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Parasite is the third part of The Underground series

Chapter 22 of 29

Endgame

There was something bone chilling about the sound of a gun being cocked. In movies, it seemed that the antagonist would always wait until the last minute before cocking his gun, making the audience squirm in anticipation. It was a great fear tactic and Alias found himself using it many times over again. There wasn't anything that could underscore your statement like pulling the hammer back on a pistol, letting the mechanical clicking speak for you. The only problem was when you happened to be on the wrong end of the barrel.

Where both Alias and Trilby found themselves tonight.

"Well now..." an agitated female voice announced to the darkened dock warehouse, "The Underground and OCB working together. That's ironic in the truest sense." The siamese feline moved into the circle of figures in black, holding Trilby and Alias at gunpoint. While Alias had been setting the detonator on the dirty bomb, Trilby had been holding the lamp for him to see. Both of them heard the doors open, but assumed it was Mick coming back.

Before either of them knew it, they were looking down the barrels of a score of assault rifles, and Isis's evil smile. As to which was more dangerous, Alias was still debating. He recognized the flat black assault rifles as XM8's; very powerful and extremely accurate. They always reminded him of guns from the future, or a science fiction show with their smooth, curved structure. Technically, XM8's weren't even supposed to be in the public domain; yet again, Isis's true power was illustrated by her advanced weaponry. What was Alias supposed to do? Go up against fully automatic carbines with what? One forty-five and Trilby's service pistol?

Isis's sharp blue eyes flashed over to Trilby. The Mercenary knew that if he had both of his eyes, Trilby would be glaring at her in a death stare. "Agent Trilby, I thought I'd seen the last of you in Palamont."

"I'm like herpes, my dear." The black and white feline replied dryly. "I may disappear for awhile, but you'll never get rid of me. How long have you known?"

Isis simply shrugged. " Your pet names amuse me... It's almost as if you're still speaking to your wife."

Alias didn't turn around, but he heard a growl of concentrated hatred escape Trilby's lips.

"Naturally I was suspicious of Mr. Alias, I don't know anything about him. He was just too..." Isis paused, thinking for a moment. "...willing to do what I needed. That's what I always noticed about him. He had other motives; his body always told me he was keeping secrets. He wanted this to be done because he was worried someone would discover something." Isis quipped, casually walking around the two, heals clicking on the concrete of the warehouse. "So, I guessed... probability was in my favor." She smiled confidently. "Agent Trilby, you of all people know what I was designed to do; read people and predict their actions."

Alias scowled, feeling belittled, like Isis found his coup laughable. How had she known? Was his demeanor that easy to read, or was Isis just that good?

"You're software, you don't get amused, you just understand it's supposed to be sarcastic." He shot back. "I figured you'd be smart enough to figure out I'm never going to stop chasing you. Not until I get Leigh back."

At this, she shook her head, smiling. "You may taunt me as much as you please, Agent Trilby, but we both know Leigh, for all intents and purposes, is dead."

"Maybe..." Trilby shrugged. "Doesn't mean I won't try."

"Persistence is a fascinating thing." Isis explained, walking out of the circle of guns. "One thing universal about all life is that even when the odds of survival are exponentially low, they still struggle and fight to survive." She stopped, looking over her shoulder at Trilby, eyes narrowing. "You're a living example of this."

"As much as I hate to interrupt this friendly little banter, why haven't you shot us yet?" A dark voice broke through.

Alias stood there in the musty warehouse, mildew invading his senses. There was no reason they should still be breathing. Isis knew their endgame, and she knew Alias had no intentions of helping her. Furthermore he was selling her out to the OCB. Regardless, he was growing impatient. Contrary to earlier, unlike in the movies where the antagonist spent time explaining their entire endgame before killing their adversaries, this never happened in real life. The betrayed party simply shot them, and usually without the traitor knowing they were the wiser. Being dramatic was stupid; being efficient got you what you wanted; your endgame.

"Ah, Alias..." Isis cooed, turning around to face him. "What I don't understand is why you'd lower yourself to work with something as despicable as the OCB." She cocked her head to the side. "In my experiences, parties in The Underground are lesser thieves than the Federal Government." However, Isis shook her head at her own question. "But to answer your question, if the OCB really is moving in on us, then Agent Trilby will make a great hostage for our escape. You on the other hand, I'm leaving to a worse fate."

Alias scoffed, shaking his head. "Oh really?"

"I could kill you, but you're well enough connected that without an explanation I could never do business in Arcadia again. Besides, Mr. Stallard and Ms. Carrington are very big loose ends." She continued, raising a finger. "You see, if word makes it to the right people that you helped mastermind this whole thing, I'd be clipping your wings in the worst way. Every government agency will be looking for you. Thinking you're a terrorist, you'll be blacklisted. No one in The Underground in their right mind will touch you." She shook her head. "Not with every agency in the nation wanting your head on a silver platter."

And all at once, Alias knew he had nothing. She was right. By leaving him alive with the blame of the dirty bomb attack on Arcadia his career would be over. He'd never do business again in The Underground. He'd be too hot an item with the Feds and no one would go near him. Then there was the extortion side that came from being a known terrorist. People would want favors for keeping your location secret. Being squeezed by all sides, Alias would have few places to run. He'd be so busy dodging bullets from the many organizations and individuals, going after Isis wouldn't even be on his radar. Especially if he were ever positively identified and they knew what he looked like. It would only be a matter of time...

"Yeah..." Alias replied nodding slowly. "I'm going to have to kill you now." He said simplistically, looking back at Isis.

Out of nowhere, his vision exploded with bursts of white light, which gave way to tiny black spots that peppered his vision. The back of his head erupted in a rabid pain that grew across the base of his skull. His mouth let out an unexpected cry of pain as the stock of an XM8 was brought down hard against the base of his neck. The blow nearly caused him to black out.

The fox fell to his knees, paws snapping to his neck in an effort to ease his pain. Alias squeezed his eyes shut tightly, exposing his fangs as he tried to deal with the dull aching thud that flashed through his body with every heartbeat.

Suddenly, he felt the harsh sole of a boot crash down on to his lower back causing his already weakened body to crash forward onto his face. Pained in both places, Alias felt humiliated as he was reduced to a withering mess of hurt at the feet of Isis. Two of her goonies pushed a medium sized wooden crate over to where Alias lay, paws still grasping at the back of his head. The one who dealt him the blow clutched him by the back of his collar, pulling him off the ground, his gun never leaving the back of the fox's head. He then shoved Alias, bending him forward onto the crate, his face mashing against the untreated, unsanded wood, which not even his fur could protect him fully from. Again, the asshole behind him pinned him in place, this time sending his sharp knee into the small of Alias's back, holding him there in the degrading position on his knees. Facing a vertical, steel support beam, his wrists were stretched around it by the other thug who quickly slapped a set of handcuffs on him. Arms secured around the beam, the biting metal cuffs were tightened to an excruciating degree, leaving Alias bound on the floor.

"Be gentle..." Alias croaked out in a defiant tone, moving his face to one side. "It's my first time."

"Dry wit and sarcasm. I can see why you and Agent Trilby get along." Isis chimed in, smirking from above Alias. "I need you out of the picture, but I can't kill you yet, Alias." She continued walking over to him, as they pulled Trilby away down a hallway. "You see how this is a conundrum for us all?"

"Yeah... I can be a real pain in the ass, huh? Just ask my roommate." He replied, speech distorted where his face was smashed against the wood.

"What a perplexing situation..." Isis said softly, lowering herself down to Alias's level, letting her fingers trace over his ear, face pressed brutally against the wooden crate. "Can't kill you... can't let you go..." She cooed, leaning down where the Siamese was merely inches from his exposed ear; the other was pressed against the crate.

Alias scowled, not exactly sure what that was supposed to mean.

He soon felt a metal surface pressing hard against his ear that was to the crate, a sharp edge pushing down savagely on him. The pain registered, but it was minor enough that Alias simply blocked it out. As he stared up at Isis with his smoldering emerald eyes, there came an artificial hiss of air, and Alias's pupils dilated and his body went rigid. He felt the metal pierce his ear, the agony so instantaneous his body almost went numb. The extent of how much pain he was in didn't even register until he heard the second hiss and felt a second solid metal object force its way through his tender, sensitive ear.

As the mercenary behind Alias pulled the nail gun away, Alias's ear began to bleed profusely around his head. His black boots kicked around, trying to push away, but only slid in place; his body trying to do something to alleviate the onrush of torment his body was experiencing. Had he air in his lungs, he would have screamed out in utter agony as he realized what Isis had just done to him. His vision was suddenly clouded by a black inky substance that formed over his eyes. However, he wasn't lucky enough to black out to end his suffering temporarily. His vision cleared after a moment, and air returned to his lungs.

"Bitch!" Alias's lungs exploded with speech as soon as air refilled them. "Miserable fucking cunt!" He cursed in a venomous tone, paws jerking hard against the restrictive cuffs. His muscles ached and burned as he twisted against the steel in agony. As he did, more pain exploded through Alias's mind. "I'll hunt your sorry ass down and break your Goddamn neck! I swear to fucking God, I'll end you!"

Even though the prick who had been holding him down left him there, Alias still couldn't move. The nails were long and hadn't gone completely into the crate. As he tried to pull his head up, sliding his ear along the shaft of the nail, he let out a groan of agony, feeling the smooth metal against his hot, throbbing ear.

Slowly, the attractive, yet dangerous siamese crouched down to where Alias lay struggling, trying to figure out what to do like a fly stuck in a spider's web. "I've already taken an eye, and now I have an ear..." She spoke to him, slowly running her fingers gently across Alias's forehead, to which he snarled. His eyes were seething with rage, wanting nothing more than to murder the bitch. "Hear no evil, see no evil, that only leaves one thing left..." She rose to her feet once more, looking down at the pathetic black fox. "Maybe your little blue friend can help me out with the last one. She's quite the talker... for now."

"I swear to God..." Alias growled in a dark, acidic tone. "You touch her, you so much as go near her, I will skin you alive..." His head trembled in uncontrollable pain, beads of sweat dribbled into his burning eyes. "I will peel the fucking flesh off your body; listening to you scream..." He paused for a moment, taking in a breath. "You'll beg for me to end you quickly, but it won't be that easy... not for you... Believe me, I know what I'm doing..."

"Calm down, Mr. Alias or you might injure yourself further. Even though your personal comfort matters little to me, I can only imagine the foul mood you'll be in later." Isis simply smiled, patting him gently on the head. "We'll be back to talk about where Mr. Stallard has taken off to. Stick around..." He barely heard Isis say to him as she started walking down the same hallway they had escorted Trilby. Before she left him there, stuck like a pig, she heard her talking to one of her guards. "And they tell me I don't know what humor is."

The pain was running so rampant through Alias's mind, he began to hope that he would succumb to the pain and slip into unconsciousness. He heard the truck starting up behind him and pulling away with the bomb onboard. However, that concern seemed to almost disappear in comparison to the pain exploding through his mind with every beat of his heart. Maybe his ear would bleed out enough he'd die right then and there. Only Alias was smart enough to know that he could probably rip his ear off and live to tell about it.

Alias had no cellphone. That's one of the first things stripped from him when they had been jumped by Isis's men, which left him unable to call anyone for help. Trilby was with the enemy, and Alias was about as helpless as a fish on a hook; flopping around on the floor desperate to get away. Letting out a savage grown as the livid pain ran through his ear and deep into his mind, the black fox knew there was only one way out of this. The thing people seemed to forget about being cuffed was that every muscle movement you made hurt. It made you not want to move your arms, and this was intentional. Eyes cast downward against the wood, he noticed something.

There were small staples in the crate, thinner than the nails that held it together. If he could get his paws on one, straighten it out, there was a possibility he could figure a way out of this.

Keeping his head down hard against the wooden surface, he lifted his chest off the surface, supporting his weight on the tips of his toes. Pulling back slowly, he rammed his solid kneecap into the crate. The force of his knee sent the crate into the support beam he was cuffed around, causing the aged wood to creak and snap. Switching between knees to distribute the pain, Alias continued to work as fast as he could, feeling the wooden pieces start to dislodge.

One final strong heave and the crate shattered, upper piece still nailed to his ear, and the fruit contained with in it spilled all over the concrete floor. Working his fingers, he pulled one of the tiny metallic staples from the wooden planks and straightened it out. As the metal bit into his wrists, Alias painfully twisted his paws around, trying to access the lock on his cuffs. Jiggling around inside the lock, his fingers met resistance as he twisted the long, thin staple where the key went. For several minutes his wrists burned as he desperately tried to free himself. Suddenly, all at once, the lock disengaged and relief met his wrist. Cuffs now useless, he easily freed his other wrist, but his head was still attached to half a crate. The nail gun's air compressor took care of that.

Slowly, he moved his paw to the tip of his ear. Isis had nailed him in two places closer to the middle of his triangular ear. He took the tip gingerly between his fingertips, and pulled it as taught as he could muster. Even that caused spots to jump across his vision, causing him to bite down on his lip to suppress the torment.

Without thinking too much about what he was going to do, he slowly pulled his head downward, moving his paw in sync and sliding his ear down the nail. The friction of the nail rubbed his wounds, leaving blood streaking down the metal objects. After a second or two, Alias couldn't hold in his pain. His voice broke through the mental barriers he set, and a harsh cry of torment echoed off the old warehouse walls.

But the worst was still to come.

As blood leaked off the wooden surface where the nails were causing more damage to his ear. Alias pulled the tender flesh as taut, and flat as he could, making the wounds as wide as possible without extensive injury. Beads of sweat rolled off his forehead, splashing down onto the wood as his lips curled up, exposing his sharp fangs. As his fingers met the wide heads of the nails, he took in a deep breath, hesitating slightly. Without thinking, or thinking as little as possible, he jerked the nails outward, pulling his ear along with them.

As the long metal shaft of the nails pass through the openings in his ear, Alias held nothing back. His acidic voice roared in anguish, voice crying out in festering anger and pain. He felt his ear tear slightly, the flesh ripping from it's abuse.

The black fox then collapsed onto his back, as his ear bled openly on the dusty concrete floor, creating a sticky mess. The stinging pain quickly changed into a dull throbbing ache that nauseated him to the point where he was sure he would vomit. However, eventually he calmed his breathing down, and placed his ear to the cool floor for comfort; sanitation be damned.

However, The Mercenary knew he could not stay where he was. Alias needed Trilby to find that doctor. If he died, so did Alias's chances of finding Openshaw. Also, if Isis got away, her propaganda of him being a terrorist would spread like a wildfire. Saving Leigh wasn't a priority anymore. There were times in The Underground where all that mattered was your own survival. If you kept putting others before yourself, then eventually you'd be taking the fall for someone else. Alias respected what Trilby was trying to do, but it could only go so far before the cost of saving Leigh outweighed the good that would come from it. Neutralization was the term, and that meant eliminating Isis as a threat by any means necessary.

As he climbed to his feet, he could feel his blood clotting around his ear, his fur matting to compress the wound. In anger, his boot met the broken, wooden crate with the bloody stain covering the top, flipping it over and out of his way. If nothing else, this act of violence made him feel slightly better, even if it was toward an inanimate object.

Putting a mental barrier between his mind and the constant burning throb that ran over his ear, Alias ran. He forced himself to place one boot in front of the other, dashing down the hallway Isis and her posse disappeared into. The concrete hallway wasn't too long before it ended at another door, leading back outside to the cold docks. Using the momentum of his body, the fox slammed against the door, forcing it open as he stumbled outside.

His eyes scanned his environment, the docks and surrounding areas littered with cargo and other random junk that looked like it had been sitting there for ages. Closer to the pier, there was a labyrinth of industrial shipping crates stacked as high as some buildings. Somewhere, in that mess of the literal hundreds of thousands of these large ISO cargo containers there was one on the back of a truck, holding an active dirty bomb. Isis hadn't set the timer, so Alias guessed she was willing to risk using the satellite; something no one was expecting. All their planning was dissolving around them.

Again Alias was moving. He sprinted back to his black SUV, which was exactly how he had left it. His paws went to the handle of the liftgate in the back, quickly opening it. They had taken his guns when they had jumped him, but Alias was a paranoid fox. Opening the compartment which held the vehicle's jack, his paws met the metallic surface of both a nine millimeter, and it's corresponding clip.

"Weak, but reliable..." The Mercenary muttered to himself, loading the clip, and pulling back on the slide. Alias wondered where Mick had taken off to. He'd been fearing Mick would come back and walk in on them all. Maybe he was getting help, telling the OCB to send in the cavalry. Speaking of which, how was Alias supposed to even find the OCB agents in the area?

As soon as he held the black pistol in his paws, ready to go find Isis, there came the sound of tires upon the gravel of the docks. Taking a combat stance, he spun around as several headlights blinded him.

"Drop the gun, federal agents!"

Several strong, demanding voices called out at him, however he really wasn't in the mood for these assholes right now. It appeared they had found him. There was no way he was going into some holding cell while Isis walked! Not this time! He had too much at stake.

Several dark shadows gathered around him, faces blocked by the bright lights of their cars. Even in the darkness, he could make out the assault rifles they had targeted on him. He raised the gun above his head, palms open, finger looped around the trigger guard, but still holding it in a safe direction.

"I'm on your side." He spoke very plainly so they wouldn't mistake him for one of Isis's guards. "They just took James Trilby, and they have weaponized radioactive material for an attack taking place within the hour!"

Slowly one of the shadows moved forward, coming into view. Decked out in combat gear, much like what Alias was currently wearing, a black and white border collie came into view. The collie's gun lowered as he approached Alias, who's face grimace as he noticed the clotted blood along the fox's head.

"By the way Jim talked about you, I always took you for a cat." He said clearly. Raising his right paw, he waved off the mass of troops that accompanied him. "Agent Chaz Clark, Organized Crime Bureau." He extended his paw, to which Alias hesitantly lowered his own and shook it.

"What alias do you want?" The fox asked honestly.

"Don't need one." Clark replied confidently. "This mission didn't ever happen, there are no such things as A.I.'s, and Jim Trilby has long since retired from the OCB. No need for any official reports on an operation that never took place." Clark nodded to the maze of crates. "What are our facts on the ground?"

Alias turned to look in the same direction. "Isis has about ten or twelve personal security, then you have about twenty terrorists who she's selling the dirty bomb to. No idea what kind of heat they're packing. They took Trilby with them when they jumped us."

"Does Jim still think he can save her?" Clark asked, walking up and standing next to the black fox.

Alias simply shook his head. "It's the only thing that's been keeping him going."

"Fair enough." Clark replied nodding, then turned around. "Alright people, same plan, we need Isis alive, non-lethal force only. As for anyone else; weapons free! Use extreme prejudice! They have one of our own, so confirm your targets before you take 'em down!" As the lights moved off Alias, no longer needed to spotlight him, his eyes adjusted and he saw the number of TAC teams Clark was leading. There were at least five or six squads, most hanging onto the outside of a dark SUV, ready for immediate combat. Clark then turned to Alias. "What do you need?"

The fox looked down at his small pistol. "I could use a bigger gun." He said, flicking the safety on and securing the wonder nine in the waistband of his pants.

Clark slowly backed away, then tossed his black rifle to Alias, who caught it with both paws. "That's on loan."

Looking down at his new weapon, Alias cocked the M4 carbine, releasing the hammer as a bullet entered the chamber with a metallic ping. The sound alone sending a wave of excitement through the young fox. They spared no expense when it came to their guns. Red dot scope, forward grip, and even an optional laser sight. As he ran over to an OCB vehicle, he knew this much on a gun might be overkill, but it just looked plain old badass.

In the SUV, Alias took a seat next to Clark, who handed him an earpiece. "Keep you in the loop on what's going on." He explained as the convoy of TAC units took off.

"You seem pretty trusting." Alias replied darkly as he took the small transmitter, placing it in his left ear; his good ear.

"Jim says you're okay." Clark replied, as one of the uniformed TAC members handed him a new M4. "He was my partner, once upon a time. I trusted him with my life; still do." The collie slammed a fresh magazine into the assault rifle, then cocked it, leaving the safety on. "I knew Jim's wife, Leigh. We were all friends; I was at their wedding." He explained. "If Jim trusts you, I trust you. We might actually have a chance of ending this tonight."

"How the hell did you find me out here?" Alias asked, knowing it couldn't have been a lucky guess out of the hundreds of warehouses that were spread around the Portside district.

"Anonymous tip." Clark explained. "Someone phoned in some 'suspicious behavior'. That was after Jim missed his scheduled contact. Lucky we showed up when we did."

Mick perhaps, but if so where was he? "What's the plan?" Alias asked, bouncing slightly as the SUV passed over uneven terrain.

"We know what freighter they're using to transport it. We've had tabs on Mihailov's syndicate for months now, just never had a reason to move on him. They're only loading up one crate, the one with the bomb." Clark continued to explain. "We're going in with OCB's TAC squads."

"TAC?" Alias asked, scowling. "Do you people just make up new acronyms each week?"

"Tactical Assault and Combat." Clark clarified. "Basically, it's OCB's experimental SWAT. Tonight will be a huge factor on if we get to keep our counter-terror response team. We get the freighter, we get the bomb, we get the terrorists, hopefully we get Jim and Leigh alive." Clark shrugged. "If we can prove we can handle a crisis, OCB goes up a few notches in the Intelligence community's pecking order."

"I can't let Isis leave here tonight." Alias replied. "There are... circumstances that would be very bad for me if she escapes. If it looks like it's going that way-"

"Either Isis leaves with us tonight, or she leaves with the coroner." He cut off. "She's selling weapons to terrorists, she needs to be dealt with. All the same," Clark looked over at Alias, "out of respect, I'm trying Trilby's way first."

Alias slid forward in his seat slightly as the convoy stopped abruptly, TAC members, resembling that of SWAT teams filed out, moving quickly in single-file lines. Sliding out of the SUV, Alias pulled the M4 close to his chest, resting the stock of the gun against his shoulder. Gripping the forward grip with his left paw, his right index finger rested gingerly against the trigger. With his thumb, he flipped the safety off; game time.

Clark walked up behind Alias, whispering. " You think you can handle yourself out there?" To which the black fox scoffed.

"I've probably been in more firefights than you..." He growled in response, and began walking away.

"Where you going?" Clark called out to him.

"Recon work." Alias replied simply. "I don't go in blind; ever."

"You want to know why we're so badass?" Clark asked, as another masked TAC member opened an impossibly small laptop computer. "Its because we have the coolest toys." Then he placed his paw to his ear, pushing in to transmit. "Command, Archangel Six Actual, how copy, over?" Alias even heard the broadcast through his ear piece.

"SixActual, we read you five by five." A staticy male voice replied.

"What's our eye in the sky showing us?" Clark asked, at which Alias's brow crinkled in question.

"Six Actual, we show thirteen heat signatures on the pier, an additional twenty-three on the freighter, standby for visual."

Looking over Clark's shoulder, Alias watched as the small LCD screen illuminated showing an aerial view of the docks. He could see a collective red mass off to the side, which he assumed was the TAC teams, and several other red dots in various places.

Clark turned to Alias. "I don't like being blind either." He pointed to the sky. "There's a reason we have satellites in geosync orbit; ready for use at any time."

Alias nodded looking up. "Yeah, I've heard about them." He confirmed. "OCB must have deep pockets or good connections."

"Definitely the latter of the two." Clark confirmed. "Senator Bauer has a lot of friends in high and low places." Again he turned to his troops. "Teams Blue through Green move into positions, and give ready status."

With that, the mob of armored TAC operatives dispersed moving silently through the shipping crates to their predetermined locations.

"Priority message to Archangel Six. Be advised, we show one helo on patrol; helo is not a friendly. Stick to the shadows." The voice informed.

"Just one thing." Alias turned back to Clark. "I was supposed to arm the bomb for Isis manually; at least that was the plan." He explained while Clark listened. "It's still possible for her to set off the bomb remotely. Have your people watch the commercial satellite transmissions. Try and cut it off."

Clark nodded. "No guarantees we can jam the frequency in time. We don't even know what satellite she's using." He sighed, turning to the TAC agent with the laptop. "That means we're moving fast. Get Command back on the line, have our techies start sweeping all satcom traffic around Arcadia, see which ones are in range of the bomb."

The masked figure nodded obediently, closing the computer, and moving on to his next task. Moving slightly outward from behind a crate, Alias looked in toward the freighter. Sure enough, he saw the spinning blades of a helicopter doing lazy circles around the pier as a crane slowly moved into position; ready to load the bomb from the back of the truck.

Alias knew he was running out of time. Even with the OCB helping him out, every second that passed was another second that Isis could kill Trilby or disappear into the night. Following Clark, they stopped behind one of the large, rusty, rectangle containers. Slowly the fox peeked around the corner. As his head pressed against the steel surface, slick from the sea breeze, he breathed in the smell of rust and industrial decay. His eyes looked out at the scene before him, he could see Isis, her security, and Trilby standing in front of a black sedan. In front of them was someone Alias couldn't identify. It was a large red salamander, thick through his shoulders and wearing clothing that made the black fox think he was from over seas. This made sense given his choice of transport. He could only guess this was Isis's terrorist buyer, Ivan Mihailov. Only that prick didn't know she was planning on blowing the dirty bomb on his freighter.

"In position." Alias heard his ear bug crackle.

"We can't move until we know for sure thats the container Isis is moving." Clark whispered as Alias's eyes scanned the pier, noting the large cargo freighter docked close to the black sedan. "Bauer wants irrefutable evidence."

"In position." A different gruff voice transmitted.

Alias looked back over to Clark, still a throbbing in his head from a damaged ear. "So, does that mean we just chill here while we let your boy Trilby twist in the wind?"

The collie shook his head. "Not much of a choice. It was his call to try and get Leigh back alive."

Alias turned back around, again spying on Isis's group. In that respect he was kind of glad it wasn't his life on the line. The fox doubted Clark would even care that Alias was out there at gunpoint. Then again, they were all soldiers of the Invisible War. They were soldiers, and that meant they were all expendable.

The final two teams gave their ready, but Clark gave a weapons hold order. The waiting was what always got to Alias. Being forced to wait while his only means to Openshaw had a gun to his forehead was nearly insufferable. Not to mention the fact that if the bomb blew, he'd die an amazingly painful death, consisting of radiation poisoning and hair loss. His paws became sweaty as he gripped the black assault rifle, waiting. It was the waiting that always got to him.

Then his ears perked up as he looked across the way, seeing the salamander standing still as Isis's paws began to wander. They touched his neck, moving slowly down to the undersides of his arms, almost like she was looking... for a pulse?

Realization suddenly kicked in. Isis had no care for physical contact or desire for anything more! His mind flashed back to what she had said earlier. She had felt Alias's betrayal; literally! Her looks of curiosity when she talked to him made much more sense. He felt like she was reading something because she was; every reaction, no matter how subtle. Looking onward at Isis, watching her hands travel over Mihailov's body, it all snapped into place. Her touch wasn't that to arouse anyone, it was simply a side effect that masked her true intentions. With every touch, every look, every sigh or gasp, every drop of sweat, Isis was reading them. She was looking for those common tells of dishonesty, or nervousness. Always, it had the outward appearance of an attractive cougar getting her feel in, but Isis was reading every signature tell, noting every spike in body temperature, or every sharp breath.

It had worked perfectly and Isis had called Alias out.

"Clark..." Alias murmured quietly, getting his attention. The collie moved around Alias, sneaking a peek.

They both stood there watching silently as Mihailov spoke into his phone. Suddenly there came a loud mechanical noise from above them. Both the fox and collie looked up, seeing the dock crane move, and the behemoth structure come to life. As they watched, the loud whipping sound of a helicopter passed above them as the crane connected to the tanish-brown container, housed safely on the back of the flatbed semi-trailer.

"They have some serious backup..." Clark said, flattening himself against one of the crates, out of sight. _"_Alright..." He slowly moved his paw to his radio, pressing the button to transmit. "Command, Archangel Six Actual... have visual confirmation on the weapon. Requesting green light to engage." Clark stated. "All fire-teams standby, execute on my mark..."

Alias's knuckles gripped the weapon tighter than before. He was about to dive headfirst into an international fire-fight with a radioactive bomb ready to explode only a few hundred yards away. Feeling his body overcome with anticipation, he was quickly reminded how much he hated the waiting part of this job.

"Command. We read you, Six Actual. You have a green light to engage; go weapons hot!"