Part 1
ATF Universe
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I'm just taking them out to play for a while.
Warnings: None
Rating: PG (language)
Genre: gen, h/c, angst
Summary: Ezra and Vin run afoul of a bad guy and go missing. Strange things start to occur, both for Ezra and Vin, and for the rest of Team Seven.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to my betas Axianna, and Katherine. Thanks also to MOG for creating this wonderful universe for us to play in.
Notes: This story is my answer to the May 2002 Challenge, offered by Michelle, summarized below.
Do you believe
in the supernatural, the unusual, the out of the ordinary things that can
not be explained? What would the boys do when faced with
such a situation? Write a story where one or more of the boys are caught up
with forces beyond their control. My one stipulation is that there most be
some otherwordly figure, (ghost, alien, angel, etc...) there to help them
along. Note: This should not be a horror story!
Darkness. Ezra blinked again, but the view didn't change. The blackness was darker than anything he had ever experienced, a complete and utter nothingness. Ezra raised a hand, holding it in front of his face, where he should have been able to see it. But there was nothing there. Panic welled within him as he came to the conclusion that he was blind. Fumbling around desperately with his hands, Ezra tried to determine where he was. The last thing he remembered was meeting with Rudolfo Brunelli, the weapons dealer Team Seven was currently trying to take down.
Ezra walked into the empty office building, Vin following close behind him. Several weeks of gradually earning the confidence of Walter Mayfield, one of Brunelli's front men, had paid off, and tonight they were meeting with the head man himself.
Vin gazed around the large, dimly-lit space warily. I'm not likin' this place, Ez, he said softly. We should'a worn a wire.
This is standard meeting procedure for Mr. Brunelli, from what I'm told, Ezra replied. The risk is too great that he will have us searched at an introductory meeting such as this.
I got a bad feelin', Vin continued.
Ezra didn't reply, but he had to agree with his bodyguard'. Something wasn't right. The presence of the rest of the team, concealed in vans behind two nearby buildings, did nothing to alleviate his anxiety. They were too far away to be of much help if things went wrong, but there had been no closer places for them to conceal themselves.
Ezra couldn't explain it, but he had been feeling uneasy since they arrived at the isolated location on the outskirts of the city. Brunelli owned a construction company – one of his many legitimate businesses – and the office building in which they were meeting was one of his projects. It was nearly finished, but not yet occupied, giving Brunelli a convenient and private place to conduct his illegal business. There were no dividing walls in the large open space, only support columns spaced evenly throughout. It was probably going to be a cubicle farm' eventually, with configurable partitions erected throughout. Ezra shivered, wondering at the source of the bad vibes he was receiving from the place.
Here we go, Vin said as a group of four men moved toward them. The man in the front of the group, Walter Mayfield, was thin and balding, walking with an awkward, slightly nervous gait. The man next to him was completely the opposite. He was tall and stocky with graying hair, and carried himself with confidence born of authority. Behind him stood two large and well-muscled men who exuded danger. Their faces were blank, save for their eyes, which focused upon the two agents warily, watching for any sign of threat.
Stifling a sigh, Ezra plastered a smile on his face and stepped forward to meet the awaiting men.
Mr. Sanders. Walter Mayfield stepped forward to greet him, grasping his hand in a firm handshake. May I introduce my employer, Mr. Brunelli.
Sir, it is indeed a pleasure, Ezra said, reaching out to the gun dealer for a handshake. Brunelli took his hand in an almost crushing grip. Ezra didn't bother introducing Vin, since bodyguards were essentially nameless to men like Brunelli, who viewed them simply as bodies that he paid to do his bidding. Money and power – and those who held them – were his only concerns.
Brunelli waved his two large bodyguards forward. I hope you don't mind, but I fear I must ask that you allow my associates to search you. Security, you know.
Of course, Ezra replied smoothly, gesturing toward Vin as if to order him to comply. The men searched them thoroughly, removing the gun Ezra wore in a shoulder holster under his suit coat, as well as the smaller weapon at his ankle. Similarly, Vin was relieved of the two guns under his jacket and the third at the small of his back. The knife in his boot did not escape detection either, and he shrugged in response to the questioning looks given by Brunelli's men.
Mr. Taylor likes to be well-prepared to protect me in all circumstances, Ezra offered, noting the concerned looks with which Brunelli was favoring Vin and his arsenal of weapons.
Brunelli nodded, accepting that explanation, much to Ezra's relief. He smiled reassuringly at Vin, who was obviously unhappy with the situation. Ezra was not comfortable with the idea of being weaponless himself, but knew that it was necessary to gain the trust of the weapons merchant.
Walter tells me you have quite a shopping list, Brunelli began after the search was completed.
Ezra answered. I have some special customers in need of substantial armament. They are willing to pay quite handsomely for it.
Might I ask their purpose for such weapons? Brunelli asked.
Ezra smiled. They have not enlightened me as to their intentions, but I believe they are planning to eliminate their competitors in the drug trade. He shrugged. Nasty business, but they are very good customers.
Brunelli laughed. That's good business, in my book. His cell phone chose that moment to ring with a shrill sound that echoed off of the walls in the cavernous space. Pardon me for a moment. Brunelli turned and walked away, speaking softly into his phone.
Ezra exchanged a concerned look with Vin, wondering what could be so important that Brunelli would choose to interrupt their meeting. His earlier uneasiness had given way to a gnawing anxiety and Ezra was beginning to consider that it might be prudent to make a rapid exit from this situation.
Mr. Brunelli was very interested when I told him what you were looking for, Mayfield said. This could turn into quite a lucrative arrangement for all of us.
I sincerely hope so, Ezra said with a smile.
I'm afraid that is not an option, Brunelli said in a steely voice as he turned around, gun in hand.
Is there a problem? Ezra inquired politely, the mild tone of his voice hiding the apprehension he was feeling.
Mayfield asked, confused at the sudden change in plans.
These two are ATF, you idiot, Brunelli snarled.
That's impossible! They're clean, Mayfield stuttered. I double-checked it myself.
He is correct, Mr. Brunelli, Ezra said, in an effort to regain control of the situation. We are not affiliated with law enforcement.
That's not what my source tells me, Brunelli said icily, and he hasn't failed me yet. He turned to Mayfield. I don't blame you, Walter. They're very good, for cops. He switched his attention back to Ezra. It's a pity Mr. Sanders – though I doubt that's your real name. I was rather looking forward to doing business with you.
Sharing a grim look with Vin, Ezra whirled around and attempted to
dive to the side, out of the line of fire. He saw one of the bodyguards
looming behind his friend, but before he could warn him, something exploded
in his head and blackness engulfed him.
That was all he remembered before waking up blind in this cold place, wherever it was. His shaking hands found a large bump on the back of his head, the likely source of the throbbing in his skull. Ezra grimaced and leaned back against the rough surface behind him. From what he could determine with his impaired faculties, he was in a cold, damp place surrounded by stone walls. The echo he heard when calling out told him he was inside, probably in a basement of some sort. The word dungeon' came uncomfortably to mind.
Ezra shivered, cursing Brunelli and his goons for taking his overcoat. It was early autumn, but the cold came quickly to the Denver area, and he tended to feel it more than the rest of his teammates. In an effort to stretch his stiff muscles, he stood and began feeling his way along the walls, careful to maintain contact with the rough surface, letting his fingertips brush along it as he moved. Without his sight, this light contact with the walls was his only guide.
There was no sound in this place except that of his feet scraping against the hard floor and his own breathing, making him feel even more isolated. Suppressing a shudder at the thought of being alone in this godforsaken place, he continued his explorations. He had been searching for a few minutes when his foot encountered an unseen rock and he stumbled, falling to his hands and knees. He gasped aloud when his right hand landed on something yielding and warm. Ghosting his hands over the form, he sighed in relief when he encountered the long hair of his partner.
Mr. Tanner, he called, shaking Vin's shoulder gently. Wake up, Vin. Ezra ran his hand carefully over the sharpshooter's head, frowning when he encountered the large bump near the base of his skull, the area around it still tacky with what he assumed was blood. His actions were rewarded with a muffled groan, and Ezra sat alongside the unconscious man with a sigh and waited for his senses to return.
Aw man, Vin moaned. Ez? Ez! He sat up quickly in a panic, then immediately regretted it when his stomach threatened to empty itself.
I'm right here, Mr. Tanner, Ezra said, touching Vin's shoulder.
I can't see you, Vin said. It's dark.
Can you see anything at all?
Vin waved a hand in front of his face, just as Ezra had done earlier.
Ezra groaned. Then it appears our predicament is worse than I believed.
I thought that I was blind, due to the blow that Mr. Brunelli's associates were kind enough to bestow upon my head, Ezra explained. It appears, however, that we are located someplace where there is absolutely no light.
Ezra said. It will make extricating ourselves a bit difficult.
No kidding, Vin snorted. I wonder who tipped Brunelli.
I, too, would be interested in the source' responsible for our presence in this wretched place, Ezra added.
They contemplated the situation silently for a few minutes until Vin grew restless and started moving around. So where do you think we are?
I have no idea, Ezra replied. All I have been able to determine is that the walls are comprised of rough stone.
Guess we better check it out, if we're ever gonna get out of here, Vin said, his voice carrying an unfamiliar edgy tone.
That would be prudent, Ezra agreed, easing himself to his feet while assisting Vin in doing the same. Keeping their arms linked, both for support and to keep from losing each other in the darkness, the undercover agent and the sharpshooter began to explore their prison.
I don't like it, Buck said. They should be out of there by now.
Chris looked at his watch and nodded. This shouldn't have taken more than thirty minutes. They've been in there nearly an hour. He keyed the radio. Any sign of them, Josiah?
Josiah replied. Nobody has gone in or come out.
Maybe we should call Ezra's cell phone, JD suggested. We've done that before. He just pretends it's a business call.
Chris nodded, already reaching for his phone. Good idea. He punched the speed dial for Ezra's phone and waited. After a few minutes, he tried Vin's number with the same result. Finally, he switched it off, looking up at his men grimly. No answer.
Buck swore and slammed his hand on the steering wheel, while JD looked at him with worried eyes.
Josiah's voice came over the speaker. Something up?
Yeah, Josiah, Chris replied. Vin and Ez aren't answering their phones.
We going in?
Chris said. Bring the van to the door.
Buck had the van moving before Chris had finished speaking to Josiah. Moments later, the two vans pulled to a halt in front of the wide glass doors of the building's entrance. The five men leaped out of the van and hit the doors at a run, cursing when they found them to be locked. Peering through the glass, Chris could discern little in the shadowy interior.
Pushing him aside, JD quickly picked the lock, ignoring the surprised looks of his teammates. Ez taught me, he tersely explained as he threw the door open. The five men rushed inside only to stop dead in their tracks. The building was empty.
Shit! Where the hell are they? Buck shouted angrily.
Chris stood with his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes smoldering with fury. I don't know, but I'm sure the hell going to find out.
Nathan called. Look at this.
Chris joined Nathan, who was illuminating something on the floor with his flashlight. What is it?
Nathan replied. There isn't much, but it's fresh.
With a sigh, Chris ran a hand through his hair and then reached for his cell phone. I'm getting forensics in here. Nate, can you hang around and brief them? At Nathan's nod, he directed the rest of his men, Let's get back to the office and see if we can't find out what went wrong. Chris gave the empty building one last glance before he followed his team back to their vehicles.
There was wood under his hand. Ezra stopped suddenly, surprised at discovering something other than stone along the walls.
Vin asked from his side.
There is a wooden beam of some sort here, Ezra explained. He felt for Vin's hand and then guided it to the rough wooden surface.
Vin sighed. I think I know where we might be.
Can't be sure, but I think it's a mine, he related flatly, a hint of shakiness in his voice.
A mine? Ezra repeated.
Probably an old one. The mountains are full of them.
Ezra replied sourly. It appears our Mr. Brunelli is a rather twisted individual.
He's a sick bastard, Vin said vehemently, pushing away from the wall and resuming his progress along the tunnel.
Ezra hurried to follow, struggling to maintain his grip on Vin's arm. He frowned as he detected a sudden change in his friend's breathing. Mr. Tanner, are you all right?
Don't like closed-in places, Ez, Vin said tightly.
Ezra silently cursed himself for forgetting that Vin was claustrophobic. The sharpshooter had never admitted to the condition, but Ezra had recognized the subtle signs when they had been stuck in the elevator for a few minutes one day. The only thing he could do for him was keep him distracted enough not to worry about where he was. It was a difficult proposition, especially since he was feeling a bit claustrophobic himself at the knowledge that he was deep underground, where no light could reach.
Ezra shivered at that thought then determinedly pushed it away. A distraction could work both ways. I must admit that I find our surroundings less than comfortable myself, he began. Though, I usually don't mind small places. In fact, I used to search them out as a child.
What for? Vin asked, puzzled at the thought of someone deliberately putting themselves into small spaces.
Ezra paused for a moment, trying to decide how much he should reveal. It was true that he usually didn't mind being in close quarters; he found them comforting, in fact. But the reasons for that were not something he usually discussed with anyone. Still, if it would help Vin take his mind off of their dire circumstances...
He sighed. I have always found small, dark spaces comforting. They are... safe. He rubbed his hand over his face. When I was a child, Maude would often deposit me with relatives and acquaintances while she enjoyed the social scene. In truth, I rarely ever spent more than two weeks at a time in her company before being dumped at the next convenient stop. Some of those people were rather reluctant hosts, and I found myself seeking out places to keep out of their way. He smiled bitterly to himself. Sometimes it is better not to be seen or heard.
Vin listened with growing understanding. He, too, had often been less than welcome in some of the foster homes in which he stayed, and he heard the part that Ezra wasn't saying. It surprised him, since he had believed the dapper southerner's childhood to be one of luxury and privilege, the exact opposite to his own. It appeared, though, that their formative years were more similar than different. It also explained a lot about the aloof man beside him. He said knowingly, I know what you mean. Some of the places I lived weren't too friendly neither. I usually took to the outdoors, though. Easy to get lost in the wilderness, y'know?
Some people should not be entrusted with the care of children, Ezra said quietly, remembering the abuse he had endured while he stayed with some of his caretakers'.
Vin snorted. No kiddin'. Hell, some of them people treated their dogs better n their foster kids.
I stayed with one such person, Ezra offered, feeling surprisingly comfortable talking of this with the sharpshooter. He was some friend or acquaintance of Maude's. His cat slept on a giant pillow – in its very own room, mind you – while I slept on a bare floor in the attic.
One family I lived with had three dogs, Vin said. The dogs lived in the house with em, but they made me live in the garage. Said they were doin' their Christian duty' by takin' in an orphan, an' I should be happy to have a roof over my head. He said the last in a disgusted voice that conveyed what he thought of that.
It does tend to strain one's faith in humanity, doesn't it, Ezra commiserated.
Vin replied. Shit like that is the main reason I started huntin' bounties. When I's livin' in Texas after the Rangers, my neighbor's boyfriend beat her into a coma and then jumped bail after he was arrested. She was a nice lady. Didn't deserve that. The boyfriend was a dirtbag, an' I was pissed that he was gonna get away with it, so I went after im. Caught im in less than a week. The bail bondsman said I was pretty good, n got me a license. He chuckled. I was workin' in a gas station, so it weren't no great loss to quit. Sides, I figured I was doing some good by gettin' bastards like that off the streets.
A noble endeavor, Ezra agreed.
So, how'd you get into law enforcement? Vin asked curiously, taking advantage of this sudden openness that his friend was exhibiting.
It was something of an accident, Ezra said in an amused voice. One night while I was in college, I was having dinner by myself in a small Chinese restaurant, when I overheard some patrons discussing a murder they intended to commit. They were speaking German and did not expect that anyone nearby would understand them.
Vin laughed. Jesus, Ez, You sure know how to step in it.
The story of my life, Ezra said with a smile. It got more interesting when the FBI grabbed me as I walked back to my apartment. Apparently, they were conducting surveillance on the men I overheard and observed my location in the next booth. They were interested in what I might have heard and were quite surprised to discover that I not only spoke German, but that I remembered every word that had been said during the conversation. To make a long story short, they drafted me into unofficial temporary duty, since I was a regular at that restaurant and I spoke seven languages. I found that I enjoyed all of the intrigue and entered the FBI academy after I graduated.
You speak seven languages?
Yes. French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, German, Dutch, and Japanese. I also studied Latin and managed to pick up bits of Greek, Arabic, and Mandarin Chinese over the years.
Vin said appreciatively.
It's one of the few benefits of my travels with my mother.
I did a bit of traveling with the Army, but never stayed anywhere long enough to learn the language Vin said. Ain't nothin' I can tell you about, though.
Ezra could hear the smile in his voice and was glad that the conversation he had initiated was providing a calming distraction. I believe I will be in need of some vacation travels, once we are able to find our way out of here.
Ain't as easy as it sounds, Vin said. There's lots of winding tunnels, specially in these old places.
How do you know so much about mines? Ezra inquired, curiosity overriding his normal hesitancy to pry into anyone else's past. This is not the type of place I imagine you would visit for enjoyment.
A guy I worked with few times when I's a bounty hunter used to like explorin' caves and such, Vin explained, his distaste for the activity evident in his voice. Told me stories about it when we was on stakeouts.
Did he, perhaps, give you some idea as to how we might effect an exit from these dreary environs?
Nope. He just told me it weren't a good idea to get yourself lost in Vin sighed defeatedly. Guess he was right bout that. Hell, we don't even know which direction to try.
Ezra blew out a breath. You are correct, I suppose. Ezra didn't voice his suspicion that Brunelli would not leave such a thing to chance, anyway. Do you have any suggestions?
Vin chuckled nervously. Might as well just pick a direction. Who knows, we might get lucky?
Why don't you choose?
Nah, you're luckier 'n me, Vin said. You pick.
Sir, I abhor gambling and, as such, leave nothing to chance, Ezra said proudly.
That mean you cheat?
When necessary, Ezra said with a sly chuckle.
Then cheat away, Vin said.
If you insist, Ezra said. Let us attempt this direction. He urged Vin to his left and the two men proceeded, carefully making their way down the tunnel.