The following mess is brought to you by AOL Instant Messanger, Admiralducksauce, CrazyIvan, and the letter "P" for "pain in the arse."

The team frantically tries to pick up the pieces as the police converge on their position. Gavin and Brian haul ass to the PT Cruiser, pulling across the street and into the bar's parking lot.

Jess and Artis go inside the bar in effort to find James. He is surrounded by bar patrons and is quite hard to get to, but they eventually manage to clear a path when Jess whips out her Colt. Artis slings him over his shoulder and they make for the parking lot. Police sirens can be heard in the near distance.

Harry and Raven climb into the PT Cruiser, Artis throwing James in the back seat with them.

"Get James to Stork, ASAP. Move!"

Gavin peels out of the parking lot and heads back to the safehouse. Artis looks at his options.

The front end of my cruiser is totaled...guess that leaves Stewie's Jag.

He motions for Jess to get into the Jag while he grabs the remains of Andrew, throwing him in the back.
The police sirens get really close, probably less than a block away. Artis gets into the drivers seat and throws the Jag in reverse, but gets caught up on the back end of the Aston Martin. He tries again and this time is successful. As Artis goes to pull out on to the highway, two police cruisers block the exit. He backs up heading for an alleyway when another police cruiser attempts to box the Jag in.

Fuck it. This is getting us nowhere.

Goose puts the car in drive and floors it, running over the grassy concrete island separating the exits. So begins the chase.

Chase Scene

Artis manages to get about 10 car lengths ahead of the police before they are able to go into full pursuit. Goose tries to pull ahead as the lead police car tries to box him in. With a fine bit of driving that would make Vin Diesel proud, Goose pulls ahead forcing the lead cop car into on-coming traffic. The cop manages to swerve out of danger but is out of the hunt.

With one cop left, Artis tries to completely lose them. He again attempts to pull ahead, but it seems this officer is ready. The cop redlines his car and closes the gap slightly. Brian leans out of the window, firing off a round right into the cop's windscreen, it bursting into thousands of fragments.

Goose's lead is compromised then lenghtened as the two cars engines groan under the stress of high RPMs. Smoke begins to appear under the cops hood as he redlines his vehicle in a futile attempt to overtake the agents. With one last bit of driving finesse, Goose is able to take a considerable lead, vanishing amidst the suburban landscape.

Jess pockets the Colt again.

"Wow, we're getting better. I'm almost inclined to say that we weren't completely unsubtle."

I blow by the "Henderson 2mi" road sign, the Jag's engine squealing in protest. Upon Brian's suggestion that I slow down lest get pulled over for speeding, I pull Stewart's car into a mall parking complex and let the old girl take a brief break.

"Time to switch vehicles, guys. See anything you like?"

22-Victor, 1:17pm PST

The PT-Cruiser pulls up to the safehouse's garage and in similar fashion to the last body drop-off, the team files inside.

Stork appears to have just finished working over Tracy as she exits the interrogation room looking even more fatigued than last time. Without realizing that the team had another casualty in tow, she begins talking in a sort of unhinged stream of consciousness.

"Oh..it's you people. I was about to call you. Shit! Did you bring Andrew's body here??! Dammit! Didn't they teach you how to properly dispose of bodies? That doesn't matter now. You see, I found out from you lady friend Tracy that Andrew didn't trust Sedgewick, so he split up the files. He only had half the plans so getting back his PDA is only half the fucking battle. You gotta leave, you're going to compromise this whole set-up. Get the fuck out, now! Sedgewick is no doubt on his way with fucking gunships and God knows what kind of other dangerous shit. Leave now and take the baggage you left me with you. Get out!"

"You'd better get a cup of coffee, because we have some news. Andrew's liquidated and smoldering in the trunk, and we got Sedgewick still live, but down for the count on the backseat. He most assuredly won't cause us any more trouble."

Taking in Stork's expression, she adds

"Not bad for a few green field agents, hm ?"

That last bit seemed to throw Stork off guard.

"Woah..back up the truck. Did you just say what I thought you said...just checked. Shit! That takes alot off my mind. I was readying for a full assault of this place."

Stork pulls out her phone and goes through the usual Agency spiel.

"Um, yeah it's Stork. It seems that our rookies in Vegas have the situation under control. Cancel strike support team. I repeat...cancel strike report team. Alright, thanks...Stork out."

She goes over to take a look at the bloody mess formerly known as Sedgewick, grabbing his wrist.

"Nice watch, is that the new Omega Seamaster? Nevermind. Your boy here has a very faint pulse. Get him into the interrogation room. Any of you good with a scalpel? I'll need a extra steady hand in there. We just might be able to save this poor bastard."

(Edited by Dieter at 4:49 pm on Jan. 21, 2003)

Jess walks over to a table, then picks up a pair of surgeon's gloves.

"Leave it to me to fix the mess our boys made."

Three hours and one hotwired car later, the team is finally back together.

Artis and Brian lifted a late model Saab Turbo from the mall's parking garage. Just outside the Vegas city limits, they ditch the Saab at Bud's Casino and Bunny Ranch. This wasn't for what you think, but for the fact that there was an Avis Rental office about 1/4 mile down the road. They hoofed it there and rented a Honda Accord for the ride back to the safehouse.

Sedgewick's surgery was a bit dicey at first, but with Jess' aid, Stork managed to sew up all the bleeders and stabilize his vitals. They come out after a grueling session of meatball medicine to greet the late arrivals.

"Sedgewick is stable for now. He's far from being out of the woods and he should be transported to an Agency hospital. I believe there's one in Phoenix. I can get a Medievac chopper to pick him up tonight, in the meantime I suggest you report in to HQ then everyone should get some sleep."

"Thanks for all your help, Stork." I finally relax some, sliding onto a nearby couch and just vegging out for the moment.

"Aye, ma'am. We definitely appreciate it." Gavin goes to get the wheelman something cold to drink.

22-Victor: 5:25PM PST

The appreciated solitude of the safehouse is interrupted by a loud cel phone ringer. Everyone immediately checks their phones, no one is calling...yet a phone can definitely be heard ringing. The sound stops then promptly starts up again.

Harry's keen ear finally determines that while the ringing is in the house, it's not coming from the room they are in. The team tracks the sound to the PT Cruiser. Inside, on one of the back seat floor mats sits a phone. It rings one last time, stops, then goes back to ringing a few seconds later.

"Be a gentleman and get the phone, Goose, will you ?"

Brian yawns softly.

"Some else deal with calling the House, I'm just the loaner here."

He sets down his equipment and lays down on the floor, slipping darkened sunglasses over his eyes and sliding the MP5, with a new clip, onto his stomach - just in case the good doctor was wrong about needing the strike team. In minutes, he's asleep.

I motion to Gavin to activate our cellphone interceptor, then I go to pick up the persistent phone. "We may not be free and clear yet..." I flip the phone open and answer, "Domino's Pizza. May I take your order?"

Gavin activates the interceptor as Goose answers.

The male voice on the other end has a noticable Slavic accent, probably Russian.

"Very funny, James. It is not wise to keep my employer waiting. You were supposed to call an hour ago, yet I do not hear from you...so I call. What is wrong with you? Has all that decadent American culture distracted the infamous superspy? Your excuse better be good, my empoyer has no patience for such delays. She is ready to send men to kill you, but I assured her that you must have had your reasons."

(Edited by Dieter at 2:36 pm on Jan. 22, 2003)

(OOC: does Raven have the capability to run a trace? If so, I'm motioning to him to set that up right away)

"An unavoidable delay, not so much American culture as American... (here I cover up the receiver and say "Yes, of course I'm coming back to bed" loud enough for Russkie to hopefully hear)... sorry about that. You were saying something about men coming to kill me?"

Artis does the universal hand signal for "start running a trace" as he attempts to connive the Russkie. The Russkie sounds a bit relieved that a woman is to blame for this mess, but as the bluff goes on the Russkie's tone seems less than compassionate.

"James, you are treading on very thin ice my friend. And you do know how cold the water is below you...don't you? I will not tell Samantha of your little diversion shall we say, but you know as well as I that she does not like her men being late. You have already tried her patience with your fogged-in story, she will not wait any longer for you. Now I am forced to do something I wish I didn't have to do. Either tell me where you are I will send someone to retrieve the documents or I will track you down, torture you, take the documents, then shoot you in the head leaving you in a very unprofessional position for the police to find. Which will it be?"

Raven indicates that he needs more time for the trace. Apparently he's using a trace buster-buster-buster. He mouths the words.

Ten more seconds...

(Edited by Dieter at 4:28 pm on Jan. 22, 2003)

*To hell with secrecy, that's faceman work.*

I snatch the phone from Art's hand and motion for him to be silent. I then pick up the conversation with my best faux french accent.

"Who's there ? Well, I don't care, you listen, monsieur, my friend James is *tres* busy right now. He's had a tough day at work, is saddled with a frigid bitch, and the five minutes he wants to relax you call him. *somewhat distanced, as Jess takes the phone away from her face for a second* James, mon'amour, be a gentleman and fetch us some wine. What ? James, you promised...ah, merde, make it quick. *back to normal* Hold on a second. *distanced again* What's that mean, that call's important ? Have the jerk call back. Ah, to hell with you !"

She hands the phone back to Art.

*Let's hope that's enough to track.*

The French whore routine seemed to do the (no pun intended) trick at stalling for time. The Russkie seems slightly off-pace.

"Um...er. James. Like I said, what will it be?"

Raven's trace finally gets through. He quickly jots down the information on a piece of paper and hands it over to Goose.

He's local....On The Strip...at the Stratosphere Hotel.

He also gestures that's about as specific he can get.

"Well, James?"

"Bud's Casino and Bunny Ranch, outside Vegas. I'll be there in ... 20 minutes."

(Edited by Dieter at 8:22 am on Jan. 23, 2003)