Chapter Text
Angel of Death
byShelly and Ghost
Friday nights were always busy at the Blackout and this Friday night was no exception.
The band onstage--Morrigan--was a heavier band than the club usually booked but they had a good local following and their mix of New Age with the screaming guitar that was a hard rock icon made them different enough to stand out. As he roamed the floor, Eric found himself paying as much attention to the band onstage as he did the patrons around him, his musician's ear appreciating the artful blend of different musical styles, and with an effort he pulled his attention away from the band to focus on his job. A year ago he would have gone up on the stage to jam with them...but now...now the urge was gone. The music that he played now--in the privacy of his apartment--was dark and angry and melancholy, the music flowing directly from his heart and soul, pouring out all the pain and grief and confusion he was forced to keep bottled inside him.
Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he continued on his circuit of the floor, keeping his eye on a pair of rowdies standing up near the stage, guzzling beer and jostling the other patrons that got too close to them. The lead singer of Morrigan--a sloe eyed beauty with hair black as night falling down in a heavy mass past her waist--cast them a cold look as one made obscene gestures to her and laid seemingly delicate hands on the microphone stand, closing her eyes and shutting them out. Delicate she might look...but she'd been right there with the rest of the band, carrying in the equipment and running through the sound check, and Eric thought that she could probably hold her own against her unwanted suitor.
A glance back over his shoulder showed Shea putting a new bartender through his paces, arms folded over her chest as she watched him mix a drink. As much good natured complaining as she did over all the work there was to be done, she was clearly in her element here, thriving in her role as manager of the club. She caught Eric's eye and gave him a grin before turning to take the order of another customer.
With one last look at the pair before the stage, Eric turned to move back through the crowd, slipping through the press of bodies with the ease of a veteran, and as he moved, his attention was caught by three men moving through the crowd. Two flanking a third, their look screaming hired muscle, and the leader a tall muscular man with short cropped white-blond hair, his handsome features at once haughty and arrogant, blue eyes disdainful as they swept across the dancers. His eyes fell on a young redhead standing with her two friends and he licked his lips as he stepped forward, reaching out to grasp her arm.
The redhead tried to pull her arm free but the man wouldn't allow her, digging his fingers into the flesh of her arm as he leaned in to say something to her. She blushed, eyes rolling left and then right, seeking someone that would intercede on her behalf but none of the other patrons would meet her eyes, her friends standing uneasily to the side. Yanking at her arm, the man dragged her forward a few steps, turning on her with arm raised as she set her heels into the floor, resisting him.
Eric was there to catch his arm before it could fall and deliver a blow to the young woman's cheek, fingers closing hard around his arm as he shoved it away, reaching over to break his hand's hold on the young woman's arm. With the touch of his fingers to the other man's flesh, images flashed quickly through his mind, images of death and destruction and the man at the center of it, revelling in the pain and blood spilt, drinking it in as if it were ambrosia. And saw as well what the man--Snake, growled a little voice in his head--wanted to do to the young woman...and what he had done to others that had unwisely chosen to go with him.
"She's not interested." said Eric through his teeth, placing himself between the Snake and the young woman. "And I don't want you in here. Got that?"
Blue eyes raked Eric over with a contemptuous sneer and the man said challengingly, "Think you can stop me, little Crow?"
"Yes." responded Eric firmly, meeting the other man's gaze without flinching. Didn't want to cause a ruckus here, in his place of work...but neither was he going to allow the Snake to strut around here, spreading fear and pain.
One of the Snake's companions took a step forward, expression murderous, and Eric turned a little to face him, ready to take him first and then the other second. But the Snake stretched out an arm to stop him, his eyes not leaving Eric's once. "Down, Karl." he said calmly and with a glance at each man he sent them both fading back into the crowd. Facing Eric again, he smiled, showing white teeth in a feral smile. "I have business to attend to...for now. But I'll be back for you later, little Crow."
Eric gave him an insolent smile in turn. "I'll be here." he promised.
With a last sneer, the Snake turned on his heel to stride after his companions, the crowd parting instinctively to allow them passage. Once they were gone, Eric let out his breath in a sigh, shoulders slumping a little with the sudden release of tension, and turned as he was tapped on the shoulder. The redhead stood behind him, offering him a tremulous smile as she said, "Thanks for stepping in there."
"No problem...that's what I get paid for." responded Eric with a smile. Returning his smile with a weak one of her own, she and her two friends went off to find a table, away from the dance floor. Eric watched her go, experiencing a moment's concern for her welfare, that the Snake might wait for her, and decided that he'd ask Travis to watch the parking lot. With that settled, he returned to doing his circuit of the floor but the memory of the confrontation with the Snake--and the man's promise for another one--remained with him for the rest of the night.
* * * * * * *
"His name is Klaus Leder. Those that have employed him--as well as those that had suffered at his hands--call him the Angel of Death."
Nikita focused on the image before her, unaware of the curl of her lip as she stared at the holograph of the target, her hands folded together as they laid on the table before her. Klaus Leder looked like the poster child for the Neo Nazi movement--white, blond, and blue-eyed, carrying an arrogant confidence in his own power and his superiority to others. Nikita had seen far too many men like that in her life, men with a complete lack of compassion and conscience, destroying those they considered to be their inferiors.
Madeline stood at the head of the conference table, remote held in one hand, her expression devoid of emotion as she gave the debriefing. "He has worked with the Iraquis to exterminate the Kurds and worked as well with certain...clandestine groups within the Serbian government to eliminate their Muslim opponents. At a conversative estimate, we can place ten thousand deaths at his door, all due to programs he has helped his employers to initiate and the work he himself has done. Intel suggests that certain members of the Yugoslavian government are going to approach him for his... assistance in dealing with the situation in Kosovo."
With a press of her finger, she dissolved the holographic image and faced the seven operatives seated at the table, letting her eyes run briefly over them. Michael sat a little forward in his chair, all his attention focused on the mission before him, grey eyes as blank and impenetrable as stone, and Birkhoff sat on his right, looking as little affected by the mission as Michael. Of the others only Nikita showed any reaction to the target
and that was a predictable anger, roused by the injustices Madeline so casually recounted.
"We have a location on Leder, which has been placed on your pads. Our top priority here is in seeing Leder terminated." Madeline met Nikita's eyes evenly as the younger woman looked to her with a startled sound. "We have been given a great amount of leeway to accomplish this. Whatever the cost...Leder is not to leave this country alive." She swept the assembled operatives with a hard look and received nods of acknowledgement, Nikita's nod the most emphatic. A killer she might not profess to be...but when she was handing out what she perceived to be judgement, her aim was true.
"Michael." said Madeline with a nod to the young man and stepped back from the table as he rose.
"Transport leaves in one hour. Collect your gear from Walter and assemble at Egress." His voice was as soft as Madeline's but the tone of command rang through, drawing his team up to their feet in automatic obedience. Nikita was the last to rise and go, her eyes lingering briefly on Michael before she followed the others to Walter's station, and Michael watched her go, shifting his attention slowly to the waiting Madeline.
"How much leeway?" he asked calmly.
"Anyone that stands in the way of achieving your objective is to be considered collateral." responded Madeline.
Michael blinked, the only reaction he would show to that revelation, and gave a nod of acknowledgement, turning on his heel to follow his team.
* * * * * * *
With a sigh, Albrecht removed the lid from his cup of coffee and inhaled deeply of the intoxicating aroma of freshly made coffee. Moving a little sideways on the seat of his cruiser, he lifted the cup of coffee to his lips to take a sip.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of movement but given the time of day--just past 8:00 AM--it wasn't especially noteworthy and so he started to sip at his coffee...only to give a startled yelp as something slapped against his window. As he jumped in his seat, he jostled the coffee cup and send it spilling down onto trousered legs. "Jesus!" he cursed, blowing on his burned hand and twisting his head sideways to give the person that stood on the other side a glare.
Eric removed the newspaper and made a motion with his hand, indicating for Albrecht to roll down the window, and with another grumble, Albrecht did so, glaring still at the younger man. "Anybody ever tell you that sneaking up on a cop is a good way to get yourself shot?"
"Look at this--" Undeterred Eric thrust the newspaper at Albrecht and with an aggravated sigh, he took it, reaching over to put his coffee cup down. Unfolding the paper he shook it out and scanned the front page with a frown. Reaching in through the window, Eric poked a small article located in the lower right corner and Albrecht shifted his attention there, skimming over an article on the discovery of a young woman's body stuffed into a dumpster behind the local Hyatt.
"I know who did it."
Albrecht looked up at hearing the anger in Eric's voice and suppressed another sigh, lifting a finger to push his hat back on his head. "Who?"
"I don't know his name...but I know who he is--*what* he is." said Eric tightly, eyes glittering dangerously. "I had a run-in with a Snake last night. I...saw things that he'd done." Eric's mouth thinned, his eyes darkening with the memory of his vision. "I should have dealt with him last night--or this wouldn't have happened--"
"Look, Draven, you know the drill. I gotta have at least a name...not to mention proof." said Albrecht patiently.
Eric shook his head. "I have all the proof I need..." he said softly, stepping back from the patrol car.
Albrecht leaned out of the window, reaching out for him but too late. "Remember...I'm not here to clean up your messes. He goes down, he goes down legally, got it?" But he found himself speaking to empty air as Eric vanished from sight with the ease of a ghost. Cursing, Albrecht turned his attention once more to the newspaper and found himself reaching automatically for his radio, to check on the details of the case.
* * * * * * *
The target was at the Port Columbia Hyatt, taking a suite of rooms under an alias, the location verified before the Section team even arrived. Leder's suite was on the tenth floor and on the west side of the building, the rest of the floor unoccupied. According to their intel, Leder's people had reserved each room on the floor to ensure Leder's privacy and to lessen the threat of someone moving against him.
Given that this was to be a surgical strike rather than a covert operation, Michael didn't bother with replacing members of the hotel staff with his team. Placing Sampson in the basement to lock down the elevators, Michael took the rest of his team up to the tenth floor and gave the signal for Sampson to deactivate the elevators. At a curt nod from Michael, Francis went to stand guard at the door leading to the stairwell and with Nikita and Otto in tow, Michael strode down the hallway, readying his gun as he walked.
* * * * * * *
To a detective, it would seem ludicrous for a killer to dump a body next to the very hotel he was staying in...but to Eric it made a kind of twisted sense. The Snake would see himself as above any law of man and have a disdain for that law, a need to flout it...and so looking for him at the Hyatt was not fruitless at all. Under the pretense of seeking an application, he'd managed to get an impression of the Snake from a pen at the front counter and with that confirmation he set off for the elevators.
For the third time he hit the "up" button and waited impatiently for the elevator to open, his eyes on the display. With an impatient sigh, he went for the stairs and trotted up them, emerging at last on the landing marked 10th floor. Grabbing the door handle, he hauled it open and was immediately faced with the barrel of a gun, held in the hands of a grim-faced man. He jerked the gun up as the man pulled the trigger and the bullet slammed into the ceiling above them, sending a fine sprinkling of dust down on them. Still holding the man's gun hand, Eric gave it a sharp twist and the man released the gun with a grunt of pain, folding under Eric's kick to the stomach.
Struggling up to hands and knees, the man gasped, "Got...activity..." Frowning, Eric knelt before him, starting to reach for him, and reeled under the impact of a bullet to his shoulder. Turning, he saw before him a young woman with pale blond hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, gun still extended in one gloved hand, her expression determined but blue eyes showing pain and regret as she adjusted the aim of her gun to send another bullet his way.
Dropping to his knees, Eric rolled and sprang to his feet, just within arm's reach of the young blond. Belatedly she started to back away from him but he caught her by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall, hard enough to make her eyes roll up in her head and her body to slide limply down the wall, released by him. Behind her two other men started forward, one clad all in black, his handsome features a cold mask as he aimed and fired.
Three bullets, each sending Eric staggering back under their heavy impact, until his back was to the window. He sagged to his knees, feeling his strength bleeding away, and through a haze he saw the brown haired man approaching, as implacable and unhurried as Death itself. With an effort he rose, glancing sideways to see the stairwell blocked, and whirled to fling himself at the window, thinking only to escape the Snake's minions. Glass shattered under his weight and he was falling, falling...
* ** ** * * * *
Michael stared at the shattered window. He knew that the young man would be dead so he ordered Thompson to collect the body. They would leave nothing behind and could dispose of it back at Section. He then turned to check on Nikita, only to find that she had already risen to her feet and was striding towards him.
Nikita grimaced as she gazed at the window. "This is the part of the job I don't like, Michael. That guy was an innocent."
"But Leder is not," Michael countered, his tone neutral. "We have a job to finish." He studied Nikita for a moment then asked, "You okay?"
"Fine," she replied, wincing a bit as she fingered the back of her head. "Just a little bump," Nikita stated. "I'll be okay."
Michael nodded, not allowing himself to react to the relief that flooded through him. "Let's finish up here." They still had a job to do. He ordered the rest of the team back to the van. He and Nikita would take out Leder. With a signal to Nikita to flollow him, Michael strode off.
Heaving a sigh, and taking one last look at the window, Nikita obeyed.
*****
Madeline smiled at Michael. "How did the mission go?" she queried, as she rose from behind her desk.
"Limited casualties," Michael replied. "Leder is dead."
"Good," Madeline stated. Then she paused to study her monitor screen before commenting, "I understand you brought someone back with you."
Michael blinked, but his face remained a mask. "An innocent," he said softly, remembering Nikita's words. "Wrong place at the wrong time."
Leaning a hip on the corner of the desk, Madeline studied Michael. She admired his ability to remain detached regardless of his feelings. At least, he gave the appearance of being detached, and that was all that really mattered. That, and getting the job done. "What do we know about the young man?" Madeline inquired. "Will he be missed?"
"Birkhoff is running a check as we speak," Michael announced. And, in perfect timing, the doors whooshed open and Birkhoff entered the room.
"Do you know who we have here?" the computer whiz exclaimed, his freshly scrubbed face almost glowing with excitement.
Madeline couldn't even begin to imagine what Birkhoff was talking about and she said as much. "Who...are we speaking about?" she prompted.
Birkhoff rubbed the top of his head and apologized. "Sorry. The guy Michael brought in, the casualty."
"What about him?" Michael questioned, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something about Birkhoff's attitude made him suspicious. Very little excited the kid.
"He's Eric Draven," Birkhoff announced, then he waited for the others to react. Neither Michael nor Madeline displayed any sign of recognition. Birkhoff sighed. "He's the lead guitarist/song writer/co-singer/ and originator of the band Hangman's Joke."
Madeline frowned. "Then...he'll be missed."
Birkhoff shrugged. "Maybe...maybe not," he stated. "Here's the weird part. "About two years ago, Draven and his girlfriend were murdered. He was tossed out a window. Can't remember how many stories...but more than enough to make him dead."
"Murdered?" Michael echoed. He felt a chill run down his spine at the method of death. Out a window. The same way he had died just sixteen hours ago. This time by choice.
"Yeah..that's the weird part," Birkhoff conceded. "You see...about a year ago he came back to life...so to speak..and was arrested and tried for the murder of his girlfriend. He was convicted, but the judge reversed the decision and let him go, stating that he was not convinced that the prosecution had proven their case. He had reasonable doubt, in other words."
Madeline was intrigued. "So...what was Draven's excuse for still being alive?"
Birkhoff sighed. "He didn't offer much of an explanation. Said he woke up and didn't know where he was or what had happened."
"No matter," Madeline stated. "He's dead now. Monitor the media, Birkhoff," she ordered. "Let me know of any mention made of Draven's disappearance."
"Will do," Birkhoff confirmed, then he headed out.
Madeline looked at Michael. "That's all," she told him. "You and Nikita may go home." That said, Madeline returned to the files she had been working on.
Michael didn't need to be told twice. He wanted to leave Section, for the place suddenly felt confining. And he wanted to spend time with Nikita.
*****
Nikita sat on a stool, watching Walter work. She had come to him for comfort, telling him about the young man..the innocent...who had died. "He was young," Nikita whispered. for the dozenth time.
"Only the good die young, sugar," Walter replied, a bit flippantly. He felt bad for Nikita, but she had been with Section long enough to accept the reality of what they did.
"How sad," Nikita stated, with an infinite sense of sorrow. Something about the young man, the look in his dark eyes, wouldn't leave her. Nikita sensed that he had been a kindred soul in some ways. A wild spirit that was trapped in darkness. Twirling a pale lock of hair around one finger, Nikita a sigh. "I'm going home, Walter," she announced, then she bussed him on the cheek.
Walter nodded. "Later, sugar," he said, waving her off. His mind was already focused on his work again. Walter knew that Nikita could take care of herself, and that Michael would watch over her.
*****
Eric came awake into darkness. A suffocating darkness. He tried to sit up but was trapped. Panic overtook him as he suffered from deja vu. He had been in a place like this before. His grave. "NO!" Eric screamed, then he began to claw his way to freedom. Only instead of dirt, his fingertips encountered steel.
end part 1