Disclaimer: FX: The Series does not belong to me, and I'm in no way profiting financially from this story. The screenplay for Red Storm was written by Mary Crawford and Alan Templeton, and the episode was directed by J. Miles Dale. I have adapted the story to written form hopefully remaining true to both the writer and director’s original creative intentions. It is written purely for my own entertainment and for the entertainment of others. FX is a Fireworks Entertainment Inc. and Winterset Productions Inc. production also produced in association with Rysher Entertainment and Hallmark Entertainment. The show is also based on the movie FX, an Orion Picture Corporation movie.

CHAPTER 4

Rollie and Mira continued walking up the street looking around. The only thing they noticed was that it really was the kind of area they really wouldn’t want to be hanging around once it got dark. Rollie was beginning to get frustrated, and kicked at a can on the footpath “I suppose I could start knocking on a few doors saying ‘Hello, remember me’.”

Mira didn’t smile at the joke as they stopped at a corner. She replied, equally frustrated, “Well, around here if anyone does open, it’s to get a clear shot at you.”

Across the street a young man wearing an army green jacket and a dirty black ball cap walked out of the corner store and lit a cigarette. He looked up and spotted Rollie and Mira. A look of horror crossed his face as he recognised Rollie, he dropped his cigarette and ran like hell up the street away from them.

“Hey!” yelled Rollie as he took off after the guy. Mira followed at a sprint but between pulling her gun out and her shorter legs, she fell behind.

As the guy in the jacket reached his house, he yelled out to a friend inside “Billy!” Billy came rocketing out the front door with a gun as Rollie followed his friend down the alley between two houses.

Mira ran up behind Billy, her gun aimed at him and yelled, “Drop it.” He stopped with his hands in the air leaving Rollie only one to deal with.

Rollie caught up with the guy as they got to the back of the house and he gave him a shove, throwing him onto the bonnet of a car there. The guy turned, clambering to his feet on the car bonnet and pulled out a flick blade. Rollie stepped back, on his toes, all his senses jumped to alert as he watched the guy wield the blade. The guy jumped off the bonnet to attack Rollie, who in turn deftly sidestepped him and gave him another shove. He stumbled and fell right through the predominantly glass back door. Rollie followed him in and picked up the blade kicking him to his feet. As he helped him up, and held the guy’s hands behind his head Rollie looked around the room, it was full of guns, BIG guns. And sitting in a chair in the middle of the room was the body of a man, shot in the head.

Mira frog marched Billy into the room through the front entrance. She had his hands cuffed and her gun to his head. “Still think you’re the tough guy, huh? Yeah, come on...”

Rollie and Mira made eye contact after she had had the chance to sweep the room full of guns with her eyes. They both realised they had walked into something big and needed to play it carefully.

Rollie’s little friend was confused, “What’s going on? What are you, cops!?!” he asked, noticing the cuffs on Billy.

The Aussie decided to wing it, realising they’d get no answers if he clicked that Mira was a cop. He decided to play the tough guy, “Would a cop do that? Hmm?” giving his captive a jab towards the body for emphasis.

Rollie’s captive was quick to avoid a many implications as possible, “Look, me and my cousin are here to pick up the stuff. That’s all! I thought we had a deal?” he asked indignant that Rollie had the balls to come back and push him around.

Rollie began warming up with his tough guy routine, “So did I, but the weapon!” he growled right in the guy’s face.

Rollie’s little friend got even more indignant, nothing like a criminal with pride in his work... “The weapon was fine man! It was excellent, I tested it myself. I tell ya, where else are you going to get a Barclay 62-A1 in that condition.”

Mira’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the gun type, “Barclay? 50 Calibre?” Those things packed one hell of a punch and it worried her immensely.

The guy sensed something was off, “What is this?”

Rollie pushed the tough guy routine further, and yelled in the guy’s face, “SHADDUP!”

Mira caught on to the tough guy act and began winging it too, “Where did you meet this loser anyway?”

Rollie put the knife to his companion’s neck and yelled in his face, “Tell her... Tell her!”

The guy in the green jacket had the good sense to keep talking, and fast. “I dunno man. Hanson set it up. Never seen you before the day you walked in here. You got no reason to kill us. Maybe Hanson knew you before but we don’t. Right!?” He looked at Billy for confirmation.

Billy nodded pathetically as Rollie and Mira made eye contact again. Rollie then refolded the knife and pocketed it himself. “So,” he said to Mira, “what do you think?”

Mira eyed Billy with a wicked twinkle in her eye. “I think maybe,” and she gave him a shove, “I oughta read’m their rights.”

The guy in the green jacket looked suitably shocked at that, “What!?! You kiddin’, you are cops!” Rollie pulled his arms behind his back and eye Mira with a look of grim satisfaction. They had what they needed from these two clowns.

Loubar had unpacked his equipment, and had both Rollie’s face and hand profiles up on his computer screen. He laid his hand on a device glowing with blue light and it applied a thin layer of latex to his palm and fingers. He carefully smoothed the edges down along the side of his fingers.

The assassin then got up and opened a large case on a table in the middle of the room. He pulled out a large gun, a Barclay 62-A1 to be precise, and held it. He left Rollie’s fingerprints in several strategic spots on the gun, including the trigger.

Angie Ramirez parked the red Tyler FX truck on Keyswater and approached number 57. She’d pulled on her brown suede jacket as well as black woollen scarf and gloves before she left the loft. She walked quickly across the front lawn and up the steps of a brick house, casting a few glances about as she went. When she got to the door she pried the mail flap open and peered inside.

Across the other side of the room Angie could see a computer that was active and sitting on a desk. A container of disks sat beside it, and on the wall above were a series of surveillance photos. She squinted at them, realising that she was the predominant subject, sometimes with Rollie, sometimes on her own.

Angie shut the mail slot with a bang, felling angry and violated all over again. She scowled as she pulled her PDA from her pocket.

Mira had called in re-enforcements and had the gun dealers’ house cordoned off. She was giving the many numerous details to another detective when Rollie pulled up in the van, having collected it from up the road. He honked the horn, getting her attention. She looked up and called out “Give me 10 minutes!”

Rollie nodded, shut the engine off and climbed out of the drivers seat to go work on the computer in the back of the van. Just as he sat down his cell phone rang again, “Yeah? Tyler,” he answered.

It was Angie again, on the steps of the house and having used her PDA and earpiece to phone him. “I’m at Loubar’s house. It’s 57 Keyswater. He’s not home, I’m gonna go in and get the computer.” She jammed the PDA back into one pocket with her gloves, and pulled her leatherman tool from the other pocket, turning back towards the door.

Angie’s comment surprised Rollie and he was quick in his response. “Angie, don’t even think about it. The house will be booby-trapped!” He turned off the van computer as he spoke, panicked that she’d do something stupid.

Angie didn’t want to listen, confident in her abilities and she replied, “I know, he almost got you are Serrano, right? But there’s a shutdown delay, what is it? 30 seconds? She set the timer on her watch, “I can do it.”

The Aussie leapt to his feet and practically ran back to the driver’s seat. “Angie! No! Wait ‘til I get there!” he yelled back at her. He started the engine and took off up the street. Mira heard the engine start and watched as the van disappeared down the street, bemused and irritated at why Rollie had left without her.

“It’s in and out,” replied Angie, attempting to convince both Rollie and herself of her ability. “I can do it. Just stay with me Rol,” she requested as she quickly picked the lock using her leatherman tool.

Rollie drove like a bat out of hell, his cell phone still in one hand, “Angie! Angie, listen to me!”

The door of the house burst open and Angie rushed through it. “I’m in.” The security panel on the wall began counting down from 30 seconds.

“I’m not far, just wait!” Rollie persisted, as he tried to change lanes and her mind, all the while trying not cause an accident talking on the phone.

Angie ran across the room, pocketing her leatherman as she ran. “Too late,” she spat out as she grabbed a disk from the box and rammed it into the Jazz drive.

Rollie refused to give up, he was frightened that Angie was going to end up killing herself, “Angie, just leave it! Leave it!!”

“No,” she argued. “I can get it.” She quickly tapped the required keys bringing up the system command menu and the computer began downloading onto the disc.

“It’s not worth it!” cried Rollie down the phone.

Angie glanced up at the surveillance photos, and a thrill of hatred ran through her knowing now that Loubar had deliberately targeted her. She was grim and determined as she replied, “Yes it is.”

Rollie yelled down the phone, getting desperate as the clock kept ticking, “Angie!! Get out!!”

Angie grabbed the disc from the drive the instant it finished and turned, running for the door in one swift movement. The security timer clicked down the last couple of seconds as she ran through the door and across the front deck.

Rollie pulled up in the van just as an explosion blew Angie off the front steps and half way across the lawn, her arms wind-milling. She cried out in pain and fright as she landed and rolled. Rollie yelled “No!” as he leapt from the van, sprinting across the lawn. “Angie!! ANGIE!!” he yelled running to her side.

The Aussie fell on his knees beside Angie. She was on her knees as well, clutching the disc, sobbing and rocking back and forth. He grabbed her arm, trying to make eye contact, “You Ok?”

Angie was borderline hysterical, “I got... I got the download. I got it!” she sobbed.

Rollie took the disc utterly perplexed but relieved she was Ok physically. “Yeah,” he agreed, “you got it.” He looked back up at his friend as she sobbed.

Angie kept crying and rocking back and forth around the emotional pain that burned inside her, and that threatened to tear her apart. She managed to push out a question; “We’re going to get him this time, right? We’ve got enough to get him this time?” she asked desperate for him to answer that they would and did.

Rollie watched his normally strong and steady Angie dissolve into an emotional wreck in front of him and he finally realised for sure that Loubar had done something far more serious to her than simply the bruises on her face. He looked at her in a new light, and asked far more gently, fear and concern gripping him, “Angie, what’s going on?”

The young woman was still fighting her inner demons, and railed against her own emotional turmoil. “Just tell me we’re going to get him,” she begged, still crying.

Rollie’s worry for Angie intensified, becoming a dead weight in his stomach and he begged her to tell him, “What did he do to you? What?!?”

Angie finally concluded that it had all become too much for her to cope with, and looked up at Rollie, fighting for emotional control. She still rocked back and forth around the intense pain inside and after she took a breath gradually confessed between sobs. “He... he... he raped me.” The emotional dam finally burst inside her and she curled up sobbing and defeated. Loubar had won, she’d done what he wanted and told Rollie the truth.