DISCLAIMER: The Young Riders is the creation of Ed Spielman, and the property of Ogiens/Kane productions in association with MGM/UA television. The characters from the television program The Magnificent Seven are the property of Trilogy and The Mirisch Co. I am making no money from their use.
This Story is created for entertainment purposes only, no infringement intended. Not to be copied without permission from the author.
RATINGS: PG - violence, mild language
WARNING: This Story contains an alternative Universe theme, if this type of story is not to your liking or will somehow offend you please delete this mail immediately and do not read any further. In addition it is a The Young Riders/The Magnificent Seven Crossover, so if crossovers are not your cup of tea, please go no further. Furthermore this story contain semi graphic images of a terrorism nature, if you feel this may disturb you please find a different story that you will enjoy.
NOTES: The song that inspired the Title is by Garth Brooks on his fresh horses album. Eternal thanks to Mog for letting me play in her ATF AU sandpit. Thanks heaps to Enid (known affectionately here as my font of all knowledge) for all the brainpicking I have done. Thanks to my net sisters Lyn and Dayna for all the collaboration and characterisation help, couldn’t have done it without you.
The driver of the Jag sat behind the wheel of his car, an incredulous expression on his face. There was a car in his space. His Space. Every person who worked in the building knew that this was his car space. He checked just to make sure. This most certainly was his space. The audacity of some people. A Cherry Red Mazda Miata no less. He pulled into a space nearby and walked back to the offending vehicle. Glaring at Cuervo as he saw the small orange cat curled up on the hood, he shook his head in disgust. Traitor. Walking away from the car he took careful note of the number plate. His anger growing by the minute. PXRDR4 whoever you are you are going to regret ever having parked in Denver he thought to himself, let alone taking MY space.
He fumed the whole way to the 11th floor, depositing his briefcase in his cubicle and returning to the desk inhabited by JD Dunne.
“Mr Dunne, could I trouble you for your assistance” he spoke softly
“Sure Ez” JD looked up from his pc into the angry green eyes of his colleague
“What’s got the burr under your saddle Ezra?” Buck looked up at him from where his desk butted up against his young partners
“No burr Mr Wilmington” he spoke calmly “Merely a less than polite vagabond who needs to partake of some attitude correction and an increase in their social skills would not be amiss either”
“Huh?” JD frowned trying to decipher Ezra’s speech
“He’s parked in my space JD” Ezra spoke as if explaining to a child “MY space, I need to advise him against that act in future” he looked into JD’s confused brown eyes “JD I would like you to run his plates and find out from DMV what his name is”
“Ohh” JD smiled “Sure thing Ezra” he punched in a few keystrokes
“What’s the licence plate?” he looked back up waiting for.
“PXRDR4” Ezra recited from memory, frowning as JD’s fingers stopped moving on the keys.
“Red Miata?” JD asked
“Yes” Ezra spoke wondering why JD knew this car
“That belongs to one of the new FBI guys down stairs” he answered quickly
“Those hot shots from Nebraska?” Buck asked waiting to see how Ezra was going to handle this
“Do you happen to know which one owns it?” Ezra was starting to get frustrated with this conversation
“Yeah, I’m fairly certain that its Cody” JD answered
“Do you happen to know which one of the legends that would be?” Ezra pried with a smirk
“That would be the blond one with the flashy clothes” Vin spoke from his desk. The three men currently involved in the conversation looked askance at the until now silent sharpshooter.
“He was in my space yesterday” he answered their silent question with a shrug and returned to his pc.
“Please gentlemen” Ezra spoke ”Give my apologies to Mr Larabee, I shall be late for this mornings meeting but I shan’t be long” Ezra was on his way out the door before he had finished speaking.
It seemed that no sooner had he left the room he was back, his face as impassive as it always was, his eyes revealing just a little of the anger that he felt.
“I’m told by their charming OSM that the whole team is currently making their way to our office” he frowned
‘Yep they’re in there with Chris at the moment” Josiah indicated the conference room
“So the rumours are true?’ he asked more to himself than the others. Rumours had abounded through the building that a dual ATF/FBI mission was being planned. Team 7 had disregarded the rumours, but now it appeared that they may be true. Ezra’s ruminations were halted as Chris, a grim expression on his face stepped out of the conference room.
“Team” he spoke a little harshly “Conference room” his tone brooked no argument from any of the men. Each moved briskly to the conference room and took up seats at the opposite end of the table, to the eight other occupants.
Buck Cross watched silently as the other six men entered the room, not consciously aware of measuring the men that entered against the legendary Team 7 that he had heard so much about since arriving in Denver. He had made it his business to find out about the men in the team, after all it paid to know all potential allies and enemies.
They all sat attentively at the other end of the table, waiting patiently to hear what is was they had been summoned for. Some of them were easy to attach to the descriptions he had been given. The well groomed man in the Armani suit with the perfectly coiffed hair and well manicured hands was obviously Ezra Standish the Team undercover agent, reputedly the best in the ATF, We’ll see Buck thought. One man was obviously younger than the others, filled with hyperactive energy his feet constantly tapping under the table, this had to be JD Dunne, the ‘Baby” of the team, but still an accomplished talented agent, and apparently there wasn’t a computer the younger man couldn’t operate, Buck smiled thinking that it would be interested to pit him against his best friend Ike and see who would win.
The long haired man with the lollipop in his mouth, his hands folded easily over his stomach as he leaned back in the chair waiting was obviously to Buck at least, Vin Tanner, the Team 7 sharpshooter, his laconic appearance hiding an ever alert mind and uncanny intuition that was the stuff that legends were made of. As he had been told repeatedly, if Vin Tanner had a hunch you didn’t question him, you did whatever was required.
The other men were a little harder for the profiler to place by their appearances alone. Although he had been told that the dark man was Nathan Jackson, an ex EMT, no-one knew much about him. That they were telling anyway. Just that he was a good man to have on your team, and if he couldn’t’ keep you alive, then you weren’t worth saving.
The final two men were more difficult but he was fairly certain that the big man with the dark hair and cobalt blue eyes that sat beside JD was Buck Wilmington, an ex police officer and by all reports an excellent agent. Though it was difficult to get anything other than a glowing report from the smitten female agents and secretaries he had spoken with. The zest for life in the big man’s eyes was apparent to all in the room and Buck turned his face to Louise, who was currently the object of the ladies man’s gaze and was blushing accordingly.
The final man, huge in stature and build must be the ex anthropologist Josiah Sanchez, almost as elusive by reputation as his counterpart Jackson, but Buck had an idea that any of these men individually would be a formidable force to be reckoned with, together apparently they had no equal.
Buck smiled to himself as he turned back to the team Leader and waited for him to address both teams. Somehow he knew that there was going to be more than a few clashes of temperment and ego on this case, but he was certain that now they would be able to capture the inhuman bastard who had been killing and exploding people all over the country.
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