Gemma Morrow (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} g__morrow) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} omega_reality,@ 2011-12-05 03:24:00 |
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Who: Everyone
Where: Tujunga/Brooklyn
When: 12:24 am PST/03:24am EST, late Sunday/early Monday December 4/5
Summary:It was only a matter of time
There was one thing that this dimension was proving. Superpowers or not, some people just fucking sucked as criminal, and this one was shit at covering his tracks, or maybe he didn't give a shit, although Gemma couldn't understand that. Even when they had the sheriff in the pocket, the Sons always tried to cover their tracks. The point was that finding this man wasn't as difficult as it should have been if he had a fucking brain.
A few contacts, some smoozing with an MC, and they got the information they needed. Mr. Idiotic Terrorist liked to be at a bar in Tujunga. Bars were something that they could do. They went together with Westen and Caffrey, parked the two in a corner where they wouldn't stand out too much and then they went out the back to cover the back and also because plenty of deals were made there, and it was always good to know the pulse of the situation.
They'd been there for about fifteen minutes when Westen texted them that Mr. Terrorist was there. This should have been a breeze. Go in, seduce him, drug him, take him away. Really simple, except nothing was ever simple. They were going back inside when Gemma saw the soldiers, all dressed in black, screaming and looking around. She stopped and backed out before Clay could even get inside. She had no idea what was going on, but she wasn't going to stand there, not that she would have had the chance. This was a biker bar. No one came inside and messed with them, not even soldiers or whoever they were. Shots from guns and rifles started immediately, followed by more screaming.
"Get a bike," she hissed to Clay, while she peeked in front the window. "Shit." If she'd had any doubt about who they were looking for, she had none know. She ran on the dirty ground, stones trapped between the soles and the heels of her boots. "They are looking for us; guys are dead. Let's get the fuck out," she said as she got on the bike. She fished inside Clay's pocket and tossed the phone away, and then pulled out her own, the one test message with all the numbers was right there, and she typed a new message for everyone.
Under attack. Escape now!!!
Gemma tossed the phone. Now, they could use the backroads to reach the safehouse in Kern County.