Fic: Spooks
Title: Spooks
Fandom: Castle
Rating: PG-13 (violent-type stuff)
Word Count: 1900
Written for: castleland's "Beginnings" challenge
A/N: Thanks to everysecondtues for the cheerleading! I did not get finished in time to have it beta'd (or even to put in everything I wanted, or read it through an extra time myself), so, frankly, it is a bit rough.
Summary: AU. Beckett is Snake Plissken, but with two eyes (and boobs).
Beckett slid the sole of her boot along the slab of concrete, scraping off a clump of brain matter. She slipped her shotgun into the holster on her back, and unclipped the walkie talkie from her hip.
She fed the report into the speaker. “Southeast corner clear.”
For a moment there was silence, then a short burst of static before she got a reply.
“Copy that, Bravo. Any status update on Romeo?”
Beckett hesitated a moment before depressing the button. “That’s a negative, Dispatch.”
“Copy. What’s your return-to-base ETA?”
Beckett hesitated again. “Dispatch, I observed some debris obstructing the eastern avenue. Doesn’t look like much except the crumbled façade of one of the buildings. Requesting permission to investigate.”
“Hold up, let me check.”
The speaker fell silent of the radio fell silent, and Beckett let her attention roam over the building on her right. A scruffy crow sat in a window sill. It cocked its head, warily examining her with one eye.
“Yo, you have a go on that request. You need a back-up team to help clear the blockage?”
Beckett smiled. “Thanks, Dispatch. Not at this time,” she decided. “How’d you get Mike to agree to that, anyway?”
“I have my ways. Dispatch out.”
Beckett replaced the walkie talkie, drawing her handgun instead. Gun trained on the pile of rubble in front of her, she approached cautiously, with her torso held sideways to make herself a smaller target.
A pair of rats scattered as she neared the debris. Scavengers. Not a good sign. Extending a foot, Beckett toed aside a chunk of material close to where she’d seen the scurrying rats, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary underneath. Just more rubble.
Tilting her head skyward, she lifted a hand to shade her eyes and examined what remained of the building. As she circled the pile of debris, her foot cracked down on something plastic. Refocusing her attention, Beckett discovered that the plastic belonged to a piece of walkie talkie identical to her own. The rest of the walkie talkie sat five feet away, its internal workings pulled out and deliberately smashed.
“Bravo to Dispatch. I’m coming in.”
“10-4. See you in a few.”
“Bravo out.” Beckett snapped her walkie talkie back into place and scooped the broken one out of the street.
Arriving back on base, Beckett found Esposito strapping on a vest.
“Sick of riding the desk already, Dispatch?” she asked him.
“Naw, I did my time! Angell’s the one holding down the comms now,” Esposito responded.
“You might want to put off your rounds. I have news.”
“Good news or bad news?”
“Not sure yet.” Beckett pressed her lips together, and tilted her head toward the captain’s office. Esposito fell into step with her.
Montgomery rose when they entered the room. “How’s the eastern avenue?” He crossed his arms.
“Still blocked, sir. We’ll have to put together a team to clear it soon, but right now we have a bigger problem.” Beckett tossed the smashed walkie talkie onto the desk, and it slid a few inches before coming to a stop in front of the captain. “Found this laying about 15 feet clear of the debris.”
Montgomery picked up the radio and examined it. “The outer casing is mostly intact, but the guts have been pulled out and scrambled.
Beckett nodded. “It’s been deliberately disabled.”
“Sabotage? Why would…” Montgomery trailed off.
Esposito started. “They wanted him alive.”
“I took a look at the building that partially collapsed into the street,” Beckett continued. “It looks like a charge was set up to be detonated on command -- an ambush of sorts.”
“You sure?” Montgomery asked.
“I killed eight zombies out there--”
Esposito let out a low whistle. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
“Count on it.” Beckett paused long enough to smirk at him before returning her attention to the captain. “Most of the zombies have enough lizard brain survival instinct to stay away from something like a collapsing building, but the sound and light of an explosion would have been enough to attract them.”
“So based on where they set up the ambush, they set out to catch a cop,” Montgomery said.
“’They?’” Esposito snorted. He began to pace the length of the small room, voice climbing in volume with each step. “We know who took him. Why don’t you just come out and say it? The spooks. The spooks have Ryan.”
“We don’t know that for sure--” Montgomery began, and Esposito snorted again. Montgomery raised his voice. “--and if you are unable to remain calm, I will throw you out of this room myself!”
Montgomery sat back down at his desk. “On second thought, the both of you had better leave. I have some thinking to do.”
The three of them remained frozen in tableau for a moment. Esposito broke first, not-quite slamming the door on the way out.
Beckett placed her fingertips on the edge of the captain’s desk. “Sir, we don’t have the resources to deal with an outfit like the spooks.”
“I know.” Montgomery set his elbow on the surface of his desk, cradling his forehead with the palm of his hand.
“We don’t know who these people are, where they live--”
“I know, Beckett.”
“--or what they do. All we have to go on are rumors and hearsay. They’re cannibals, they sacrifice children to their pet zombies, they’re the government agency who caused the zombie apocalypse in the first place.”
“That’s enough.” Montgomery fixed a glare on her. “I have some calls to make.”
“Not with that,” Beckett said pointedly, throwing a look at the ruined walkie talkie which still sat on the desk.
She felt a whoosh of air hit her as she opened the door to the office. She let it drift slowly shut behind her.
She returned the shotgun to the armory. Her back felt lighter without it. She turned in the vest and the walkie talkie, too. Beckett headed toward the locker room to change out of her patrol clothes. And her boots needed a good cleaning.
It was a relief to loosen the laces, pull them off. When she pulled the socks off, too, she finally felt relaxed enough to take a moment just to breathe. The floor of the locker room was concrete, but smooth, polished by all the cops who had walked through over the years. It felt cool beneath her feet.
The soles of her boots had taken the brunt of the grime, but they were easily rinsed off. The leather had to be wiped down with more care. The ritual of it helped to fill her mind with a zen-like calm, allowing her to focus only on the task at hand.
Until the alarm bell began to ring.
Beckett dropped the boot she was cleaning onto the floor next to its mate. Leaving them where they lay, she sprinted toward the only remaining access point into the building: the front door. When she arrived, Montgomery and a couple others were already there.
Montgomery put a hand on her shoulder. “Esposito radioed in an alert -- we’ve got an unknown vehicle incoming.”
Beckett pulled the handgun from her hip, and unclicked the safety. “It might be best if you stayed inside, sir.”
Montgomery frowned, but nodded and removed his hand. “Be safe out there.”
Beckett fell into the line of cops filing out the door, taking the center position as they fanned out along the front of the building.
Moments later, a tank came rolling into view.
Or, not exactly a tank, Beckett noticed as the vehicle drew nearer, but some sort of extremely fortified vehicle, painted a dusty brown. Attached to the front was the blade of a bulldozer, poised to sweep obstacles out of the way.
If the driver chose, it could sweep right through the line of cops and through the front doors of the precinct. Beckett raised her gun in a two-handed grip, feet planted firmly on the ground.
She held her breath as the tank barreled down the street toward them. But the tank rolled to a gentle stop directly in front of the building.
There was a beat during which nothing happened. Then Beckett heard one of the cops yell, “It’s opening up!” and she saw hands inching out of a hatch on the roof of the vehicle.
“Hold fire! We’re friendlies!” a voice called out. Ryan’s voice. A moment later, his head popped into view, then shoulders. He slowly clambered down from the vehicle. He looked around, visibly disoriented, then spotted Beckett’s face and locked onto her. “Another one’s coming out. Richard Castle. This is his rig.”
“It’s the Floating Fortress!” one of Beckett’s men hissed.
“No way, that thing doesn’t exist,” another shot back.
“It’s true! Check out the writing on the side!”
Beckett’s eyes didn’t waver from Ryan’s face. “Hold fire!” she ordered, but kept her gun trained on the tank’s opening. A swirl of movement appeared at the mouth of the hatch.
A man emerged from the tank, holding his hands over his head as Ryan had done. He was grinning from ear to ear. “This is so awesome!” he said.
Beckett raised an eyebrow at Ryan, who shrugged.
“Castle seems to have some sort of clout with the spooks,” Ryan said as Castle landed on the ground beside him. “He negotiated for my release.”
“Why would I want to talk to anyone who deals with spooks?” Beckett demanded.
“It’s not like you think, Beckett,” Ryan extended a hand toward her. “The spooks are… a lot different than we thought.”
“Don’t worry, Ryan,” Castle interjected. “Anyone with such cute little baby pink toes could never shoot a handsome man like me.”
Beckett’s toes dug into the asphalt. She pressed her finger into the trigger guard to keep from squeezing down on the trigger itself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryan do a double take.
“Normally she has boots on,” Ryan whispered to Castle. “Big black ones.”
“Noted,” Castle replied, sweeping his eyes over Beckett’s body.
Beckett is about 80% decided to shoot him just for the fun of it when Montgomery walks through the front door.
“Holster your weapons,” Montgomery orders. “Mr. Castle,” he continues in a different tone, “I apologize for the manner of our greeting. The notice of your impending arrival came a bit late. I just got off the phone with the mayor.”
“I completely understand,” Castle replied. “By the way, how’s his sister doing?”
“Fine. Apparently thanks to you,” Montgomery answered. Beckett rolled her eyes. Montgomery cast a sharp look around. “Let’s continue our talk inside, shall we?”
“Good idea,” said Castle.
Ryan lead the way into the precinct, dodging the jovial slaps to the head and punches to the arm that rained down on him. Montgomery followed closely behind.
Beckett’s curiosity got the best of her. “Castle, can I ask you a question?”
Castle looked at her with surprise. “Shoot.”
Beckett raised her hand toward the gun at her hip. Castle quickly lifted his hands in self defense. “No, don’t shoot! I mean, ask away!”
Beckett finished raising her hand, gesturing up over her shoulder with her thumb. “Why call it the ‘Floating Fortress’? It’s not a boat.”
“’Cause it sounds cool,” Castle said. “Also, it’s a metaphor. She floats through the city like the fog floats over the ocean.”
Beckett felt her forehead wrinkle. “That’s not a metaphor. That’s a simile.”
Castle looked at her like she was Christmas morning. “Kid, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Fandom: Castle
Rating: PG-13 (violent-type stuff)
Word Count: 1900
Written for: castleland's "Beginnings" challenge
A/N: Thanks to everysecondtues for the cheerleading! I did not get finished in time to have it beta'd (or even to put in everything I wanted, or read it through an extra time myself), so, frankly, it is a bit rough.
Summary: AU. Beckett is Snake Plissken, but with two eyes (and boobs).
Beckett slid the sole of her boot along the slab of concrete, scraping off a clump of brain matter. She slipped her shotgun into the holster on her back, and unclipped the walkie talkie from her hip.
She fed the report into the speaker. “Southeast corner clear.”
For a moment there was silence, then a short burst of static before she got a reply.
“Copy that, Bravo. Any status update on Romeo?”
Beckett hesitated a moment before depressing the button. “That’s a negative, Dispatch.”
“Copy. What’s your return-to-base ETA?”
Beckett hesitated again. “Dispatch, I observed some debris obstructing the eastern avenue. Doesn’t look like much except the crumbled façade of one of the buildings. Requesting permission to investigate.”
“Hold up, let me check.”
The speaker fell silent of the radio fell silent, and Beckett let her attention roam over the building on her right. A scruffy crow sat in a window sill. It cocked its head, warily examining her with one eye.
“Yo, you have a go on that request. You need a back-up team to help clear the blockage?”
Beckett smiled. “Thanks, Dispatch. Not at this time,” she decided. “How’d you get Mike to agree to that, anyway?”
“I have my ways. Dispatch out.”
Beckett replaced the walkie talkie, drawing her handgun instead. Gun trained on the pile of rubble in front of her, she approached cautiously, with her torso held sideways to make herself a smaller target.
A pair of rats scattered as she neared the debris. Scavengers. Not a good sign. Extending a foot, Beckett toed aside a chunk of material close to where she’d seen the scurrying rats, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary underneath. Just more rubble.
Tilting her head skyward, she lifted a hand to shade her eyes and examined what remained of the building. As she circled the pile of debris, her foot cracked down on something plastic. Refocusing her attention, Beckett discovered that the plastic belonged to a piece of walkie talkie identical to her own. The rest of the walkie talkie sat five feet away, its internal workings pulled out and deliberately smashed.
“Bravo to Dispatch. I’m coming in.”
“10-4. See you in a few.”
“Bravo out.” Beckett snapped her walkie talkie back into place and scooped the broken one out of the street.
Arriving back on base, Beckett found Esposito strapping on a vest.
“Sick of riding the desk already, Dispatch?” she asked him.
“Naw, I did my time! Angell’s the one holding down the comms now,” Esposito responded.
“You might want to put off your rounds. I have news.”
“Good news or bad news?”
“Not sure yet.” Beckett pressed her lips together, and tilted her head toward the captain’s office. Esposito fell into step with her.
Montgomery rose when they entered the room. “How’s the eastern avenue?” He crossed his arms.
“Still blocked, sir. We’ll have to put together a team to clear it soon, but right now we have a bigger problem.” Beckett tossed the smashed walkie talkie onto the desk, and it slid a few inches before coming to a stop in front of the captain. “Found this laying about 15 feet clear of the debris.”
Montgomery picked up the radio and examined it. “The outer casing is mostly intact, but the guts have been pulled out and scrambled.
Beckett nodded. “It’s been deliberately disabled.”
“Sabotage? Why would…” Montgomery trailed off.
Esposito started. “They wanted him alive.”
“I took a look at the building that partially collapsed into the street,” Beckett continued. “It looks like a charge was set up to be detonated on command -- an ambush of sorts.”
“You sure?” Montgomery asked.
“I killed eight zombies out there--”
Esposito let out a low whistle. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
“Count on it.” Beckett paused long enough to smirk at him before returning her attention to the captain. “Most of the zombies have enough lizard brain survival instinct to stay away from something like a collapsing building, but the sound and light of an explosion would have been enough to attract them.”
“So based on where they set up the ambush, they set out to catch a cop,” Montgomery said.
“’They?’” Esposito snorted. He began to pace the length of the small room, voice climbing in volume with each step. “We know who took him. Why don’t you just come out and say it? The spooks. The spooks have Ryan.”
“We don’t know that for sure--” Montgomery began, and Esposito snorted again. Montgomery raised his voice. “--and if you are unable to remain calm, I will throw you out of this room myself!”
Montgomery sat back down at his desk. “On second thought, the both of you had better leave. I have some thinking to do.”
The three of them remained frozen in tableau for a moment. Esposito broke first, not-quite slamming the door on the way out.
Beckett placed her fingertips on the edge of the captain’s desk. “Sir, we don’t have the resources to deal with an outfit like the spooks.”
“I know.” Montgomery set his elbow on the surface of his desk, cradling his forehead with the palm of his hand.
“We don’t know who these people are, where they live--”
“I know, Beckett.”
“--or what they do. All we have to go on are rumors and hearsay. They’re cannibals, they sacrifice children to their pet zombies, they’re the government agency who caused the zombie apocalypse in the first place.”
“That’s enough.” Montgomery fixed a glare on her. “I have some calls to make.”
“Not with that,” Beckett said pointedly, throwing a look at the ruined walkie talkie which still sat on the desk.
She felt a whoosh of air hit her as she opened the door to the office. She let it drift slowly shut behind her.
She returned the shotgun to the armory. Her back felt lighter without it. She turned in the vest and the walkie talkie, too. Beckett headed toward the locker room to change out of her patrol clothes. And her boots needed a good cleaning.
It was a relief to loosen the laces, pull them off. When she pulled the socks off, too, she finally felt relaxed enough to take a moment just to breathe. The floor of the locker room was concrete, but smooth, polished by all the cops who had walked through over the years. It felt cool beneath her feet.
The soles of her boots had taken the brunt of the grime, but they were easily rinsed off. The leather had to be wiped down with more care. The ritual of it helped to fill her mind with a zen-like calm, allowing her to focus only on the task at hand.
Until the alarm bell began to ring.
Beckett dropped the boot she was cleaning onto the floor next to its mate. Leaving them where they lay, she sprinted toward the only remaining access point into the building: the front door. When she arrived, Montgomery and a couple others were already there.
Montgomery put a hand on her shoulder. “Esposito radioed in an alert -- we’ve got an unknown vehicle incoming.”
Beckett pulled the handgun from her hip, and unclicked the safety. “It might be best if you stayed inside, sir.”
Montgomery frowned, but nodded and removed his hand. “Be safe out there.”
Beckett fell into the line of cops filing out the door, taking the center position as they fanned out along the front of the building.
Moments later, a tank came rolling into view.
Or, not exactly a tank, Beckett noticed as the vehicle drew nearer, but some sort of extremely fortified vehicle, painted a dusty brown. Attached to the front was the blade of a bulldozer, poised to sweep obstacles out of the way.
If the driver chose, it could sweep right through the line of cops and through the front doors of the precinct. Beckett raised her gun in a two-handed grip, feet planted firmly on the ground.
She held her breath as the tank barreled down the street toward them. But the tank rolled to a gentle stop directly in front of the building.
There was a beat during which nothing happened. Then Beckett heard one of the cops yell, “It’s opening up!” and she saw hands inching out of a hatch on the roof of the vehicle.
“Hold fire! We’re friendlies!” a voice called out. Ryan’s voice. A moment later, his head popped into view, then shoulders. He slowly clambered down from the vehicle. He looked around, visibly disoriented, then spotted Beckett’s face and locked onto her. “Another one’s coming out. Richard Castle. This is his rig.”
“It’s the Floating Fortress!” one of Beckett’s men hissed.
“No way, that thing doesn’t exist,” another shot back.
“It’s true! Check out the writing on the side!”
Beckett’s eyes didn’t waver from Ryan’s face. “Hold fire!” she ordered, but kept her gun trained on the tank’s opening. A swirl of movement appeared at the mouth of the hatch.
A man emerged from the tank, holding his hands over his head as Ryan had done. He was grinning from ear to ear. “This is so awesome!” he said.
Beckett raised an eyebrow at Ryan, who shrugged.
“Castle seems to have some sort of clout with the spooks,” Ryan said as Castle landed on the ground beside him. “He negotiated for my release.”
“Why would I want to talk to anyone who deals with spooks?” Beckett demanded.
“It’s not like you think, Beckett,” Ryan extended a hand toward her. “The spooks are… a lot different than we thought.”
“Don’t worry, Ryan,” Castle interjected. “Anyone with such cute little baby pink toes could never shoot a handsome man like me.”
Beckett’s toes dug into the asphalt. She pressed her finger into the trigger guard to keep from squeezing down on the trigger itself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ryan do a double take.
“Normally she has boots on,” Ryan whispered to Castle. “Big black ones.”
“Noted,” Castle replied, sweeping his eyes over Beckett’s body.
Beckett is about 80% decided to shoot him just for the fun of it when Montgomery walks through the front door.
“Holster your weapons,” Montgomery orders. “Mr. Castle,” he continues in a different tone, “I apologize for the manner of our greeting. The notice of your impending arrival came a bit late. I just got off the phone with the mayor.”
“I completely understand,” Castle replied. “By the way, how’s his sister doing?”
“Fine. Apparently thanks to you,” Montgomery answered. Beckett rolled her eyes. Montgomery cast a sharp look around. “Let’s continue our talk inside, shall we?”
“Good idea,” said Castle.
Ryan lead the way into the precinct, dodging the jovial slaps to the head and punches to the arm that rained down on him. Montgomery followed closely behind.
Beckett’s curiosity got the best of her. “Castle, can I ask you a question?”
Castle looked at her with surprise. “Shoot.”
Beckett raised her hand toward the gun at her hip. Castle quickly lifted his hands in self defense. “No, don’t shoot! I mean, ask away!”
Beckett finished raising her hand, gesturing up over her shoulder with her thumb. “Why call it the ‘Floating Fortress’? It’s not a boat.”
“’Cause it sounds cool,” Castle said. “Also, it’s a metaphor. She floats through the city like the fog floats over the ocean.”
Beckett felt her forehead wrinkle. “That’s not a metaphor. That’s a simile.”
Castle looked at her like she was Christmas morning. “Kid, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”