Closure

[Deric Storm]

(This takes place about 8 months after the events of Ultramarine. Claire Middleton and Dr. Sydney Freeman are my NPCs)

“I still think it’s a bad idea.”

Deric rolled his eyes and growled as he placed a few more items from his desk into his backpack.

“Gee, Middie,” the farmboy said dryly. “You sure that’s how you really feel?” Deric cast a quick glance at his watch. “It’s only been five minutes since you last said that.”

The blonde forensic tech glared at the detective, though more out of stubbornness than anger. “I’ll keep saying it until it sinks into that thick Irish skull of yours.” Middie placed both of her hands on Deric’s desk as if both bracing herself and barring the path of the larger detective.

To anyone walking by, the sight would almost be comical. Deric was, by most normal people’s definition, a large man; six-foot-four and about two hundred and thirty pounds, give or take. Claire Middleton, the woman staring him down, was almost a foot shorter and probably a hundred pounds lighter.

The idea that that could literally just pick up the blonde woman and move her aside if he wished almost made Deric laugh out loud. It also diffused most of the frustration he was feeling; not that he or Middie could stay mad at each other for long anyway. Being in the same training class at the Academy had engendered more of a sibling relationship. Also, he couldn’t stay mad at her because the farmboy knew she was just trying to look out for him.

Deric was more frustrated with Middie because he knew that she was probably right.

“Jeebus, Claire,” Deric huffed, sinking into his desk chair. “What do you want me to say?”

The shorter blonde glared at him. “What I want,” she said, softening her gaze, “is to know that you’re gonna be okay.”

“Aww hell, Mids,” Deric said closing up his backpack, “I’m not gonna be gone forever. I’ll be back before you know it.” Slinging the bag over his shoulder as he stood up, Deric made his way around his Academy classmate. “You don’t really have to worry about me.”

“We’ve known each other long enough for me to know you’re full of crap, farmboy,” Claire said, falling into step with him. “I just remember how you were the first time and you were not in a good place. I don’t want to see you fall back in that hole.”

Deric put his free arm around the woman’s shoulders. “I know, I know. I appreciate it, Claire. I just feel like it’s something I have to do. One way or another, I need some sense of closure. For my sanity, if nothing else.”

“Sanity?” Claire asked, looking up at him. “That sounds like something you should talk to somebody about. Maybe ring up Sparky, or hell, go talk to Freeman. You two seem to work well.”

“Already did,” Deric answered. Middie stopped short on hearing that. Deric stopped as well, looking back at the woman.

“And he okayed this???” Claire almost went bug-eyed.

Deric chuckled a little bit at her response, which he somewhat expected. In fact, he still remembered when he spoke with Dr. Freeman.

(5 weeks post Ultramarine)

Deric stretched out on the bench near the Academy training fields, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. He let his mind wander while watching some trainees playing soccer and just listening to the background noise around him.

“Interesting spot for a house call.” A voice broke through the reverie.

“Well,” Deric said with a sigh, leaning back on the bench, “recent events have given me an aversion you might say to enclosed spaces.”

The other voice sat down on the bench next to him. “I’d say that aversion’s reasonable. Considering I can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve requested a session… I was curious.”

Deric let his head loll back and almost broke out in laughter. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me like this, Doc.”

Sydney Freeman, one of ACME’s staff psychiatrists, sat down next to Deric on the bench. “Not a problem, Detective. I figured after your mission with Miss Monaghan, I’d be dealing with you soon enough.”

Deric could feel the shrink’s eyes on him, giving him the space to respond in his own time, but encouraging him to respond as well. The ‘mission,’ as Dr. Freeman had called it was both the worst kept secret and greatest mystery in all of ACME. A rescue mission to a submerged temple beneath the waves of the Indian Ocean, working with the top of the agency’s most wanted list, having his brain scrambled by a magic artifact, the end of that farrago with their departure… There were times he wondered what had been real and what was the result of hypoxia. Some things were crystal clear in his memory, though. ‘Hence today’s session,’ Deric thought.

“Yeah,” Deric said quietly. “I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around what happened. I saw and went through some stuff down there and… Hell, I don’t know.” Deric covered his face with his hands and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me what you can,” Freeman soothed, “or at least what you can remember.” Deric pushed himself up from the bench and paced in front of the bench, rubbing his hands together.

“First part of the mission went off without a hitch, for the most part,” Deric began, chuckling at the end. “Next thing I know, things start getting squirrely. Everybody starts acting weird, a flash of light, and then the next thing I know I’m in the living room of my grandparents’ farmhouse having a debate with my evil doppelganger and my missing fiancée.” Deric plopped back into his seat on the bench, visibly frustrated. “Ex- fiancée, fiancée, what-googly-ever.” Recounting the tale made the young detective want to scream in impotent rage. He could feel some of the concern radiating from Dr. Freeman; it had been Sydney whom Deric had been mandated to see when he spiraled into a depression when his fiancée, Calina Corranos, had vanished about two years prior.

He had been moving on, or attempting to in any case. And that googly cave had taken all that and tossed it into the garbage. Deric hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he had returned from the sea.

“I’m guessing you’ve been replaying that conversation since you got back?” Freeman finally asked.

“Just about every time I close my eyes,” Deric grumbled. Out of the corner of his eye, Deric thought he had seen Sydney’s shoulders sag slightly, as if he too saw all his previous work shatter.

“Normally, I would not even broach this,” Syd said, closing his notepad. “But as your therapist, I am concerned at what your experience on your last mission means for your mental health. I think you need to find Calina and hash out whatever this,” Freeman gestured in Deric’s general direction, “is. Considering the aftereffects, I feel it would be in your best interests to get some sort of closure one way or the other.”

Present Day

“I think Syd felt the positives overruled the negatives,” Deric said shrugging.

“If he says it’s okay, I guess…” Claire started to stammer. Deric dropped the backpack and pulled her into a hug. He rested his chin on the top of her head and he could feel her grip him tighter and start to sob a little.

“Hey-hey-hey,” Deric said, rubbing her back soothingly. “I’ll be fine. I’m gonna go down, ask some questions, hopefully get some answers, and then I’ll be back. Besides, If I don’t come back, who’s gonna feed you on Sundays?”

Claire’s sobs turned into laughs and she shoved Deric a little bit. “You better or I will find you and whoop your butt.”

“Deal,” Deric said with a chuckle as he pushed the call button for the elevator.

 

[Deric Storm]

(Six months post-Ultramarine)

Deric sat in the waiting area, a slight feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. The summons he had received earlier that day had come as a bolt out of the blue. It had ordered him to appear on this floor of ACME HQ at this specific time. While Deric had been called to the upper levels of Accolade Tower before, he had only been this high up in the tower one other time. It was a bit of a running joke that the top three floors of the tower were called ‘Olympus’ by the detective corps. If a detective was called up to those floors, it was usually either very good or very bad; there was no middle ground.

Considering who had summoned him, Deric was pretty sure it was not for a good reason.

Barbara Rosen. The head of ACME’s Board of Directors. The Iron Lady.

While Chief Weller and, moreso, Chase ran the day-to-day operations of the agency, most people would say the Board, and more specifically Rosen herself, truly ruled ACME. She had been the one who sent him, Nevon Blair and Ivy Monaghan haring off after the agency’s wayward Director of Operations when Chase had gotten himself pulled into a situation straight out of an Indiana Jones movie.

They had been tasked with retrieving him and some other ACME agents who had supported him... along with nabbing the Red Queen as Deric called the leader of VILE.

As with all plans, their mission had not survived first contact with the “enemy.” There had been something that messed with the heads of everyone there, causing hallucinations. He remembered arriving at the undersea city, meeting up with El Jefe and The Red Queen, heading towards a temple and then… things got weird. To this day, Deric still couldn’t remember everything that happened, but what he could didn’t seem quite real.

“Mister Storm,” a woman’s voice broke through his daydreaming. He looked up to see the young woman who had met him when he first stepped out of the elevator, thirty minutes ago according to his watch. “She’s ready for you now.” The young woman, probably mid-twenties same as him, led him to two large wooden doors that probably led to either a conference room or the world’s most expensive interrogation room.

‘Or probably both,’ the detective thought as the secretary grabbed one of the ornate door handles. “Right this way,” she said yanking the obviously heavy door open.

The doors to the conference room opened. ‘Well, into the lion’s den,’ Deric thought as he strode in.

The room was designed to impress or intimidate. Floor to ceiling windows on your left with a gorgeous view of the San Francisco skyline and the Golden Gate Bridge. On your right, a wall covered with portraits of the founding members of the agency that seemed to stare at you wherever you went in the room. This was a room where decisions were made that had global consequences. This was not a place for wiseass farmboys from Nebraska.

In the middle of the room sat a sleek yet opulent conference table. Long enough to comfortably sit sixteen, it felt entirely too large for the farmboy and the other occupants seated at the far end. It was the same setup as six months prior when he was brought into this same room to give some ‘clarification’ on his case report involving the mission to retrieve Chase. The whole thing had rankled Deric six months ago, and it did so now.

“Ah, Mister Storm,” the head of the ACME Board of directors said, after finally deciding to acknowledge the younger agent’s presence. The greeting had all the warmth of a walk-in freezer. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.” She gestured to the seat nearest to him at the far end of the table.

“Didn’t seem like it was optional,” Deric muttered.

“What was that?” Rosen almost snapped.

“Glad to be of help,” Deric said instantly, forcing false cheer into his voice and an even faker smile on his face. ‘Dumbass,’ he thought. ‘You truly can’t help yourself sometimes.’ He took the seat he had previously occupied six months prior and faced the lords paramount of ACME’s pantheon.

As Deric faced the Iron Lady, he could see the bearded man to Rosen’s right studying him. It almost made Deric want to glance down to see if his fly was open, even though he was sitting down, his lower body was obscured by the conference table. On Rosen’s left, a squat, portly man couldn’t even be bothered to look Deric’s way. He was more concerned with the open file folders in front of him, along with a tablet, probably connected to ACME’s database. Because he could never remember the names of Rosen’s two lieutenants, after his previous meeting with these three, he mentally labelled the bearded one ‘Corporate Gandalf’ and the fat one ‘Boss Toad’. A little mental insubordination helped alleviate some of the intimidation.

“Now, Mister Storm,” Rosen said, snapping Deric out of his reverie. “This is a routine follow up to our previous debrief.”

“Understood,” the young detective answered evenly, despite not believing it.

“Given the biometric data from the STUN suits,” Rosen looked at data in the folder she had in front of her, “along with the bloodwork of yourself and the other members of your team on the assignment, the Board accepted the after-action report from your team. However, enough time has passed that maybe you might be recollecting information that you didn’t at the time you and your team submitted the report.”

“Miss Rosen,” Deric said evenly. “I have not recalled any new details in the past six months that would contradict anything I previously put in my after-action report.”

“That seems to contradict what you’ve told Dr. Freeman in your recent sessions,” Corporate Gandalf interjected, as if he had been waiting for Deric to say what he did. “You were heard talking about how you were remembering more of right when you ‘woke up’ and the ensuing departure from the cavern.”

Which was true. Deric was remembering more and more from the mission. He remembered the farm, the black suit, Cali, black sand, Maelstrom, being a ninja Robin Hood, and then he also remembered after...

“Our orders were for Chase and to try and nab the Red Queen if we could,” Deric said, eyeing the surrounding environment. “The Iron Lady didn’t say spit to me about preserving the Temple of Doom. Rosen say anything like that to you, Red?”

However…

“I’m sorry,” Deric said, feeling violated at what the other end of the table just insinuated. “Were you eavesdropping on my sessions with Doctor Freeman?”

“You were on a bench in a public footpath on the grounds,” Boss Toad explained with an accent Deric couldn’t quite place; somewhere in Northern Europe, maybe one of the Nordic countries. He held up his tablet which displayed a screengrab of Deric and ACME’s top psychologist sitting on a bench under one of the trees on the agency grounds. “There was no reasonable way you could expect privacy in such a location.”

“EXCUSE ME!?!” Deric almost roared as he stood up so fast the chair he had sat in was toppled backwards. He had come to this ‘meeting’ nervous and with some dread. This revelation had replaced that with indignance and defiance. “This is not only unethical but a gross breach of doctor-patient confidentiality.” He glared at the trio, fury simmering in his gaze. Deric had rarely used his imposing frame to intimidate those he was going against in an enclosed setting, but that was out the window now.

Boss Toad seemed to be fidgeting in his seat, somewhat nervous at the detective’s outburst. Corporate Gandalf seemed to be analyzing him like some sort of experiment. Rosen… just stared the young Irishman down and looked offended that someone dared challenge the authority of her triumvirate.

“Sit down, Mister Storm,” Rosen ordered in a tone that brooked no alternative. Deric narrowed his eyes and considered being truly defiant, but pragmatism won out. The sooner he sat, the sooner they could finish this dog and pony show.

“Now,” Rosen asked sharply, “did you or did you not falsify your report at the behest of the Director of Operations in order to obscure his actual involvement in the matter?”

‘So that’s the game,’ Deric thought. ‘they’re trying to gauge my loyalty to Chase.’ He had to admit, it made sense. The rest of those involved in this boondoggle- their relationship with Chase was pretty much public knowledge. Ivy was almost tied to the hip to the Director, career-wise. Where Ivy went, Grovington would follow. Mayhew risked her career and possibly her freedom exposing the Board’s attempted coup against Chase. And, finally, Blair practically worshipped the ground Devineaux walked on.

That just left him.

While he was friends with Ivy, Grovington, and Blair, there was also a little bit of… separation, for lack of a better word, in their social orbits. While he supported and even respected Mayhew’s outing of the board’s attempt to oust Chase, Deric also had publicly manhandled Lee Jordan, whom Eleanor had a known association with. Deric liked and respected Chase both personally and professionally, but he wasn’t seen as one of the Director’s “chosen.”

Deric had to admit he did seem like the easiest route to take to try and get what they needed to take Chase down. However, the Irishman despised the Board’s tactics; he despised that they saw him as a weak link; he despised that they felt like his integrity could be bought or cajoled. And on top of that, Deric was flat out pissed off that they spied on him while he was in therapy.

“Miss Rosen,” Deric started, trying to be civil, “everything I reported on Devineaux’s actions during the incident happened as I saw them. I have to ask, what do you think I or anyone else on the team is hiding?” Deric tried to be civil, he really did. However, his tolerance for bullcrap was near its limit.

“Director Devineaux,” Corporate Gandalf interjected, “has shown an uncomfortable tendency to collaborate with an international fugitive. The Board have become concerns it might be affecting his willingness to apprehend her, which would, of course, be a major conflict of interest.”

Deric had to take a sip from the glass to prevent himself from laughing. The weird dance that Chase and Carmen seemed to be doing was the source of some good-natured ribbing by some of the older members of the detective corps. The past few years had lent Deric a small measure of empathy to Chase’s potential thought process.

“Ma’am,” Deric addressed the Iron Lady, “Carmen Sandiego has eluded not just this agency but every major law enforcement entity for years. She doesn’t need any help from ACME,” Deric said, mentally crossing his fingers at the last statement. “Retrieving Devineaux was the team’s primary assignment, which we successfully completed. Attempting to apprehend Carmen would have put the team and the mission in unnecessary risk.”

“So,” Rosen said, looking right at him, “you stand by your report stating Director Devineaux did not aid the primary target of this agency in escaping capture?”

Steeling himself, Deric answered, looking the Iron Lady of ACME right in the eye, “There is no actionable evidence to refute that report and I refuse to help fabricate any.”

“No one is asking you to,” Boss Toad said. Deric gave him a look of disbelief.

“Why am I here then?”

“Despite your multiple cases of insubordination,” Rosen cut in, looking at a folder, probably his personnel file, “you’re also well known for your integrity.” Deric raised a skeptical eyebrow at the apparent compliment. “You’ve also shown yourself to be someone who gets things done,” Rosen said. “We feel someone with your skillset might be wasting those talents in the detective branch. The Board would like to offer an… opportunity to branch out in the organization.”

“How so?” Deric asked, smelling a set up.

“Do you know Matt Robbins?” Boss Toad asked.

“Kind of,” Deric replied after a moment’s thought. “RED teamer. I think I worked with him to bust an antiquities smuggling ring about three years ago in Costa Rica. Seemed like a good dude.” Deric also vaguely remembered he and Cali chatting with Robbins and his wife at the Agency Christmas party around that same time. They had just had their second or third child. For basically being ACME’s version of a SEAL or SWAT, Deric did remember the guy to be quite friendly. “Why do you ask?”

“There is an opening on RED Team 7,” Corporate Gandalf addressed Deric. RED Team 7 was Robbins’ team, Deric remembered. They tended to operate primarily in Central and South America. With his training in the Academy under Ilya, and the fact he was fluent in both Spanish and Portuguese, Team 7 wouldn’t be a bad posting outside of ACME HQ. Add to that the fact he’d be able to do a little more in-depth digging… it was a tempting offer.

But, as he had also learned, Rosen was not known for her altruism.

“Robbins signed off on this?” Deric asked warily. One thing he remembered from talking with Matt at the Christmas party was that RED Team leaders chose their team members. Deric noticed the look that passed between the triumvirate and felt a sinking feeling starting to form in his stomach.

“Agent Robbins is no longer the head of Team 7,” Rosen answered, almost offhandedly, as she wrote something onto her notepad. “He sustained injuries on a recent assignment that require his transfer out of the RED unit. You would be assuming command of the team.”

Googly…..

It took all his self-restraint to keep his jaw from ending up in his lap. Running his own RED team… In the part of the world where the most important person in his life vanished to… It was an opportunity he would almost have done anything for. However, he also remembered who held the stick this carrot was tied to. This boon also came with a bane; it would, probably, only cost him throwing Chase, Ivy, and Nevon under the bus.

A dark part of him wasn’t quite sure that the bane wouldn’t be worth it.

“Mister Storm?” The Iron Lady cut through the silence, demanding an answer.

“Sorry,” Deric answered, reaching for the glass of water in front of him. “I was just taken aback by the offer. It’s a lot to consider.” Not a complete lie.

“What’s to consider?” Rosen retorted, pressing the issue. “This is a perfect advancement opportunity for you based on your experience and your leadership potential. Opportunities like this are extremely rare. It would be unwise to let it slip by.”

‘In other words, “play ball or you’ll regret it.”’ Deric thought. “It would also be unwise to make a snap decision on something like this, ma’am. I need some time to…”

“Detective Storm,” Rosen cut him off, closing the folder in front of her with a slight thud. “Changes are coming to the Detective branch. You may want to consider your own career and place within this agency.” The threat was barely veiled. The fact that he hadn’t immediately folded had clearly rankled the CEO. Deric reached for the glass in front of him to give himself a moment to find the right words to say to this conniving executive.

“When was the last time you spoke with Agent Corranos?” Corporate Gandalf asked. Deric’s glass shattered as his hand reflexively clenched. He visibly winced as he could feel shards of the glass dig into his palm. That only stopped him from glaring daggers at the bearded man for a second or two.

“What bearing does that have on this situation?” Deric gritted through clenched teeth; his self-control frayed to tatters. The pain from his palm, combined with the fear of having been caught in an obvious trap, the anger of having the love of his life used as leverage and the shame of admitting he was, even with all that, still considering taking the bait was all pushing him towards the former of ‘fight or flight’. Luckily, the rational part of his brain was resisting pressing that button.

“Leading the RED team would give you access to resources you could use to locate her,” Corporate Gandalf said, in the tone of a teacher addressing a particularly dull student. With that, the red in his left palm was now matched by Deric’s vision. The pain was now completely overshadowed by rage.

“We’re done here,” Deric brusquely stated as he pushed himself away from the table and headed towards the door.

“We’ll give you some time to consider our offer, Mister Storm,” the young detective could hear Rosen call after him as he shouldered his way out the oak door he had been led through. It was a less than dignified exit, but it was better than it could have been. As he powered past the secretary’s desk, he grabbed a handful of tissues from the box sitting on it. Deric jabbed at the elevator call button with his elbow as he tried to stop the bleeding in his palm without pushing the remaining glass shard further into his hand.

After pushing the button for the floor housing the Detective branch and letting the elevator doors close, Deric rested his head on the cool metal and let out an angry growl and a curse at the situation. He had let Rosen and her two flunkies play him like a fiddle. Worse yet, Deric had let them see it affect him. And now, it seemed like his job was on the line as well as Chase’s.

Once again, a trip to Olympus was either very good or very bad and there had been absolutely nothing good about this trip for one Deric Storm.

-----​

“Jesus, farmboy,” Ivy gasped when she saw the blood oozing from Deric’s hand, “What’d you do?”

“Turns out it’s not a good idea to make a closed fist while holding a glass,” Deric hissed, plucking a piece of the glass out of his palm.

“What made you do that?” Ivy asked, a look of concern crossing her face.

Deric glanced around the bullpen, wondering if Rosen, Boss Toad or Corporate Gandalf were watching them even now.

“Not here,” Deric said in a low voice, unusually serious. “Walk me to the infirmary. We can talk along the way.” The two detectives headed down a hall towards the medical center and Deric relayed everything that had happened.

-----​

(Seven months post Ultramarine)

“Ghost,” Deric said, shushing his dog’s barking as he got up to answer the door, “Fuist.” Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw it was about 5 minutes to eight in the evening. Deric wasn’t expecting any company and approached the door somewhat cautiously. He peered through the peephole to see who was outside; outside stood a young woman with rimless glasses dressed in business attire. Recognizing Chase Devineaux’s right hand immediately, Deric quickly opened the door.

“Miss Grovesnor?” Deric asked, surprised and confused at seeing the Director of Operations’ assistant standing outside his home at this time of night, or standing outside his door in general.

“Mister Storm,” Renee said with a wry smile.

“Please, come in,” Deric stammered, his manners returning once his brain rebooted. The young lady walked in past the detective, holding her courier bag over her shoulder. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” Renee answered. “This won’t take long.” She said as she opened her courier bag and reached inside.

“Your temporary transfer request has been formally approved,” Renee said, handing Deric a stuffed legal envelope from the bag. “Inside are all the necessary forms and documentation you’ll need when you get there.” Deric opened the envelope and started thumbing through the forms. His gaze caught something on the transfer orders form.

“Wait a minute,” the young agent said, reading the form more closely. “This says my transfer doesn’t officially start until the first of next month. I thought I was starting down there as soon as possible?”

Grovesnor removed her glasses with one hand and rubbed the bridge of her nose with the other. “Director Devineaux wanted to make sure you had as much time as possible.”

“What do you mean ‘as much time as possible’?” Deric asked, already having an inkling where this was going.

“A memo came down from the board,” the secretary began, and Deric could feel his stomach start to drop. “Effective two weeks ago, all temporary assignments and transfers are now capped at ninety days.”

Deric growled under his breath. “Googly,” he swore. He figured Rosen would pull some kind of shenanigans. Ninety days was not a lot of time for what he was trying to do.

“Director Devineaux also told me to tell you ‘good hunting,’” Renee said as she closed the door on her way out.

 

[Neb]

This is so exciting! Thank you for writing this! I was really missing this world. Great work!

 

[Julie Justice]

Well, I do try to pop in here often enough to know what's going on--and post a status or something in chat--and I do have a Media file on here, now "Julie Justice, IRL" (even though I haven't posted a new story in a long time).

But, I do agree this is a great story; and fun to read.