A/N: I'm getting really fast! Probably because it's the weekend now, and I'm procrastinating on homework. After this chapter, they should be getting a bit longer in length; I've decided that I have enough of a base now! I hope everyone likes this new chapter, and please review! Thanks to all of those who have been reviewing so far, it's really making me want to update as fast as possible. Also, this chapter's title is inspired by the song Burn it to the Ground by Nickelback.
Disclaimer: I don't own Nikita!
Over the next two weeks Imogen gathered all of the explosives and gasoline that she could get her hands on. If this was going to work, it had to be huge.
"They aren't easily scared, I know that now," she said to herself. "But this…this will be big."
Imogen smirked to herself, and just imagined the looks on their faces when she burned down the garage where they held their cruisers. Sure, she could've picked the actual police station, but that would ruin all of the fun. She didn't want things to end here; she wanted to make them suffer for as long as her father did.
10 years earlier…
Imogen was shivering like a leaf. She was soaked to the bone and she only had a thin blanket to cover her body. Her father guarded her and stayed awake, sitting near the small fire that burned on the ground of the dark alley that they were hiding in. For almost as long as Imogen cared to remember, they were running. Her father never told her why; she was only 13 years old. She was way too young to handle the truth, in his opinion.
"Ana, I can't put that burden on her…she can't know, not yet. What should I do? We cannot keep running forever, no matter how hard we try," he whispered, staring down at his hands. "I'm sick…I can't keep doing this. She'll be on her own soon enough, and I need to know what I can do now to help her later. Help me Ana love. Please, help me help our little girl."
Her father thought that she was asleep, but thanks to the fact that she was cold and wet; Imogen heard the entire thing.
8 years earlier…
"Come on Gracie, you have to work at this!" her father said, watching his only daughter learn how to hack and deal with computers.
"Why do I even need to know this?" she asked, frustrated.
"I'll tell you when you're older Gracie," he said. "I promise."
"You promise a lot of things Da, but they never seem to come true!" she yelled. "How can I just go in blind?"
"I'll tell you when you're old enough; I swear on your mother's grave," he said seriously.
"Fine," she replied stonily, turning back to the computer screen.
"Enough," she berated herself. "Focus on your mission. Tomorrow…tomorrow it burns."
She got up and started to transport all of the explosives to her car. If all went well, she would have the garage torched within ten minutes and she would be gone. The cops…wouldn't even know what hit them. She planned on making a call to the station about 1 minute before she blew the place up; just to let them know that she was not going to stop. But they wouldn't find her…she was like a ghost after all.
The next day, Imogen was quick in getting up. It was nearing the time when everyone would be at the station. Well, not everyone, but the cops she wanted would be. She wanted to have the explosives and gasoline set up right after everyone exited the garage. After that, it was only a matter of time. She decided to go with a timed device; just so she could be clear and able to watch the cops run out of the station. If she truly wanted to, she could have set the explosives off manually; but then she would miss the show and be focused on getting out of the garage.
As she parked her car in an alleyway near the garage, she tied up her trademark blonde hair and smirked. It was time to make them shake in their boots. She grabbed the explosives, timed device and gasoline; hiding the explosives in a backpack. She had no room in the pack for everything; and she figured that no one would think twice about someone carrying gasoline.
"Just an innocent girl, bringing gas to her car," she muttered as she left the alley.
"Percy!" Michael yelled.
"Yes?" he asked.
"The woman, the one who robbed the bank…She was just seen walking down a street with a black backpack and a container that looks like it could contain gasoline," replied Michael, trying to stay as quiet as he could. The recruits were having their "workouts" right nearby, and they hadn't reached the safety of Percy's office.
"Alright. Any word on what she's going to burn? That's what I think she's doing, especially after yesterday," he said, walking briskly towards his office, Michael hot on his heels.
"Nothing. But my best bet would be the police station, or the garage next door where they keep the cruisers. Those are the only buildings that have any real importance on that street," he said in a hurry.
"Make a call, warning them. Don't tell the m who you are or where you are. Just warn them and then hang up. Try and time it so they catch her after the fact. We need to see if she can do follow through before we bring her in," Percy replied, dismissing Michael.
"I'm on it sir," Michael answered, leaving the room.
Imogen peeked inside the garage, making sure that the coast was clear before she fully climbed inside. It was void of any person, but there were many police cruisers parked.
"Perfect timing," she muttered to herself as she set up the explosives.
They were all grouped into lines, perfect placed so that once the timed device triggered and started the first explosive, all of the explosives and the gasoline connecting them would go off; like a game of dominoes when the person flicks the first one over.
Five minutes later, and Imogen was done setting everything up. She set the device to detonate in 2 minutes, and then left the building; ready to make her call. Once out, she headed over to the other street, picked up the receiver for a payphone and dialed.
"There she is!" someone yelled.
Imogen dropped the phone and whipped around. Just down the street from her was a cop, pointing in her direction. She silently cursed and began to run in the opposite direction; she had to get out of there. Luckily, she had had a lot of practice in running; she had spent most of her life doing it. Just then, she realized that there was another cop in the direction that she was running.
"Shit," she muttered; as soon as she realized that her only escape was the direction in which the garage was, and it was due to explode very soon.
Shaking her head, she ran towards it. If the cops had known that she was going to be there, they must have also known that the place was going to blow. Imogen was banking on the chance that they could be too scared to follow her.
Just then, the garage exploded, and despite the fact that Imogen covered her face with her arms, she was blasted back and fell onto the street. She could vaguely see the flames coming out of the windows, and the two cops running towards her. As they grabbed her, she realized that they weren't the ones who were in the hospital that day she left her father. Thank god for that, she thought to herself, I can deal with these guys.
When Imogen awoke, she was in a bare room; nothing but the bed she was lying in, a desk…a chair and some sort of bedside table. The walls looked like they were made out of concrete, or metal; she couldn't really tell. She sat up on the bed, causing the covers to fall off. Her arms were both bandaged up, from the wrists to her elbows. Imogen it was from the blast, since she tried to protect herself. The back of her head itched and she reached up to scratch it, only to realize that it too was bandaged. Just then, a tall man in a dark suit walked in.
"All alone in the world, and you, Imogen…try to blow up a police garage. Nice try, but according to these papers," he said, smacking a clipboard onto the bed, "died from the blast and burns of the very explosion that you caused."
"I'm not dead," she spat out, staring him straight in the face. "I'm very much alive. And I'm not afraid of you."
"Oh yes, you are alive" he replied. "My name's Michael and I work for the government. You've been granted a second chance."