Sierra || Lloyd Hansen

10. All Bark

"Do not underestimate this target," Lloyd announces to the wet teams that are after Court as you watch the various computer screens from your chair, "Hit this meatball like a freight train. And turn on cams. I want this pay-per-view."

You don't know what went down in the room between Fitz and Lloyd, but you figure Lloyd must've threatened Claire and/or you to get Fitz to talk. You know Court is in Prague with Margaret to find out what she found on the drive, though you're unsure who his 'help' is that Lloyd mentioned. Regardless, Court and Margaret are smart. They'll get out of the corner they've been unknowingly trapped in.

You look at each of the cameras displayed on the televisions in the room, watching as the wet teams begin to swarm the area. Lloyd paces behind you, watching the screens as well. You hardly flinch as bullets rain down on the building, mostly annoyed by the loud volume of it that fills the room. Smoke begins billowing out windows after an explosion. The cameras don't show much as the smoke filled building is swarmed.

"In here," you hear Margaret's voice call out in the video feed.

"Where is he?"

"Where is who?"

"Do not play with me."

"What the hell is she doing?" Lloyd leans forward, bracing his arms on the table in front of him. You can't help but watch the muscles in his arms tense as he does so.

"Outplaying you," you point out.

"Oh, doll, whatever they are paying you," Margaret calmly holds a cigarette in her hand with a lighter in the other, "it is not enough."

You bite the edge of your lip until you taste iron, knowing what's about to happen.

"Oh shi-" the cams on screen go offline, leaving only maps.

"Jesus," Suzanne mutters with a shake of her head.

You can see Lloyd's back tense through his tight fit shirt, though his voice remains steady and unbothered, "Well, that was unexpected."

"Did we just kill Margaret Cahill?"

"Makes you question if you're on the right side, huh, Suzanne?" you look over at her, "Because he's doing exactly what your boss is paying him to do."

She looks over at you, uncertainty strewn across her features, before turning back to the televisions to mask it.

"We have Alpha and Bravo teams circling," the tech from earlier announces, "Delta's en route. Cameras aren't live yet."

"Send everyone," Lloyd instructs as he walks back to your chair, "Get 'em in there, every team. Light it up."

"Cops have him near the square at the opera. They've called in a SWAT team," someone informs Lloyd as he stands behind you, observing all the screens ahead of him.

"Alpha team arriving now," the tech verbalized.

"This clown's a sitting duck," he shrugs, pouring two glasses of whiskey and placing one on the table next to you. You ignore it. "You have my permission to shoot anyone standing in his way."

"Confirmation on target," a mercenary speaks through his earpiece.

"Make him dead," Lloyd confirms, bringing the whiskey glass to his lips.

You just stare ahead at the maps and various screens, refusing to show any sort of reaction. You see chaos erupt in the city square where Court is handcuffed to a concrete bench. Bullets fire from every direction, forcing the pedestrians to make a frantic attempt at escape.

"We're going to prison for this," Suzanne mutters.

"Keep any more cops out of that square."

"We're killing cops now? Margaret Cahill wasn't enough?"