.:. Artifacts .:. A Private Role-Play For Rebecca and Jay .:.

The loud buzzing of the engine, combined with the crying of a baby towards the front of the plane were slowly driving me to insanity. I never had liked flying, the idea of being thousands of feet above solid ground wasn't my cup of tea. The quiet chatter of multiple languages mixed with other noises that came with being trapped in an airplane. Usually tourists and businessman coming back from a trip were what you saw in a flying elongated room which was being held up by physics that were rather unstable. However, there wasn't the touristy vibe coming off of these people. There were varying ethnicity's throughout the cabin, not just white, pasty Americans. Arabs, Jewish people, and Christians whom spoke varying languages from Italian to Spanish. I assumed it was just from going to Israel, where it seemed that every religion converged. A flight attendant with dark, olivey skin came around with the thin, cold steel drink cart. She asked, with a thick Grecian accent, if I wanted a drink. I nodded, and grabbed my wallet from my backpack, and handed her five Israeli shekels for a coke. I was putting my wallet back into my pocket, when someone bumped me along the aisle, and dropped my wallet. My I.D. and international credit card went splaying onto the ground. The man who bumped me apologized fast Arabic. I responded in Arabic with telling him that he shouldn't worry about it. I slid my credit card back into its place, but I hesitated on the I.D.. My picture stared back at me, my name Blake Nathaniel Night, bolded and underlined, my date of birth, 3/25/1989. One day, during my Junior year of high school, I had been called down to the Principal's office. When I arrived, a older man in a black suit was sitting in one of the chair's facing the Principal's desk. He told me that his name was Harry Hughes, and explained to me that he was from the CIA. He must have seen something light up in my eyes, because usually when someone refers to the CIA, it is typically conjoined with the words terrorism and criminals. He reassured me that he was not there about anything bad. He explained that it was all about a new program that was being to students who had shown particular talents in certain fields. A small brochure was handed towards me. He told me that it was a university-type school where me and a couple other students would be taught to work in some of the highest fields for the U.S. Government and CIA. It was an honor, and after a couple more meetings with Mr. Hughes and talking it over with my parents for multiple months, I was set to finish my Junior year, and then go to Virginia where I would attend the CIA's school.
It turns out that there was only one other person who was attending the CIA's school. Over the next four years, we lived in Virginia and studied almost every common spoken language. We became familiar with every large city over the whole world. We became familiar with almost every date that had some point of importance in history. We didn't know what for, but whenever we asked, it was simply responded with a 'For an important job with the CIA' or 'It's important, and on a need to know basis.' We only learned about what we were to do a couple weeks ago.

Let me be completely honest here, and tell you planes suck. Normally flying didn't bother me all that much, sure, you were in a cramped seat for a couple hours stuck listening to the air vent blow on the top of your head and occasionally being kicked in the small of the back but the annoying flea of a child behind you, but all in all? I could tolerate them. Most of the time. This was not one of those times, with wailing children and goats, and other people all on their way to the same place I was. Multiple languages were being spoken around me, Arabic in that corner, English in that one from a scholar, what sounded like British English in the other, both of them chattering on about some stupid book they were writing. Tuning out the scholars I turned my attention to the front of the plane, pausing and listening to the conversations around me, there was a reason I was here of course, I didn't know, but that's a very different story, one that I would explain in five seconds.

The flight attendant gave me a small smile, asking if I needed anything, asking for some water I gave her some coins. I think they were called Shekels. We were going to Jerusalem; but my partner was the one who knew all about this stuff, I just went along and looked pretty while getting the job done. Speaking of partner, my eyes narrowed as Blake got his coke and went to put his wallet back into his pocket, someone bumping into him and scattering his things. The thing about Blake was, we'd known each other for a long time, since this entire thing started, and we had each other's back. I had major issues with anyone bumping into me or touching me, paranoia was the top of my list of problems.

To give you a brief explanation, when I was sixteen I was called out of school by a suit, dressed to the nines he offered me a deal, I could leave the extremely idiotic people of my school behind, if I went into a program with other kids my age to train for the CIA. I accepted, because when you get offered that you take it. Also we were studying Cellular Reproduction in Chemistry and I didn't want to go back to class. Virginia was nice, it was where the school was located so not that far away from Tennessee, the University classes were strange, they taught us how to hack computers, different languages, the ability to kill a man with only your thumb and a tick-tac...
Useful stuff.

Taking my water from the woman I took a sip, grimacing at the different taste even though it was bottled before glancing at Blake, "Do you still have everything or should I tackle him and entertain the rest of the flight as I beat him up for our credit card?" Smiling happily I followed the man out of the corner of my eyes, thinking about how I could properly jump from my seat next to the window into the aisle and take him down. There were a couple ways, none of them that fun, one involved jumping the seats and probably landing on a goat, but... I digress.

Blake was the one with the credit card because Harry, the guy who recruited both of us and was kind of like a handler of sorts, didn't trust me with it. Not after an incident in Dubai when I accidentally said the wrong thing in Arabic and got almost got myself sold into slavery even though I thought I was asking for a doughnut. The European languages were my forte, not this thing.

I do remember what he said to me though, Lillian Elizabeth Forrest, you were chosen for this job for a reason, do not make myself, or my superiors regret that decision because you became side-tracked by a pastry- At that moment I'd kind of zoned out, because even though I was 21 and barely a week younger than Blake, he topped my ability to actually focus on things like that by a billion. I was just here to get things accomplished and back home to my comfy apartment in Virginia to read another book and wait for another assignment.

[Sorry it took so long. I've been really busy with school the last week...]

I shoved my I.D. into my wallet, and shoved the leather tri-fold into my front pocket. I glanced over at Rebecca as she mentioned something about tackling the guy who had bumped into me.
"Sometimes, I really do worry about you." I muttered, readjusting in my seat. Within a few seconds after, the intercom crackled and a flight attendant's voice came over. We will be landing in JRS in just a few minutes, please buckle your seat belts, and turn off any electronics. The distinctive sound of seatbelts clicking filled the cabin for a few minutes, as the attendant announced the same announcements in Arabic and Spanish.

About fifteen minutes later, the plane landed with a slight jolt as it hit the ground. The same attendant's voice filled the cabin, telling everyone that they could disembark. I gathered my black backpack from the overhead compartment and shoved myself into the crowded aisle, heading towards the front of the fuselage. Once I was heading down the metal stairs to the tarmac, that would lead us to the airport, I pulled out a slip of paper from my pocket that Mr. Hughes had given me. It had an address and a taxi-cab company written.

Once we found the cab, with the driver holding a sign with my last name written in large black marker. I waved, and told him in Arabic where we needed to go. We were heading towards Jerusalem University College, where we had to talk to one of the professor's of History there. His name was Jacques Dupont or Jack Dewpounce or something like that. The cab smelled like one of the cheap car air fresheners that were in nearly every car. The car ride through the streets of Jerusalem wasn't smooth what so ever. The roads were extremely crowded, and I don't think I have ever heard so much honking in my life. It took at least an hour and a half to actually get to the college.

(HA. You hate me don't you? I apologize.)

I grinned at him, "You always say you worry about me. No idea why. I'm perfectly sane, they had me tested." Grabbing my bag from the over-head, I followed Blake out of the plane, glaring at a few people that bumped into me. One thing about traveling I hated was how rude people were, also the multiple languages being spoken slightly confused me because my brain couldn't keep up with translating it all in my head.

The driver for our cab had Blake's last name, and we piled into the cab. I was ready to get to the University and get our first lead. Whatever the assignment was, I was just ready to figure out how to solve it and get out of here. The roads were crowded and bumpy, the car jarring me every time it turned, the wheels kept screeching and I was happy I was neither claustrophobic nor carsick, or this place would be even more miserable.

By the time we got to our destination, I was throwing myself out of the car and letting Blake pay, waiting before crossing my arms and glancing at him, looking around the campus. Spotting a directory, I headed over to it, reading the Arabic with little problem and looking around. My arm extended as I shielded my eyes with the other, looking at Blake, "He's that way. Jacques Dupont, right?" Touching the map, I read his title in English, "Professor of Biblical History and Religious studies. That's what Hughes said right?" I think I'd zoned out in that conversation because there was a pizza with my name on it waiting to be ordered back at my apartment in D.C.

The college was a lot smaller than those that sit in the big cities of the United States. The thing was, I had no idea what we were even doing here. For the last six years I had been stuck in a university-like setting, where Lillian and I would attend ten or so classes a day, most were private, some were large lectures that were attended by other men and women who probably had at least eight to ten years on us. There were the typical classes, just a lot more advanced. And then there were the 'classes' that weren't. There was a feel of training for the army, marksmanship and self-defense classes were just a couple of examples. Lillian and I were also taught languages that no one ever even spoke anymore, like Egyptian and Latin.

I nodded, and walked through the maze of halls to the point on the map that marked Jacques' office. I rapped on the dark cherry wood door, almost instantly after I knocked, the door opened. An older man with greying hair greeted us.
"Jacques Dupont?" I asked, he nodded. "My name is Blake Denton, and this is Lillian Forrest." I stated, hitching a thumb in her direction.
"Yes, yes, yes come, please." Jacques responded, in a thick french accent. "Hughes said you were coming."
I followed him into his warm office. Bookshelves covered all of the walls, except for the windows that were letting the hot summer sun stream into the room. He signaled us to two dark brown velvet chairs that sat across from his desk. "Don't drool." I said, giving a slight smirk to Lilli. Once Lilli and I were sat down, he sat down across from us, and said, "Hughes say you give note to me." He said, his English coming out in bits and pieces.
I picked up my backpack, that lay next to my chair, and pulled out a neatly folded note that Hughes had given me at JFK, right before we had left for Jerusalem. "Ici, il est." I said in french, as I handed him the slip of paper. A look of relief spread across his face, as he realized that I could speak french. I wasn't the most fluent in french, it always came to me the hardest. It was like Spanish, but lots of cut off vowels. His eyes lit up as he read the handwritten note. He got up, and crossed the room towards one of his bookshelves, and pulled off a book. The book looked really rough, the binding was rough, and dusty. He crossed back over to his desk, and gently set it down. When he flipped it open, the whole thing was beautifully hand written, in what looked like some old version of french. He gently flipped through the pages and once he found the page he was looking for, he turned the book around for us to look at the page.
"Connaissez-vous des Templiers" Jacques asked. He was asking whether we knew anything about the Knights Templar.
"Nous savons." I responded, we had studied the Knights Templar in our Medieval History class. They were a group of men who were a military unit for the Catholic church during the crusades.
"C'est un livre qui a été écrit par Jacques De Molay. Il décrit un lieu où leurs artefacts était maintenant. Certains historiens, y compris moi, crois qu'avant ils ont été attaqués, ils se sont cachés tous leurs biens précieux à travers le monde." He said, and my eyes lit up. It was believed that the Templar's owned a a handful of religious artifacts that they carried into battle for good luck. "Il ya une phrase qu'il a écrite en latin, qui dit que un morceau du Saint Suaire de Turin fixe au fond de la rivière verte du sud. On croit que, à la hauteur de la puissance Templiers, ils ont exploré le monde plus tôt que la plupart des. Je pense que ce document se réfère au fleuve Amazone, en Amérique du Sud." ,Jacques said. This was a lot to digest. We hadn't learned anything about the Templars exploring the world, except for exploring most of the middle east and europe.

Frankly, French gave me a headache.

I was very glad when Blake just went ahead and took the lead, it gave me time to take in the campus as we both headed towards our destination, the buildings were old stone structures, towering above everything else in the city. The people were the most interesting thing to watch, being used to the American cities and colleges, it was a slight culture shock to see so many different people and hear so many different languages, French and Arabic the main two, of course, but I swear I heard snippets of German, Spanish, Swedish, and everything imaginable.

The halls were large with high ceilings as Blake and I made our way through them, the doors along them were cherry and absolutely gorgeous, making me slightly envious because there was no way in hell my apartment would ever look like some of the places Blake and I went on missions. When we entered the office, I made a sound of jealously in the back of my throat, everything was so pretty. I wanted it all.

Shooting Blake a slight glare I took a seat, Jacques continued to talk in rapid French, something I'd always sucked pretty badly at, but I understood the majority of it. Something to do with the Knights Templar, the shroud of Turin, and a bunch of other stuff. Clearing my throat I looked at him before asking in French, "I'm sorry sir, but what does this have to do with Blake and I?"

He nodded before pointing at the book, replying quickly, "My good friend Hughes is your... should I say handler for this?" I nodded and he smiled, "There have been reports of the ancient artifacts of the Templars showing up in different places, they are rumored to have... abilities. If one possessed them all, some believe that one would posses the power of God himself. Of course, it's all legend."

Crap. I wasn't getting back to D.C. anytime soon, was I?

The conversation was quickly wrapped up as the telephone rang, and Jacques had to go scurrying off to a lecture or something. He quickly said his goodbyes, and left us a note in English telling us where we might be able to start our search for the first piece of the shroud. The amazon river was long, and mostly jungle. How we were to find this small item, I don't know. We made our ways out of his office on our own, and I followed the same route that we took to get into the college. It came as a shock to me to find that these pieces were scattered all over the world. A person would think that they would have already have been searched for by every archaeologist and religious maniac alive.

I pulled my government issue cellphone out of my pocket, and dialed the taxicab service we had used to get from the airport to the college.

"Amazon, huh? Why couldn't we have been sent to Hawaii or Mexico?" I grumbled under my breath. They had snakes in the amazon, and I hated snakes; the way they moved creeped me out. Plus, what could even be in the amazon? Indigenous people who haven't even been exposed to the outside world? There really isn't much in terms of history there.

The amazon river. That's where we had to go. Hike through a freakin' jungle and try to find a piece of a mysterious shroud while there were other things I could be doing. Like getting coffee at the local Starbucks and not being eaten by giant anacondas. Speaking of snakes, it made me glance at Blake, who I knew was terrified of them. I wasn't that scared of snakes, it was spiders and insects that freaked me out, which jungles were full of those. This mission was going to end up killing me. I just knew it.

"Because nothing is ever a nice relaxing vacation to Hawaii, it's always, 'Hey, we're going to send you to the middle of a flippin' jungle to literally find a scrap of cloth.' That's worse than a needle in a haystack!" Groaning, I got into the taxi cab and looked at him, "Hey, maybe we can find someone really nice there who will help us through the jungle and neither of us will get eaten by a basilisk or a giant spider."

The cab pulled up, and we got in. I told the cab driver to drive us to the airport. My stomach had just gotten over the cruelty of the previous cab driver, and this one was even worse. I was pretty sure he didn't have the word 'slow' in his vocabulary. He would step on the pedal, sending us flying down the hill, only to slam on the break to prevent us from slamming into the car in front of us. By the time we finally got to the airport, I was ready to spill the bad coffee, and airplane peanuts out of my stomach. I quickly paid the cab driver, and jumped out of the cab as fast as I could.

"I'll go and sleep with snakes as long as I don't have to deal with another cab in my entire life." I said, as Lilli and I walked through the sliding glass doors into the airport. We bought our tickets; we had a quick layover in Portugal before being stuck into the largest rainforest in the world with every creature that has fangs and thorns imaginable.

We sat in the nearly empty lobby, as we waited for our flight to arrive. Two flights in twenty-four ours. I was hating this mission more and more.

It was a good thing I no longer go car sick. Blake was looking a little green by the time we both managed to make it out of the cab alive, I really didn't like depending on other people to take me where I needed to go. I would walk five hundred miles, then walk five hundred more, just to make sure I didn't have to ride in another freaking cab.

"You know, I'm going to hold you to that. I'm going to remind you when you start complaining about the snakes of that cab ride, and I know you, you'll glare at me and tell me to shut up, but I will have won the argument." My voice was tired just like me. We were already back at the airport and I just didn't want to have to deal with another flight to some awful place where we'd have to deal with crazy people. As we both went through security, alerting the guards that we were Federal agents and we would be on the plane, Blake and I sat at the terminal for a really long time. Mostly people watching.

By the time we both boarded the plane at around 6 o'clock, I just wanted to get to the Amazon without a hitch. Too bad that obviously wasn't going to happen.

The thing that alerted me something was wrong was simple. The pilot took off, the flight attendants started going around on the jet (much bigger and roomier than our flight here) and asking if anyone would like anything. My gun was on my hip, under my jacket, and Blake's was on his too. I glanced around and heard the flight attendant behind us ask a man if he needed anything, and it sent me into over-drive we he replied in a thick Russian accent. "Yes. I want you to put your hands up." He stood up and I glanced back, watching as he pointed a glock at the poor woman's head, everyone in the cabin cowering and covering their heads. "Listen to me." He growled, glaring out at everyone, "There are two federal agents on this flight, I know you are here, if you don't reveal who you are, I will shoot."

I rolled my eyes, I knew this wasn't going to be a fun time. Standing up with a huge smile I curtsied, "No need to get hasty. I'm right here, and you're wrong, there's only one agent." I prayed Blake would stay silent as I pulled my gun out and held it in my hands, keeping the other up in surrender. "Here."

The man glared at me and I heard footsteps, my jaw twitching as someone pulled me out of the small area in front of my seat and into the aisle, taking the gun from my hand and shoving me roughly. Hands grabbed me all over, checking to make sure I didn't have another weapon concealed as the Russian pushed the flight attendant out of the way, taking my face in one hand and squeezing it. "Pretty thing. I hope for your sake you aren't lying about there only being one agent."

We'd been trained for our whole CIA career for a situation like this. A whole class had been dedicated towards working with your partner in situations like these. But, nothing was like the adrenaline that likely replaced the blood in my veins. My heart sped up threefold. Go home you Russian terrorists.

"I am the second agent." I said, standing up, as I pulled out my pistol. I always kept it loaded, they told me that if I needed to use it, I wouldn't have time to load it. I pointed it towards the Russian man. "I shoot you, you die, she shoots her or me and with that time your partner's dead. Either she or I is left alive, your bodies bleeding out on the floor. Then whatever you came here for is gone, and then, well, game over." I held my gun, steadily pointed at the man's chest. It would take a simple squeeze of the trigger to send this plane into an even wilder situation.

"Thisz iz fine. There eez a bomb on zeez airplane. We die, bomb go boom." The man said, I saw out of the corner of my eyes as Lilli squirmed under the woman's grip. These people made me sick. "Youz die eiezer way." He said, thick on the Russian, light on the compassion. We were left in a Catch 22. If one of them died, 'Ze bomb go boom.' If I let down my gun, they were sure to shoot me through the head, and then Lilli would be left a bullet to the heart, at best.

"You will let us jump out of the plane, and you will have thirty minutes to get your way out of this tight little situation. Or buh-bye birdies, and a hundred other innocent people." The Russian women said, her accent was still thick, but she didn't favor the 'z' sound like the other guy.

I rolled my eyes, these people were more dramatic than actors in a Shakespearean play I'd seen recently. Then Blake stood up and I wanted to slap him on the back of the head. When something was happening, you didn't reveal yourself as the other agent or we both would die and all the people on the plane would be screwed. If we didn't get shot, I was going to kill him myself.

Wiggling a little in the woman's grasp I glared when she pressed the gun deeper into my shoulder, yeah, that was really going to motivate me to do what they wanted. "A bomb?" The man glanced at me, like he was surprised I was even still speaking. "Okay, I'll bite, my partner doesn't shoot you in the heart, we let you two jump out of the plane and disable the bomb, just tell me where it is."

He gave me a slow smile, "The bomb." His accent was rough as he continued to smile, looking from me to Blake, "Let us jump and we will tell you."

"Let me go and we'll let you jump." I grinned.

The woman's grip slowly loosened and her gun was still trained on me as I stepped away and towards Blake slowly, keeping my hands up. A moment later I was dropping to the ground and striking out with my leg, sending the man flailing as the woman let a shot out. It skimmed my shoulder a little but apparently she sucked at aiming and it didn't take me more than a moment to grab my fallen gun from the man and point it at the woman, "Get up and get the hell off my plane."

With my gun re-adjusted an now aiming at the man, and Lilli's now aimed at the woman, they could either tell us or severely hurt themselves by not.

"You can tell us, or your knee cap can shatter into a hundred tiny pieces. It wouldn't kill you, it would just make you unable to land properly when you jump out of the plane. Or, I could shoot both, and then just chuck you both out of the plane. That would work too." I said, my finger tightening around the trigger.

The two conversed in rapid Russian, making it difficult to understand what they were saying.

"What are you saying?" I demanded.

"Ze bomb eez in A3." The man said, holding his arms above him. I nodded, assuming he meant the seat aisle. We were currently in the D-section. I grit my teeth, and walked up and kicked the man in the face to temporarily disable him before walking up the plane to A3. An older man and his wife were sitting in the first-class seats. I asked them to get out of their seats, and I looked under the seats. In the place where the life vests were supposed to lay, lay a small remote-sized box with a small LED light attached to it.

"Lilli! It's here, let them go." I yelled back, as I ran my hand through my hair, as I tried to figure out what to do next.

The woman struggled to get up with the man, both of them looking at me with glares as they made their way to the side of the plane. I pulled open the door with a large smile and waved with my other hand, gun still trained on them, "Have a nice fall." Both of them grabbed parachutes before shrugging them on, the man looking me up and down, one eye black because of Blake.

"You will fail."

I shrugged, "Who cares? As long as I attempted to help someone's life instead of ending it like you two." My finger tightened on the trigger and I glared at them both, "Now, I'm going to ask you again. Get the hell off my plane."

They both jumped and plummeted, the door slamming shut behind them as I looked back at the flight, "We'll handle this folks, if you could just calm down and try not to panic." The fly attendants gave me alarmed looks as I made my way up to Blake before dropping down beside him, "What're we dealing with here?"

I stood up so that Lilli could get a good look at the bomb. To be honest with you, I was sort of a pyrotechnic. "It looks to be a simple circuitry bomb, hooked up to some heart rate detector. A detonator hooked up to a chunk of C4. It wouldn't be very good if it went off though. It only has a sixteen foot blast radius. They positioned it so it would take out the wings also. Whatever goes up, must come down." I said grimly. "I should be able to detonate it." I said. Lilli got back up, and I laid down on my side, so that the bomb was above me. The chunk of C4 lay with the metal detonator shoved into the side of it. The heartbeat monitor had wires going into the detonator. The heartbeat monitor had a timer on it, and if it reached that time, the alarm would go off sending an electrical charge into the detonator. The timer had five minutes left on it, before the alarm would go off. It looked like they wanted to make sure we were at cruising altitude before setting it off.

"Yeah, okay, you do... Whatever you do." I waved my hand, moving away and finding the flight attendants, talking to them in Arabic just enough for them to understand what was going on. They nodded and were distributed through the cabin. The older couple that had been sitting above the bomb were placed in Blake and I's empty seats as I moved back towards him a minute later, "I need to know what our time constraint is Blake. We can't have this thing blowing up or we're screwed, and little bits of agent flying through the air. Tell me what you need to disable it."

The wires were simple, and looked like the Russian's weren't really planning on having there bomb even looked at. I had Lilli hand me a pocket knife that was sitting in my backpack. By this time, the clock read four minutes. I took the knife, and cut through the plastic covering that covered the copper wire. I place a firm hand over the timer, to keep it from falling and possibly hitting a button as I roughly cut through the wire. It took a good three minutes before the wire fell apart. As I unhooked the C4 and clock, the timer went off. I quickly slapped the snooze button, as to prevent it from setting the C4 off, even though it was already disabled.

"Yes!" Dropping down beside him I pulled the C4 off the seat and looked at it. "Those stupid Russians." Picking it up I sat down in the first class seat and fiddled with the wiring for a moment, glancing at Blake, "We've got another hour for this flight before we're there. We need to contact Hughes as soon as we land and tell him what happened. If he doesn't tell us what's going on I swear I'm going to quit this stupid job." I pulled apart the heart monitor, taking a pocket knife out and severing another wire just so it wouldn't be useable again. It didn't hurt to be on the safe side. "Also we're stuck in these seats, the older couple is in our's." I sucked in a breath, glancing at my grazed shoulder before shrugging a little.

Without even saying anything, I pulled out the small first-aid kit that I had shoved in the bottom of my bag. I pulled out a small pack of gauze and some medical tape. "This should at least calm the bleeding down before we can get that looked at." I said, handing the tape and gauze to Lilli. "I don't know about you, but answers are important now. We have two crazy ass Russians who would be willing to kill hundreds of civilians just to get to us. And as far as we know, just to kill us." I said, leaning my head against the window of the plane. The adrenaline had started to wear off, and the mental drain of getting attacked and disabling a bomb was starting to take over

Slowly I wrapped my arm as best as I could, stopping the bleeding for the most part as I glanced at Blake, "I know answers are the most important, which is why as soon as we land we're calling Hughes and getting him to explain everything. I'll find the nearest laptop and hijack it if I have too to skype him. We need to know what's going on and why they were so hostile. And how they knew two agents were on the plane. The bomb wasn't put there for no reason." I rubbed my forehead, leaning back in the chair, "Stupid mission. Stupid people. Stupid templars."

The moment that we landed, Portugal's police had to interrogate everyone leaving the plain, and had to do a general search on all of us to make sure we weren't harboring explosives or firearms. As they came upon us, we showed them our passports and CIA badges. They pulled us aside once they realized who we were. We explained to them what had happened in rapid Portuguese. After questioning, they let us go. We had about thirty minutes to spare before our next plane was to leave to Brazil.

As soon as we got to a semi secluded area I pulled out my laptop and connected it to the airport's really crappy and slow wifi. At least it was something. Pulling up skype I sent Hughes a text message telling him that he better get online now or I'd shoot up the airport (something that I wouldn't do, but it sounded like a good threat at the time). His icon popped up and I hit the call button, crossing my arms angrily until the grainy picture of the silver headed handler popped up on the screen. "Care to explain to me why there were two angry Russians on our flight that tried to kill us?"

He gave me a shocked look before stating, "That's need to know."

"Yeah, and I need to know. Are our lives in danger again?"

"Possibly."

I groaned, shoving the computer towards Blake, "Talk to him."