Implosion, part 9
Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport
Arlington County, Virginia
It didn't take long to narrow down the list of suspects for MacPherson's accomplice to one man: Mr. Ogawa, the Japanese diplomat who brought the sword to America in the first place. Catching him is going to be tricky, though, since he's already at the airport. Presumably the handoff will be made just before his private jet leaves; that doesn't leave Artie a lot of time.
Artie hesitates, momentarily, outside the hangar bay. He's got the Tesla out, but... no, better switch it for an actual slug-thrower. MacPherson has shown no hesitation in killing to get what he wants; Artie will have to be prepared to do the same.
Ogawa is standing near the jet, tsuba box in hand, looking around expectantly. Artie steps from the shadows and points the gun at him. "Don't move." Ogawa complies, looking alarmed. "So, Mr. Ogawa. When does he get here?"
Ogawa doesn't respond. Which is understandable. It's a bit difficult to speak when your head is no longer attached to your shoulders.
Artie blanches as he watches the head fall and the body crumple to the ground. "OhGoditworks."
A man's voice, British-accented and all too familiar, echoes from somewhere in the vast room. "Hello, Arthur."
"James." Artie fights to keep his own voice even.
"Good to see you after all these years." The voice is older than Artie remembers, more weathered--maybe even a little sad, or is he imagining it?
"I wish I could say the same." Fuck fuck fuck. Artie can hear footsteps, but the echoes make it all but impossible to pinpoint their source. He thinks it sounds like James is close by, but...
"Not while you're pointing a gun at me. Or trying to."
Artie lets out a titter of terrified laughter. "Hey, well, y'know, you're an invisible guy with a sword. I think you might have the advantage over me."
"My point exactly."
Keep him talking, Artie thinks desperately. If this goes on long enough, James is bound to give away his position somehow; the sword has to be held just so to make the wielder invisible. "So, what happened to you, James?" Artie asks in the most conversational tone he can manage. "What happened? I mean, I know we had our differences, and I know Carol... happened..." He swallows and continues. "You always had your own ideas, your own objections to Warehouse policy. But I mean, James, James, killing people? When did you turn into that?"
"I woke up, Arthur."
That came from right behind him. Artie whirls round, gun at the ready, but only catches a brief glimpse of James before he vanishes again. Before Artie can reorient, something cold and sharp whooshes past his hands and knocks the gun away from him. "Once I was out from under Mrs. Frederick's iron hand and your neuroses," James's voice continues as Artie rubs his stinging hands, "I could see the world more clearly."
"Yeah, well, y'know, that's a little pathetic, isn't it, James? Blaming everybody else but yourself?" There's a fire extinguisher on a hand truck a yard or so away; Artie edges toward it, slowly, in the hopes that James won't notice him doing it. "I don't think you've found clarity, I don't think your ego could stand the light."
"I'd love to discuss this with you at length. You or one of your new agents. Lattimer and Bering, right?" James melts back into view a few paces away, smiling faintly at his ex-partner. "I've been observing them for some time. I see they have potential, but they're so raw. So untrained. So... corruptible." He grins a feral grin and raises the sword again, wrapping himself in its cloak of invisibility.
...yeah, Artie was definitely imagining the sadness in James's voice. "You come anywhere near them," he breathes, his voice faltering but growing stronger with every syllable, "I promise you, I promise you, James, you're gonna regret it. You'll never get anywhere close to them as long as I'm alive!"
From somewhere in the air around him, James chuckles darkly. "Arthur, you can still read my mind."
The fire extinguisher is now within arm's reach; Artie grabs it and sprays the air in front of him frantically. The cloud of flame-retardant powder momentarily outlines a MacPherson-shaped silhouette coming toward him, with a sword-shaped silhouette that knocks the nozzle out of Artie's hands.
The sword and its wielder fade back into view just before the former buries itself in Artie's left shoulder.
Artie cries out in pain and crumples to his knees on the concrete. James MacPherson is inches away, gripping the sword and grinning viciously. "You always hurt the one you love."
"Artie!"
Pete's voice coming from the hangar doors makes James look up in alarm. He tries to pull the sword out, but Artie grabs it, holding it fast. "No--!" It doesn't matter that he's wounded and in pain, he can't let James get away with the sword. And it works; after a few seconds, James lets go and bolts. Artie would chase after him, but it's taking all of his energy just to breathe right now.
Pete and Myka are at his side in short order. "OhmyGod, Artie, we need to get you to a hospital--what did you do to yourself??" cries Myka.
"It was the only way I knew how to get the sword," Artie grunts through clenched teeth.
"What if we didn't get here in time?"
"I thought you would. So just right now get the sword and pull it out."
"Woah woah woah woah." Pete holds up his hands. "Now, wait a minute, are you sure?"
"Yeah, it's the sharpest sword ever made, it should slide out just like butter, just do it really really really fast--" Artie yowls in pain as the sword comes out. "AAAAAAAAAOOOOooooohkay not like butter. Nyrrrrrgh..."
A faint rattling noise echoes across the room; something's rolling toward them. Something metal and cylindrical with a glowing blue tube in the center...
Pete's eyebrows go up. "Is that one of those...?"
"...yeah."
.
.
.
Artie would never have guessed that he could run that fast.
[Dialogue from Warehouse 13 episode 1x08, "Implosion."]
Arlington County, Virginia
It didn't take long to narrow down the list of suspects for MacPherson's accomplice to one man: Mr. Ogawa, the Japanese diplomat who brought the sword to America in the first place. Catching him is going to be tricky, though, since he's already at the airport. Presumably the handoff will be made just before his private jet leaves; that doesn't leave Artie a lot of time.
Artie hesitates, momentarily, outside the hangar bay. He's got the Tesla out, but... no, better switch it for an actual slug-thrower. MacPherson has shown no hesitation in killing to get what he wants; Artie will have to be prepared to do the same.
Ogawa is standing near the jet, tsuba box in hand, looking around expectantly. Artie steps from the shadows and points the gun at him. "Don't move." Ogawa complies, looking alarmed. "So, Mr. Ogawa. When does he get here?"
Ogawa doesn't respond. Which is understandable. It's a bit difficult to speak when your head is no longer attached to your shoulders.
Artie blanches as he watches the head fall and the body crumple to the ground. "OhGoditworks."
A man's voice, British-accented and all too familiar, echoes from somewhere in the vast room. "Hello, Arthur."
"James." Artie fights to keep his own voice even.
"Good to see you after all these years." The voice is older than Artie remembers, more weathered--maybe even a little sad, or is he imagining it?
"I wish I could say the same." Fuck fuck fuck. Artie can hear footsteps, but the echoes make it all but impossible to pinpoint their source. He thinks it sounds like James is close by, but...
"Not while you're pointing a gun at me. Or trying to."
Artie lets out a titter of terrified laughter. "Hey, well, y'know, you're an invisible guy with a sword. I think you might have the advantage over me."
"My point exactly."
Keep him talking, Artie thinks desperately. If this goes on long enough, James is bound to give away his position somehow; the sword has to be held just so to make the wielder invisible. "So, what happened to you, James?" Artie asks in the most conversational tone he can manage. "What happened? I mean, I know we had our differences, and I know Carol... happened..." He swallows and continues. "You always had your own ideas, your own objections to Warehouse policy. But I mean, James, James, killing people? When did you turn into that?"
"I woke up, Arthur."
That came from right behind him. Artie whirls round, gun at the ready, but only catches a brief glimpse of James before he vanishes again. Before Artie can reorient, something cold and sharp whooshes past his hands and knocks the gun away from him. "Once I was out from under Mrs. Frederick's iron hand and your neuroses," James's voice continues as Artie rubs his stinging hands, "I could see the world more clearly."
"Yeah, well, y'know, that's a little pathetic, isn't it, James? Blaming everybody else but yourself?" There's a fire extinguisher on a hand truck a yard or so away; Artie edges toward it, slowly, in the hopes that James won't notice him doing it. "I don't think you've found clarity, I don't think your ego could stand the light."
"I'd love to discuss this with you at length. You or one of your new agents. Lattimer and Bering, right?" James melts back into view a few paces away, smiling faintly at his ex-partner. "I've been observing them for some time. I see they have potential, but they're so raw. So untrained. So... corruptible." He grins a feral grin and raises the sword again, wrapping himself in its cloak of invisibility.
...yeah, Artie was definitely imagining the sadness in James's voice. "You come anywhere near them," he breathes, his voice faltering but growing stronger with every syllable, "I promise you, I promise you, James, you're gonna regret it. You'll never get anywhere close to them as long as I'm alive!"
From somewhere in the air around him, James chuckles darkly. "Arthur, you can still read my mind."
The fire extinguisher is now within arm's reach; Artie grabs it and sprays the air in front of him frantically. The cloud of flame-retardant powder momentarily outlines a MacPherson-shaped silhouette coming toward him, with a sword-shaped silhouette that knocks the nozzle out of Artie's hands.
The sword and its wielder fade back into view just before the former buries itself in Artie's left shoulder.
Artie cries out in pain and crumples to his knees on the concrete. James MacPherson is inches away, gripping the sword and grinning viciously. "You always hurt the one you love."
"Artie!"
Pete's voice coming from the hangar doors makes James look up in alarm. He tries to pull the sword out, but Artie grabs it, holding it fast. "No--!" It doesn't matter that he's wounded and in pain, he can't let James get away with the sword. And it works; after a few seconds, James lets go and bolts. Artie would chase after him, but it's taking all of his energy just to breathe right now.
Pete and Myka are at his side in short order. "OhmyGod, Artie, we need to get you to a hospital--what did you do to yourself??" cries Myka.
"It was the only way I knew how to get the sword," Artie grunts through clenched teeth.
"What if we didn't get here in time?"
"I thought you would. So just right now get the sword and pull it out."
"Woah woah woah woah." Pete holds up his hands. "Now, wait a minute, are you sure?"
"Yeah, it's the sharpest sword ever made, it should slide out just like butter, just do it really really really fast--" Artie yowls in pain as the sword comes out. "AAAAAAAAAOOOOooooohkay not like butter. Nyrrrrrgh..."
A faint rattling noise echoes across the room; something's rolling toward them. Something metal and cylindrical with a glowing blue tube in the center...
Pete's eyebrows go up. "Is that one of those...?"
"...yeah."
.
.
.
Artie would never have guessed that he could run that fast.
[Dialogue from Warehouse 13 episode 1x08, "Implosion."]