1(AN)Hey! This is an original story idea that has definitely been floating around in my head. It's an Action/Adventure/Romance, and I hope it's enjoyed! I have NO military intelligence whatsoever, so please excuse me if my terms are odd, or my description of certain weapons and operative 'lingo' leave you all thinking, "say what?"
Separate Summary: Commissioned to find someone with information on the whereabouts of a spy, FBI agent David Wurthing is assigned to what could prove to be the most confusing, dangerous case of his life. As underground plots unfold, David is forced to wonder if there's something he's not seeing.
Warnings throughout this story: Course Language, Violence, Character Death, Lemon, Sexual Tension
Chapter One
Every now and then, one gets presented with a perfect day. You wake up before your alarm clock, your clothes are ironed and ready to go, and your coffee is brewing on the kitchen counter.
However, more often than not, those days don't come. This was no exception for F.B.I agent David Wurthing. Sure, David had woken up to his alarm clock, and gotten dressed. However, that wasn't the problem.
The problem was the coffee…or lack there of.
All of which would explain why he was walking around in a mall, for God's sake, searching for a place called, 'Café Malt',where he could get his early morning dose of caffeine.
It didn't really help that tons of people – God only knows what they're doing awake and shopping at 7:37 in the morning – were staring at him, as if they expected him to draw his gun and shout, 'everybody get down! There is a terrorist invasion!'
The day was a hot one, consequently he'd left his suit jacket in his Toyota Camry, which he was starting to think was possibly a bad idea overall, as he loosened his tie. The lack of his black blazer made the contrast between his black pistol and white dress shirt everything but inconspicuous.
David cursed himself as he continued looking for the coffee shop. He had to be at the office by 8:30, ready for the briefing on Burnidect 'Shotgun' Pascal's terrorist organization's newest operation. It was a high ranked case, and David, being 26, was fairly pleased with the fact that he was part of the team assigned to the job.
He had joined the F.B.I coming out of his fourth year of University, studying programming, physics; all things technology. His ambitions had led him to file for the F.B.I, where he was accepted and put through basic training, security, infantry, tactics, the whole shebang.
He hadn't thought that being a field agent was his thing. Yeah, if that wasn't an understatement. When he'd handed his transcripts to the commander, the only thought going through his mind was, 'this is my cubicle. I suggest you get out of it' as opposed to, 'drop the gun, or I will shoot you!' and any other F.B.I clichés. However, his squad leader had demanded he not coop himself up in his cubicle, because, get this, 'he had talent'.
Well yeah, dude, obviously. Did he mention that he also has skills with a computer, and a small, tidy little desk? Judging by his current line of work – playing 'rescue heroes' – that conversation didn't end well.
At 23 he had become the rookie of his division, but now, three years later, he was definitely making his way towards the higher-ups. Um…yay?
David sighed in relief as he rounded a corner on the third floor, drawn to the neon flashing sign that screamed, 'caffeine!' and – oh, shit, incoming!
David braced himself as a young girl came crashing into him, with hardly a warning but a very feminine squeal before they fell back into the banister.
"Oh my gosh," the girl gasped as she pushed off his chest, quickly placing some distance between herself and David, or, was it herself and the railing? "Are you okay?"
David stepped away from the side, and looked down to tell the girl, 'look, I'm okay, you can stop brushing off my shirt now.' When he realized that she wasn't a girl.
Well, yeah, she was a girl, but not a little one. She was a young woman.
"Don't worry about it, are you alright?" David asked as he watched her push her shoulder-length auburn hair out of her face, so she could – god, what's with this place? – stare at him. Her dark green eyes were burning into him, a little too intensely.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Look, I'm so sorry about that, Mr.-" Her eyes traveled down to the personnel tag on his belt, which gave him clearance to enter the F.B.I building. "Mr. Wurthing". She flipped her hair back entirely out of her face, before patting him familiarly just below his left shoulder, and walking off.
God, they start young.
David shook his head, walking down the line of shops before entering the café. The pat on his shoulder had been far too friendly, bordering on flirtatious, for it to have been a simple apologetic reassurance. The young lady – who didn't give her name – must have the same obsession with men in uniform that most women have.
He sighed and shrugged the matter off as he stepped into the warmth of the café, ordering up a large coffee, black.
David walked out of the shop, steaming cup of delicious morning medicine in tow. He headed for the escalator but fuck! Wasn't today the day he had to pick up the new notebooks for the meeting?
David internally growled. How had he forgotten that? Luck, however, was definitely on his side: if he recalled correctly, the depot store was just around the corner and – whoa there. Is that…Ms-run-into-him-and-doesn't-even-leave-a-name standing at the counter, a postal teddy bear in her hands?
David marched to the back of the room, snatching a twelve-pack of notebooks and a package of pens, before approaching the cashier's counter. He didn't really want to be anywhere near the girl for the time being, especially with the coffee plus white shirt equation going for him at the moment. Be that as it may, he had 20 minutes to get to the agency, and waiting for her to leave the store was definitely not an option.
Oh, crap.
She turned around to pick the red, white and blue teddy bear off the counter, and low and behold…she spotted him.
"Oh hi, ." Her eyes scanned the counter as she handed the bear to the clerk before they fell on the black plastic box beneath his hand. "Buying some notebooks?"
What was with this girl? First, she's all-too-eager to escape him – her crash wall, moreover – then she's flirtatious, and now she's making small talk? Strange girl. Really strange.
"Yeah." He saw no reason to elaborate further on the matter.
"I'm buying a present for my best friend."
What? She's talking again? David watched her smile fondly as she mentioned her friend.
"I swear, someday, she's going to be the death of me." The girl turned to look at David, as if expecting some kind of reaction.
Nope. None whatsoever. Nada. Well, isn't this a lovely conversation?
The cashier handed the girl her change, bagged the bear, and she was off, not before turning around and saying, "I'll see you later!"
Did he mention she was weird?
David stumbled into the conference room, balancing books and pens in one arm, his coffee in the other. His partner Naomi Taylor – bless her bitchy soul – came over and relieved him of the books and pens.
"Alright," Commander James D. Albright started as everyone took their seats, "Now that everyone is here, we'll commence this meeting. This is very important, and I am inclined to tell you all that this will be dangerous. The information presented to you today is completely confidential. To reveal any of this data to anyone not present in this room or case is a federal offense, and will result in immediate expulsion and incarceration. Understood?"
A computer screen came down the wall on cords to rest behind the Commander as he spoke, and everyone at the table grabbed a notebook and pen. Lids removed and books cracked open to the first page, James began the briefing. A split screen became apparent on the computer, pictures of two men's faces placed on either side.
"As you all know, this is a case relating to Burnidect 'Shotgun' Pascal – a notorious terrorist leader, responsible for hundreds of deaths world wide," He pointed to the first man's picture. He had a mid-life crisis look going for him. His jaw line tight as if he was eternally pissed off. Nevertheless, his eyes could be read easily enough, 'You. Die. Now.'
"– And Ardan 'the Fox' Greenstone – an ex-military soldier who became a spy for the United States Government within the last few decades. He has retrieved many documents from the enemy and saved the country from countless disasters."
Wow, 'the Fox' sounds like a national hero.
"However," Oh, there's a however? "Despite his many accomplishments for our country, he is not a nice man. Do not be deceived. While on his missions, he does not spare lives. His body-count all but evens out with that of 'Shotgun'."
Holy shit.
"Pascal wishes to have revenge on Greenstone for murdering half the personnel on his team stationed in Germany. Reports state that the terrorists claim to have surrendered, yet were slaughtered anyway. Along the lines, I believe, 'terrorists are not qualified recipients of the justice system'."
Murmurs were heard around the table, as all the agents exchanged looks with each other. Obviously, they were thinking, 'so… tell us again why we want to help this blood thirsty maniac?'
"Despite the thoughts of the bureau on this matter," the Commander continued, "The President wishes that 'the Fox' avoid capture, seeing as he is an important milestone in the spy organization."
"So we take him into protective custody." Ted Abernathy spoke up from his seat a few chairs down from David.
The Commander sighed. "That would be a good idea, if we knew where he was."
What?
"He went into hiding on his own accord, he's all but dropped off the face of the Earth." Commander Albright answered the un-asked question.
"So then," Jonathan Gold offered from the back of the room, "he's done our job for us."
"If only it were that simple." CDR Albright stated as the picture of the two men was switched with a rotating headshot of a female, probably in her late teens. "This girl, however, is the next target, upon being unable to locate 'the Fox'."
"How old is she?" Naomi questioned, staring at the girl with a darkly curious expression.
"She's 18, soon to be 19 within the next few months. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to Janice – called Janny by close friends – Greenstone."
The dumbstruck looks on all of the agents faces was enough evidence to be able to confidently say that this was not what the bureau's selected task force was expecting.
"She's the only daughter of our missing Ardan Greenstone. Pascal's organization found out about her through an interrogated ex-agent, and their original plan was to capture her, and use her to draw out 'the Fox'. However, the bureau knows that this plan is nullified by the fact that Ardan has a 'no strings attached' relationship with his daughter. Therefore, to leave her unprotected, would just make our agency assistors in man slaughter."
"So what then?" Naomi exclaimed, leaning back in her chair, pulling her black hair over her shoulder. "We change our assignment to guarding this girl?"
The Commander sighed. "That would be a good idea, if we knew where she was."
Whoa… déjà vu?
James Albright turned to stare at the computer screen, an expression of frustration on his face.
"Let me guess." David asked rhetorically, "She's disappeared off the face of the Earth as well?"
"Yes. About two weeks ago." CDR Albright stated, his finger hovering above the switch to change the slide on the computer screen. "She hasn't attended any of her classes at her College within this timeframe, nor has she had any connection with friends or relatives. We are 95 certain that she's with her father."
"Oh, brain-freeze." Bobby Hardel muttered, his thumb insipidly flicking his pen around. "So you're telling us that their disappearances could possibly be completely unrelated except for the base fact that they're being hunted by the same psychopath?"
"Where do we go from here?" David asked, feeling a throbbing headache coming on. This assignment was getting very confusing, very fast.
"Yeah," Ted added, "'Shotgun' definitely isn't going to be pleased with his two primary targets being out of the ball game."
"We believe the disappearance of Ardan and Janice Greenstone have to do with her best friend, Rebecca Anderson. The Pascal Terrorist Unit believe the same thing, and are, shall we say, less than pleased with their current circumstances. We assume they're now just after bloodshed."
"What's her story?" David inquired. Surely, this wasn't going to lead to yet another connection 'the Fox' had.
"She's completely average," The Commander began, pinching the bridge of his nose, "She's your average well behaved student, has the average appearance, she's the average teenager with the average family. She's 19 and taking a one-year breadth from school to make enough money to pay for her College tuition. She's totally-and-completely-average."
There was a full thirty seconds of silence before James continued, "The only thing that makes her stand out from all-those-average is that she's incredibly smart. Why then, doesn't she have scholarships? Her friends say she has an amazing intuitive sense, but she has an unpredictable mood. A fiery attitude, no doubt."
"I'll bet she disappeared." Jonathan joked out loud.
"She did. One week ago." The Commander said solemnly.
You've got to be joking me.
"Oh, for the love of God!" Naomi barked, "This is becoming unreal. Show us a picture of her, will you Commander?" She bit out, bitterly.
James' finger finally compressed the button on the slide switch.
David could hardly believe what he was seeing.
"Holy shit!"
(AN) And chapter one is complete! I do NOT own 'rescue heroes' (A cartoon that used to play on T.V that David quoted) nor do I have any affiliation with the FBI, though, I admit, it would be cool. The 'café malt' and all character names are of my own creation, as well as the storyline.
Formalities aside, I hope that this chapter was enjoyable! Please review, your feedback and comments are greatly appreciated! I love to read what people think!