Sunday morning, dawn: Blue Cove, Delaware
Before sunrise, Parker and Jarod drove to Blue Cove, and the headwaters above the Centre.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked. Jarod was stripping down to his swimsuit, with only a portable small oxygen tank along to get him through the difficult parts. "You're certain you can get through the water system to the interior of the Centre without being noticed?"
"Positive. They'll think I broke out of my room and got turned around, lost and scared. They'll take me right back to Sydney, and it'll be fine." He handed her his shoes, noting her expression. "You worry too much." He took a breath. "And thanks. For everything. The blueprints, recruiting your friends, driving the getaway van-- it's more than I could have asked for." Because he never would have believed it. He would have expected her loyalty to her father to prevent her from doing any of this.
"Just don't make me break you out with C-4, okay?" Parker shook her head, putting on her shades. "And tell Syd I said hi."
"See you in four hours." Jarod dove into the waters -- cold, cold, cold-- and fought the urge to surface, then dove deeper, taking a breath from the oxygen tank and swimming.
Deeper, and deeper, remembering the dive to the shipwreck in Vietnam, the time he'd served with the Coast Guard in San Diego, telling himself he could turn back at any time. Any panic he felt about returning to the Centre he fought with the thought, I'll get to meet my sister. I'll get to meet my family.
Angelo had timed the shut-down of the turbines precisely; Jarod swam through and between the blades and immediately fought the urge to choke. White tiling. Steel girders.
He surfaced when he saw green-white light above him, and took a gasping breath.
The Centre.
He was back.
And the clock started ticking.
Exactly two hours later, in the service parking lot of the Centre:
Isabel twisted her hair into a tight knot, gave her uniform one last look and shrugged. "Okay. I'm ready."
Parker handed her a PDA with plans for the Centre on it-- Xander and Bridge's phones already had them uploaded. "Destroy this before you let anyone catch you with it." She tilted her head. "Not going to temporarily change your hair color to brunette?"
"It'll be toast," she promised. "Literally even."
Isabel reached up and ran an hand over her hair. "That thought crossed my mind. One more thing to confuse them I guess."
"You could turn Bridge's hair green again," Xander suggested not at all seriously, fingers reaching up reflexively to tuck the strap under his own hair that wasn't there to tuck. "On the other hand, stylish but not exactly low-profile."
"Which you are, and looking good," Parker said, giving him a thumb's up. "Thanks for doing this. Seriously, it's above and beyond." She took a breath. "I owe you guys. Wish I could go in too."
"We know you would if you could," Bridge says, slipping off his regular leather gloves and tucking them in to a pocket, replacing them with a much less conspicuous-looking pair of workman's gloves. "We're trying to get people *out* of trouble, here, after all. Not get you *in* trouble."
"Exactly," Isabel said, giving a mental hell with it, and changing her hair to a dark brunette. "Besides, you need to be here to call the back-up calvary. Not that I think we're going to need it."
Parker nodded, grimacing. "Why the hell didn't I bring cigarettes... okay. I'll be monitoring developments through Angelo, and expecting you guys back here in forty-five minutes. Any longer, and I'm calling in a real fire to confuse the issue and get you the hell out of there." She clenched her hands into fists, and swallowed. "Good luck."
A glance at Isabel threw Xander back in time for a moment, staring at the face of a familiar stranger in the Bronze the year Sunnydale went down, but he shook it off and pushed the back doors of the van open, grabbing a tool-bag to sling over his shoulder. "Ready to rhumba?"
"I was thinking more of a mosh myself," Isabel told him, climbing out of the van. "Breaking people out? Controlled violence? It just seems appropriate."
"Hopefully really controlled," Xander answered, heading for the guard post at the back of the complex. "More like a tango."
Two guards were discussing the previous night's hockey game, and one straightened as they approached. "Name and ID," he asked, looking bored.
Xander resisted the urge to say Skeeter, since that wasn't what the badge he pulled from his pocket said his name was. Just a little too memorable. "Jones. We're here to check on the fuel-lines."
The first guard frowned while the second immediately checked the computer schedule. "They didn't say anything about this when we signed on-shift."
"They're on here, though," said the other, sticking his head out of the shack. "Jones, pass. Check the other two."
"I swear this place gets more complicated every day," the first guard bitched.
"Valenti," Isabel said as she held her own ID out. Someday, a long time from now when he wouldn't kill her for doing something dangerous, Isabel was going to have to tell Kyle this story.
"Check," said the guy with the list, not even looking up. The other guard grinned at Isabel, then glanced at Bridge. "And you?"
"Scotts," Bridge says, likewise offering his ID. Jen probably wouldn't kill him for using her last name. Probably.
"Got it."
"Okay, then. Keep to the designated areas, don't go below sub-level 6 without an escort, don't piss off the guys in the scary dark suits and sunglasses, and if you see a little bald old guy lugging an oxygen tank?"
Both guards exchanged a look, then nodded significantly and chorused, "Run."
It took a minute, but Isabel realized who they were talking about. Raines. The guards were more right then they knew, she definitely wanted to avoid him, both for Parker's sake and her own. "We'll keep that in mind," she told the guards. "Come on guys, let's get this over with."
Xander wasn't exactly a fan of little bald guys either, and he'd met the dudes in suits. He nodded and headed past the guards and down the hallway, toolbag over his shoulder.
"Left here?" he asked at the first junction of corridors, though he had the map programmed into his phone. He just didn't want to pull it out while still in sight of the guard station.
Bridge has a copy of the map as well, but he's also got a way of navigating that doesn't need a map at all. He slips off a glove and concentrates, looking for the echoes of the people who walk these corridors every day. "Left," he confirms with a nod.
Several levels down Isabel stopped and looked down a corridor. "This is where I get off. You guys be careful okay?"
"You too," Xander answered, casting a careful look in that direction, before turning towards the opposite hall and pulling the first of several planned distractions out of his bag.
"Always," Isabel promised before turning and heading off to set some of her own distractions.
After setting various smoke bombs and one or two real small incendiaries, and waiting for the fire alarms to go off, Isabel made her way down the hallway, trying hard to give off I belong here vibes.
A Sweeper gave her a cursory glance as he went by, but kept moving toward the stairs, shepherding along scientists in lab coats who looked annoyed.
One of them stopped Isabel. "Hey, do you know when this drill will be over?"
"The sooner you get people out of the building," Isabel told him, "And we can confirm it? The sooner it'll be over. So keep them moving and hopefully you can be back before your coffee gets cold."
With some grumbling, the scientists rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.
Except for one man at the back, who hung back. His eyebrows went up when he saw Isabel.
"I have a colleague," Sydney said very carefully, "who was being taken to Level 21 for a debriefing. Would you know whether he would be exiting through the usual procedure, or following the modifications for these situations?"
Isabel's fingers tightened on the PDA in her pocket as she recognized Sydney from graduation and the photos Parker had had in her room. Given the raised eyebrows, she was pretty sure he recognized her as well.
She'd bet money that the colleague being debriefed was Jarod. Pulling out the PDA she scrolled through it, trying to look as if she was looking at more then random text files. "I believe he'll following the modifications. Unless other modifications have been made?" Give me a clue here Sydney. She felt bad, involving him like that. But no one deserved anything remotely resembling a White Room.
"I hadn't been notified of anything along those lines. So I would assume they'd be using the west exit, with the usual pair of bodyguards," Sydney said, voice as disinterested as he could make it. He studied Isabel closely, relieved that he'd recognized her despite the change of hair color. "There is the possibility of Mr. Raines being in the area. I would recommend you avoid him if at all possible. He's been in quite the mood this week, and I believe he's been consulting with at least four associates at all times."
He shot a quick look up at the nearest camera, then briskly said, "But I am taking up too much of your time! Please, don't allow me to detain you any longer, young lady."
Two bodyguards, two of them. That was doable. As for Raines? Isabel would take Sydney at his word and avoid him if at all possible. She didn't look at the camera, no reason to give them a clear picture, or look like she cared about it. "No sir, I appreciate you clarifying that. In fact I'll go make sure things are going smoothly over there myself. And I'll definitely avoid the cranky guy."
"Excellent. Carry on." Sydney turned with a wave and a small smile away from the camera, and hurried to catch up with the contingent of evacuating personnel.
After another quick check of the maps on the PDA, Isabel made her way over to the west exit, eyes alert for Jarod.
Jarod had stopped on the staircase halfway between levels 22 and 21, and folded his arms. "I want Sydney. If I'm going to be punished for wandering around the Centre after this drill, my usual handler should be present. I'm not going any further."
"The hell?" One of the Sweepers was rolling his eyes, the other just grabbed Jarod's arm. "You're not holding up the parade, Jarod. Move!"
Isabel was coming up the steps when she heard Jarod's voice. She'd found him. Now she just had to get him out of there.
When in doubt? Go with pissed off.
"What's going on here? They told me this area was cleared!" Isabel said as she approached. "You need to get out of here now!"
"You see? Come on, superbrain, stop acting like a teenager," snapped the taller Sweeper, giving Jarod a push up the stairs.
Jarod took one step forward, toward the other Sweeper on the step above him.
Then he grabbed the railing, and spun around to kick the one behind him in the head, hoping Isabel would follow his lead.
"What's his problem?" Isabel asked the first Sweeper, even as she moved to sucker punch him in the gut.
The Sweeper had been turning to help with Jarod, going for his gun. Getting sucker-punched left him gasping for breath, although he kept his grip on his weapon, stumbling into the wall.
The sweeper grappling with Jarod had meanwhile been disarmed and pushed down the stairs, sprawling on his ass and yelling.
Jarod whirled to see if Isabel needed any help, the gun in his hand.
Not wanting to leave job half finished, Isabel continued her attack, grabbing the Sweeper's head and slamming it into the wall.
With the Sweeper at the bottom of the stairs scrambling to his feet, then grabbing his leg and wincing, and the other knocked out, Jarod didn't waste any time. "Nice going. And time we were gone," he said, descending the steps to yank the Sweeper's radio and earpiece, then re-ascend the stairs to do the same to the one Isable had knocked out. "Don't follow us," he cautioned the still-conscious but injured man. "This isn't a job worth dying for."
"I've watched too many movies," she told him, already moving up the stairs. "And I'm not arguing. Let's get the hell out of here. This place makes my skin crawl."
[pre-played with the lovely needsaparrot, bridge_carson, and izzyalienqueen.
Continued here]
"Are you sure about this?" she asked. Jarod was stripping down to his swimsuit, with only a portable small oxygen tank along to get him through the difficult parts. "You're certain you can get through the water system to the interior of the Centre without being noticed?"
"Positive. They'll think I broke out of my room and got turned around, lost and scared. They'll take me right back to Sydney, and it'll be fine." He handed her his shoes, noting her expression. "You worry too much." He took a breath. "And thanks. For everything. The blueprints, recruiting your friends, driving the getaway van-- it's more than I could have asked for." Because he never would have believed it. He would have expected her loyalty to her father to prevent her from doing any of this.
"Just don't make me break you out with C-4, okay?" Parker shook her head, putting on her shades. "And tell Syd I said hi."
"See you in four hours." Jarod dove into the waters -- cold, cold, cold-- and fought the urge to surface, then dove deeper, taking a breath from the oxygen tank and swimming.
Deeper, and deeper, remembering the dive to the shipwreck in Vietnam, the time he'd served with the Coast Guard in San Diego, telling himself he could turn back at any time. Any panic he felt about returning to the Centre he fought with the thought, I'll get to meet my sister. I'll get to meet my family.
Angelo had timed the shut-down of the turbines precisely; Jarod swam through and between the blades and immediately fought the urge to choke. White tiling. Steel girders.
He surfaced when he saw green-white light above him, and took a gasping breath.
The Centre.
He was back.
And the clock started ticking.
Exactly two hours later, in the service parking lot of the Centre:
Isabel twisted her hair into a tight knot, gave her uniform one last look and shrugged. "Okay. I'm ready."
Parker handed her a PDA with plans for the Centre on it-- Xander and Bridge's phones already had them uploaded. "Destroy this before you let anyone catch you with it." She tilted her head. "Not going to temporarily change your hair color to brunette?"
"It'll be toast," she promised. "Literally even."
Isabel reached up and ran an hand over her hair. "That thought crossed my mind. One more thing to confuse them I guess."
"You could turn Bridge's hair green again," Xander suggested not at all seriously, fingers reaching up reflexively to tuck the strap under his own hair that wasn't there to tuck. "On the other hand, stylish but not exactly low-profile."
"Which you are, and looking good," Parker said, giving him a thumb's up. "Thanks for doing this. Seriously, it's above and beyond." She took a breath. "I owe you guys. Wish I could go in too."
"We know you would if you could," Bridge says, slipping off his regular leather gloves and tucking them in to a pocket, replacing them with a much less conspicuous-looking pair of workman's gloves. "We're trying to get people *out* of trouble, here, after all. Not get you *in* trouble."
"Exactly," Isabel said, giving a mental hell with it, and changing her hair to a dark brunette. "Besides, you need to be here to call the back-up calvary. Not that I think we're going to need it."
Parker nodded, grimacing. "Why the hell didn't I bring cigarettes... okay. I'll be monitoring developments through Angelo, and expecting you guys back here in forty-five minutes. Any longer, and I'm calling in a real fire to confuse the issue and get you the hell out of there." She clenched her hands into fists, and swallowed. "Good luck."
A glance at Isabel threw Xander back in time for a moment, staring at the face of a familiar stranger in the Bronze the year Sunnydale went down, but he shook it off and pushed the back doors of the van open, grabbing a tool-bag to sling over his shoulder. "Ready to rhumba?"
"I was thinking more of a mosh myself," Isabel told him, climbing out of the van. "Breaking people out? Controlled violence? It just seems appropriate."
"Hopefully really controlled," Xander answered, heading for the guard post at the back of the complex. "More like a tango."
Two guards were discussing the previous night's hockey game, and one straightened as they approached. "Name and ID," he asked, looking bored.
Xander resisted the urge to say Skeeter, since that wasn't what the badge he pulled from his pocket said his name was. Just a little too memorable. "Jones. We're here to check on the fuel-lines."
The first guard frowned while the second immediately checked the computer schedule. "They didn't say anything about this when we signed on-shift."
"They're on here, though," said the other, sticking his head out of the shack. "Jones, pass. Check the other two."
"I swear this place gets more complicated every day," the first guard bitched.
"Valenti," Isabel said as she held her own ID out. Someday, a long time from now when he wouldn't kill her for doing something dangerous, Isabel was going to have to tell Kyle this story.
"Check," said the guy with the list, not even looking up. The other guard grinned at Isabel, then glanced at Bridge. "And you?"
"Scotts," Bridge says, likewise offering his ID. Jen probably wouldn't kill him for using her last name. Probably.
"Got it."
"Okay, then. Keep to the designated areas, don't go below sub-level 6 without an escort, don't piss off the guys in the scary dark suits and sunglasses, and if you see a little bald old guy lugging an oxygen tank?"
Both guards exchanged a look, then nodded significantly and chorused, "Run."
It took a minute, but Isabel realized who they were talking about. Raines. The guards were more right then they knew, she definitely wanted to avoid him, both for Parker's sake and her own. "We'll keep that in mind," she told the guards. "Come on guys, let's get this over with."
Xander wasn't exactly a fan of little bald guys either, and he'd met the dudes in suits. He nodded and headed past the guards and down the hallway, toolbag over his shoulder.
"Left here?" he asked at the first junction of corridors, though he had the map programmed into his phone. He just didn't want to pull it out while still in sight of the guard station.
Bridge has a copy of the map as well, but he's also got a way of navigating that doesn't need a map at all. He slips off a glove and concentrates, looking for the echoes of the people who walk these corridors every day. "Left," he confirms with a nod.
Several levels down Isabel stopped and looked down a corridor. "This is where I get off. You guys be careful okay?"
"You too," Xander answered, casting a careful look in that direction, before turning towards the opposite hall and pulling the first of several planned distractions out of his bag.
"Always," Isabel promised before turning and heading off to set some of her own distractions.
After setting various smoke bombs and one or two real small incendiaries, and waiting for the fire alarms to go off, Isabel made her way down the hallway, trying hard to give off I belong here vibes.
A Sweeper gave her a cursory glance as he went by, but kept moving toward the stairs, shepherding along scientists in lab coats who looked annoyed.
One of them stopped Isabel. "Hey, do you know when this drill will be over?"
"The sooner you get people out of the building," Isabel told him, "And we can confirm it? The sooner it'll be over. So keep them moving and hopefully you can be back before your coffee gets cold."
With some grumbling, the scientists rolled their eyes and turned back down the hall.
Except for one man at the back, who hung back. His eyebrows went up when he saw Isabel.
"I have a colleague," Sydney said very carefully, "who was being taken to Level 21 for a debriefing. Would you know whether he would be exiting through the usual procedure, or following the modifications for these situations?"
Isabel's fingers tightened on the PDA in her pocket as she recognized Sydney from graduation and the photos Parker had had in her room. Given the raised eyebrows, she was pretty sure he recognized her as well.
She'd bet money that the colleague being debriefed was Jarod. Pulling out the PDA she scrolled through it, trying to look as if she was looking at more then random text files. "I believe he'll following the modifications. Unless other modifications have been made?" Give me a clue here Sydney. She felt bad, involving him like that. But no one deserved anything remotely resembling a White Room.
"I hadn't been notified of anything along those lines. So I would assume they'd be using the west exit, with the usual pair of bodyguards," Sydney said, voice as disinterested as he could make it. He studied Isabel closely, relieved that he'd recognized her despite the change of hair color. "There is the possibility of Mr. Raines being in the area. I would recommend you avoid him if at all possible. He's been in quite the mood this week, and I believe he's been consulting with at least four associates at all times."
He shot a quick look up at the nearest camera, then briskly said, "But I am taking up too much of your time! Please, don't allow me to detain you any longer, young lady."
Two bodyguards, two of them. That was doable. As for Raines? Isabel would take Sydney at his word and avoid him if at all possible. She didn't look at the camera, no reason to give them a clear picture, or look like she cared about it. "No sir, I appreciate you clarifying that. In fact I'll go make sure things are going smoothly over there myself. And I'll definitely avoid the cranky guy."
"Excellent. Carry on." Sydney turned with a wave and a small smile away from the camera, and hurried to catch up with the contingent of evacuating personnel.
After another quick check of the maps on the PDA, Isabel made her way over to the west exit, eyes alert for Jarod.
Jarod had stopped on the staircase halfway between levels 22 and 21, and folded his arms. "I want Sydney. If I'm going to be punished for wandering around the Centre after this drill, my usual handler should be present. I'm not going any further."
"The hell?" One of the Sweepers was rolling his eyes, the other just grabbed Jarod's arm. "You're not holding up the parade, Jarod. Move!"
Isabel was coming up the steps when she heard Jarod's voice. She'd found him. Now she just had to get him out of there.
When in doubt? Go with pissed off.
"What's going on here? They told me this area was cleared!" Isabel said as she approached. "You need to get out of here now!"
"You see? Come on, superbrain, stop acting like a teenager," snapped the taller Sweeper, giving Jarod a push up the stairs.
Jarod took one step forward, toward the other Sweeper on the step above him.
Then he grabbed the railing, and spun around to kick the one behind him in the head, hoping Isabel would follow his lead.
"What's his problem?" Isabel asked the first Sweeper, even as she moved to sucker punch him in the gut.
The Sweeper had been turning to help with Jarod, going for his gun. Getting sucker-punched left him gasping for breath, although he kept his grip on his weapon, stumbling into the wall.
The sweeper grappling with Jarod had meanwhile been disarmed and pushed down the stairs, sprawling on his ass and yelling.
Jarod whirled to see if Isabel needed any help, the gun in his hand.
Not wanting to leave job half finished, Isabel continued her attack, grabbing the Sweeper's head and slamming it into the wall.
With the Sweeper at the bottom of the stairs scrambling to his feet, then grabbing his leg and wincing, and the other knocked out, Jarod didn't waste any time. "Nice going. And time we were gone," he said, descending the steps to yank the Sweeper's radio and earpiece, then re-ascend the stairs to do the same to the one Isable had knocked out. "Don't follow us," he cautioned the still-conscious but injured man. "This isn't a job worth dying for."
"I've watched too many movies," she told him, already moving up the stairs. "And I'm not arguing. Let's get the hell out of here. This place makes my skin crawl."
[pre-played with the lovely needsaparrot, bridge_carson, and izzyalienqueen.
Continued here]