The Confrontation
Quinn hated dressing like this, but if she wanted to look young and naive, looking for trouble, then, yeah, this would have to do. She was in a pair of low riding jeans, a baby doll tee that hit above her naval, a charcoal grey leather jacket, her hair curled, short and messy. She was sure to do her make-up heavier than appropriate for this time of day. The spiked heels she had on weren't appropriate either. She looked like a hooker, but that was partially the point.
This particular group of idiots she'd been working with she hated more than usual. They mostly worked in transporting drugs, but there was a hint that they had been funding a smaller crew of mercenaries to take out their major competition. The drug war that would undoubtedly ensue was going to be a bloody one and she knew for sure that this group would come out on top. They had some very distinct advantages.
Her one contact was Mike Rizzo, a low on the totem pole lackey who did a lot of courier work himself. After a few talks and a few peeks into his head, she realized that he hated his job just the same. He got caught up in it due to family, so she felt like the least she could do was help. There was an exchange of trust between them. If he helped her break down this group, she could get him protection, but it had to run undercover and there wasn't a lot of time to think about it. If he said no? Yeah, she'd have to get rid of him now, but Quinn wasn't an assassin, so it was good he agreed, otherwise he would have caught her bluff.
Today she was arriving to see Rizzo, talk about current movement within and figure out what the next move was. She knew that the tension was mounting between them and the other competition, but she wasn't ready to go in after them. Rizzo worked at an autoshop, changing oil, tune-ups, nothing interesting. She walked into the garage, looking for those beat-up black Chuck Taylor's he was always wearing sticking out from under a car.
"Hey, Rizz," she said, leaning on the car he was working on. He rolled out from beneath it, hands still on something under the car, face a greasy mess.
"Hey, Q," he replied. She noted immediately how somber he seemed. Something had happened.
"Take a break. We need to talk," she said, starting to walk outside the garage again, the click of her heels echoing even with the sound of ratchets and lifts running.
He moved out from under the car and followed her, wiping his face on the rag he carried his pocket. It only smeared the grease instead. Rizzo was a bulky guy, just a smidge taller than her, but not by much in heels like this. He looked like he was meant to be the bouncer of the crew, not just a guy who carries messages.
"What happened?" straight to the point, this one. She didn't see the reasoning behind asking a lot of nonsensical questions.
"Can't say," he replied coolly. She didn't usually get that reception from him. She locked eyes with him, looking for something, anything that would clear it up. Rizzo wasn't a telepath, but he spent a lot of time around them. He couldn't block her, but he knew how to delay her finding out something. He was worried. That was clear.
"It's best you tell me, Rizz," she made that clear, stepping forward, "I can't protect you otherwise."
"This isn't about me, this time, Quinn. You need to go," he was stern with her. He knew something... no. They knew something.
"What did they find out?" she asked, lowering her voice.
Rizz shook his head at her, not willing to share. She reached forward, grasping his forearm and holding him, eye contact, watching him, scanning his thoughts. He'd overheard something...
"She's been trying to get in for weeks now. This girl's trouble..."
"She ain't!"
"She's looking for an in, but I don't trust her. She's got something up her sleeve and we know who she's workin' for. How can we trust her when she came from where she did?"
"Boys, boys, relax. She's exactly what we need..."
Quinn staggered back. They were going to extract information from her. And Rizzo was trying to get rid of her. She had to think quickly. How was she going to get into the middle of this and stop that war from happening. How could she...
"Rizzo, you need to disappear tonight," she glared to him. They'd go for him, too. He knew too much and if they got into her head, they'd know that he was involved.
"Quinn, you can't do this. Go back to where you came from, there's nothing left for you to do. They're finishing off the rest of them tonight, raiding their warehouse. You can't stop all of them."
"No, but I can get in the way," long enough to slow it down, call in back-up. Damn, she was hoping to turn the other side of this.
Quinn wasn't a fighter. Sure, she could paralyze a guy and she was perfectly capable of defending herself, but against a group? She was useless, she knew that. The whole point of her job was to show up, issue warnings to various rings telling them that the Organization knew what they were doing and let them know they were coming in. She'd then convince them that she hated working for them, that she wanted out since she'd being doing this since she was a kid and she'd do anything to get away. Being that she was a girl with her cleavage as persuasion and big eyes, she could tug at some heartstrings, among other things. Either way, she was in.
Unlike what a lot of others who worked for the Organization, Quinn's job was strategy. Her entire job consisted of gathering intel. All she wanted was to know who was involved where, what their opperation was and how many more rings she could get to from that one. This group? Yeah, they were the first ones she'd come across that were truly dangerous. The rest ran their businesses, making their money, but most of the time she could convince them to give up information for promises that they wouldn't come after them with a few more conditions. This group wasn't like that. They would kill her at a moment's notice if they thought she was going to get in the way; Quinn was about to get in the way.
She spent the rest of the day making a plan. She had to get them to stall long enough before they slaughtered anyone. She'd been tracking their movement all day and three times they'd come back to their main hub with people in tow. She didn't recognize the ones that they brought in, but the fact that their hands were zip tied and they were gagged, she could make a pretty good guess. They were bringing them in to execute them. She had to get in there.
Quinn only had a brief second to send a text in to her people, telling them that they were out of time and she'd stall until they could get there. She knew better than to run in blind, so she came in a back way of the building--an abandoned office building that they'd been renting and kept it so it looked abandoned--and snuck in from behind.
"...our business. We've given warnings, now we're acting on them."
She recognized that voice. He was rarely out involved in much, running the whole thing from behind closed doors, but it was their don, Jack Luca. He'd only get involved if he felt his men couldn't be trusted to handle it right.
There was a shuffle of movement and Quinn couldn't wait any longer. She turned on her usual act, stumbling into the room, looking like she was going to fall off her shoes, then the shock on her face as she wandered in. "W-what's goin' on?" she asked, sounding as innocent as possible.
"Ah, Quinn, so timely. Come here," Jack beckoned her. She wasn't looking forward to this. She had no idea what he had planned and she couldn't say no or she wouldn't be able to stall, not exactly. So she crossed the room, trying to looked as drugged up as possible, as if coming down from a high.
"You see, these men have been exchanging information with a little spy, finding out where our operation runs and now they are encroaching on it. I have spent some time doing some research and it seems to me that you are the only connecting factor," he sounds almost cheerful about it. "So, my dear, what shall we do about it?"
"I was just lookin' for a place to belong! I swear it, Jack, it wasn't like I--" her head was suddenly thrown to the side. Jack had backhanded her, the ring on his hand scraping across her cheek, a thin line of blood dripping slowly down the line of her jaw to her chin. He shoved her, still dazed by the blow and she fell to the floor. It was only then that her eyes cleared enough and she was looking up at the don, behind him a couple of his muscle and behind that, Rizzo.
"I wasn't trying to do anything. I swear!" she nearly cried. Jack's hand was on her neck, putting pressure to her throat, making it hard to breath. He pushed her to her knees, gazing down at her. He was strong, his abilities honed and sharpened, but she was stronger. Grasping his wrist, she locked onto him, fighting back with all she could, trying to keep him out, but the moment he tightened his hand, her shield wavered and he broke through. Not being able to breath made it hard to block.
Jack did a quick search of her head, mostly ignoring what she knew, looking for something specific. Whatever it was... he'd never find it. As he searched, the information she truly needed to keep away from him, Organization secrets, locations, keys, anything that would lead them back to her, her family or the Organization was wiped from her head. It was a little trick she'd been working on, sort of a clean sweep of her own head. She had focused on very specific triggers, much like taking a suicide pill, minus the suicide.
"You little whore," he nearly purred the words to her, leaning in towards her. "Fine, keep your secrets. I could kill you, that would be easy. Or..."
That look frightened her. She knew what he could do to her. She knew what she would get herself into if this continued. She knew what he was going to do because he very clearly projected that. Her eyes darted away from him, glancing to Rizzo. He wouldn't look at her.
Quinn would have fought back, but the lack of oxygen reaching her brain was making it impossible. She was light-headed, dazed, eyes wouldn't focus. There wasn't a lot of hope.
"How about we make it easy on you to keep your secrets, hm? Perhaps it would be nice to lock you up in your mind, make it hard to communicated. I find that a fit punishment, because yes, killing you is easy, but this? This will torture you. This will make you wish you could die, but you won't have the ability. Not even your own."
The last thing Quinn saw clearly was the menacing grin on Jack's face. Simultaneously, three shots popped off in a row, the harsh thump of dead bodies hitting the floor. Her mind went blank and when she woke, screaming for help did nothing. Help wasn't even what came out of her mouth.
She was in a hospital bed, staring up at her sister, eyes wide, trying to talk, trying to tell her, trying to get up, but she was restrained, tied down--for her own safety, they said-- and she was terrified. Locked in her head, able to see, feel, think, but there was nothing that could make her communicate. As time went on, motor skills were more difficult to control, verbal functions became nothing and her thoughts were fractures of sentences, barely memories. She could only remember that grin.
And her life went on for countless days this way. Living in an assisted living, group home, her mind hardly functioning some days. She was getting worse and she knew, somewhere in her head that this was going to be how it ended. Her mind would go, her body would follow. She'd die, not able to tell anyone how she felt, what happened, how sorry she was. She recognized the pain in her sister's face, saw the anger in her brother's. She did this to them. They deserved better and now she would never be able to explain.
Well, until him. That redheaded, tall man, the one who came in with her sister. She felt like she should know him, but her mind wouldn't work, couldn't run through memories enough to catch his name. That look, those words spoken to her, the subtle promise that he'd be back... it was the first time she had hoped.
This particular group of idiots she'd been working with she hated more than usual. They mostly worked in transporting drugs, but there was a hint that they had been funding a smaller crew of mercenaries to take out their major competition. The drug war that would undoubtedly ensue was going to be a bloody one and she knew for sure that this group would come out on top. They had some very distinct advantages.
Her one contact was Mike Rizzo, a low on the totem pole lackey who did a lot of courier work himself. After a few talks and a few peeks into his head, she realized that he hated his job just the same. He got caught up in it due to family, so she felt like the least she could do was help. There was an exchange of trust between them. If he helped her break down this group, she could get him protection, but it had to run undercover and there wasn't a lot of time to think about it. If he said no? Yeah, she'd have to get rid of him now, but Quinn wasn't an assassin, so it was good he agreed, otherwise he would have caught her bluff.
Today she was arriving to see Rizzo, talk about current movement within and figure out what the next move was. She knew that the tension was mounting between them and the other competition, but she wasn't ready to go in after them. Rizzo worked at an autoshop, changing oil, tune-ups, nothing interesting. She walked into the garage, looking for those beat-up black Chuck Taylor's he was always wearing sticking out from under a car.
"Hey, Rizz," she said, leaning on the car he was working on. He rolled out from beneath it, hands still on something under the car, face a greasy mess.
"Hey, Q," he replied. She noted immediately how somber he seemed. Something had happened.
"Take a break. We need to talk," she said, starting to walk outside the garage again, the click of her heels echoing even with the sound of ratchets and lifts running.
He moved out from under the car and followed her, wiping his face on the rag he carried his pocket. It only smeared the grease instead. Rizzo was a bulky guy, just a smidge taller than her, but not by much in heels like this. He looked like he was meant to be the bouncer of the crew, not just a guy who carries messages.
"What happened?" straight to the point, this one. She didn't see the reasoning behind asking a lot of nonsensical questions.
"Can't say," he replied coolly. She didn't usually get that reception from him. She locked eyes with him, looking for something, anything that would clear it up. Rizzo wasn't a telepath, but he spent a lot of time around them. He couldn't block her, but he knew how to delay her finding out something. He was worried. That was clear.
"It's best you tell me, Rizz," she made that clear, stepping forward, "I can't protect you otherwise."
"This isn't about me, this time, Quinn. You need to go," he was stern with her. He knew something... no. They knew something.
"What did they find out?" she asked, lowering her voice.
Rizz shook his head at her, not willing to share. She reached forward, grasping his forearm and holding him, eye contact, watching him, scanning his thoughts. He'd overheard something...
"She's been trying to get in for weeks now. This girl's trouble..."
"She ain't!"
"She's looking for an in, but I don't trust her. She's got something up her sleeve and we know who she's workin' for. How can we trust her when she came from where she did?"
"Boys, boys, relax. She's exactly what we need..."
Quinn staggered back. They were going to extract information from her. And Rizzo was trying to get rid of her. She had to think quickly. How was she going to get into the middle of this and stop that war from happening. How could she...
"Rizzo, you need to disappear tonight," she glared to him. They'd go for him, too. He knew too much and if they got into her head, they'd know that he was involved.
"Quinn, you can't do this. Go back to where you came from, there's nothing left for you to do. They're finishing off the rest of them tonight, raiding their warehouse. You can't stop all of them."
"No, but I can get in the way," long enough to slow it down, call in back-up. Damn, she was hoping to turn the other side of this.
Quinn wasn't a fighter. Sure, she could paralyze a guy and she was perfectly capable of defending herself, but against a group? She was useless, she knew that. The whole point of her job was to show up, issue warnings to various rings telling them that the Organization knew what they were doing and let them know they were coming in. She'd then convince them that she hated working for them, that she wanted out since she'd being doing this since she was a kid and she'd do anything to get away. Being that she was a girl with her cleavage as persuasion and big eyes, she could tug at some heartstrings, among other things. Either way, she was in.
Unlike what a lot of others who worked for the Organization, Quinn's job was strategy. Her entire job consisted of gathering intel. All she wanted was to know who was involved where, what their opperation was and how many more rings she could get to from that one. This group? Yeah, they were the first ones she'd come across that were truly dangerous. The rest ran their businesses, making their money, but most of the time she could convince them to give up information for promises that they wouldn't come after them with a few more conditions. This group wasn't like that. They would kill her at a moment's notice if they thought she was going to get in the way; Quinn was about to get in the way.
She spent the rest of the day making a plan. She had to get them to stall long enough before they slaughtered anyone. She'd been tracking their movement all day and three times they'd come back to their main hub with people in tow. She didn't recognize the ones that they brought in, but the fact that their hands were zip tied and they were gagged, she could make a pretty good guess. They were bringing them in to execute them. She had to get in there.
Quinn only had a brief second to send a text in to her people, telling them that they were out of time and she'd stall until they could get there. She knew better than to run in blind, so she came in a back way of the building--an abandoned office building that they'd been renting and kept it so it looked abandoned--and snuck in from behind.
"...our business. We've given warnings, now we're acting on them."
She recognized that voice. He was rarely out involved in much, running the whole thing from behind closed doors, but it was their don, Jack Luca. He'd only get involved if he felt his men couldn't be trusted to handle it right.
There was a shuffle of movement and Quinn couldn't wait any longer. She turned on her usual act, stumbling into the room, looking like she was going to fall off her shoes, then the shock on her face as she wandered in. "W-what's goin' on?" she asked, sounding as innocent as possible.
"Ah, Quinn, so timely. Come here," Jack beckoned her. She wasn't looking forward to this. She had no idea what he had planned and she couldn't say no or she wouldn't be able to stall, not exactly. So she crossed the room, trying to looked as drugged up as possible, as if coming down from a high.
"You see, these men have been exchanging information with a little spy, finding out where our operation runs and now they are encroaching on it. I have spent some time doing some research and it seems to me that you are the only connecting factor," he sounds almost cheerful about it. "So, my dear, what shall we do about it?"
"I was just lookin' for a place to belong! I swear it, Jack, it wasn't like I--" her head was suddenly thrown to the side. Jack had backhanded her, the ring on his hand scraping across her cheek, a thin line of blood dripping slowly down the line of her jaw to her chin. He shoved her, still dazed by the blow and she fell to the floor. It was only then that her eyes cleared enough and she was looking up at the don, behind him a couple of his muscle and behind that, Rizzo.
"I wasn't trying to do anything. I swear!" she nearly cried. Jack's hand was on her neck, putting pressure to her throat, making it hard to breath. He pushed her to her knees, gazing down at her. He was strong, his abilities honed and sharpened, but she was stronger. Grasping his wrist, she locked onto him, fighting back with all she could, trying to keep him out, but the moment he tightened his hand, her shield wavered and he broke through. Not being able to breath made it hard to block.
Jack did a quick search of her head, mostly ignoring what she knew, looking for something specific. Whatever it was... he'd never find it. As he searched, the information she truly needed to keep away from him, Organization secrets, locations, keys, anything that would lead them back to her, her family or the Organization was wiped from her head. It was a little trick she'd been working on, sort of a clean sweep of her own head. She had focused on very specific triggers, much like taking a suicide pill, minus the suicide.
"You little whore," he nearly purred the words to her, leaning in towards her. "Fine, keep your secrets. I could kill you, that would be easy. Or..."
That look frightened her. She knew what he could do to her. She knew what she would get herself into if this continued. She knew what he was going to do because he very clearly projected that. Her eyes darted away from him, glancing to Rizzo. He wouldn't look at her.
Quinn would have fought back, but the lack of oxygen reaching her brain was making it impossible. She was light-headed, dazed, eyes wouldn't focus. There wasn't a lot of hope.
"How about we make it easy on you to keep your secrets, hm? Perhaps it would be nice to lock you up in your mind, make it hard to communicated. I find that a fit punishment, because yes, killing you is easy, but this? This will torture you. This will make you wish you could die, but you won't have the ability. Not even your own."
The last thing Quinn saw clearly was the menacing grin on Jack's face. Simultaneously, three shots popped off in a row, the harsh thump of dead bodies hitting the floor. Her mind went blank and when she woke, screaming for help did nothing. Help wasn't even what came out of her mouth.
She was in a hospital bed, staring up at her sister, eyes wide, trying to talk, trying to tell her, trying to get up, but she was restrained, tied down--for her own safety, they said-- and she was terrified. Locked in her head, able to see, feel, think, but there was nothing that could make her communicate. As time went on, motor skills were more difficult to control, verbal functions became nothing and her thoughts were fractures of sentences, barely memories. She could only remember that grin.
And her life went on for countless days this way. Living in an assisted living, group home, her mind hardly functioning some days. She was getting worse and she knew, somewhere in her head that this was going to be how it ended. Her mind would go, her body would follow. She'd die, not able to tell anyone how she felt, what happened, how sorry she was. She recognized the pain in her sister's face, saw the anger in her brother's. She did this to them. They deserved better and now she would never be able to explain.
Well, until him. That redheaded, tall man, the one who came in with her sister. She felt like she should know him, but her mind wouldn't work, couldn't run through memories enough to catch his name. That look, those words spoken to her, the subtle promise that he'd be back... it was the first time she had hoped.