RP: Another Rift, Another Day, Another Brian. Who: Brian O'Conner, John Connor, and Alpha Unit Where: Mexico to Texas to a plane over the Southwest and California When: Wednesday, February 20, 2013 Summary: Brian didn't take the left at Alberqueque and still wound up in the Twilight Zone.
If it had been anyone but Suki, Brian thought as he crossed into Laredo, Texas out of Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. But, it was Suki and Tej knew Brian wouldn't say no to helping Suki out of a jam. He and Rome owed her one for the bailout in Miami ten years ago. And no one would be looking for him in Miami. Miami had been a blip. Everyone knew O'Conner and the Torettos were based out of L.A.
If they could go home, that is.
Of course, there had been an argument over his coming up here at all. Dom had wanted to come in his place, ever the protective patriarch of the family. But, Suki didn't know Dom and Miami was the one place where Brian had more street contacts than Dom, despite the fact Tej and Rome had been in on the Rio job. And like hell either one of them was risking Mia and the baby on this trip.
Brian won the argument when he informed Dom he learned about taking care of his own from Dom and Suki was one of his.
He had contemplated going further west and coming up through the desert passes of Arizona or New Mexico. Braga wasn't the only one running cargo through tunnels under some of those mountains. But, he decided against it. Going over land instead of hitching a ride on a cargo ship directly to Miami was enough misdirection for anyone trying to track him back to Dom and Mia if he was caught. Too much farther and it would simply be a potentially costly inconvenience.
Anyway, sometimes, you came in through proper channels because that was the last place anyone was going to be looking for you.
Case in point:
Tie your surfboard to the roof of a mud-covered mini-coup, slide a cheesy bumper sticker that says 'Cancun' onto the dash, flash a boyish grin and a well-counterfeited passport, and watch yourself sail right through the passenger car checkpoints and into the city.
Once he was well into Laredo, Brian pulled the car over into a motel parking lot and got himself a room. Paid in full for a week. Cash. And an hour later he was throwing his one bag into the back of a Mach 1 and heading northeast on the 59 out of town. If he stayed on the smaller state highways, he knew he could bypass all the major cities like Houston and San Antonio and College Station, while still making it to Louisiana in less than eight hours if he could average 100mph most of the way.
It was the long way, but it would keep him off the grid as much as possible.
If he didn't know there was no internet, no red light cameras, no webcams, no ATM cameras, and no ATMs, John would want to take Eric's search program back to his world. Or, at the very least, he'd want to see if something like it existed already. One program that could seek out images in a myriad of cameras in a geographic location based on textual keywords was awesome.
There were two giant flaws in the process, however: you had to know what you were looking for and there had to be cameras to search.
Texas, it seemed, had a real thing against red light cameras and webcams were only so useful.
Vance had asked John to start searching for a new arrival near the airport in Laredo about an hour ago. John had managed to catch an image of a dark blue Ford Mustang Mach 1, the later model years, off a traffic webcam near the Laredo Correctional Processing Center off the 59. After double checking that there had been no later models in this dimension, he knew what to track. He even had a partial plate number. But there was no real shot of the driver, although John had taken to thinking of him as male, and after a couple spaced out residential neighborhoods, the 59 was open road with only a very sparse reminder of civilization until you got to Freer, about an hour away.
So, now he was setting the search program to search for a dark blue car, no make and model because this one wouldn't be recognized in the system, as much of the plate number as he had because that would be picked up by OCR, and over as many cameras as could be found in Freer. Luckily there was another airport there. So, John hoped he'd be able to pick up something there. Until this guy got to an area where they could track him for more than a block, they couldn't send a team to pick him up.
Luck was his friend. Or, so he thought for that first moment.
He found the car in a parking lot near the airport...clearly abandoned. The guy had even taken the plates.
Brian hadn't noticed as much as he should have on the road. No, that wasn't strictly true. He'd chosen the smaller state road that wouldn't have as many other cars on it for that very reason. So, the fact it took him until the outskirts of Freer to start noticing exactly how many cars of different models with strange license plates there were on the road was a little understandable. And, really, he'd been outside the states for so long now he wouldn't know all the plate designs by heart any more.
But, he would have been deaf, blind, and stupid not notice it in the city. What the hell was going on?
The more he drove on, the more he began to grow uncomfortable in his own car. There wasn't a single plate that looked like his, which he knew was the standard design. And the Mach 1 might not be a common car on the road in these parts, but half the models he saw were brand new to him and he was sure he'd seen a couple makes that were, too. This didn't make any sense.
And he didn't have time to make it.
If he was going to stand out in this car, he needed to ditch it and soon. Standing out was the last thing he needed. There were ways in which attracting attention was the best way to hide. This wasn't one of them.
Taking the exit for the airport, he slid into the first parking lot he came to. It was long term and it would be awhile before they realized he wasn't coming back for the car. By then, he'd be long gone. He did take the time to take off the plates, however. He tossed those into the third recycle bin he passed on foot once he left. Without the distinctive plates it would take longer for someone to notice the weird model of the Mach 1. It was funny how people's eyes could just skate over details they weren't expecting to see while their brains supplied what was expected.
It was when he stopped at a seedy looking used car lot to pick up another ride that he noticed the second problem.
His money was no good.
Hell, the salesman who had initially perked up considerably at the idea of making a cash sale told Brian in no uncertain terms toy money wasn't accepted and pointed to the door. What the fuck was that shit?
Testing the theory, Brian walking into a convenience store a couple blocks away and tried to buy a six pack of Corona. The six-pack, at least, seemed normal. The fact the clerk reacted in much the same way as the car salesman when Brian took out cash was not. It was disturbing. And, more importantly, it meant Brian was without a beer he was beginning to sorely need.
Okay, so the stash of cash in his bag didn't seem to be as much of a help as he'd thought it would be when he packed for his trip. That was fine. Wouldn't be the first time Brian had made his way across multiple states with just the shirt on his back and the pistol beneath the shirt. As he backed out of the store and headed out on foot again, he weighed his options.
First, he could find a place to hole up until he hooked up with the race scene and won himself some cash. He'd need a car for that, though. And, right now, he didn't have one. Plus, if things were still the same as they were ten years ago, most of the racing in this part of the country was in San Antonio or Corpus Christi.
Second, he could find a bar, a naive girl to buy him drinks and take him home for the night. Maybe he could wash a few dishes for a day or two somewhere, get some money under the table.
Or, third, he could do what he did best and boost a car, skip the racing, and get the hell out of dodge before things got even freakier. Get his ass to Miami and pray that whatever Suki had gotten herself into, it wasn't as weird as Texas was turning out to be.
While he made his decision, Brian just kept walking. He'd stay on the move as long as he could. Maybe he'd start hitchhiking. It'd be one way to find out what the hell was going on around here.
Back in California, John retrieved the data for the webcam feed back for a half an hour, hoping to get a clear image of the driver of the car. He was a little surprised to find out he had to go back almost that far to find when the car had been driven into the lot. This guy had a lead foot, that much was certain. But, he also seemed very aware of his surroundings. Through some miracle the video feed was close enough and could be enlarged and cleaned up enough to get a decent image of the driver as he got out of the car. But, the guy must have seen the camera before he left the car because he was careful to keep his face turned away, always completely casually so you had to look really closely to tell it wasn't a total coincidence.
With the man setting off on foot, however, it was a little easier to track him. There were plenty of cameras around the airport and surrounding businesses. Still, it took some time to find the cameras and get a sense of his movement. Whoever he was, this guy was no stranger to hiding in plain sight and keeping a low profile.
It took some time, but John was able to track him on foot to a used car lot, where he seemed to realize his cash -- and he didn't seem to have a small amount of it -- was no good. The guy didn't even bother trying credit. So, either he was smart enough to assume that wouldn't work either, or (more likely) he was a cash only guy, which John found telling in combination with the rest of what he'd seen. From there, John tracked him to a local convenience store and was finally able to get a decent picture of the guy from the store's security feed. He put that through photo recognition while he tried to catch up to the guy's movements on the video feeds.
Judging by timestamps, John was about twenty minutes behind the guy when he caught one last shot of him talking to a pretty redhead in a pickup truck. John was getting ready to tell Vance he thought he had him when the guy got in the truck and drove off. It looked like they were on State Highway 16. But, there was no telling if they'd stay there and a quick check of online maps and satellite views showed that 16 was going through nothing but open country until it hit Jourdanton, Poteet, and then finally San Antonio. John would have to set the video search to find the truck in those cities and hope it showed up.
Damn. Lost him again.
Her name was Charlene and she was going to San Antonio for a job and of course, she'd be happy to let such a pretty man hitch a ride to meet his parents in the city. It was such a shame about those thugs who'd run off with his wallet and bus tickets. No one should miss their mama's sixty-fifth birthday, don't worry about a thing, Sugar.
Brian smiled gratefully, nodding and interjecting the appropriate amount of nothing comments as they drove. It was the one thing he appreciated about the South: Southern hospitality. A sunny smile and a friendly laugh got him further than all the money in the world.
It was a two hour drive up to San Antonio, mostly because the pickup didn't have a chance of going as fast as he'd like to drive it and Charlene wasn't interested in letting this encounter end quickly. The coy looks and flirty smiles were enough to tell Brian that much. And that was fine. Brian could smile and flirt, too. At the same time, he was figuring out his next move in his head. San Antonio was his best bet at finding money and a car. And once he'd scoped out the racing scene, he'd be golden. It might take a few days to get everything he needed. But, he still had a few contacts in these parts. Look them up. See about a hook-up with some wheels.
Charlene was talking about having a ready couch if he needed a place to stay while he was in town. If he needed to, Brian might take her up on that offer. Mia would forgive him eventually if it was necessary. Of course she would. She wanted him home safe and once Dom started talking about pounding Brian's ass, she'd come to his defense and then he could take her in the other room to help them both forget all about Charlene.
It was just Southern hospitality.
Photo recognition got John a hit after an hour and twenty minutes. The image he had was grainy and he only had about eighty percent of the match points for a scan. But, it was enough...eventually.
The match that came up was an LAPD lieutenant and John found Deeks to see if he knew the guy. When Deeks didn't recognize him, but pointed him at Marks for possible information, John hit paydirt. Lt. Brian O'Conner was no longer LAPD in Deeks' and Marks' world. He'd gone native in 2001 and joined up with a street racing crew he was initially sent undercover to investigate. After doing a deal with the feds, he came back to L.A. and joined the FBI only to end up flipping again. Been on the run ever since.
With that information, things started to make sense. A cop's training and a criminal's experience, it was no wonder this guy was so hard to track. And if John was right, he'd bet money that he'd get a hit in San Antonio. From the way he'd ditched the car and taken to hitchhiking when he couldn't use money, O'Conner had probably started figuring out he needed to start from scratch like a native. Given his background, he'd hit the streets, do what he did best to survive. And that meant John had a window of time in order to track him.
Now that he had a game plan, there was one other thing he needed to check.
They knew there had been no swap wheb the leads had gone missing, no swap for Eric or Dom's wife. So, it stood to reason there shouldn't be one now with this latest rift. But they had to be sure. Having duplicates in one dimension was as tricky as time travel to manage without causing more trouble than anyone could afford.
A single phone call was all it took to confirm Lt. Brian O'Conner had indeed reported for duty today.
Just as John was hanging up, his computer dinged. The truck had been picked up on the search. It was currently parked outside what looked like a nice apartment complex...the kind that had security cameras in a few strategic locations. After verifying O'Conner had gone in the building and hadn't left, John went to give Vance the intel so they could start getting a unit out there. To get everything done that he needed to without drawing too much attention to himself, O'Conner would need to stick around San Antonio for a few days and the city was metropolitan enough John would be able to track him sufficiently for a unit to bring him in.
It was late that same night, practically dawn the next day, when they caught up to him after the races. Brian wasn't exactly sure what hit him. One minute he was scoping out the scene and the competition. The next there was a bit of a pinch and everything went black.
Waking was not any more pleasant. But a headache and dry mouth were livable and something he could work through.
Brian knew immediately he hadn't been picked up by standard LEOs or even Feds. First thought might have been military if he looked just at the plane. Couldn't be anything else but a plane. And nothing commercial. Something Hobbs might have liked, really, which wasn't a very comforting thought. But, more to the point, Brian had learned to size people up pretty well over the last decade and, while one or two could be picked out as cops, most of the men in the plane with him gave off a definite vibe. It was one he knew pretty well considering everyone he associated with now gave off that same vibe.
Especially with strangers.
"Looks like Sleeping Beauty's awake," a voice drawled, drawing his attention to one of the few who didn't have that ready-for-the-shit-to-fly-any-second vibe.
"Aw, I didn't mean to keep you waiting, handsome." Brian smirked at the man. "Your buddies just seem to have given me a little too much happy serum. I'm sure once you drop me off I can make it up to you. Not into the whole gang bang thing, though. So, the rest of you will have to form a line if you want a piece of this."
He couldn't tell which snort came first. There were a few, which actually served to clarify what type of people he was dealing with here. But it was the blonde who reminded Brian of himself at a younger age that got his attention.
"Adding solicitation to your rap sheet, O'Conner?" The man was grinning, but Brian recognized the glint in his eyes for what it was. This was definitely the man who was in charge.
"Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," Brian replied cheekily, earning him a snort from the other man.
"Right, so in this case, man's gotta listen."
The story that followed was something out of a sci-fi flick. Alternate dimensions. Super Powers. The part about being on the run from the government sounded pretty familiar and Brian almost laughed when the comment was made he'd given them a run around himself. The Doppelganger version of himself that was still in LAPD and had even made lieutenant was laughable, too.
But he stopped laughing when they said he'd never let Dom go.
"Now, see, right there is how I know you're full of shit, man. I'll give you mad props for knowing your stuff about that case. But, that's bullshit."
"Different dimension, different you. Actually, not even you. Man looks like you. Sounds like you. But, the decisions are his, not yours. You telling me the badge meant nothing to you and there wasn't even a sliver of indecision over the choice to not only allow but help your mark escape?"
Okay, so maybe he had Brian there. Brian knew it had been a gut instinct decision. He'd known in the moment he did it that if he stopped to question it, he'd change his mind. But, it felt like the right one, no matter what the law said.
When he stayed quiet, for once, the blonde in charge simply nodded as though Brian had answered anyway.
After that, the rest of the story came out: how these people were part of a group that found new arrivals, as they called them, trained them to fight and work undercover, taught them to use their powers; how they were bringing Brian to help with that task; that they had people working on a way back, but the only way to take advantage of that was to go with them now. There'd been a brief demonstration of powers, to prove it was real, he supposed.
He'd known things were different when the cars changed and then his money wasn't accepted. If he hadn't seen those and other small things around San Antonio that were...off...he might not have eventually accepted the story. But, Brian had learned to get a read on people pretty well by now. And he had the evidence of his own eyes before this. It still sounded too fantastical to be real.
But, when they had assault rifles and he was on a plane bound for who the fuck knew where and he was seemingly on his own, at the very least he could try to believe and give them the benefit of the doubt before deciding if he needed to take a quick out.
It was gut instinct again. Right now, they seemed like the way to get back to his family the fastest. If that was true, then Brian was going to take it.
When that stopped being the case, he'd consider alternatives then.