“God damn it, Shaun, I swear I’ll break your arm if you ask me that again! Do I look happy? No! It’s because I haven’t found shit! I’ll let you know when I do. Until then, kindly fuck off!”
He wants to snap back, can taste the retort on the tip of his tongue, but for once in his life, he holds back. He can see how upset Rebecca is and has no doubt she would break his arm and worse if he said anything else. He’s not the only one taking this hard.
This first thing Rebecca had done once getting access to her desktop was hack into the traffic cameras scattered throughout Rome, as well as the other various security cameras. Anything that could have IDed the vehicle Vidic’s thugs had used would have allowed for a quick trace and they’d already have already been on their way. Unfortunately, the guys were clearly professionals and not only had they managed to erase any footage of themselves that could allow Rebecca to track them, but they had made sure it was damn hard to even get names. Hell, Rebecca had, so far, only managed Squinty. Dmytro Golovnya, former member of the Ukrainian Marine Corps. Sadly, that was about all she had found. It was as if anything after the man’s fifteenth birthday had simply not existed. He and his men had, for all intents and purposes, disappeared, taking Desmond with them. Combine that with the fact that it had been two days already, and that they still had no real leads… They were all testy; even Lucy had snapped a few times. The tension was only making things worse.
Well, that and, for Shaun at least, the fact that there wasn’t really anything he could do. He had once told Desmond that he had the gift of being able to make connections, of being able to take facts, see how they fit together, and find truth where others couldn’t. But that didn’t amount to much when there was nothing for him to work with. Rebecca was the one doing most of the work, typing away furiously and staring at the monitor for hours on end. She had slept maybe four hours since they had gotten to the small hideout, and aside from that, had only left the computer for quick bathroom breaks. Even now, she had food shoved to the side of the desk, uneaten. But at least she got to do something. And Lucy was currently contacting every assassin team she could get a hold of, begging them for help or, at the very least, information. What could he do? Nothing. Not until one of them gave him something to start on. He couldn’t just create facts out of nothing. He needed a starting point, and it was driving him up the wall.
You’d better come after me.
Some desperate part of him wanted to yell at the voice echoing in his head, to make it go away or at least shut up. To let it know that he was trying. But he couldn’t, so that voice continued to haunt him, as did the look in Desmond’s eyes. Every time his brain turned its attention to that memory and started to analyze it - because that was what he did, he analyzed, and found facts, and truth, and there was nothing for him to do and he was desperate... - he had to force himself to focus on something else. Questioning Rebecca, preparing their supplies, cleaning and oiling his Walther P99 for the twentieth time, anything to keep his mind off Desmond. Because… Because some small, quiet part of his brain already suspected…
You’d better come after me.
With hands that he would never admit were shaking - for all that Lucy had gotten onto both him and Rebecca about needing sleep, he hadn’t even been able to manage four hours like Rebecca had, Desmond’s damned voice keeping him awake - he reached for the hidden blade again. It hadn’t been out of arm's reach since Desmond had given it to him. And even though he knew she was thinking it, he was grateful Rebecca didn’t mention that cleaning it and tinkering with it wouldn’t help anymore than it did the last ten times.
Re: Come After Me [Part 4/X]
“God damn it, Shaun, I swear I’ll break your arm if you ask me that again! Do I look happy? No! It’s because I haven’t found shit! I’ll let you know when I do. Until then, kindly fuck off!”
He wants to snap back, can taste the retort on the tip of his tongue, but for once in his life, he holds back. He can see how upset Rebecca is and has no doubt she would break his arm and worse if he said anything else. He’s not the only one taking this hard.
This first thing Rebecca had done once getting access to her desktop was hack into the traffic cameras scattered throughout Rome, as well as the other various security cameras. Anything that could have IDed the vehicle Vidic’s thugs had used would have allowed for a quick trace and they’d already have already been on their way. Unfortunately, the guys were clearly professionals and not only had they managed to erase any footage of themselves that could allow Rebecca to track them, but they had made sure it was damn hard to even get names. Hell, Rebecca had, so far, only managed Squinty. Dmytro Golovnya, former member of the Ukrainian Marine Corps. Sadly, that was about all she had found. It was as if anything after the man’s fifteenth birthday had simply not existed. He and his men had, for all intents and purposes, disappeared, taking Desmond with them. Combine that with the fact that it had been two days already, and that they still had no real leads… They were all testy; even Lucy had snapped a few times. The tension was only making things worse.
Well, that and, for Shaun at least, the fact that there wasn’t really anything he could do. He had once told Desmond that he had the gift of being able to make connections, of being able to take facts, see how they fit together, and find truth where others couldn’t. But that didn’t amount to much when there was nothing for him to work with. Rebecca was the one doing most of the work, typing away furiously and staring at the monitor for hours on end. She had slept maybe four hours since they had gotten to the small hideout, and aside from that, had only left the computer for quick bathroom breaks. Even now, she had food shoved to the side of the desk, uneaten. But at least she got to do something. And Lucy was currently contacting every assassin team she could get a hold of, begging them for help or, at the very least, information. What could he do? Nothing. Not until one of them gave him something to start on. He couldn’t just create facts out of nothing. He needed a starting point, and it was driving him up the wall.
You’d better come after me.
Some desperate part of him wanted to yell at the voice echoing in his head, to make it go away or at least shut up. To let it know that he was trying. But he couldn’t, so that voice continued to haunt him, as did the look in Desmond’s eyes. Every time his brain turned its attention to that memory and started to analyze it - because that was what he did, he analyzed, and found facts, and truth, and there was nothing for him to do and he was desperate... - he had to force himself to focus on something else. Questioning Rebecca, preparing their supplies, cleaning and oiling his Walther P99 for the twentieth time, anything to keep his mind off Desmond. Because… Because some small, quiet part of his brain already suspected…
You’d better come after me.
With hands that he would never admit were shaking - for all that Lucy had gotten onto both him and Rebecca about needing sleep, he hadn’t even been able to manage four hours like Rebecca had, Desmond’s damned voice keeping him awake - he reached for the hidden blade again. It hadn’t been out of arm's reach since Desmond had given it to him. And even though he knew she was thinking it, he was grateful Rebecca didn’t mention that cleaning it and tinkering with it wouldn’t help anymore than it did the last ten times.
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