Human Popsicle Chunks of Ice-5
"…My bird is missing. My bird is missing. My bird is missing."
A heavy-set dark-haired man came up from behind him. He barked an order in the other man's ear: "It's I've lost my canary. And try telling it to the woman in the café upstairs."
At the other man's words, Derek Modell looked up in search of the woman who was to be his contact. Finding her, he quickly made his way up there. This is what I get for going to the CIA, he thought. He wasn't usually one for working with the government, but an exception was made today. There was no way he could do this alone. Not this time. Derek made it to the café and took a seat across from a woman dressed in a loose-fitting white button-down shirt. "I…uh…I've lost my canary." It was a stupid contact phrase, but it had to be done. This was the only way he could be sure that things went right.
The woman nodded faintly. "You should have clipped its wings."
Upon hearing that phrase, Derek relaxed. Yes, this was his contact. He crossed his arms, shivering slightly; though he didn't know why. "It's weird. Are you cold? I'm kind of cold. It's probably nerves. I've never stol…" He was interrupted by a black man pouring tea for his contact.
Derek was secretly glad for the interruption. It would keep him from lying to the CIA. And, he did not want to piss them off. After all, they were the ones who agreed to help, agreed to take this strange weapon off his hands. Derek, as soon as he realized what it was, knew it had to be destroyed. If it was done his way, the testing would continue and Fintan Keene would not be punished. But, like this; it wouldn't be long before Fintan got his just desserts.
Derek stared blankly, ignoring the conversation that took place just in front of him. The black man continued pouring the tea. "Anything for your friend?" he asked the woman in a language Derek only vaguely recognized.
"No thanks," the woman answered.
The man disappeared, allowing Modell to resume the transactions. "Now, can I see my money?" Oh, he wasn't doing this for nothing. While it was true that he was using the CIA to do his dirty work, there was no way he intended on walking away from this without something to show for it.
"Soon as you show me the weapon," she replied.
"Yeah…um…funny thing about that," Derek stated. "The weapon. Might take a little while. Only way I could smuggle it out. I swallowed it." It was the only way Keene wouldn't discover what he was doing. The woman paused for a moment, leaning towards the ear that held her earwig. It made Derek nervous, wanting to know what she was told. "What? What is it?"
"You didn't follow our safety protocols, did you?" she asked.
"What? Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?" Derek asked. Okay, so maybe he didn't do things exactly as the CIA wanted him to, but still…he was sure that Keene and his man would never be able to make sense of the trap he laid for them. The woman pursed her lips, obviously not believing him. Derek's insides squirmed. Didn't they trust him? Didn't they understand that he knew the risks of what he was doing? He did, after all, come to them.
"You were followed," the woman said bluntly.
Crap! Derek thought. He turned, looking for any sign of them.
"I've got a second white male," the woman said from behind him. She forced Derek to look back at her when she made an addendum to her statement. "Going to Plan B."
"What's Plan B?" he asked.
"Come on!" she yelled to him. Derek nervously followed the woman through the marketplace. He was being taken into custody. The CIA didn't want to lose the Ice-5, so he was to be taken in…at least until the Ice-5 was out of his system. "Come on! Come on!"
A man crashed into him, sending Derek careening into a shop stall. He barely registered his contact attacking the other man before helping him up. "I can't make it," Derek wheezed.
"You don't have a choice," the woman ordered.
The woman continued pulling him along, trying to get him out of the marketplace when his left leg, just below his knee, simply broke off. Derek fell and began gasping at the sight on his forcibly-amputated leg. I should have known, he thought. It's that stupid Ice-5.
Despite his amputated leg, Derek was carried to the van that would be transported in. He caught a briefly glimpse of the man sitting in the back of the maroon van – the same one who corrected him when butchered the wording of the contact phrase – before a bullet hit him. Derek thought the bullet would become lodged in his skin; however, it didn't. It shattered him into a million pieces. And, with that, Derek Modell and the Ice-5 he carried within him were gone.
Once the CIA was gone, taking the chunks with them, a short man with light brown hair stepped out of the shadows. Well, that was a waste, he thought, pulling a popsicle – ironically enough – from his pocket and beginning to suck on it. Nine months trying to take down Fintan Keene, trying to find a way to give him his just desserts; and it wrought nothing but pain. He spent nine months cultivating the Derek Modell identity and it didn't last long enough to destroy Keene.
To be perfectly honest, Loki wasn't sure if the CIA was equipped enough to take down Keene. They were barely equipped to protect him. But then, he never expected Keene's men to break through the illusion he created so quickly. He sighed. Oh well. No sense dwelling on what could have been. Hopefully, the CIA could do something about Keene and that stupid biological weapon he created. Otherwise, Loki would be back to deal with the asshole.
In the meantime, it was time for him to get out of here. The Derek Modell alias had run its course. And, with the CIA being present for his death, there was no way Loki could resurrect the identity. No, Derek Modell would have to stay dead. Loki sucked the orange Popsicle for a long time, contemplating his next move. He would have to go somewhere that the CIA could never find him. In order to take down Fintan Keene, Derek Modell became too well known. For a Trickster, even one as great as he was, that wasn't a situation he wanted to be in. Any hunter could figure out what was going on and try to destroy him.
Plus, when it was impossible for him to ignore the heavenly past he left behind as Gabriel, Loki occasionally heard whispers of the Winchester family. John and the eldest son, Dean – Michael's true vessel – had become a formidable hunting team. He had no desire to go up against the Winchesters, especially knowing what the family was to go up against in the coming years. But, if he wanted to hide from the Winchester family, where could he go?
Loki's thoughts flickered to the images he saw in the woman's mind when she grabbed him. The woman didn't realize it, but Loki/Gabriel was able to look into her mind. And, it was from there in which the self-proclaimed Trickster knew what his next move was: he was going to college!
Author's Note: Okay, so one of my favorite characters from Supernatural is the Trickster/Loki/Gabriel. I can't really explain why. There's just something about him that I find rather fascinating. And, as evidenced by my penname, my favorite show is Alias. The inspiration behind this story is simple: I was rewatching all the Alias episodes when I realized something I hadn't noticed in awhile; I rewatched all the Supernatural episodes only months previous to this, so it was on my mind. In the episode Ice, the character Derek Modell is played by Richard Speight, Jr. (Gabriel). So, I decided to create an instance in which they're one and the same. Also, I wanted to give an explanation as to why he was at Crawford Hall. After all, why would he choose to sit around at some college, especially acting as its janitor?
Timeline: Set during the first five minutes of the Alias Season 4 episode: Ice. All dialogue is takes from that episode. Preseries for Supernatural.
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