Sons of Liberty: A Gathering Storm
Nov. 14th, 2011 09:10 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
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Kane and Brand Reach Shaver Lake, only to find a situation developing.
The drive up to Shaver Lake was actually pleasant; miles of two lane roads between the forested expanse of Fresno county. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were chasing down an insane right-winger and his terrorist cell that just happened to be made up of former elite military volunteers from a highly top secret Super Soldier program run over decades, and if it wasn’t Abigail Brand beside him shooting sharp glances over every so often, he might have been enjoying the drive.
Kirmon Health was just up a private drive. It had been a smaller version of BALCO in the nineties, providing custom made steroids and performance enhancing drugs to an array of athletes. It had actually been disheartening seeing some of the names that just ‘happened’ to get an urge to visit the small Californian lake resort for a week during that time. Anodyne and Androderm had both been pulled ten years ago, and while the FBI suspected that the lab was still producing performance enhancers for select clients, officially it had moved into more traditional sports pharmacology – protein powder blends, multi-vitamins, and prep pills.
Kane pulled up the SUV into the parking lot of the small, three story cube of a lab. The site was close to the forest, with the tree line less than twenty feet from the walls. It was small and inconspicuous, and Kane was sure it was intentional. He looked around, his dark glasses hiding his eyes. The parking lot was full, and he guessed thirty to forty employees, roughly. But no one taking a smoke break or sitting at any of the picnic tables, despite being close to noon.
Beside him, Brand was taking in the parking lot, the same lack of activity catching her eye. "If it wasn't a terrible cliché, I would say it's too quiet around here," she murmured to him. "I'd say they found out we were coming."
"Yeah. This is too quiet for the middle of the weekend." Kane got out of the car, suppressing an urge to pull his gun. He waited for Brand to reach him, and carefully approached the front doors. They were unlocked, but the reception desk in the small lobby was deserted, and there was no sight of anyone around.
Brand's own gun hand twitched imperceptibly, but there were too many unknowns. She leaned over the reception desk, looking it over. "Magazine left open on the desk and the phone wasn't redirected. Our receptionist is either sloppy, or she left things in a hurry," she observed, raising her eyebrow in the direction of the stairs.
Kane pulled his sidearm. "This isn't right. We've-"
"I figured it was only a matter of time before the feds sent a new crop of lackies down here." The voice came from the top of the stairs, as a man stepped into view at the top. He was older, in his mid-fifties at least, and dressed in a pair of fatigue pants and a bush jacket. "So what are you? DoD. Army Intelligence? More ATF? I thought they would have learned their lesson last time."
"FBI. Stop right there and raise your hands in the air," Brand snapped, whipping out her own gun and pointing it steadily at him. "Now."
"No." He held up one hand, which held a handheld detonator in it. "Any idea what this is, you miserable little cockroaches? This is a detonator with a dead man's switch built in. I stop holding it down, twenty-eight employees of Kirmon Health are turned into another lesson about patriotism."
"Taking hostages is patriotic?"
"The Founding Fathers were very clear. Sacrifices are always required to preserve liberty. Who better to choose than a group who have already been persecuted by the overreaching arm of the federal government."
Brand swore under her breath. "That isn't sacrifice, it's terrorism. Dress it up how you like, you're scum and you're under arrest." Her finger was rock-steady on the trigger.
"Like I give less than a shit about what some federal cooze thinks about me. I served this country for over forty years. I was running combat operations into Laos when your parents were still in grammar school. So don't think you understand anything about me." He snapped back. Kane lowered his weapon, and motioned for Brand to do the same.
"What do you want?"
"I want the truth. The truth about how this country had betrayed the men who have served it faithfully. How they've betrayed the principles under which this country was founded and what my soldiers died for. So these thirty people will keep your bastards at bay as the world watches and hears what has happened secretly to undermine the rights of Americans and try and betray those principles." He raised his voice. "Those socialist cocksuckers in Washington are going to find it harder to sell out citizens’ rights to big business and European banks in exchange for a fat wallet."
Brand half-lowered her gun, but rolled her eyes. "Blah blah, the government fucked you over. Most people organise protests and wave signs. They don't go killing federal agents and holding civilians hostage to get their point across. You've crossed the line here - you aren't getting out so easily."
"Brand-" Kane said warningly, backing off. Kane was a trained hostage negotiator, and he didn't like any of the signals he was picking up here. The man was capable of detonating those charges, he could tell. It was best to get out, lock down the building, and see if they could talk him down.
She glanced at him, seemingly about to tell him where to shove his warning. But she hadn't gotten she had by being stupid, no matter how aggressively she pursued things. And she'd read Kane's file extensively. Her gun dropped the rest of the way down. "All right, we'll play this your way, Mr.--?"
"Burnside. Major William S Burnside, Army Rangers. Retired." He smirked. "You run your little ass out and call up the Pentagon for my file, if you like pages covered in black lines and top secret stamps. You, Fed. The phone here's been forwarded to mine. You want to talk to me, you call that number. But you put only shiny shoe through that door, or my boys see any other cop cocksuckers trying to get it and it will cost you hostages. Understand me, boy?"
"Understood. You're in control." Kane said, as he stepped back out through the door, ready to haul away Brand if needed. "Okay, that guy is dead serious, Brand. He's got hostages and an unknown number of men with him. Likely our list of former Super Soldier candidates."
"Civilians in danger, SPBs involved. The protocol's clear - we call SHIELD in to handle this," Brand replied as the door closed behind them. "I'll get Fury on the horn."
"No, you won't. There's no proof of SPB activity yet." SHIELD also didn't have the same policies surrounding hostage negotiations or due process. They'd send an assault team, and if Paige and Hank were right, none of the men working for Burnside were in their right minds. It would be a slaughter. "You call Fresno PD and the state troopers. I'll get the Field Offices on the phone. We want a cordon around this area; no one gets in or out without our say-so. We'll open up primary negotiations and see if we can talk Burnside down. Maybe someone at the DoD can help with his background."
"And if you can't talk him down, we'll end up with a slaughter, just like those ATF guys," Brand countered. "You said it yourself, Burnside's men are likely to be our missing Super Soldier candidates and I don't know about you, but I've seen enough to give me more than reasonable doubt that we're dealing with augmented strength at the very least. Which makes this SHIELD's jurisdiction.
"The only thing we know about the SUPER SOLDIER program is that everyone has said it didn't work. Right now, we follow the proper chain of command, which means if you think it's a SHIELD response, you need to sell it to Duncan or the head of the local Field Office. Until then, it stays with the FBI." Kane snapped back. He was technically correct; SHIELD was only supposed to respond if they received a request by local law enforcement, or one of their agents developed the intelligence. With her secondment to the FBI, her status as a Special Agent replaced that as a SHIELD Agent, which meant she had to follow the Bureau's chain of command to make the request. "So save the dick waving contest until after we've called it in, eh?"
She stalked away, and Kane knew full well that it wasn't going to be her last challenge for him over this case. He pulled out his phone, starting to make calls to the FBI offices, and when Brand was out of earshot, to Jean and Kyle. If the X-Men couldn't get here in time, either they'd have to break the standoff or SHIELD would. Either way would involve killing a bunch of men who were being driven half-mad by the chemicals in their blood
Once out of earshot, Brand pulled her own phone out. After a moment, when her call had obviously been picked up, she spoke:
"Get me Colonel Fury. I've got a potential situation here that he's going to be very interested in." She paused again and then said, with a slow smile on her face. "Just call me an anonymous tip."
The drive up to Shaver Lake was actually pleasant; miles of two lane roads between the forested expanse of Fresno county. If it wasn’t for the fact that they were chasing down an insane right-winger and his terrorist cell that just happened to be made up of former elite military volunteers from a highly top secret Super Soldier program run over decades, and if it wasn’t Abigail Brand beside him shooting sharp glances over every so often, he might have been enjoying the drive.
Kirmon Health was just up a private drive. It had been a smaller version of BALCO in the nineties, providing custom made steroids and performance enhancing drugs to an array of athletes. It had actually been disheartening seeing some of the names that just ‘happened’ to get an urge to visit the small Californian lake resort for a week during that time. Anodyne and Androderm had both been pulled ten years ago, and while the FBI suspected that the lab was still producing performance enhancers for select clients, officially it had moved into more traditional sports pharmacology – protein powder blends, multi-vitamins, and prep pills.
Kane pulled up the SUV into the parking lot of the small, three story cube of a lab. The site was close to the forest, with the tree line less than twenty feet from the walls. It was small and inconspicuous, and Kane was sure it was intentional. He looked around, his dark glasses hiding his eyes. The parking lot was full, and he guessed thirty to forty employees, roughly. But no one taking a smoke break or sitting at any of the picnic tables, despite being close to noon.
Beside him, Brand was taking in the parking lot, the same lack of activity catching her eye. "If it wasn't a terrible cliché, I would say it's too quiet around here," she murmured to him. "I'd say they found out we were coming."
"Yeah. This is too quiet for the middle of the weekend." Kane got out of the car, suppressing an urge to pull his gun. He waited for Brand to reach him, and carefully approached the front doors. They were unlocked, but the reception desk in the small lobby was deserted, and there was no sight of anyone around.
Brand's own gun hand twitched imperceptibly, but there were too many unknowns. She leaned over the reception desk, looking it over. "Magazine left open on the desk and the phone wasn't redirected. Our receptionist is either sloppy, or she left things in a hurry," she observed, raising her eyebrow in the direction of the stairs.
Kane pulled his sidearm. "This isn't right. We've-"
"I figured it was only a matter of time before the feds sent a new crop of lackies down here." The voice came from the top of the stairs, as a man stepped into view at the top. He was older, in his mid-fifties at least, and dressed in a pair of fatigue pants and a bush jacket. "So what are you? DoD. Army Intelligence? More ATF? I thought they would have learned their lesson last time."
"FBI. Stop right there and raise your hands in the air," Brand snapped, whipping out her own gun and pointing it steadily at him. "Now."
"No." He held up one hand, which held a handheld detonator in it. "Any idea what this is, you miserable little cockroaches? This is a detonator with a dead man's switch built in. I stop holding it down, twenty-eight employees of Kirmon Health are turned into another lesson about patriotism."
"Taking hostages is patriotic?"
"The Founding Fathers were very clear. Sacrifices are always required to preserve liberty. Who better to choose than a group who have already been persecuted by the overreaching arm of the federal government."
Brand swore under her breath. "That isn't sacrifice, it's terrorism. Dress it up how you like, you're scum and you're under arrest." Her finger was rock-steady on the trigger.
"Like I give less than a shit about what some federal cooze thinks about me. I served this country for over forty years. I was running combat operations into Laos when your parents were still in grammar school. So don't think you understand anything about me." He snapped back. Kane lowered his weapon, and motioned for Brand to do the same.
"What do you want?"
"I want the truth. The truth about how this country had betrayed the men who have served it faithfully. How they've betrayed the principles under which this country was founded and what my soldiers died for. So these thirty people will keep your bastards at bay as the world watches and hears what has happened secretly to undermine the rights of Americans and try and betray those principles." He raised his voice. "Those socialist cocksuckers in Washington are going to find it harder to sell out citizens’ rights to big business and European banks in exchange for a fat wallet."
Brand half-lowered her gun, but rolled her eyes. "Blah blah, the government fucked you over. Most people organise protests and wave signs. They don't go killing federal agents and holding civilians hostage to get their point across. You've crossed the line here - you aren't getting out so easily."
"Brand-" Kane said warningly, backing off. Kane was a trained hostage negotiator, and he didn't like any of the signals he was picking up here. The man was capable of detonating those charges, he could tell. It was best to get out, lock down the building, and see if they could talk him down.
She glanced at him, seemingly about to tell him where to shove his warning. But she hadn't gotten she had by being stupid, no matter how aggressively she pursued things. And she'd read Kane's file extensively. Her gun dropped the rest of the way down. "All right, we'll play this your way, Mr.--?"
"Burnside. Major William S Burnside, Army Rangers. Retired." He smirked. "You run your little ass out and call up the Pentagon for my file, if you like pages covered in black lines and top secret stamps. You, Fed. The phone here's been forwarded to mine. You want to talk to me, you call that number. But you put only shiny shoe through that door, or my boys see any other cop cocksuckers trying to get it and it will cost you hostages. Understand me, boy?"
"Understood. You're in control." Kane said, as he stepped back out through the door, ready to haul away Brand if needed. "Okay, that guy is dead serious, Brand. He's got hostages and an unknown number of men with him. Likely our list of former Super Soldier candidates."
"Civilians in danger, SPBs involved. The protocol's clear - we call SHIELD in to handle this," Brand replied as the door closed behind them. "I'll get Fury on the horn."
"No, you won't. There's no proof of SPB activity yet." SHIELD also didn't have the same policies surrounding hostage negotiations or due process. They'd send an assault team, and if Paige and Hank were right, none of the men working for Burnside were in their right minds. It would be a slaughter. "You call Fresno PD and the state troopers. I'll get the Field Offices on the phone. We want a cordon around this area; no one gets in or out without our say-so. We'll open up primary negotiations and see if we can talk Burnside down. Maybe someone at the DoD can help with his background."
"And if you can't talk him down, we'll end up with a slaughter, just like those ATF guys," Brand countered. "You said it yourself, Burnside's men are likely to be our missing Super Soldier candidates and I don't know about you, but I've seen enough to give me more than reasonable doubt that we're dealing with augmented strength at the very least. Which makes this SHIELD's jurisdiction.
"The only thing we know about the SUPER SOLDIER program is that everyone has said it didn't work. Right now, we follow the proper chain of command, which means if you think it's a SHIELD response, you need to sell it to Duncan or the head of the local Field Office. Until then, it stays with the FBI." Kane snapped back. He was technically correct; SHIELD was only supposed to respond if they received a request by local law enforcement, or one of their agents developed the intelligence. With her secondment to the FBI, her status as a Special Agent replaced that as a SHIELD Agent, which meant she had to follow the Bureau's chain of command to make the request. "So save the dick waving contest until after we've called it in, eh?"
She stalked away, and Kane knew full well that it wasn't going to be her last challenge for him over this case. He pulled out his phone, starting to make calls to the FBI offices, and when Brand was out of earshot, to Jean and Kyle. If the X-Men couldn't get here in time, either they'd have to break the standoff or SHIELD would. Either way would involve killing a bunch of men who were being driven half-mad by the chemicals in their blood
Once out of earshot, Brand pulled her own phone out. After a moment, when her call had obviously been picked up, she spoke:
"Get me Colonel Fury. I've got a potential situation here that he's going to be very interested in." She paused again and then said, with a slow smile on her face. "Just call me an anonymous tip."