For Whom The Bell Tolls (Season Finale)

Alex decided he could get really tired of this whole “lights on lights off” game really fast, if it didn’t stop happening. No sooner had his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, and no sooner had some sort of uneasy lull fallen over the warehouse, then bright floodlights did what they were designed to do, and lit the floor up like sunshine. Alex yelped and closed his eyes and cursed some more. Those had to be SWORD floodlights, because he doubted their prey would have done something so stupid as made themselves even more perfect targets.

When Alex managed to pry his eyes open again, Caleb was sitting in the middle of the floor being creepy, as werewolves were wont to do, and no one else was anywhere in sight, as far as his team went. They were probably waiting for him to do the dirty work. Then, of course, they’d jump in and finish catching the quarry and take all the credit for it back at headquarters while he limped off to see someone who could fix his foot.

The kids, though (and that one older guy), he could see them. They looked a little worse for wear, which suited Alex just fine. It was easier hitting a stationary target than hitting one that was moving all over the place, and they were less likely to react to his hitting one of them in the time it’d take him to reload and down another. He scanned the floor with his scope just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything, and found that their werewolf looked even creepier when magnified. Splendid. Hopefully he was not riding back with them. Natalie was plenty creepy enough for one van, thanks very much…

Sighing softly to himself (because now he had to work and he’d rather have sat there and not moved) Alex pushed himself up to a shooting position, balancing awkwardly on one foot because the other wasn’t even weight-bearing, at this point. He checked his ammo—little tranquilizer darts—just to be sure someone hadn’t switched them out with bullets that would kill instead of drop, and lowered his face to the gun to sight along the barrel with his scope. He lined up the Remington kid’s leg in the crosshairs, let a slow breath out, and squeezed the trigger. The gun recoiled, and with his balance all screwed to hell, Alex tripped and fell on butt, the gun clattering on top of him. Vowing that he’d blame Natalie if he’d missed and only caused them all to rabbit, he reset the gun so he could fire again if he needed to, and then looked back down to the floor to see if he’d managed to hit anything.

No.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't fair.

No, Caleb wasn't wearing a shock collar like some sort of badly trained mutt.

No, he hadn't just been shot at, and no, his freaky mind powers hadn't automatically deflected it--into Georgie, who dropped like a load of bricks, eyes rolling back.

"G! Shit! No!"

No, Lenna wasn't accusing Rawson in her head, and no, Rome wasn't overhearing it, and no he was definitely not believing it.

"Get down!" Rome cried (Richard was already on the floor), diving on top of Lenna and pulling her behind a bunch of boxes, where he changed out a magazine and sprayed-and-prayed toward where he thought the dart had come from. "Lennie, stay down!" he shouted, holding her tightly, and pressing his face into her hair. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm going to look after you, going to get you out of this. I love you, Lennie, baby, chica, I'm going to get us out of this."

Rome squeaked as she kissed him, but he did not try to pull away, and even moaned into the kiss. This felt--wonderful, it was as perfect as it was freaky and wrong and she's like my sister, sister with benefits, true love, you don't have a true love you don't get a true love, just a friend, but home--it felt like coming home. It felt like he had kissed her before. It felt like he was where he belonged, where he should have been all along.

"Lennie--" he gasped, heart swelling, and in that moment he decided nothing was going to keep him from this, nothing. No one was going to hurt her and no one was going to hurt Georgie or Richard, not if he had to decimate a city block to keep them all safe.

A barrier went up around them, protecting them, swelling to cover Georgie and Richard, too, and outside he unleashed hell--

Lights sparked, windows broke. Water was either freezing or boiling and cars lifted up in the air like a tornado was picking them up. He heard--might have heard--sirens--coming for them. He would vaporize them. He was an Extreme Threat, Level 10-plus Telep telek precog force conduit, whatever the fuck that meant. He wasn't going down without a fight.

"Rome, why is your nose bleeding?" was the last thing he remembered.

Lenna didn’t realize that she had started crying, but this was getting all too much. This was insane.
 
“Es ist Zeit das Sie ihre Kräfte für die richtigen Zwecke benutzen oder garnicht!” A deep male voice said with a heavy accent as he stepped easily through the vanishing barrier. Rome was too unconscious to keep it up. Lenna starred at the black man. Her hands duck deep into Rome’s arm, she wouldn’t let anyone take him.
 

“Feuer ich befehle dir entferne ihn!” A huge wall of fire appeared but it didn’t touch Agent Justice. The amulet protected him, it was blank silver but Lenna saw that it could be opened. A second man appeared in the shadows and suddenly Lenna knew who those two were, it were the Agents. The ones that tried to capture them before they laid low for all those weeks. But it hadn’t helped in the end the two got them. SWORD no one knew what they really did but they had freaky profiles about them.

If these were any other targets, Hollyfield would have waited until they were all unconscious. These were certainly the most dangerous he had ever taken down, but they were also the most valuable.

Also, they had four armored cars worth of mooks to throw at them first.

"All right, secure the targets."

The teams moved in. It was methodical and by the book. Strip tied, strip-searched, and then suppressor  handcuffs. They still didn't know what the suppressors did, exactly, but they kept psychics from being psychic, witches from using magic, demons from jumping hosts, and werewolves from being werewolves. Which reminded him--

He tossed the wolf a Slim Jim. He wasn't even sure those things were meat, but he ate it, anyway.

There wasn't much resistance. Remington and Ingram were down, but the girls were still blinking up at him owlishly. They didn't look so tough without their guns. Or their clothes.

"Move them out," Justice gave the order. "This is our biggest catch in a year, let's not waste time."

"Back to base," Hollyfield said, and the teams moved out: one prisoner to each car.

R waited until the targets were in the vans before appearing.

"I can't pay you here," Hollyfield said, the distaste clear in his tone. Bounty hunter. Scum.

R hesitated. "We had a deal."

"Great, it's not my problem if you don't want to come back to base with us to get the bounty," Hollyfield said, walking away. "But if you do, you come in our car." He spoke a little louder: "It's also not my problem if a certain good for nothing sniper doesn't make it back, either," as Colt was taking his sweet time getting down from the rafters. "I don't want to hear it, Colt," he said almost immediately.  Hollyfield walked toward the car without looking to see who was following.

Oh, he’d definitely hit something. The problem was that he hadn’t hit what he’d aimed at, which seemed to be becoming a theme with this Remington kid. It was like he lived in a magical world where bullets and other projectiles didn’t hit the people they were meant to hit where they were meant to hit them. Instead, they seemed to hit them in the leg, or veer entirely off and apparently drop someone who was a whole five feet away.

He had brief thoughts of “Well, at least I hit someone,” as he was reloading his gun and keeping an eye on the kids. He wasn’t sure why the two of them were kissing in the middle of what was probably about to become a battleground, but since it was more-or-less in line with the many other illogical things they’d all done…

Before he could get the gun reset, much less get off another shot, a strange rumble went through the building. “Uhhh…” he said nervously, to no one really, and grabbed at the rifle, wincing as it went off and the dart clanged into the roof and fell harmlessly to the floor. Then he held on to the catwalk where he was perched for dear life as the rickety metal walkway swayed and shivered and the windows above his head—and around the entire warehouse—shattered and rained down. He held his arms over his head and hunched down to avoid getting cut up by the glass until the rumbling and crashing stopped, at which point he cautiously uncurled and looked down to the floor.

The team from SWORD was already moving in, and for once Holyfield and Justice had bothered themselves to actually work. In fact, it was Holyfield and Justice who first approached the group, saying something Alex couldn’t catch. But he took that as an indication that he didn’t need to be up here anymore and started breaking down his gun and limping back to ground level.

SWORD, of course, had protocols for dealing with anyone they caught that included removing anything that could possibly be a danger to themselves or the people they caught. The last was less a concern of health and safety and more the result of a few unfortunate situations early on where someone had contrived to hang themselves in the van on the way back using a t-shirt. Usually Alex didn’t really pay attention to how prisoners were treated once they were caught. It gave him difficulties with his job that he had to drown with alcohol, and besides that, they usually caught monsters that had either killed or tried to kill people. So turn about was fair play, really. That’s what he told himself, anyway.

They rarely caught people, though. And they rarely, if ever, caught them with help from a bounty hunter. Alex tried to not let this make him uneasy, but when he finally reached the ground, it was just in time to see the prisoners rounded up—tied and without a stitch of clothing—and shoved roughly to the vans. The grunts weren’t even being a little gentle about it, pushing and shoving and nearly knocking the one girl down who’d been making out with Remington. It kind of made Alex squirm, which usually only happened when he became aware that his mother would probably whack him upside the head for being involved in whatever was happening. It was probably his conscience, which occasionally had to rear its head just to make his life thoroughly miserable once in awhile. He’d probably spend the next week and a half alternating between heavy drinking and seriously hating himself and every choice he’d ever made. Justice and Holyfield weren’t even paying attention to the prisoners anymore, but Alex heard something about a sniper and realized he was being discussed—with that creepy bounty hunter, no less.

“Hey, you can’t just—“ he started, about to complain about treating human prisoners like animals when they couldn’t fight back, since he was being semi-addressed, before Holyfield cut him off. Alex decided this was probably for the best. He rarely spoke up regarding what happened to prisoners, and he could chalk up his momentary lapse in judgment at having nearly done so to a mix of adrenaline and his throbbing, aching foot. He limped over to the van and climbed into the back seat, hunching down in the right seat, as far away from their creepy bounty hunter and their creepy attack werewolf as humanly possible.

Lenna was tired, she was bleeding, had been fighting and lost. That is the only way of describing it. The entire day was a huge failure and mistake. So here she was being dragged naked into a van. And suddenly it hit Lenna. This was it, they would all die, tortured to death.
 
“NO!” Lenna started screaming, kicking and fighting. She would not die without a fight. She would not let anyone kill her family, not this time. It happened before her parents got taken from her without a fight, she took her brother’s life without a fight and she nearly died without a fight, but not this time. This would be different. They thought by tying her hands together that they would be safe but they have not thought this through, they had never a… witch like her.
 
Fine you want a witch, you are getting the strongest witch you will ever meet.
 
“Feuer das in mir brennt, Wasser das in mir strömt, Luft die mich belebt, Erde die mich trägt; ich stehe hier und befehle: Vereinigt euch last mich eure Werkzeug sein!”
 
Lenna felt four times an energy rising in her, it was breathtaking. She never felt so strong and at the same time she knew that she had only a very short amount of time to use this strength. Her eyes turned bright blue, nearly silver. At first she broke her ties with ease, they were heavy iron cuff covering half her arms and her hands and they broke like they were made of paper. Lenna didn’t even bother to turn around and attack the two low class agents -that were so low that didn’t even have the title of an agent- she just went for Rome’s van. Part by part it was dissolving and just left an odd looking puddle on the ground with Rome lying in it. She felt someone fire at her but whatever it was her powers just deflected -possibly dissolved it as well-, then she turned to Georgie and when she looked at her friend, her sister by choice, she saw the poison that had knocked her out. With nothing but a blink of an eye Lenna destroyed it. Just when Lenna was turning to face Hollyfield and Justice himself something threw her literally off balance. The two high class agents had set off Caleb again, they didn’t care if he would end up in a puddle like one of the vans. Caleb had jumped Lenna from behind and just this one shock second was enough that Lenna lost her concentration and the precious connection link of the elements in her broke and it was more painful than anything they could have done to her. With its breaking was her hope of rescue broken as well. The last she saw before the doors of the van she was locked in was her Bumblebee crushed properly by Rome’s power explosion. Lenna was hammering and bubbling to command the elements back but it didn’t work, she would have know that she is powerless when she had a little light but because she didn’t she didn’t see the spell written on the inside of the van, written in blood -infant blood- a spell so powerful that no one would overcome it. Her hands started to hurt, for a second she thought about it and was sure she broken them by hammering the walls so hard, but she didn’t stop. She would not stop until the last breath of her. This fight would be the last, she rather died than let them do whatever they wanted to do with her.
Lenna fell against the vans side and glide to the floor, the tranquilizing gas they pumped into the back of the van finally kicked in and let her muscles freeze while her mind was still wide awake.
 
“I love you Rome! I really really love you and I never regretted for a second that I picked up your brother on the middle of the street to save you from Andre! I would do it again! Do you hear me? Rome? Georgie? Richard? Anyone? Is anyone there?”
 

But no one answered, Lenna was all alone.

The entire time Georgie felt like being in a catatonic shock, she knew that things were going on around her but she couldn’t move. After she got shot everything turned into a blur, a giant mix of various emotions from the others being projected right onto her. She couldn’t move or do anything, she was more or less paralysed. She didn’t even really notice that someone had put her into a van until Lenna suddenly showed up out of nowhere, whose freakishly terrifying eyes looked like they were on fire. The moment Lenna appeared, Georgie suddenly started to feel her body again and she became more conscious of her environment. Lenna had probably used her magic powers on her, and whatever she did, it was working because Georgie started to get control back. Well, she was far from being in control over the situation but at least she wasn’t paralysed anymore. Lenna was gone the next second and Georgie turned her head slightly to see what the hell was going on outside. She wasn’t the only one trapped in a van, there were other vans and familiar faces of agents they had encountered before. Her first instinct was to look if Richard was safe. They all were her family now, but Richard was actually blood related to her. She couldn’t spot him anywhere and started to get nervous. She just hoped he was hiding and wouldn’t get caught. That same moment she felt a massive burst of emotion running through her body, and it wasn’t her own.
“Lenna…” She knew it came from her best friend and it was frustrating that she couldn’t talk to her, she could just feel her pain. Lenna started to get weak, Georgie could feel how she was giving in. Georgie felt just as helpless as her friend, this time they wouldn’t get out of this. If she could at least stop receiving everyone’s emotions, they started to get unbearable.

With a groan, Richard started to come round slightly. The last thing he remembered were the lights being unable to make up their minds whether to be on or off. Then there was a rush of people, a sharp pain in the back of his head…

And now here. It was cold. By the feel of things it might be a van, or some other vehicle. Richard tried to rased himself, but the combination of being secured, dizzy with the blow, and the sudden lurch as the van began to move, caused him to fall back over. And unconsciousness took him again.

It was 12 hours from where they were to the desert of New Mexico, and Justice admitted no stops. Even Holyfield was uncomfortable, but he would rest better when these freaks were safely contained. Colt, in the back seat of the lead SUV, was /not/ taking the drive well, and squirmed and shifted, though he hadn't complained out loud. "Almost there, kid," he said, almost companionably. They'd done good. He could almost stand to let his guard down a little.

"Is that 'almost there' as in one more hour or 'almost there' as in 'we're just getting your hopes up'?" Alex asked through gritted teeth, in no mood to be generous even if Holyfield actually sounded halfway civil for once.  His foot had gone from merely annoying to so distracting that he was now mad at everything.  He was mad at the freaks for running for so long and also for getting caught, and he was mad at his bosses for chasing them, and he was mad at himself for being mad and for thinking too hard.  And he was bored.

"Almost there. And I want you to see medical about that foot first thing," Holyfield said. "I'm benching you until it's healed. You'll be on guard rotations." He grinned. "Depending on how the procedures go, you may have a new team when you're back on the job."

Alex glanced back through the windows in some alarm, back toward the vans that held their prisoners.  "I don't want a new team," he told Holyfield.  "I don't need a team.  They'll just get in my way," he added.  He almost asked what Holyfield thought they were going to do to actually get any of them to cooperate with SWORD, but then he decided he didn't want to know.

Holyfield liked anything that shut Colt up, and he smiled. "We'll see, Colt," he said. The sands opened up before them and they drove downward, down, down, down, six vehicles in total, into the SWORD headquarters.