Reconnoiter || Guns N Roses, David Bowie, Bon Jovi

Reconnoiter: Eighteen

At Axl's request, I opened the alternate door to the deliberation room using another CIA code; I half expected another alarm to go off but the door popped open without any difficulty. There was no time to say goodbye, as the guards inside were on edge as soon as they heard us coming. Axl barely had time to nod at me before he closed the door firmly, leaving me on the outside looking in.

But I couldn't look, I couldn't stand to. I pressed my back against the wooden door and slid downward to a sitting position, cringing at the sound of Axl's voice echoing off the walls inside.

"All of you, get down!" He bellowed, followed by the disgruntled sound of the Justices. I barely got time to look through the little window before I became too frightened to do so, but I imagine they've left their fancy podiums to kneel on the ground before their murderers.

I thought about the way Axl always whispered to me after we'd finished lovemaking for the night, just before I would fall asleep in his arms. He could be so gentle and sweet sometimes, nothing like the monster who was in there, about to kill someone's parent, someone's grandma. I would sigh with pleasure as I lay limp, my bare skin pressed to his. The touch of his fingertips against my face would always be the last thing I felt, listening to the sound of his voice in my ear, telling me about the love he had for me.

What he was doing in there wasn't love, but it was just as cold and cruel.

I bit my tongue to keep from bursting into fits of sobbing at the sound of a gun popping off. "Ha, eight more of you old bastards to go... which one of your fuckers is next?" I wondered how he was keeping the guards at bay, I wondered how he had the mental strength to do this.

"Drop your weapons, and stand down right now!"

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the sound of that voice, so familiar, so British. It couldn't be, I immediately tried to convince myself. The Captain was the leader of the CIA, there's no way he'd ever embark on a field mission. He and his fancy black suits stayed underground in CIA HQ where no harm could possibly be inflicted upon him, safe and snug.

"Yeah fucking right, I should've expected the almighty Captain to pay me a visit." But it was him.

That was enough to have me up again, peering through the impossibly small window to take in the scene unfolding before me. It was quite a sight, the room seemed like it might've been a nice place to work at one time, and now things had gone awfully wrong. I whimpered at the sight of a body on the floor, swimming in a puddle of 'tomato soup,' as I would've called it ten years ago. It was even splattered on the wall.

The rest of the justices were kneeling in their long black robes right in front of the big polished podiums they used to call a workspace. Now they'll forever be haunted with Axl's face. Some are sobbing, others have faces paler than sheets of paper.

Steven stands with a gun cocked to all three guards, dressed in black and also down on their knees in the corner of the room. Slash stands tall behind them, gun loaded. The others guard the justices, ensuring that none of them try and make a break for it or remove their hands from their heads.

Cap is there, standing in the center of the room. His task force is meager, grouped near the elevator while attempting to come off as fierce. I realized that I hadn't seen Cap in weeks, and that he looked absolutely terrible. There were deep purple rings below his eyes, and while he'd always come off as young and spunky he looked like he'd aged ten tears. His hair was a mess, he wore nothing but a white tank top and black pants. I'd never seen him so disheveled.

Axl stood across from him, the corners of his mouth were curled up into the smuggest smile you could imagine. He had a loaded gun in his hand, as did Cap, but both were lowered at the time.