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A New War #26: Setbacks
by Lianne Burwell
December 1999
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Getting into the estate was easy. Disturbingly so, as far as Krycek was 
concerned. There were only four men patrolling the grounds, accompanied 
by guard dogs. Wolfling's Hunters took them out quickly, knocking them 
unconscious, then tying and gagging them before dumping them under some 
convenient bushes. The dogs were dropped using tranquilizer guns and 
deposited with their handlers.

The building had a simple alarm system, one which took Krycek only a 
minute to disarm. He was starting to get very uneasy by that point. There 
should have been more security. Surely Spender was expecting some sort of 
attack?

Inside, the building was eerily silent, seemingly abandoned. The Hunters 
fanned out on Kincaid's orders, checking every room for signs of life, 
while Krycek lead the search for any concealed entrances or exits.

Ten minutes later, he'd found an elevator concealed behind the wood-
paneling in the hallway outside Spender's study. It was a pity that the 
computer in the study was password locked and they didn't have the time 
to crack the code. Finding Mulder was more important.

The elevator just had two buttons: up and down. Seven men crammed into 
small room, then Krycek pressed the down button. He stood directly in 
front of the elevator doors, gun held ready for whatever they found when 
they stopped. No one challenged him. He was going to find Mulder and God 
help anyone who got in his way.

There was no ping to announce their arrival. The doors just opened and 
they spilled out, taking the technicians in white coats off-guard. Only 
one reached to press a button, but Krycek's gun barrel jammed against his 
temple and the prosthetic arm wrapped around his neck quickly convinced 
him that any further movements would be a very bad idea.

"I could do a very bad Clint Eastwood imitation," Krycek said with an 
insincere smile, "or we could skip that and you'll just tell me what I 
need to know. Now. Before your brains end up splattered all over these 
nice, expensive electronics."

The man gulped a couple times, then said, "What do you want?"

"Good boy," Krycek said approvingly. "Mulder."

"Not here." Krycek growled and the gun barrel pressed a little harder 
against the man, who started sweating profusely. "I tell you! He's not 
here! They took him away four days ago! He was only here for a couple 
hours!" The man was making very unattractive whimpering noises in the 
back of his throat.

"Where did they take him?"

"They didn't say!"

"Guess," Krycek said in a flat monotone.

"The Center! I heard someone say that he'd been sent to the Center!"

Krycek cursed softly. This was not a good thing. The Center had a much 
stronger security system. It was one of the Consortium's main 
experimental facilities in the country and was guarded as such.

"What about the others?" Kincaid asked, coming up beside Krycek.

"Others?" the man squeaked.

"Blackwood. Ironhorse. The three women with them."

The man licked his lips nervously. "Someone came for them. The two men 
and the older woman. A couple hours ago. I don't know where she took 
them."

Krycek squeezed a little, cutting the man's air off. "Liar," he hissed. 
"We've been watching for a couple days. No one arrived or left except 
Spender."

"I swear! I don't know who she was! *He* looked upset, but he handed them 
over to her. I don't know what she did with them after that!"

Krycek forced himself to relax a little bit. He wasn't sure what was 
going on here, but the man obviously believed what he was saying. "And 
the other two women?" he asked, not allowing his frustration to bleed 
through into his voice.

"The... the blond was sent to the Mexican facility," the man told them. 
"The other one is still here.

"It figures," Krycek groused to himself. "The only one left behind is the 
one I *don't* want to see. Well, I suppose we can't leave her here. 
Mulder would get upset if we did."

He pulled the technician out of his seat. "Where is Agent Scully?" he 
asked in a mock-polite voice, but his eyes were gleaming with barely 
restrained violence. The man trembled, but didn't argue. Instead he led 
them to a barely visible door. It opened into a corridor lined with more 
doors, obviously the facility's holding cells.

One of the Hunters started opening doors. It wasn't difficult. There were 
quick-release buttons on each one. Obviously, Spender figured that no one 
would be able to get this far. Naturally, they wouldn't be able to open 
from the inside.

Halfway down the hallway, the man opened a door and was immediately hit 
by a red-head more than a foot shorter than him. It would have been fun 
to watch the poor man trying to defend himself from someone he didn't 
want to hurt, but they didn't have the time.

"Down, Scully. The clock is ticking, and we need to get the hell out of 
here."

Her head twisted so fast that Krycek wondered if she was going to end up 
with whiplash. "You son of a bitch..." she started to hiss.

"Later, Scully," Krycek said with a sigh. "Let's get out of here first, 
okay?"

Instead of answering, she just brushed past him, heading for the exit. 
When she saw Kincaid, she pulled up short, staring up into his face. 
"Ironhorse was *right*," she said in disbelief. Kincaid looked puzzled, 
but didn't say anything. Like Krycek had said, the clock was ticking, and 
sooner or later, reinforcements would be coming. They needed to be out of 
there before they arrived.

They herded the technicians into the now empty cells, locking them in, 
then headed for the elevators. Krycek looked around, briefly wishing for 
some C4 and detonators, but he knew the others would draw the line at 
blowing the place up while there were still people down there. He sighed, 
then punched the up button. Luckily, Scully was small enough to be 
squished in, instead of taking two trips.

The other Hunters waiting for them were definitely getting antsy. One of 
them gestured to Wolfling. "Green says there's trucks heading this way, 
Wolf! We gotta book, *now*."

Wolfling nodded. "All right, folks. You heard the man. Party, part one, 
is now over. Let's get the hell out of here."

"Part one?" Krycek asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey, we told Kincaid that we'd help rescue your friends and his," the 
big man said with a shrug. "Job ain't finished yet. Unless *you're* 
giving up."

Krycek snorted at the idea as he climbed onto the back of the man's 
motorcycle. Everyone else was doing the same and the first few were 
already heading down the drive for the exit. Once off the estate, they 
would head cross-country by a variety of routes, meeting up at the pre-
arranged location. The Hunters might *seem* crude by 'civilized' 
standards, but they were sharp when it came to planning. He liked them.

"Of course not," he said. "But after this, they'll be expecting us at the 
Center."

"That's all right," Wolfling said with a grin. "I got a friend who can 
help us."

"What makes you think this person *can* help us."

"Well, considering he's escaped *from* the Center, more than once, I 
think he can help us figure a way to break someone *out*."

Krycek's eyes went wide. Then the memory of an overheard argument 
involving Spender surfaced. "Your friend wouldn't happen to go by the 
name Jarod, by any chance?" he asked.

"Got it in one, little boy," the Canadian said. Then he kicked his Harley 
to life and they sped down the road, last in the string of vehicles. By 
the time Spender's goons arrived, they would be long gone.

* * * * *

When the sudden burst of light faded, Harrison dropped to his knees. He 
didn't know what the hell had just happened, other than that they were no 
longer where they had been. The air temperature had dropped several 
degrees and the air was musty and heavy with dust. When his eyes finally 
recovered from the blinding flash of light, he looked around to find that 
they were in some sort of abandoned lab. The room was large and echoing, 
not a window in site, and a few microscopes and the like were left on the 
tables scattered around the room. Wires dangled from the walls where 
larger, more elaborate devices had obviously been installed. The only 
thing in the room that *wasn't* covered in a thick, velvety layer of dust 
was a pile of boxes in one corner.

"Where are we?" Paul demanded from his side, one arm protectively wrapped 
around Harrison's shoulders as he struggled back to his feet.

"Someplace safe. Where does not matter," the android told him. It wasn't 
very helpful.

"Why?" Harrison asked. Everything else was secondary to that one 
question, as far as he was concerned.

"Because your cooperation is needed."

"Cooperation?!" Paul snarled. "You're trying to take over our world and 
you want cooperation? You try to kill us and you want *cooperation*!?"

Harrison reached to restrain his lover. This was not the time to be 
losing their tempers. The android just stared at them for a moment, 
completely expressionless, before continuing.

"Your cooperation in preventing my people from taking your world."

That statement shut them all up.

* * * * *

Two hours later, Krycek and Wolfling arrived at the rendezvous location. 
They'd led pursuers on a merry chase before losing them out in the middle 
of nowhere. The morons were probably still scratching their heads, trying 
to figure out what had happened to the two guys on the motorbike. Either 
that or they were shaking in their boots, trying to figure out what they 
were going to tell Spender. Krycek grinned at the thought of the man's 
expression when he found out that someone had broken into his estate and 
made off with one of his prisoners.

Speaking of whom, hurricane Scully -- or maybe blizzard was a better term 
considering how cold the woman could be -- was bearing down on him before 
he'd even gotten off the bike. It was the first time they'd been in the 
same place without Mulder to mediate between them and Krycek wasn't sure 
if he was dreading the confrontation or looking forward to it.

"This is all *your* fault," were the very predictable first words out of 
her mouth.

Krycek blinked. "And how do you figure that?" he asked in a deceptively 
mild tone.

"How could you let Mulder just turn himself over to them?" she demanded, 
but there was a plaintive note to her voice. Krycek sighed. He might not 
like Scully -- and she *definitely* hated him -- but she was Mulder's 
partner and friend, so of course she was worried about him.

"I didn't exactly have a say in the matter," he told her. "The general 
wanted to talk to him, so he headed off, saying he'd be right back. He 
left poor Kincaid to do his dirty work telling me."

"And where were you?" she asked pointedly.

"In a bed in the medical center, recovering from major surgery to repair 
the damage done by a not inconsiderable piece of metal passing through my 
body. You want to see the scar?" he invited, starting to tug at his 
T-shirt.

"Spare me," she said in a tone that had made strong men whither in the 
past. Krycek wasn't impressed.

"Listen, you should know how good Mulder is at ditching people, even when 
they're in the best of health. We still managed to track him here." She 
flushed, the point having hit home. Mulder had ditched *her* far more 
often than he'd ditched Krycek. Well, other than that brief period where 
Krycek had been playing the naïve FBI agent.

"But he isn't here anymore!" she replied

"No, but we *were* able to find out where he was sent to. Wolfling," he 
said, gesturing to the over-sized man who was part of their very 
interested audience, "knows someone who can get us into the facility 
where they're holding him. We go in, we get Mulder, then we track down 
the others."

"I wouldn't have thought you'd care about anyone else," Scully said with 
a sneer.

"But then, you don't know me, do you?"

"I know enough. You're a traitor and a murderer and worse."

That got a reaction from the small crowd around them. "You work from the 
outside, I work from the inside," he told her. "And I've never killed 
anyone who didn't deserve it."

"Like my sister?" Scully shouted. "Did she deserve it?"

Krycek threw up his hands. "How many times do I have to say it before you 
get it through your head? I. Did. Not. Kill. Your. Sister!"

"Maybe not, but you were there. You could have stopped Cardinale," She 
said accusingly.

"And if I had, he would have killed me and your sister would probably 
still have ended up dead. And so would a lot of other people. You can't 
deny that the information I've funneled Mulder since then has saved 
lives."

Scully just glared at him. Obviously she could and would. "Why don't you 
admit the truth," she hissed. "The only thing you care about is *you*."

"Wrong," he shot back. "I care about Mulder too. And in a choice between 
him and a stranger -- hell, him and *you* -- he'll win every time."

Scully snorted. "The only thing you care about Mulder is getting into his 
pants," she said.

"Which is more than you care," he hissed back.

Scully went white. "How dare you..." she started to say. Krycek dropped 
into a fighting stance, ready for whatever she threw at him next.

Blood-letting was starting to look inevitable when Kincaid stepped 
between them, his face tense with anger. "Listen, if the two of you want 
to rip each other to shreds, that's your business. Just wait until we've 
found the other, all right?"

Krycek took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, forcing himself to 
relax. Kincaid was right: this wasn't helping matters.

"We rescue Mulder, then find the others," he told Scully. "You can help 
or you can head back to D.C.. Your choice. Just don't get in my way."

"If you think I'm leaving Mulder to you, you've got another thing coming. 
But," she said grudgingly, "I'll work with you until he's free. After 
that..." She glared at him.

"After that, all bets are off," he promised her. The smile he got in 
return was almost scary.

Still, they understood each other. Trust was a different matter 
altogether.

* * * * *

Debi McCullough felt like shit, pure and simple.

She rolled over in bed, already aiming for the conveniently placed 
bucket. The smell rising from it was the last impetus her stomach needed, 
and she was heaving, adding what was left in her stomach to the fluids 
already in the bucket

As the last spasms faded, her stomach completely empty, she reached for 
the pitcher of water sitting on the table next to her bed and poured a 
glass. Her hands trembled and a little bit slopped onto the table 
surface. She ignored it. She rinsed her mouth with a small amount, 
spitting it into the bucket, then sipped the lukewarm liquid. When she'd 
finished the glass, she put it down and collapsed back onto the bed.

The heat was almost unbearable. The air in the room was stagnant, fetid, 
and the heat sapped all of her strength. She reached a hand down and 
rubbed her stomach through the thin nightgown she'd been given to wear. 
She winced a little. Whatever they'd done to her while she was 
unconscious had left her sore and with a stomach that rebelled at all 
thoughts of food. She'd lost weight and the only thing that was keeping 
her healthy were the daily shots of vitamins and intravenous feedings her 
captors had been giving her.

If only she could get them to explain what was *happening* to her.

Maybe she wouldn't be so scared.

She'd been separated from her mother and the others as soon as that... 
*person* had finished his phone-call to Agent Mulder. She'd been injected 
with something and didn't remember anything else until she'd woke in her 
current location. She wanted -- no, *needed* -- to know where the others 
were, but no one would answer her questions. Was her mother somewhere in 
this building? And where was she anyway?

And what were they doing to her?

Despite her efforts to stop them, the tears started again. She rolled 
over onto her side and curled up around her aching stomach, the sobs 
making her whole body shake. The sound of the door opening heralded the 
arrival of her keepers, come to stick needles in her again, but she 
ignored them.

The only thing real to her was her misery and there was no relief from it.


TO BE CONTINUED