in a underground clinic. They had some 80s Special Research Directorate technique where they literally reshape flesh in a few minutes. I stumbled out of there after three hours hopped up on enough painkillers to kill an elephant, but it got me here."

She eyes Carla.

"I don't like it, but you do what you have to do."

"Good to hear your story. Let's do a little bit of truth-telling, all around. We can decide after we hear everything. Truth: I believe there are leaks in the agency a mile wide and anyone I do not personally trust, I suspect."

"First off, let's talk about the recent additions. Samantha was a sleeper, how do we know that Peter guy isn't?"

(Edited by Threadbare at 11:21 pm on July 7, 2005)

Jess eyes Carla.

"How many new guys are we lugging around, anyway?"

"Too many. If I were you, I'd call whoever you know at the home office and get them digging."

Jess chuckles.

"I should call them? Good grief, Carla, how do we know they won't fix our location and nuke it from orbit?"

That said, she grabs a SATCOMM and dials a number forever etched into her mind.

"Hello, Harry. I need some information..."

Jess' phone rings for a good thirty seconds before someone sounding like a very intoxicated Harry answers on the other end. The sound of steel drums plays in the background.

Jess. This better be good, darling. I'm currently on vacation and half-way through a drunken bender.

(sips on straw)

By the way...not sure if you knew, but the authorities are looking for you. Something about an extravagant daylight hit on Miami mobster."

----

Meanwhile, Team Artis is reconnoitering their surrounding. Vyshgorod seems fairly quiet, perhaps due to season and the cold. Passerbys barely pay them notice and it would seem, perhaps for the first time in ages, they're probably not being actively pursued.

"Harry, I want you to put down the drink and listen to me carefully. We're in a world of shit. If you open the Encyclopedia Brittanica to 'clusterfuck', you'll find a picture of us.

*sigh*

I'm currently in Siberia with the rest of the guys. We need background checks on a couple of Agency operatives, and you're the only one in the Home Office I can trust right now."

A subtle sigh comes through Jess' phone.

Hold on, dear.

(muffled sounds of Harry arguing with a waiter)

That's right, no salt...you heathen bastard. Really, Jess. Have you heard on putting salt around the rim of a Tequila Sunrise? Sorry, back to your issues. I suppose I can look into the matter, but only if it will mean I can continue my vacation without further interruption. Send me the names and I'll see what I can do.

(Edited by Dieter at 2:54 pm on July 8, 2005)

Jess does a quick check with Carla, then gets back on the phone.

"Okay, we're looking for a Robert Moten, came in from the FBI some months ago. Oh, and a Doctor Peter Krueger, loaner from German Counter-Intelligence or something.

You should make the most of your vacation, because I think it'll be cut short. Watch out for reports of explosions and gunfire in Southern Russia."

"Also, why did you send those goons to get me and ayumi? I'm still a bit confused by that."