#i may have reused killer’s hand from another thing i drew but don’t focus on that too much WEEPING

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: None

A/N:  Another shorter chapter (don’t worry I have some longer ones coming), but we’re now back in present day.  For those that have been wondering what it all means, you got the backstory, now we’re starting to answer some real questions.  The next two are action packed and I excite.

And if you’re here because of some Mandalorian smut, then welcome.  Just know there isn’t smut yet for California (but y’all get a WHOLE ASS CHAPTER OF IT later), but some people on here seem to think this a good story.  So, welcome and I hope you enjoy it!

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5] [PART 6]  [PART 7]

Part 8 

Like a Hunted Animal

 Today

As she knelt in the boardroom, Shirley began to sense a metallic taste in her mouth.  As it grew stronger, she crawled over to the trash can and bent over.  With perfect timing, she began to vomit and as she emptied the contents of her stomach in the bag, she began to feel better.  She spit a final time to get the taste out of her mouth and she rocked back, still shivering as the cold lump in her chest remained.  She took a deep breath.

Jack would protect her, she told herself.  She’s at HQ, this is her turf.  The agents were out there looking for him.  Merlin was probably with Ginger, trying to find him.  Agent Port wasn’t going to get her.  She was going to be fine.  This wasn’t California.

She felt marginally better after the mental pep talk and she stopped shaking uncontrollably, although the shivers were still there every so often. Despite her fear, she smirked. Dr. Orange would be proud of her. Lost in her thoughts, she let the therapist’s calm voice guide her.  

Breath in.

Breath out.

Again.

You’re doing fine.

You’re doing fine.

---***---

As the agents quietly left the board room, they went their separate ways. Brandy and Vodka stalked through the halls, recruiting other agents to join them and moving staff into offices out of harms way.  Champ drew his revolver and radioed for Chai to call West Coast immediately.  Tequila cocked his rifle and went office by office looking for his quarry.  Merlin joined up with Ginger to stalk Agent Port through the cameras.  And Jack drew both his guns and walked directly to the library.  Every agent was on high alert and nothing was going to stop Champ, Jack, and Tequila from murdering this son of a bitch with their bare hands.

As Merlin and Ginger tracked him the best they could, the confirmation that their suspect was indeed a Statesman made them both look grim. While they could find some movement, he was too good to be caught on camera.  Ginger radioed the rest of the team and relayed her findings.  Without a good picture and no information from Shirley, they were going to have to rely on knowing their crew in HQ to suss out him out.

Chai turned around and called back to Ginger, “West Coast is sending guys out, but they said Agent Port’s been dead seven months and besides their Port was a woman, not a man.  They haven’t gotten around to reusing the name.”

“Likely the victim of the serial killer.”  Ginger replied.  She had been right on a lot of things on this case and she bet against the house her comment was correct.  Whoever Agent Port was, he was their man, but remained an enigma.  But he was here, and they were going to finally get some damned answers.

“THIS DAMN CASE!”  Ginger shrieked at her computer and slammed her fists on the desk.  Chai and Shirley jumped a mile at the sudden outburst. “WHY CAN’T I FIND THE GODDAMN LINK?!”

“Okay, Tequila, Jr.  What’s the problem?”  Shirley stood up and looked over her friend’s shoulder, resting her hand there.

“It’s the damn case.”  Ginger wasn’t much calmer, but not as loud.  She pointed to the large screen on the wall, where the case files from California were splayed out.  “I know the answer is here because you guys were close to it yourselves, but I know we’re missing stuff.”

“Well yeah,” Came the reply.  Shirley was looking at the files and she looked down.  “I don’t see any of those microdrive files here.  We had way more stuff than this.”

“That’s the problem, though, Shirl.  The drive is gone, all that work is lost.  I’ve been trying to recreate this case from scratch practically.”

“No, it’s not.”  Ginger swiveled her chair around to look at her friend.  It had been more than four years since California.  There was no way anything was still around they could draw evidence from, Shirley’s memory – whatever she may remember – wasn’t enough.

“I hid the drive in my shoe before we left the house.  If my shoes were destroyed, then yes, the drive is gone. But if they weren’t, it should still be there.”  Shirley looked at her friend.  She knew they tip toed around California, but she was shocked that all this time had passed, and they never once asked her about the most important piece to this whole thing.

“Son of . . .”  Ginger got up and left.  When she arrived at the evidence room, she asked the manager, Punch, to grab what she needed.  West Coast had sent everything back to HQ for storage and in the third box, she found the shoes.  She ripped out the insoles and when she withdrew her hand, she had the drive. And all it’s information.  They were going to nail this bastard.

---***---

Shirley continued to sit there, running through the calming techniques, feeling more and more in control.  That didn’t mean she wasn’t still scared, because she was, given a complete and utter psycho was after her.  But in the moment, the fear that spurred her from the library wasn’t in control anymore.  But before she could move or even open her eyes, she heard a tapping noise.  Almost like metal on glass.  Shirley opened her eyes and whipped her head around to the bank of hallway windows behind her.

She sat frozen in place as she watched through the frosted glass as a large, masculine body slowly walk down the hallway.  The end of his gun was dragged along the surface as its owner continued his methodical pace.  He was getting closer to the door.  The closer he got, the more panicky she felt.  She got up to her feet to rush over and lock the door, but it was as if he knew and suddenly, the shadow disappeared, and the door swung wide open.

Agent Port stood in the doorway, his gun in hand and a feral smile on his face.

The shock made her drop back to her knees and she began to crawl backwards away from him. She was breathing heavy again, but her focus on him blocked out everything else and suddenly she found herself in the corner, trapped. She kept looking him in the face as he moved closer to her.  When he stood five feet from her, he squatted down to her level and looked her in the eye.

“Hello Sirah.  I’m here for my microdrive now.”

All she wanted to do was scream and in that moment her voice failed her.