It all pieces together

A quiet little town, in the middle of Colorado. The people were nice enough, wary of strangers though. It was mid summer when a man first rolled into town on his motorbike, a black harley. His meager possessions strapped to the back, in a standard issue army rucksack. The new arrival quickly became the talk of the town. A scruffy looking Blond, with unkempt hair wearing leathers, he had cuts and bruises across his face from some unknown accident.

This new arrival's first stop was a motel, to rent a single room. The first questions of him were asked, "Where you ridden from son?" the crackling old voice of the motel attendant asked. Two blue eyes looked up over the darkened shades the man wore, "California," he said plainly. "What brings you to Rado?" the attendant asked. "A change of scenery," as the response.

The attendant asked for ID, and a credit card. The stranger unzipped his jacket, and reached inside for his wallet. As the stranger searched from his wallet, the loose chain around his neck, jostled out. Hanging on the end of the chain, a singular dog tag. The rattling drew the attendants eyes, and he looked up at the stranger, "You serve kid?" he asked. The stranger looked up, still not having found his wallet, "What's it to ya?" he snapped. The attendant chuckled softly, placing a key to a room on the counter, "Don't worry about the ID son, go settle in, come back in when you find your wallet," he said lightly.

The stranger smiled weakly, and nodded, "thank you," he mumbled, before taking the key and heading to the room. He settled in and tidied himself up, with a warm shower and some fresh clothes. He found his wallet, tucked away in his rucksack, and headed down to the office. A quick conversation revealed him to called Thomas and a payment for the room was made in cash. The attendant provided him with directions to the local diner for a meal.

Thomas stepped into the small diner and made his way to a table in the back. He reached behind him, and pulled a pistol out of the back of his belt, and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He looked up and smiled at the waitress, and ordered a cup of coffee. The television in the corner of the room, was on the news channel.

The story being covered was a mysterious explosion in Nevada. A vehicle, had flipped off a road in the desert, and tumbled down a bank, before exploding. The Identity of the driver was still unconfirmed but the speculation was it was a retired veteran, Tommy O'Connor. The truck was registered to him, and one of his dog tags was found amongst the wreckage. DNA had been found in the cab that was being tested, but the results weren't back yet.

Thomas looked up at the waitress when she returned with a coffee, and smiled softly. "Can I get some eggs as well please?" he asked.

"Welcome back, Agent Roony," Knowles greeted as he walked up to her cluttered desk. He looked down at the mess, mainly Unclassified reports on world events, and sat down on the edge of her desk. Knowles was one of the Intelligence Analysts that worked with her team, and had been much younger than the operatives he worked around. He'd also been known to cross a few boundaries here and there.

"Knowles, what have I told you about putting your ass on my desk," her voice was almost a dismissive sigh. Lauren had been gone for a few weeks, assisting in the training of Human Intelligence Collectors for both the Central Intelligence Agency and the U.S. Military. The last thing she wanted to start her day off with was lecturing the young boy.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, immediately standing up, "I just wanted to let you know that I finished that product for the upcoming al-Baghdadi misison. Now that you're back, I can give the brief at any time." Lauren had to admit, even though Knowles got on her nerves some...most of the time, he was good at his job. She kept telling herself the team would be lost without him, mainly so she wouldn't lose her temper.

"Thank you, we'll let you know," she forced a smile towards him, also dismissive, hoping he'd collect the hint and leave. Thankfully, he did.

The team had an upcoming mission in the middle east, assisting with SFOD-D. They would provide additional clandestine intelligence assets to allow the detachment to operate smoothly. Nobody knew about this except for the team, CIA leadership, the detachment, and the President. Still, Lauren would be staying back and assisting where she could from the rear. This time around, they didn't want female operatives due to the area they were going to. It would be too obvious they didn't belong, specifically her.

She looked at the plethora of large televisions posted on the wall, displaying different news stations, each one silent. Fox, CNN, MSNBC, BBC, Al Jezeera, and more. A couple of the stations had been reporting the same thing; an explosion in Nevada. The driver, alleged to be a retired veteran, Tommy O'Conner, dead. Somewhere in the back her her mind, that name almost sounded familiar. Having too much on her mind, she brushed it off and logged into her government computer.

The quiet sizzling of eggs on a grill that would normally fill the diner, were drowned out by the murmuring and whispered conversations between the townsfolk. Although normally empty save one or two people at this time of the afternoon; it appeared the news that the stranger was at the diner had spread around town.

Thomas had already clocked the exits to the room, and purposely had selected the table in the diner with the best line of sight. The townspeople slowly filtered into the diner, some sticking around out of curiosity, others just popping in to check him out. Tommy tightened the grip on the pistol in his jacket pocket, scanning the room.

Thomas rubbed his other hand against his left leg. He could feel the bandage that was wrapped tight around his wound. He had thus far done a reasonable job at masking his pain as he walked. He knew he needed too, this was the most crucial time, if he wanted his plan to work.

The waitress can back over with Thomas' order, and smiled softly, "I'm sorry about them, they always get curious if some new arrives in town," she said apologetically. She placed a plate with two pieces of toast and two perfectly cooked eggs down onto the table.

Thomas looked up at her for a brief moment, "that's okay I won't be in town for too long, thank you for the eggs" he explained. He lifted his hands to the table and slowly began to eat, routinely scanning the people in the room.

He'd had some practice at picking out threats in a crowd. Thomas was a soldier, it was all he'd ever known. His eyes glanced up at the TV again, he nervously prayed, that the breadcrumbs of blood, torn skin and a couple teeth he'd planted in the wreck would lead the police to the conclusion that he either died in that explosion, or made it out but got lost in the desert.

@ snuff;

Lauren scanned over the other stations, all releasing different information on the explosion. He was dead, he escaped and may be alive. It wasn't what Lauren should be focusing on, but still, she looked back and forth between all of the televisions as her e-mail sat on her desktop, all still unread. She could care less about the car accident; those happened all the time. But where did she know that name from?

She forced her gaze to her computer, and began filtering through the unread e-mails, most of them referring to other e-mails on the separate classified network, where her and the other operatives did most of their work. Most of them were from her team, other operatives, a select few FBI agents that were attached to the CIA workforce. Then there was Addison, always sending her articles she'd wrote from a civilian e-mail. Addison was Lauren's friend from high school, and probably the closest thing she had to a best friend. Addison took an avid interest in the middle east, but also other things such as government corruption. That being said, she was still a freelance journalist, but with a pretty decent following.

Lauren opened the link Addison had sent, revealing an article about uncovered evidence of Hillary Clinton's involvement, or lack there of in Benghazi. Lauren let out a small chuckle; Addison had been so biased against every politician since they'd met. She had an online library of articles slamming mostly everybody. She read the article out of curiosity, but her Area of Operations had been the middle east, not Africa.

After he'd finished eating Thomas, slipped some money under the edge of the plate to pay for his meal. He stood up, wincing slightly as he put weight back onto his leg. He lifted the hood of his black jacket up over his head, and ducked out the back entrance.

Thomas slipped into a back alley, and carefully made his way back to the motel room. He stepped into the room, which was shrouded in darkness, as the curtains were drawn closed. His eyes darted around the room, pleased to see it was undisturbed.

Laid out on the bed, was a small arsenal. A second handgun, A semi automatic rifle, and a long gun. Along with a few rounds of ammo for each. It was all Thomas was willing to take from his collection. He knew the police would check his old place, once they suspected he was dead. A couple missing guns would raise far less suspicion than if all of his weapons were gone.

Thomas needed to leave the name Tommy O'Connor behind. Tommy wasn't just an army veteran. He worked with JSOC. He was a Delta Forces member, until he decided to leave. He'd been on several highly classified missions, and after he retired he was certain he'd spotted surveillance on him a couple times.

Thomas sat down again, and felt his leg. He wasn't sure what the next step from here should be, but he knew if he wanted Tommy to stay dead, the easiest place for that was in the mountains.

@ snuff;

Lauren packed up her belongings for the day, powering down her computer systems and making sure all of the classified material she'd used for the day were properly stored. Tomorrow morning, Knowles would give her and the team the brief he'd prepared. She would act like she wasn't upset she wouldn't be able to go, but also thankful she'd be able to finally get some down time at home. She looked back up at the televisions, seeing that they had all shifted to different stories for now.

She was the last to leave the office, so she signed the SF 702 on the safe, and then the SF 701 when she left the office. Her heels clicked on the tile floor as she walked down the hallway to the elevator, and patiently waited for it to reach her floor. She usually tried to leave late so she only had to deal with the aftermath of D.C. rush hour traffic. The elevator dinged as the doors open, and she stepped in, hitting the lobby button. There was no music in the elevator, so the six floor decent was silent.

She collected her personal cell phone from the PED lock boxes at the front of the building, checking to see that she had gotten zero messages. Her line of work isolated her from having social lives. Because of the nature of her job, the less people she personally knew, the better. Still, she couldn't help but feel lonely from time to time.

Thomas sat back in the chair trying to get comfortable, he unzipped his dark hoodie and pulled his arms out of the sleeves. Underneath was a tight grey singlet, hugging against his muscled torso, more scratches and cuts lined the skin of his arms.

He needed some rest, he'd been riding for far too long. With his hand on his pistol, facing the door, Thomas closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep. His dreams had been haunted by some of the things he'd done while overseas, for as long as he could remember. Dark, horrible stuff; orders that should have never been given.

Tommy had spent some time planning his own disappearance. He had it all planned out; he had spent the several months since retiring hiding away money each week. He organised for a motorbike to be purchased under a fake name. He stored all his supplies in a secondary unit, at the same storage facility he had personal items stored in.

It had been eighteen months since Tommy has retired from the teams. Yet he was sure he was still being watched. He knew about missions that were more than merely classified, him and his team had been used for several unsanctioned missions for the CIA, or some other agency. The frequency of those missions increased steadily, it was one of the reasons Tommy left.

Lauren threw her keys onto the small table in her hallway once she got inside her apartment, and then turned on the light. Coming home, or what was supposed to be home, was the same uneventful ritual every day. She lived alone on the outskirts of D.C. It was a nice place, just really empty. She ate the same pre-cooked meals, with the same boxed wine.

Missions had been so exciting that coming back here, to reality, was nothing but lackluster. It gave her just enough alone time to obsess over the name she'd heard on the news. She definitely knew it, but couldn't recall from where.

Holepunch.

It had to have been a mission. With a name like that, he was a military operative; one of the many she'd worked with. The confusing thing was...it wasn't one of her missions, but she'd remembered hearing his name from another team a time or two.

Sunlight was creeping into the bedroom from the open bathroom door, by the time Tommy roused from his uncomfortable sleep. He scratched at the cuts on his skin, before rising up to his feet. He began going about his normal morning routine.

With a large wince of pain, Tommy redressed the larger wound on his leg. He was pleased to see it was not infected, and appeared to be healing well. He got dressed into his other change of clothes and put the dirt pair into the sink to soak.

Tommy was anything but a vain, materialistic man. He was happy as long as he had food in his belly, and fresh water to drink. His time on the team, as a sniper probably assisted in that. He had on more than one occasion held an overwatch position on a key target for weeks.

Tommy left his motel room, after stashing his weapons under the bed. He went searching information, he still needed to find a place out of the way, in the mountains to disappear fully. He knew that riding from town to town, would eventually lead to him being caught.

Lauren had been sitting in her car in the parking lot at work by the time sunrise came. She wasn't able to get much sleep last night...or ever really. Her insomnia filled nights did hold an advantage though, she was able to beat morning traffic to work.

It was Friday, the end of the work week. All Lauren wanted to do was go home and relax with a big glass of wine. She turned the radio up to hear more news of the Tommy O'Conner accident. They still hadn't found anything that would confirm or deny any theories.

Slowly, the familiarity of the name started creeping up on her, and the team and mission she associated him with was resurfacing in her mind. She wanted to get her hands on that file, but didn't have the justification to dig up something so classified when she didn't have the need-to-know. Maybe she would be able to pull something up on the classified side of their network, though it was unlikely.

She listened to the radio for a couple more minutes before turning her car off, grabbing her bag, and heading into work.

Tommy made his way to an estate agency slowly. He stood outside for awhile, looking over the advertised sales. He needed somewhere isolated. Nothing being advertised caught his attention, but he figured he could ask inside if they had anything.

The office was small, but well lit. There were three people inside working away. Tommy made his way over to a middle aged woman, and sat down. "Morning Ma'am," he greeted. She looked up and smiled softly, "Morning sir, what can I help you with," she asked.

Tommy spent two hours, talking with the estate agent, about what he wanted, and organising a deal if she managed to find a satisfactory plot of land. She was rather excited to help him find a place. Tommy said he'd be back in next week sometime to check on the progress.

After organising that, Tommy made his way to the diner again, for some food. His leaving the program was weighing on his mind, along with all the things he'd done. He was slowly convincing himself, he'd have to tell someone about it, once he'd successfully disappeared.

@ snuff;

Lauren scanned her badge at the entrance, allowing her access into the building. As she walked down the hallway to the elevators, the clicking of her heels followed her as they did every morning. Unlike when she left, the halls were bustling with other employees getting to their offices, or the Starbucks at the end of the hall. Lauren always brought her own coffee, as no matter how early she got to work, the shop had a line going outside.

An elevator dinged, signaling one had finally gotten to their floor and was going up. She hurried in, clicking the button for the sixth floor. Because it was the second floor from the top, she had to patiently wait as the lift stopped at every floor. She sipped on her coffee, ignoring the anxiety of being in a tight space with so many people. Finally, the doors opened to her floor, and she got out. By the time she left, it was practically empty.

Today, Knowles would be briefing the team on their mission. Lauren would sit in to gain operational awareness, but her mind was focused on getting to one of those files of Tommy O'Conner's mission. She had plenty of time to spare this morning before the presentation, so she fired up her classified information system, and started browsing through the files that were available to her.

After his lunch, Tommy left the diner and went looking for an electronics store. He wanted to research journalists, and knew that he'd need the internet for it. He found the perfect small store, and made his way inside. The store was owned by an older man, who had reluctantly expanded his inventory to keep his shop open. Tommy managed to source a cheap model, that would do the job, and paid cash.

Tommy headed back to his motel, and packed away his things. He wanted to get out of the small town for a bit; scout the nearby mountains, before he came back in next week to see if any land is available. He set up the laptop, and connected to the motel's wifi. He was tempted to immediately start searching for information on himself, to see if he'd officially been identified yet; but he managed not to.

It was merely a matter of time before the ID came back. Tommy, had purposely pulled a couple teeth out, and had taken a chunk of flesh from his leg. He'd left them at the crash sight, along with a ton of blood, he'd been 'donating' during his planning stage. He knew the FBI or whomever, would want to double check before confirming the ID, and they might even not release it to the media for a while, but they'd get a match.

Tommy quickly typed searching political candidates, and stories about their policies and affiliations. He then shifted to researching the author's of particularly thoughtful stories, which used good analysis. He narrowed down his selection for the moment to four journalists, one of whom was Addison. Tommy copied down contact details for each of the journalists, thinking about how to figure out which one to trust.

@ snuff;

"Roony, the brief is about to start," Agent Belmont said, breaking Lauren away from her system for the first time since she got to work. If Knowles was about to begin the presentation, that meant she'd been searching for hours, and was still empty handed.

"Be right there," she sighed, locking up her system and pulling her access card. How could nothing come up at all? Either none of the files had been digitally stored, or every detail of those missions had been classified Top Secret. This frustrated Lauren knowing it would be virtually impossible to get to those files. At the same time, she didn't necessarily need them.

Something just felt...off.

Tommy shut off the laptop, and put it away into his pack. He would continue looking when he got back into town. He wanted to scout the nearby mountains, get a lay of the land. It was coming up to late afternoon, when he finished packing his things onto his bike.

Tommy made his way down to the receptionist, of the motel, and checked out. He told him, he'd be heading back into town sometime before next week for a bit. Once he was sorted he started up the loud engine of his motorbike, and began making his way out of town.

The mountain range was about two days ride from the small little town. It was sparsely visited, and extremely unforgiving to inexperienced hikers. Tommy wanted to check that it would be possible to live off the grid up there, if there would be enough food and water.

@ snuff;