Who: Ana Lucia and Killian Jones What: Wish fulfillment for Ana - Vengeance When: During the wish plot Where: A *ahem* ‘gentleman’s club’ so to speak Rating: PG-13 for language and violence Status: Closed, complete.
Ana Lucia Cortez had been waiting for over a year for this chance. She had just started to give up hope as fall had given way to winter with no signs of her quarry. But Killian had followed through after their conversation at the bar, it seemed, and managed to get a hit on the location of the punk who'd killed her partner in the NYPD. As they drove through the strange landscape of snow and palm trees in Kilians truck, she started to wonder in full detail just how she'd finish off the guy. Ana could have chosen to go the more lawful route, but not being on the side of law that wore the badge made that difficult. She was a civillian and she'd have to catch him in the act of doing something wrong before she could rain down uniforms on the guy. And it wasn't like the courts worked all that well these days anyway. No, it was better this way, no loose ends. Her hunger for revenge would finally be sated and she could find some measure of peace...she hoped.
She turned at look at the dark haired Irishman who was now more or less her getaway car and backup in case things went south. “So, Killian, you gonna tell me where this place is or is it a surprise?” She was half annoyed and half teasing with the question. “And who was your CI?” Cop term, Criminal Informant, but it fit the bill all the same.
Just because he had the capacity to drive in snow, didn't mean he liked it. His truck had four wheel drive, not that California snows really necessitated it. Killian would rather not have to deal with this sort of weather, it was the whole reason he had moved to California in the first place. Oh, and not to mention, the whole idea of keeping his nose clean. So both of those had turned out to be spectacular failures. It seemed more aggravating the weather had failed him. Californians did not know how to drive in this sort of weather. Jones grimaced as a girl in a Mercedes screamed and skidded into the way. Hopefully they would live long enough to find this fellow.
His blue eyes skirted to his company, not missing the grim determination on her face. "I'm told your man frequents a certain establishment once a week to see a girl named Bambi." Otherwise he was a hard asshole to pin down. At the question towards his informant, he only offered, "I have friends in low places." That worked at skeezy strip joints with the moniker of woodland creatures. He had met her when he first landed in sunny California, and she had an unfortunate habit of getting too close to her patrons. Especially handsome, blue eyed Irish ones. The girl would probably tell him anything, and they would need to be careful not to implicate her in this.
"What is your plan for this, darling?" She was a cop, but the did not necessarily mean she had any idea what she was doing on the other side of the law.
Ana's body stiffened for a moment and she let out a "Whoa!" as the mercedes tried to recreate the Nutcracker Suite. "Cali drivers," she said under her breath.
A strip joint, okay. Ana hadn't exactly expected that, and was kicking herself for not having thought of it. "If you think I'm going to go into that joint posing as a stripper you got another thing comin'." Her full New York accent showing itself in her dry assertion. She pulled out her 9mm handgun and inspected it. It was one of two guns she owned; this was the one she had acquired off the books just for this occasion. It was in perfect condition but the routine was settling for her. "This place, there ever women in it that aren't stripping or serving?" She knew sometimes women went to these places for giggles, or if they were something other than straight.
Cali drivers was right. They were especially bad with weather they apparently inherently misunderstood. Snow was wet and slippery, who could have fucking imagined? There were accidents popping up all over considering the foolish drivers combined with slippery conditions had not resulted in anything favorable.
He glanced at her weapon, feeling tempted to wonder where she’d gotten it. Was it hers? Had she bought it? Did she plan to dispose of it after she was done? She was a cop, hopefully she had all her ducks in a row--but the mobster in him that refused to be caught at all costs wondered about the semantics. He didn’t want to wind up finding any of his past helping this girl he hardly knew.
“I’ve seen ladies in on occasion,” he offered idly, “But I do have an idea to get him outside to an alley. I know the girl he goes to see, she can ask him out to an alley or a private room. He goes to meet her, we find him instead.” He hated getting the girl this involved but as long as she was not involved in the actual meeting she would hopefully be all right. Ana's expression was along the lines of pleased with the idea, though she was skeptical about the what ifs. Possible eye witnesses, reverberation of the gunshot if it was in the alley, escape route. She could have bought a silencer but that sort of purchase would be a red flag as opposed to acquiring the gun from a gang banger she'd gotten the jump on months back during her early days in the OC scouring the streets for intel.
"Whatever has the least chance of us being made," stating the obvious but it had to be said. "You seem to know the joint pretty well, which works with us not walking away in cuffs or bullet holes?" Said with a smirk. "Does homeboy go with his crew or just himself?” Ana seemed to expect him to have done most of the work for her. A normal fisherman wouldn’t have had the answers to all of these questions, but unfortunately somewhere along the line, it probably had been made apparent he wasn’t a normal fisherman. “I’ve not exactly staked the place out for you, darling,” Killian muttered (a lie but that was immaterial), “But he does come alone and doesn’t stay long. We’ll have to be quick.”
He actually had a silenced weapon, but despite bringing it he didn’t have intentions on using it. Just because he was here as her backup, did not mean he intended to go down for her vengeance mission. He’d use it if he had to, if they got in too deep, but not a second sooner. The question was a good one, and he’d considered it. “There’s a room with an exit to the alley. Best of both worlds.” He could park next to it so they could get away quickly. They were pulling up on the place, dull neon flaring in the darkening night. He wanted to ask if she was sure, but there was no point in it.
Ana seemed quite sure.
“Any other questions?”
Ana could have made detective if she’d wanted to. She had a nose for people, could detect the subtleties in their stories or personalities that others might overlook. But she’d enjoyed her work as an officer too much to be tied down to a desk with the occasional door to door to question people. She’d much rather be running down suspects than interrogating them.
As they pulled up Ana’s eyebrows went up a little. Damn, the place looked shady as anything. Like the skeevy days of Times Square she’d only heard about. Ana’s nose wrinkled a little at the sight of the neon lights and the grungy looking building. Perfect place for scum to chill out, which now surprised her as to how this so-called fisherman with ‘friends in low places’ could possibly go here at all. At least he could have tried a slightly classier joint. “No, I think I’m good.” She said distractedly, answering Killian’s question. They parked and got out, and she eyed a patron as he walked in ahead of them. As they walked through the doors, the blast of music hit like a brick wall. Impressive sound proofing, she thought. Her dark eyes scanned the room immediately, nearly ignoring the bouncer at the door and the girls dancing around poles and the stage.
There was an answer to the question she hadn’t asked. Yes, she wasn’t wrong, this wasn’t his sort of place. The fellows he worked with, though, they liked cheap and easy. That definitely fit the bill of this place. Sometimes you went where everyone else was going, and really? Killian Jones had been far worse places. Skeevy, sketchy places didn’t affect him much anymore. He was desensitized to it, mostly.
“I’ll find our lady,” he told Ana, ducking closer to her because he had to, to be heard over the blaring music. It probably looked like he was leaning in to whisper dirty nothings to the passerby, and that suited their purposes just fine. Hopefully Ana wouldn’t clap him across the face for getting fresh, but he figured if she would, it would be after. With that, he skirted away, because Bambi would certainly be backstage. She wasn’t on the floor. Perhaps that indicated he knew the place a little too well, but alas. Maybe he did.
Ana Lucia was far too focused on the mission at hand to bother with little things like personal space or Killian taking point. She moved forward into the place without her Irish escort, doing her best to look for the guy without being obvious. A few of what she could only assume were the regulars glanced up her way, one catcalled (which earned him a deadly glare), and Ana could feel at least three other pairs of eyes on her already undressing her despite the barely clothed women dancing before them.
“Hurry up, Killian.” she growled under her breath and turned to the bar. “Vodka.” She said, skipping the tonic. She laid down money more than the value of the drink and decided to do some asking of her own considering no one was at the bar at the moment as all focus was on the stage. “Hey, question.” She paused, realizing she was falling into cop mode and that was something Ana didn’t actually want to do. “I was supposed to meet up with Carlos. Have you seen him?”
The bartender gave her a ‘you kidding me?’ look. “You know how many Carlos’ we get in this joint?” He was eyeing her now, sizing her up as if wondering if she was an undercover cop. “I’m not a cop,” Ana said dryly, accepting the Vodka and pushing the twenty dollar bill in his direction. Technically, she was telling the truth. “I’m his girlfriend. He said he wanted to introduce me to Bambi.” It nearly made her sick to her stomach to be spewing out the words, but in case Killian couldn’t find her, or worse, if Carlos spotted Ana first all would be in jeopardy of going south.
The bartender regarding Ana carefully. “Carlos never mentioned a girlfriend.”
“Well he never mentioned Bambi until the other day.”
The bartender’s face closed up and he started to wipe down the bar as if it needed it. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“There won’t be. See, I kinda go both ways, so Carlos figured instead of us fighting about it, he wanted to show me just why he likes this joint so much.” God she felt like she wanted to wash her mouth out with Clorox.
The man looked uncertain, but finally he nodded his chin towards the center stage, left side. “Your man’s over there. Or...was. Might’ve gone to take a leak or hit one of the back rooms.” “Damn, started the party without me.” Ana nodded her thanks, purposely leaving the change behind, and slowly walked along the outskirts of the room towards where Killian had disappeared, keeping an eye on the spot where Carlos had supposedly sat. The rather voluptuous pole dancers were doing their thing to the music, and Ana, now having unfortunately given a cover she hadn’t expected, had to ogle them with just as much interest as the men. She decided inwardly, to pass the time figuring out whose breasts were fake and whose were real, if any.
He didn’t take that long, but Ana had already inched her way near the dancer’s exit before he managed to get out. She had a decent poker face, but he could see a bit of anxious nerves in her expression, and she was eying a chair like it might walk away. “Did I miss anything, darling,” he wondered, dryly, tilting his body out of the way as a blonde with baby pink streaks in her hair elbowed past. Bambi sent him a disapproving look as she passed, probably because the ‘friend’ he had referenced was of the opposite gender. Bambi was surprisingly possessive of a man she knew had a girlfriend.
The blonde went and dropped into the lap of a man near the stage, so either the bartender had been telling tall tales or Carlos had relocated. As Bambi ducked her head to whisper something, Killian nodded at his company. Seemed as if things were going according to plan, meaning they needed to get to the agreed upon private room before they were spotted.
"Just a lot of T and A." She replied equally as dry. "Par for the course for you I'm sure." Ana got the cue and followed Killian to where the private rooms were located. The music was thankfully less thunderous here. They walked up to the last door and she stopped Killian before he could open it. Her expression was possessive: this is my mission.
Her brain was hurtling through all the things she'd imagined she'd say to Carlos right before shooting him between the eyes, but as Ana Lucia swung open the door and caught sight of him, words failed her. She saw red immediately, drawing her weapon before Killian could close the door behind them.
"The hell?!" Carlos barked, jumping to his feet and eyeing the pair wildly. Clearly he'd expected far less threatening company. He started to reach for his own weapon but Ana fired her first shot - right into his reaching arm's shoulder. He cried out but she was already rushing him, maneuvering in the tactical way she'd learned in the Army. She shot him again at near point blank range at his leg, then his nethers. He dropped to the floor howling in agony.
"Shut up! SHUT UP, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" Ana bellowed, kicking him hard in the gut before shoving a boot onto his chest and effectively pinning him to the ground. She towered over him, pressing the gun to his forehead. She could feel the rage boiling within her, the grief and memories, but one stood out above all of them: the look of desperation on her partner's face as he struggled to hang on as he lay on the cold asphalt, bleeding to death from all the armor piercing bullets he'd been hit with. The collective frustration of how much she had done and sacrificed to be at this moment suddenly reached its boiling point. She watched as he looked up at her wide eyed, probably pissing himself in fear. It happened so quickly he hadn't known what'd hit him.
"Do you know who I am? Do you even remember?” she hissed. “June eighteenth of twenty twelve." He shook his head, stammering for words. She pistol whipped his face. "Wrong answer, ese! You were in a shootout in the Bronx and you killed my partner Mike Anders! NYPD. That makes you a cop killer."
It took the man a moment as he recovered from the blow to his face. Some blood from where the gun had clipped him oozed down a cheekbone. But as he looked up again at this wild woman, a look of recognition slowly made its way across his features. He paled considerably.
"You...but..." he finally got out.
"You didn't kill me Carlos. Shoulda done your homework. That stunt your boys back home tried to pull? Trying to carjack a cop? Really? What cuz I wasn't in uniform I'm less dangerous? That didn't work out so well for your guys."
Ana Lucia stooped low to utter her words of contempt in his face. "Doesn't look too good for you either."
She saw the blood seeping from his shoulder, crotch and leg, soaking into his clothing rapidly. She could just give it a little while and he'd probably bleed out. She wished suddenly she had the time to watch him suffer. Instead she lifted the gun, examining the chamber and looking at Carlos as if deciding where to shoot him next.
"You honestly thought you would get away with this, Carlos? Thought you could just keep running with your old little MS-13 crew and just chill out here at this shit heap of a strip joint, payin' for lap dances with drug money?" She pressed the muzzle to his mouth, forcing it in as he whimpered. "He had a family, you asshole." She pulled back and it looked as if it was going to be all over.
Except Ana Lucia wasn't pulling the trigger. She glared at him murderously for what seemed an eternity, watching the tears run down his face and hearing his muffled cries for mercy. And yet...she wasn't finishing it.
And for the life of her she couldn't figure out why.
Jones had an idea why, but it was clearly not a time for introspection. He’d kept his silence and kept the door while he waited, but the shots she’d fired with an unsilenced weapon? Yes, well, those were bound to draw attention. He blocked off the door, but it wouldn’t hold people off for long. Carlos had apparently not come to the club alone, after all. Muffled voices demanding entrance pounded on the door behind him, and at least Killian was wise enough to move out of the way before bullets started pinging through it.
Well, that was fucking brilliant! Not likely he’d be welcome here again.
“Do what you came to do, and let’s go,” he said, voice low and level, considering how quickly things were going to shit. Carlos had seen her face, seen both of them--did she not understand the risk of leaving him alive? She needed to make up her mind and they needed to go.
She wanted to. She really wanted to paint the room with his brains, but as Ana Lucia blinked back her own tears something was staying her hand. She took note of the men on the other side of the door; despite the loud music outside, Carlos’ boys knew the sound of gunfire no matter how obscured. She’d have only seconds more before they’d start firing through the door.
“Fuck” she swore under her breath, angry with herself. All her attempts in New York to keep the hunt going for this guy, her quitting her job just to try to find new leads when detectives finally put the case on the back burner, taking a job with a crack headed rock star just to make ends meet, and now she couldn’t even pull the damn trigger?
Maybe it was because of all the flak New York City cops had gotten over the recent years with shootings. Maybe it was because she knew her mother would never look at her the same if she did pull the trigger. Maybe Mike wouldn’t really want her to cross that line and live with it for the rest of her life.
But he’s a drug dealer and gang banger. He and his boys are killing and threatening people all the time. Best to help the LAPD and take care of him now. she rationalized to herself. She readjusted her grip. Carlos winced and whimpered. She could feel Killian’s eyes on the back of her head, boring holes in eagerness to get out of dodge before it was too late.
She just. Had. To pull. The trigger.
And then, the moment was gone. A shot blasted through the door, creating a bullet hole in the wall inches from Ana’s head. She turned to look and the door was being kicked in, ready to burst open at any moment. She glanced back at Carlos as she pulled back and he looked wildly at his potential cavalry.
“Get your asses in here and shoot the bitch!” he bellowed, suddenly regaining what was left of his manhood before howling again in renewed pain as he tried to sit up.
“Dammit,” Ana muttered and rushed with Killian towards the door at the far end of the room. Just as they were starting to run, the door flew open with a crash and four hispanic men poured through bristling with rage and guns.
This was not how he liked to do things. At all. To say he was annoyed was really an understatement, but it was too late now. They needed to get out of here before he could be cross. Four was quite the pack after them, and he didn’t leave them completely free. He’d brought a gun, though Ana had never asked if he had, and two silenced shots landed in a knee and an elbow, respectively. Those would slow at least half of the pack after them down. Quite incredible he managed to knick off two shots on the way out the door, but there were some things one never forgot.
His truck was parked near the door, but Jones slammed the metal door shut and even grabbed a nearby dumpster and hauled it into the way. Yes, they’d not be getting through that quickly. For fucks sake, why had he agreed to this again? What was it about vengeance that called to him, even if it wasn’t his own? Once they were both in the truck the wheels screamed to get traction on the icy pavement, and blue eyes were sharp on the mirrors, trying to see if their crowd was hot on their trail.
“Are you bloody mad?” he wondered, not bothering to hide the livid cast to his tone. Killian should have known, should have guessed she couldn’t pull the trigger. They weren’t from the same world, not in the slightest. Ana had been a cop once, he was a barely reformed mobster. “He saw both of our faces. You practically gave him your name, for christ’s sake.” This was messy, and stupid. Why the hell had he signed up for this again? This was exactly the sort of thing he was supposed to stay out of, stay as far away from as possible.
He rubbed a hand across the stubble on his jaw, ducking through an alley just to try and get away as quickly as possible. The freeway would take them farthest fastest. Killian tried to drown the rage that threatened to overtake him, wondering, “Did any of them hit you?” There’d been plenty of fire through the door, it wasn’t absurd to think she might have been hit. His mind was still whirling on how he was going to clean up the mess they’d made.
Ana Lucia had managed to get a few shots off on their way out. She’d missed one, hit another in the shoulder (the same Killian had hit in the knee a moment later) and the last somewhere in the body mass. Outside, she stared stupidly for a moment as Killian started to drag a dumpster and she helped by running around to the other side and helping push.
In the car, she endured his rebukes with a sullen air. She didn’t want to talk about it. Ana was embarrassed, frustrated, and furious with herself. How could she have let this fall apart so easily? All she’d had to do was squeeze the trigger and watch the wall get a color change to red. He’d be dead, vengeance served, end of story.
“Fine.” she mumbled to Killian’s question. Carlos had already known who she was, he’d ordered the failed hit on her back in New York City. He’d just never expected to see her again. Now she was sure if - if - the bastard survived, he’d be making sure for the sake of his pride if nothing else that she was finished off for good. She would have to skip town for a bit. With the holidays coming up, it might not be a bad way to go. Then again, it would be cowardice, and Ana was no coward.
“Sonuvabitch!” She suddenly screamed, punching the dashboard. This sucked.
It certainly did suck, and honestly Jones was a little cross that Ana had decided to drag him down with her. She wasn’t the only one on the line here; she hadn’t talked about him, but her best friend Carlos had certainly seen his face. He hardly needed more mobsters after him, he was really tapped out as it was on that front! And a little cross was putting it gently, there was icy rage just burning through his veins but he had to focus on driving instead of turning it on the wrong person in the first place.
After all, he was a grown man. He’d decided to help this girl with a vengeance she didn’t want in the end. Who did he have to blame but himself?
“Do you have somewhere to go?” Killian did not have to cut corners; Ana was a cop, she knew how these sort worked. They would come after her harder than they’d come for him. He was just a nameless spectator, after all. There was only so much he could do for her, including getting them out of here without boys on their tail. He’d done some getaway driving in his life, sometimes even in snow! So that was not the biggest of his worries.
A bigger concern was how he was going to tell Regina that he now had another mob with interest on his pretty dark head.
"Yeah," she lied. She'd gotten him too involved already. After all what did a fisherman know about gangs...
Ana Lucia suddenly frowned a bit more than she was already and turned to Killian.
"Wait a sec...the hell kind of fisherman carries around a piece with a silencer?" Her cop's skepticism reignited; she was surprised no flags had gone up sooner. "Who are you, Jones?" Her eyes were now fully trained on him instead of the side mirror.
Of all the times to question him, why now? He sent her an icy glare, jaw tightening. Obviously he wasn’t quite what he wanted to be perceived as, but Ana ought to have taken that hint far before he’d whipped out a silenced pistol. “Does it really matter?” Killian knew more than he let on, and it had helped her--or it would have, if she’d actually wanted her vengeance in the first place!
“Did you really think a fisherman would have that kind of connections?” he pointed out wryly, a sure tell before she’d even gotten into his truck. Begrudgingly, he told her, “I’m supposed to be retired, but I keep my ear to the street. What does it change, really? You’re just as in the red at the moment as I am.” Seemed cruel to drag him into her mess and then turn on him, but why not? Sounded about his bloody luck.
Ana knew nothing about fishermen and their social circles but figured the strip joint tip made sense. Or rather was just a lucky coincidence. She should have known better.
Retired? From what? Law enforcement? Undercover? He certainly wasn't running with local hispanic or black gangs, an immigrant Irishman wouldn't be welcome by a long shot. Irish mafia maybe? She'd only heard of it, that sort of ring didn't operate in New York City. But this guy’d been to Alaska and elsewhere so…
“I don’t know shit about fisherman, Jones. I’m from New York City. Closest thing we got is the Fulton Fish Market.” she said, glancing at the side mirrors again. They weren’t being followed. He was right about being in the red, and she hated that. “I know. Whatever the hell you are or were…” she paused, gritting her teeth at the embarassment swelling up within her, “thanks. For saving my ass.” She couldn’t get herself to apologize though for pulling him into her personal business. He’d offered, and she’d taken him up on it. Risks were risks.
After they’d driven for a while, she asked Killian to stop. They were far enough away and definitely out of the territory of Carlos’ gang that they wouldn’t dare cross over and risk a firefight with the rival gang that controlled this part of town. Ana knew most of the territories from her research in trying to find the man. “I don’t have to tell you what you gotta do for a couple weeks.” She sighed and stared out the window away from him, trying to sort things out. Her next moves, what Carlos’ crew’s would be. “Doesn’t matter if Carlos makes it or not. They’ll be lookin’ for blood. Mostly mine but a white boy like you is pretty memorable in their minds and they might feel like trying to do us both in.” It was times like this she wished she was a cop, where she’d have the backing of the entire force behind her. Being this alone and exposed was pretty terrifying; not that Ana would ever admit to it of course.
Yes, he certainly knew what he had to do. If it appeased Ana any, Killian had been doing just that for years now. This would not really be such a spectacular change. His head was aching from his lack of restraint--he never should have gotten mixed in with this--but he would survive it. Surviving was what he was best at. Jones would survive he had been in this position before.
"I'll be fine," and that was a promise. He would be. They'd been stupid but they didn't have his name and he had just been along for the ride. Ana was in worse trouble and the look on her face said she knew it. "You might want to clear town." For awhile, just go home straight; maybe that was risky but it was certainly riskier to be here. "There was a reason you couldn't pull that trigger, I suggest you remember it."
It could have been condescending, but it wasn't. Killian was almost wistful, actually. He wished he might have had that sort of backbone when it had come time for him to pull a trigger. Nobody questioned the guilt of this Carlos but vengeance rarely led anywhere positive. He knew that all too well and still couldn't shake a vendetta of his own. They were quite different people, really, and Ana might not see it but to him it was violently obvious.
Ana wished she knew why she couldn't have pulled the trigger. Too many possibilities were rolling around in her mind and fighting each other. The overwhelming self inflicted shame at failing wasn't helping anything either. If Killian was getting at some point that she still had her humanity intact to pause and evaluate her actions she certainly wasn't at a point right now to agree with him.
"Right," was all she said, massaging the spot on her forehead between her eyes that was starting to ache. "Well, better get back to my place so I can pack up and go." The question simply remained as to where.