Disclaimer: Well fudge! It's a hard-drivin' fact that I don't own the characters in this story. SyFy owns the motherboard of all the fictional persons featured within the cluster of words down below.
A/N: I've been itching (not that I've got a rash) to write a tale starring the mighty Donovan and here we are. This story is strictly in Claudia's POV, also her primary sidekick for this adventure will mostly be Pete. There is no particular timeline for this tale, other than to say it occurred before the totally didn't happen balls out mess that was S5. *dry heaves*
{-{-{-{-{-{-Donovan Contingencies-}-}-}-}-}-}
Another day and another dollar, but the trouble with applying that saying to me is that Artie is still paying me with bright orange five hundred dollar bills. At this point I may have to hack the Warehouse's funds to even get minimum wage sometime in my young but jaded life. I won't do that of course, for several reasons, the key reason being I'm not that greedy and I can make or modify all the gadgets that I need. Also, I'm pretty sure people can still grow food on this planet, even though nothing about me screams farmer Donovan. But if it came to me seeing if I have the potential for 'green opposable thumbs', then I'm sure I would be awesome at it like everything else I've tried.
Stepping out of my room suitably geared up for battle in my usual attire of badass with a side of punk/goth flavoring. Even though lately I've glammed it up more makeup wise but a girl needs variety; it's the old spice of life. As odd as it sounds I smell the absence of breakfast and every morning it's also a reminder of the person who I will always attribute that kind of warmth to. But I've learned that life moves forward whether we're ready for it or not, and unfortunately the most difficult lesson I've had to accept is the fact that you can't save everyone.
Quickly, I descend the B & B's lovingly worn staircase that groans a fraction on the fifth step closest to the banister and head for the kitchen which should contain some form of sustenance. Unless, the human digestive machine named Pete has decided to have a single man 'all you can eat' contest again. I locate and snag some bread, butter and go to work on it via skillet and heat. I'm feeling the need for hot and quick toast with a few neccessories. Mission accomplished, I take my bounty and head out into the dining room. And just as I'm slathering on a suitable layer of yummy in my tummy strawberry jam on another piece of my toast, Steve and Pete walk in the dining room and plop down at the table with me. Instantly, I'm being eye-balled because I've got food and it's not Jinks that's doing it.
"Get your own, Pete." I say before I take a bigger bite than needed.
Steve chuckles and while chewing I slide my plate and the small jar of strawberry jam over to him, he's more than welcome to what I have left.
"I can see I'm not your favorite this morning, Claude." Pete says and then gets up from his chair and makes for the kitchen.
I slowly chew my bite and savor the taste. It's a miracle that I found the undisturbed and still good jar of fruit in the otherwise Mother Hubbard empty cupboard.
"Why are you being mean to Pete this morning?" Jinks asks between bites of his toast.
Swallowing my food I hold up a finger and reach for my not O.J. Simpson, but the non-murdery and pulp free Minute Maid orange juice. "Dude, is too old to be coddled anymore and that has gone on for as long as I've been here. A change will do him good; as Ms. Crow sang about once."
Steve chuckles and wipes his mouth, then pushes his empty plate away. "Strangely I agree with you, but why today? What brought this on?"
"Nothing, everybody has to start somewhere and not everything has to be penciled in." Those are the words I say aloud because they're the truth and I can't lie to my partner, even if I could get away with it but I can't. The words I won't say outside of my thoughts is that Pete simply has to start easing back on being so needy, its past time and like a Band-Aid it's better to just rip that shit off in one go.
"It's not fair that Mykes and H.G. are going to be gone for the next two weeks!" I hear Pete shout from the kitchen in his typical whiney fashion.
"Okay, see that right there." I say after wiping my mouth on the last paper napkin that I laid on the table. "It's stuff like that. He acts like a ten-year-old boy who has to be the center of attention ALL. THE. TIME."
Jinks nods but remains quiet and then Pete emerges from the kitchen with a plate balanced on one hand, a banana tucked under one armpit, a bowl of cereal in his other hand and finally three slices of bread jammed in his mouth. I swear Myka has got to stop acting like she's impressed by his ability to stuff his mouth full of...anything and everything.
"Did you two hear me from the kitchen?" Pete asks after he removes the bread slices from his mouth and sits back down with his abundant selection of breakfast food spread out before him. He goes after the cereal first and pretty fast too. How does he not choke?
"Yes we heard." Steve replies evenly. "But I don't understand why that's a problem for you?"
Pete stops eating his cereal but only so he can pick the bowl up and drink what's left of the milk. Thank whomever is listening to my silent prayer of really not wanting to 'see food' this morning.
"It's not a problem." Pete finally replies and some milk trickles down his chin which he tries to catch with his tongue, gross. "I just miss having Mykes around to tease and since she's with H.G. now I see her even less, and we don't go on that many missions together anymore..." Pete's words trail off and for a half-second I feel for him but then it wears off when he burps. "Anyways just because she has a girlfriend now doesn't mean she should drop her best friend."
Myka has done no such thing to him. This is another prime example of how he behaves like a child, and it's sad that he needs a twenty-two year old young woman to point it out to him. I'm not so full of myself that I think I can change hearts and minds in one day, but the first step is admitting that you have a problem and I will settle for that small thing from Pete for now.
"Zip-lock it dude! Myka is still your BFF but you can't expect to take up all of her time like you used to anymore." I say with a little bit of bite and maybe some teeth too. "Myka and H.G. are like two people with massively overdue library fines, only in their case it's the library that owes them, plus interest. So two weeks away from all this is just a tiny drop in a huge empty bucket!"
"Whoa, Claude it's still too early for raised voices." Pete says dismissively and I feel like I just wasted my time trying to educate him about my other two closest and dearest friends.
I narrow my eyes at Pete but he's too busy swallowing those three pieces of bread whole pretty much. Seriously, I can't think of two people who deserve each other more than Myka and H.G. It would be a mad, insane, up-side down world in my opinion if they weren't together. Fidgeting in my chair I start to say something more in sheer annoyance at Pete but then I feel Steve's hand on my arm.
"The library reference was clever Claude." Jinksy says breaking the silence that my tiny outburst caused.
Turning to Jinksy I smile at him; he's so good at diffusing situations. "I thought so since their both hardcore, old-school book nerds."
Another slightly louder burp carries from across the table where Pete is still devouring his food, in what looks like the fear of that it might run off the table and make a getaway to parts the hell away from here. Inhaling through my nose I shake my head and reach for what's left of my OJ, so I can say that I've completed my daily vitamin C nourishment.
"Mykes and H.G. Hmm, I wonder what they're doing?" Pete says while smirking before he peels the banana and pretty much eats the whole thing in one go. "Man, I would like to see..."
"No, just no!" I interrupt around Pete talking with his mouth full of rolling pale yellow mush. "Do not finish that sentence dude! Myka is like your sister and besides that's just a disgusting thing to say in general."
"Sorry." Pete says surprisingly but with a frown.
But then Steve leans over and punches him in the shoulder. "Show some respect, not everyone wants their personal life reduced to cheap porn."
The man-child at the table makes a face that I would compare to someone who has irritable bowel syndrome. It's a expression that I've seen Pete make when Myka or Jinksy now, punches him with some serious brute force.
"You're...right." Pete finally says while rubbing his shoulder and making a face.
"Damn straight Jinksy's right." I add to Pete's reprimand on decent adult behavior. The dude needs at least a small granule of maturity already; he's in his forties for the love of Google Chrome. And of course it's not even nine in the morning yet and it's no biggie smalls surprise that my Farnsworth has decided to joy buzz me in my back pocket.
"This is a serious hack on all the major creditors, but the hacker seems to be focusing on not so much as robbing people, but transferring small amounts of disposable funds from the more wealthy members on the money tree branches to those who are severely in debt." I say to all those with functioning ears while my fingers fly over the keyboard since every letter, number, symbol on them is almost like an extension of my fingertips or hell maybe even my D.N.A at this point.
"Pinpoint possible targets already known to the system Claudia." Artie says while drawing connecting lines on the dry erase board that needs to be thrown out the Warehouse's nearest door. "Those who've been caught of course will have awed followers still out there in the world."
"Got it." And I make no effort to hide the overflowing pride from from my voice. "Kevin Poulsen or otherwise known by his handle; 'Dark Dante', upgraded to most wanted status when he stole wiretap info from the Fed's. But before that nasty business he hacked into the phone systems at a local radio station and managed to snag himself a new Porsche. In summary the authorities dubbed him the Hannibal Lecter of cyber-crime."
"Whoa, the dude crashed the one eight hundred number on Unsolved Mysteries back in the day when they were airing his story." Pete adds; reading over my shoulder that one select bit of info off the screen.
"Hardly exciting news Pete." Artie says while his dry erase marker makes a rubbing sound on the board. "But I bet you think that was 'good fun'."
"But the fun came to an end and then fifty-one months in prison and a restitution fine of fifty-six thousand dead presidents later, dude changed his name and now he's a law abiding citizen who works for Wired News." I read aloud off the computer screen with Pete still lingering behind me. "And in an attempt to cleanse, Poulsen helped catch seven hundred and forty-four sex offenders on Myspace back in its heyday, which as long since passed, now I think it's just taking up its own empty space on the net."
"Claude, it's downright scary at how you can get anything on anybody; no one is safe." Steve says and I turn around in my chair to smirk at him.
I chuckle darkly, "So very true Poopypants, but that info wasn't exactly what I would even call 'pop quiz' worthy of my crackin' skills." I say with a smile and then turn back around to the computer.
"Poulsen was also the first to break the story on Bradley Manning and the whole Wiki-leaks fiasco." Steve adds without peeking at the computer screen and once again I'm proud of my boy.
"Kudos to you Jinksy but did you know that Kevin Poulsen was known as a 'black hat' hacker and to do some of the unbelievably cool," I say and then Artie gruffly clears his throat. "I mean crazy bad things he did; he had to have built his own computer from scratch."
"What's a black hat?" Pete asks while I hammer out a few triangulation codes on another search window I have open and running. Artie and I specifically know the titles for our brand of people very well and Jinksy's computer lingo is progressing thanks in no small part to yours truly.
"A black hat is a type of hacker who dismantles computer security solely for personal gain." Artie answers as I continue reigning burrito supreme on the Warehouse's keyboard.
"How many different 'hats' are there and does it work like the sorting hat at Hogwarts?" Pete asks and mentally I give him half a point for the Potter reference but I decide to deduct two points because it came in the form of a trademark bad joke.
"Four," I reply while clacking away with precision on the keys under my fingers. "But I'm not going to list all of them, however to give you some more insight; for instance if I wanted to classify my hacking skills I would label myself as a grey-hat. Because I'm not trying to harm anyone but I have stuck it to the man on occasion...knock, knock anyone?"
I hear Artie huff and walk out of the room towards the storage room where he keeps all his 'hard copies' or as I call it old paper that smells funny. I can't help but smirk because I have to say of all the introductions a person has in their lifetime I can safely say I made an impressionable one in Artie's.
"Man, there's no two ways about it though that super hacker guy is definitely a certified dork." Pete says while pointing at the computer monitor. "I mean did he take a salad bowl with him to his barber and said: use this to cut my hair in a perfect bowl shape. Still he looks like he might be your type Jinksy."
I frown at the screen instead of wasting the energy to turn around to glare at Pete, but I do stop typing long enough to smack his pointing finger away. "Nah, dorks aren't good enough for Jinksy." In a sudden surge of motivation I access the U.S. Marshalls website to see the ex-bf of my best friend. I meant to do this eons ago, but it kept slipping my busy mind and 'hello'; broad shoulders, smoldering good looks and that twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes. "Now this insanely good-looking fellow is totally man enough for my boy."
"Claude!" Steve shouts and from seemingly out of nowhere he tries to hit random keys on my keyboard.
"There you go being a Poopypants again." I say while swatting Steve's hands away too. "Your ex is hot and you should own it, because I sure as hell would."
"Children back to the task at hand, no more looking at ex-boyfriends or any other hot guys; look for another computer dork." Artie guff's while he grabs Steve by the shoulders and ushers him out of my workspace. "Claudia, what other hacker signatures does this mess in progress resemble other than Poulsen?"
Smirking while cracking my knuckles I clear off Jinksy's super fine ex-under the covers hottie off the screen and run code protocols, some Algorithms of my own design to work alongside the Warehouse's existing search parameters.
Pete leans over my shoulder again and I can tell he's squinting at the screen; he pretty much squints at everything though. "Whoa Claude, why are you reading about Captain Crunch?"
"Not the cereal Pete." Reply between click-clacks. God, his mind is glued on food and only really changes course when presented with female 'goods'.
"Pete, he's the hacker who used a whistle that he got from a box of Captain Crunch cereal and used it to access free phone calls." Steve says and I smile because I really am teaching him about all the cool kids, and in return he ups my fabulous quotient.
"Two bright, shiny gold stars for you Jinksy." I say to my partner as Artie rushes off in the direction of the backroom again, I think.
"Wait, a whistle from a cereal box can get you free calls?" Pete asks while leaning further down and his chest pushes against my shoulder.
"Yes, but the special thing about that whistle was the pitch." Artie adds as he comes back into the room from wherever he ran off to a minute ago; mumbling to himself. "It mimicked the tone of a phone receiver perfectly and I snagged it...a few years ago."
'We truly do have all the cool toys that we aren't allowed to play with.' I say under my breath because I bet that whistle's tone could be used to make some seriously rockin' jailbreak codes.
"Back to Poulsen because this hack signature looks like some of his." I say while leaning back in the chair, cracking my neck. Shaking my adjustments off I lean forward and resume my search for our mysterioso not-quite hacker, but then again maybe he is a new breed I haven't met yet. "When Poulsen was busted back in 92' club Fed seized his computer of course, but that computer is too ancient and couldn't cut through Sally Simpleton's firewall made of melting butter."
Once more in a show of the power I wield, with a few well-placed taps on the keys I'm in the F.B.I's server to do an inventory check on all seized computers in the last twenty five years.
"Claudia check the..."
"Already way ahead of the rest of the class Artie and working that angle." I say not sparing a glance from the screen in front of me.
The Fed's need some major upgrades in security. Maybe I should drop Fargo's name to them for said need on my way out? I chuckle under my breath and then I find exactly what I'm looking for.
"Kevin Poulsen's computer was torn down and various parts of it were destroyed except for the CPU and various processors," I say while I try not to throw up a big red flag and wave it to the monitors of the Fed's site. "Which slowly, but surely found their way to the fine state of bluegrass and racecars that snort, eat oats and have four legs."
"Kentucky?" Pete asks and for some reason I just pictured him on Jeopardy adding a 'What is...'
"Narrow it down Claudia because right now this person is trying to gain access to the Federal Reserve and then we will be vying with all the initals of the branches of law enforcement in the Federal Government." Artie says as he is obviously consulting my laptop for said information; I've been updating and transferring everything in real time to my laptop as I go, because that information sure as hell didn't come from the dry erase board.
"Narrowing and griping do not go hand in hand." I retort as I begin trying to triangulate the rogue signal of the hacker.
"Man, all this techno-nerd stuff is over my head." Pete says and by the muffled quality of his speech, he's either found something to eat or he has his shirt over his head and is flashing Jinks again.
"I think it's cool and I like learning new things." Steve says from nearby and I swear he is my brother from another mother.
"Claude, what's the inventory downloads for computer parts?" Pete asks from somewhere behind me.
I swear sometimes when he's talking and I'm in my zone focused, he makes me nervous all on the account that he can't just stay quiet for a few seconds at least.
"Look, all someone has to have is Poulsen's motherboard and pair it with a modern CPU with extensive memory sticks, and at least sixteen gigabytes of RAM then I would holler 'bingo'. And not because I was in an old folks home filling out the cards for Artie during visiting hours."
"Thanks for that glimpse of such a promising future." Artie says in his usual low grumbling sarcasm.
"So just so I'm on the same page as you guys are, you're saying that Poulsen's computer is imbued with the ability to make anyone a super hacker?" Pete says which seems pretty much redundant to me. "And that this hacker we're tracking has it or some part of it?"
"Sort of," I reply while still hammering the keys on the Warehouse's steam punky keyboard. "Just the motherboard or 'heart' of his computer. It was something that if I had to bet all my orange allowance on that Poulsen made by hand and that in turn made hack magic."
A few seconds pass, and then I feel a body lean down closer next to me; Pete by the Axe body spray smell. "Hey Claude, did you ever see that Jolie movie called 'Hackers'?"
I pause only for a nanosecond between keystroke chomps. "I saw it, but it's not like it became the go to cine-o-file instruction for Hacker ethics."
"Well, I thought Miss. Jolie pre-Pitt looked pretty damn hot in that movie even with the pixie do."
I want to say 'of course you would' but I don't. Pete's mind is either on cookies or boobies and I try to stay out of the blast zone. Eww, I wish my mind hadn't gone there even for that millisecond.
"Yeah, so not a Jolie fan." I say while hammering out a search and destroy code to find the hacker wannabe's secret lair. "I mean some of her movies are cool, but I'm not capable of digging her on a personal level or aggressively caring about 'Brangelina'."
This person knows how to hide and is super-fast at covering their digital tracks before they actually leave any, but it's not like they can shake me.
"I've got to hand it to this person and if it's a dude at least he has loftier goals than cyber peeping women's cleavage, unlike the other hacker that we came to know-Tyler Struhl."
Artie comes up behind me and I know it was him by the hand nearing the keyboard. But as I imagine just as he was going to 'help' me, this person, this 'cracker' steps into my carefully constructed trap. With a few swift keystrokes I'm piggy-backing this person as they move through servers, links and like Ice Cube says: 'today was a good day'...to get hacked by Donovan, Claudia Donovan, fool.
"Yes!" I shout as a profound sense of pride wells up and bursts forth. "Say hello to London calling...but still in Kentucky."
Artie retracts his hand and places it on my shoulder instead for a moment. "Impressive as always Claudia, but your chase has attracted the attention of the F.B.I's cyber-crimes division." Artie helpfully points out while he takes up a post on my laptop and pulls up what I have already. Between the both of us the sound of chomping keys is loud and steady throughout the room. "Cut them off Claudia and do it fast before they find us by accident, since they're looking for whoever is in Kentucky too.
"I feel like I should have popcorn to go along with this show." Pete says and I smirk while I drop off a pretty decent tracker in the lame section that the Fed's have snagged to do the sniffing around on the web.
"Hmm, this is your idea of a show?" Steve says.
"Sure, why not?" Pete replies. "Old school verses new school, boy verses girl and my favorite the grey team verses the red team."
I chuckle under my breath because Artie growled all the way through Pete's explanation. I choose to ignore the boy vs. girl quip.
"C.J. Bolan!" Artie exclaims which makes me jump in my chair a bit. "Age unknown, gender unknown. However, this person is good but not good enough to hide the street address from me!"
Smiling, I continue to feed Artie info on the hacker I'm tracing. It doesn't matter to me who gets the credit because after the last couple of years I know my self-worth and skill level without the need for constant validation.
I hear Artie scoot the chair back from my laptop and then I feel him pat my shoulder again. With a smile I close out all the information on our hacker, Poulsen and transfer all of it to my re-purposed tablet securely.
"Claudia take Pete and get to Kentucky and sort this mess out and bring whatever artifact this person is using back here; you know the drill."
"Hey, that sorta rhymed Gramps." I say while swiveling around in Artie's special scoliosis chair. I don't mind getting stuck with Pete because this will be a good time to lay some groundwork for Operation Matriculate. That and I already know of Jinksy's plans for the day so it's not a shock.
"You two have your walking papers so what are you still doing here?" Artie says gruffly and sometimes I think he expects us to just vanish at the snap of a finger Frederick's style and to that I have to say: 'I wish I may, I wish I might.'
I spring out of my chair and follow in step behind Pete, who is moving towards the door already. Artie actually scares him.
"Hey Claude, did you ever tell Artie about the rhyming Artie from Fargo's roleplay game?" Pete whispers to me as he punches in his code to open the door, which is another variation on his 'Pete rules' password. My code is Trent Reznor's and Joe Strummer's birthdays mashed-up for now; David Bowie's seemed too obvious.
"Never." I reply barely above a whisper and Pete chuckles.
"I bet this guy is sitting in his man cave in his underwear." Pete says as the Warehouse's door chimes and then swings open; the white hallway of the umbilicus comes into full view.
"I'll take that bet and raise it; his man cave is in his mom's basement, and I'm going to ignore the underwear montage." I reply while striding back over to the desk to grab my mini-Tesla off the cluttered workspace. Truthfully, I already know that it's a chick but I'll tell Pete that later.
Steve steps sideways to block my path. "Pardon, I got my Mini-T primed and ready to work, so scooch."
"Easy there girl wonder."
"Later Jinksy and have lots of oozing purple slime fun cleaning out the Gooery again." I say with a smirk while I put my Mini-T to bed in my jacket pocket. "And as a parting gift let me warn you that since you'll be performing the task with Artie this time around instead of Abigail, that cleaning foul smelling sludge brings out Arties other grouchy side."
Steve makes a face. "How many sides can one man have?"
"Artie is an onion Steve, he has layers upon layers that will make your eyes burn and water."
What I like to call my combat boots are perfect for going through airport security and I never leave home without them. Unsurprisingly, when Pete pulled off his Vans a certain odor filled the air and I have never seen security people become so efficient at doing their job. I want to laugh at his antics but I'm also collateral damage from his smelly feet and footwear.
"Dude, hurry up and put your shoes back on or the whole airport is going to need reviving and I don't have enough smelling salts on me."
Pete smiles while hopping around on his left foot; trying to get his other shoe back on, and from this angle I see that he's getting a muffin top. I do believe that's enough hard evidence to support a claim that his eating habits are finally showing where he's putting it.
"No offense Pete, but you're gonna need to cut back on your 'refueling' if you want another girlfriend sometime soon." I say when he finally has both of his shoes covering his pungent feet again.
"What do you mean?"
So many ways to approach this; blunt can sting, but it eliminates confusion. "Okay, unless you want to walk around with a whole bakery hanging out over the top of your pants you need to slow down on the midnight snacks, the after midnight snacks...and I bet you eat while sleeping somehow don't you?"
"I get hungry."
"That may be but no woman wants to be crushed." I say with a slight shudder; trying to repress certain images. Pete stares at me strangely, so I shake my head and just start walking down the concourse. I hold in the rest of my wisdom until Pete catches up with me, even his little black roll-away luggage keeps in stride with me. "Before you start I would like to add: that's as close as I'm approaching that type of convo with you and that's all I'm interested in saying on that subject because we're boarding."
"But you called me fat Claude."
"No, I said if you don't slow down on your food consumption that will be the new word used to describe you."
As we enter the plane a tall, slim brunette male flight attendant greets us and with a smile directed at me he points us towards our seats. I resist the urge to flirt back, because I'm not trying to be the female version of Pete right now without the extra 'jelly' of course. I always get the window seat and as I put my small carry on in the overhead compartment Pete lumbers up behind me.
"I got it Claude."
"By all means." I say as I stop balancing on my toes; if only I was Myka's height.
The flight is supposed to be three and a half hours but who knows anymore, I don't even think the pilots do. I sink down in my seat and pop in the earbuds to my ipod and let my music take me to that better world that only a really good song lets you escape to. Pete gets caught up in watching some movie but then half-way through the flight he decides to flirt with the blonde flight attendant but she isn't all that receptive towards him. I smirk and adjust my earbuds and crank up the volume on one of the many Bowie gems 'Golden Years'. As I lean back into my economy class seat I spot Pete pinching the noticeable bulge on his stomach; he frowns and I hold in my laughter and the 'I told you so' on the inside.
Kentucky is exactly what I expected; a state for horse lovers and heavy drinkers of mint julip, but then again that could just be me projecting. Sadly, that part of the culture I won't be experiencing and I had hoped that I would since the only exposure I've had was those stuffy horse people in England. I had high hopes for the bluegrass state. Instead, Pete and I got off the plane and grabbed a rental. Pete just had to have the 'Call Of Duty' model Jeep Wrangler that was available and in black it is a beautiful thing. Myka would've never approved, neither would Artie, but I on the other hand can look the other way, provided I get a turn behind the wheel of this bad girl before we head back to the middle of nowhere South Dakota a.k.a Univille.
"So what's the 411 on our person Claude, because I know you have to have everything on them by now?"
It's true. While we were cruising at high altitudes to get here my tablet in my carry-on was getting updates from Artie. I thought it would save from having to reach out and touch us via Farnsworth so much.
"Well to get right to the point C.J. has a computer fetish and had an uncle in the F.B.I, who raised her and after he retired he lost his pension during the recession. He died over a year ago in a hospice. Since his death Miss. Bolan took it upon herself to impersonate an F.B.I agent and over the last year she has been sneaking into her local branch of the Fed's, and has managed to five-finger discount until she finally found something worthwhile and in her skillset."
"Wait, it's a chick?"
"Yes, Pete."
"Wow, but then again I remember you telling me about Artie going after that chick who got the drop on you both with some silk stockings, right."
"Yep, one of the many of my favorite artifact retrieval memories." I retort as I twist around in my seat. I can't help but notice the 'Call Of Duty' badges that are displayed proudly in this ride on a fair amount of surfaces. And I have to say the smancy interior and highly play with me playable audio system is pretty damn sweet, but alas my heart is already promised to a silver Prius that I've had eyes on for a while.
"Pete, this is so much cooler than the Highlander." I say while flipping on the GPS, and then inputting the address we need to find. "Even though every time I say 'Highlander' it reminds me of 'Clan McLeod' and then I channel my inner Sean Connery and say: Feel the quickening!"
Pete laughs, "That's an awesome movie, even though I have trouble following the crazy story lines. But yeah, sci-fi rocks and your impression wasn't too bad either."
"Thanks very much." I reply smiling while recalling fondly that Jinksy doesn't dig my impressions.
Looking out the window of the Jeep, I watch as we pass a run down, closed down gas station that has an abandoned semi-truck trailer with 'Mud Butt' spray painted badly in large black letters over the dents and rust. I want to laugh but it's more of a sad sight than anything else. After a few turns we emerge into a more residential area which is clearly lower middle class. But from what I've seen everybody in this country is on that rung of the ladder now, or they've managed to be pushed off that rung to the next one down and then the one after that and so on.
'Turn right up ahead.' The Aussie accented femme GPS announces as Pete and I cruise along 16th street in London, Kentucky which was named so after the other London and I have to say I don't see any family resemblance. Pete pulls our rental along the sidewalk and does a not-so-mild brake check which throws me towards the dash a little.
"You've been driving how long now?"
"Longer than you've been breathing air Claude, why?"
"Oh, it's nothing." I retort with a wave of my hand. "I guess sometimes it's necessary to be choked by the seatbelt for a half second while getting a close up look at the texture of the dash."
'You have arrived at your destination.' The Aussie lady trapped behind the screen announces.
"Girlfriend has clearly never been schooled on pointing out the obvious, but it's good to know nonetheless." I retort sarcastically as I flick her 'off' switch.
Pete loosens his seatbelt and goes to get out of the Jeep. Meanwhile, I reach behind me and grab my No-Go bag from the back seat and move out of the rugged awesomeness too. The first step out of the Jeep is a doozy for me, but it's still not like I need a step ladder to get all up in it or out of it. I sling my bag over my shoulder and as I look across the street I see the house in question.
"It's so quiet here." Pete says as he stops to stand beside me. "Unless, you count the chirpy birds and lawn mowers slicing grass in the distance."
Indeed it's quiet and I have to say a worse for wear beige two-story house in a quiet residential neighborhood does not really scream 'illegal activity' but on second thought; it's always the quiet ones.
"This place isn't so bad." I say while reach into my bag for my shades, cause right now my future and the sun is so bright and all. "It reminds me of the suburb me and Myka found that cray-cray Firestarter chick, who thought she was blowing guys up, instead of blowing them off."
"Blowing them." Pete says with a snicker and of course he would twist my words into something dirty.
"Shall we circle around and..." I prompt because I'm not going to acknowledge Pete's lizard brain. "You know check the house and all that jazz hands, because the perp is mostly likely still there unless she has left in the last five or so hours since we got the ping."
"C.J. Bolan." Pete says putting his hands on his hips, in the chunky style Peter Pan pose that he is becoming. "Sounds like the lost member of Skid Row."
"Well, when the find C.J. I just want the computer, but when the Fed's find her it just might be '18 and Life.'
Pete laughs, "That's an awesome song by that band."
"It's not bad." I say while silently considering that 'I Remember You' is really Skid Row's best song for many reasons.
"Let's do this." Pete says and we begin to calmly walk along the sidewalk. "We'll walk down at least a block and then cross a few houses down and then we'll go around to the back of 1228 and enter undetected into C.J.'s bat cave."
"Sounds like a plan." I reply but I'm wondering why he suddenly doesn't want to kick down a door or something. Myka told me that he really likes doing that even when that action isn't needed.
I don't know how discrete we actually looked getting here, but Pete takes the lead and quietly pulls open the old screen door to 1228. Its white paint has long since faded, cracked and the screen itself has holes poked in it, probably from BB gun target practice, and thankfully its hinges have been oiled at some point so the door doesn't squeal like a pig on us. With his Tesla leading the way Pete steps through the doorway first and we both enter the kitchen of this domicile.
Piles of dishes fill the both basins in the sink. I'm guessing they haven't been washed in a week or two, maybe longer. A faded wallpaper border with red roosters line the top of the walls close to the ceiling and the once cheerfully yellow painted kitchen just looks like there's nothing to crow about anymore. After moving the kitchen we walk down a long hallway with white floral-printed wallpaper that has yellowed with age. I look up at the ceiling to see that water damage marks it heavily; a leaking roof is the obvious culprit.
"Jesus, this place reminds me of the house where Jame Gumb lived." Pete whispers and I'm amazed that he's stayed quiet this long.
"I agree." I reply lowly while keeping my mini-T primed to fire away at anything that gets too close to me. "But just so you know if anyone is going to end up in a dry well putting on lotion, it will be you not me."
Pete and I end up in what I guess is the living room. Frankly I can't tell because there's not much to see. Unless you count a tiny desk and the laptop power cables that are strewn across the stained carpet and look like a handful of snakes trying to slither away. Also, claiming a big helping of real estate on the floor is large black power cables.
"Hey, hey, hey..." Pete sings-songs and I swear the dude could probably do a passable Thom Yorke-munchkin singing impression. "Follow the power cable road."
"After you Lolli-Pop Guild." I deadpan aided by a gesture with my mini-T, while relocating my sunglasses into my hair.
Turns out the basement thing was accurate, and how no one in the south really locks any doors. With our Tesla's drawn Pete and I slowly creep down the narrow wooden steps alongside the long train of power cables line each step; it looks like a big black anaconda escaped the J-Lo movie. There's a faint electrical hum in the air and that's the sound of music to my ears. A computer has its own pulse and I would know that tick anywhere. As we quietly move in the half-light a faint glow is up ahead and the mass of cables running along the floor continues to be our now useless compass.
The familiar sound of fingers hitting the keys on a keyboard with authority gets louder with each step. I can feel the excitement welling up inside me. So often my artifact retrievals aren't like this, because this is more like a mission that Pete and Myka have. I hold my Tesla securely as Pete motions for us to circle around what looks to be an oval bank of monitors. I count at least seven as I quietly sidestep to the left and Pete takes the right.
"Put your hands up!" Pete shouts and the girl sitting in front of the bank of monitors jumps slightly and the furious sound of clicking keys stops.
I move closer to our cyber-punk and just as I pass a support pillar in the darkened basement I see a light switch on it, so I flick it on. Slowly, overhead fluorescent fixtures awaken and shed some light on us. I have to pull a Pete face and squint my eyes because they had already adjusted to the darkness. Finally, I get a good look at our target because I couldn't find a picture; she'd erased as much as she could of her identity. She's my height but with a bigger build, still slim though.
"I said put your hands up!" Pete shouts again when she remains stationary. "And turn around!"
Her hands finally come up and her chair creaks as she turns around on it. "I know you're not FBI, but honestly I don't give a shit who you are." The young woman says with a sneer and I notice the Johnny Cash t-shirt she's wearing; the Man In Black flipping 'the bird.'
"Just move away from the computer so we can undo what you've done." I say while inching closer; my finger hovering over the trigger of my Tesla.
"Now why would I let you do that?" She scoffs, "Just because you have some kind of Taser gun?"
Right then the lighting flickers and goes out for a second, before coming back on and that much brighter. Just as my eyes re-focus our target which is essentially me five years ago goes running past us at full speed. Taking aim with my Tesla I just miss her and hit a reproduction of a classic music poster from the 80's. I admit that this chick has awesome taste in music. I take off after her and as I pass the somewhat singed poster I place a kiss on my palm and pat it on what remains of 'The Smiths Live' with a mouthed 'sorry.'
"Claude, I got this she's headed for the upstairs! You take those other set of steps I saw near the monitors behind me!" Pete shouts and I nod my agreement. "Man, I feel like James Bond at the beginning of 'Casino Royale'!"
'Sure Pete, a stocky-chunky fortyish non blonde Bond.' I think to myself as I run past Pete and take the other set of stairs that he was taking about. I run up the cinderblock constructed steps carefully and then use my shoulder the way Myka showed me and go crashing through the door to the outside. That only hurt a little bit and was a lot more pleasant than that time I almost fell to my death, and had to ask the person I was chasing to help me up off that ledge I was barely clinging to. I take a deep breath and wade through the waist-high dying grass and then I spot movement. It's her that dark purple dye-job is a real attention getter and I slowly take careful aim but as I'm about to fire Pete is directly behind her and now blocking my shot.
"Damn it." I say under my breath as I take off after them, but mostly just to rein in Pete.
I run through the tall grass in the backyard and go through the same opening in the wooden fence that closes off the Bolan's property that Pete went through. My cool black skull trench coat gets snagged on a jagged edge but thankfully doesn't tear. I step out on the cracked pavement and look up the street to see Pete chasing after her. I take off as fast as I can; running isn't really my strong suit but I can do it. My boots stomp out a fast rhythm on the asphalt and I close in on Pete, as the distance grows between him and the fast fleeing Miss. Bolan who is apparently big on working out because she's leaving me and Pete in the dust.
I catch up to Pete who is still stubbornly trying to catch her even as she rounds the corner way up ahead. "Let it go Pete...this chase bit...part isn't...our job," I say slightly winded as our pace begins to slow, until finally we both come to a total dead stop.
I put my mini-Tesla in my coat pocket and lean down to rest both of my hands on my knees while trying to slow my huffing and puffing, because I'm no Big Bad Wolf. "The artifact is back there at the house not on her." I say and right now I think it would be best to try for a laugh, seeing as Pete will not be happy that the proverbial girl is gone. "You know that I will call in a truly anonymous tip on where the law can probably find Marathon woman a.k.a Crystal J. Bolan and I pity her when the Fed's reach out to her."
"Okay, fine." Pete finally says after a heavy silence that was filled with him gasping for oxygen. "Let's go back to the house and get the computer thing or whatever."
"She didn't have time to destroy her hard-drive and this encryption is a child's teething ring." I say as I hack my way into C.J. Bolan's computer to shut it down. "Quick Pete, hum the Mario music for when you level up or beat Bowser?"
Pete chuckles and does in fact hum it for me, both themes actually, while walking around the basement inspecting the shelves of music, collectables and the cork bulletin board that has some serious stalker quality charm to it. Reaching into my No-Go bag and whip out my handy little tool kit so I can take this bad girl/computer apart. I used to carry around my tools on a cool utility belt back when I worked in the Warehouse, but since I'm a field agent now I had to prioritize on what to take with me on missions. A smart person always comes prepared, that and I will never allow myself to be handcuffed for longer than thirty seconds ever again, which all the blame for that logic goes to the time I was shackled to that oven for longer than I will ever admit.
"You know I just realized that you carry a handy bag like Artie does." Pete says and oddly I hadn't considered that observation before. "I mean it's not like Artie's doctor-looking man bag deal, because the things that he whips out of that bag always surprise the hell out of me. And I figured out that it's some kind of artifact."
I chuckle and push my sunglasses further up into my hair, before using the Philips head screw driver to take out the screws that secure the cover on the compact tower that this sleek looking outfit 'thinks and does' with. Sure enough once I move the cover off the tower I see that the motherboard is old, very homemade and I think it's safe to say that it's from Poulsen's computer. Two plus two equals four and all. I marvel at this chick's ingenuity and the fact that she had enough gumption to steal from the Fed's and to take a swipe at greed in this country. I don't know if I could do that because most of us hackers think small; meaning we go after things that benefit us directly, and what she was doing was wrong but completely selfless. Instantly, I think back to the chick with the seductive pantyhose.
"Static bag if you please Pete?"
"Coming right up." He replies as he pulls one out of his jacket pocket and holds it open with one hand. "Wait, that's cool. I've never seen one of these before."
I smile while carefully yanking the stolen motherboard out and toss it in the static bag and duck, because having the equivalent of a bright sparkler go off in your face isn't anywhere near the concept of what I would call fun. Pete abruptly stops playing with the chick's collection of bobble-heads or more specifically the one of Sheldon.
"By the way Claude, I get it." Pete says while zipping the static bag and handing it to me; I put it in my handy bag of course. "What you were getting at this morning."
"Get what exactly, please to esplain?" I know what Pete means but I think it will be better if he's the one who says it.
Pete sighs and picks his Tesla up off the long desk top that the bank of computer monitors are mounted to, and then sticks his Tesla behind his back. Someone has clearly watched the 'Lethal Weapon' movies a bit much.
"I need to grow up...some." He admits and I'm thrilled but not enough to let the joy show on the outside. Instead, I throw him my best 'you can do better than that' expression.
"Okay, I need to grow up a lot."
I smile at my sometimes partner and much older brother that gets on my nerves. "Just so you know growing up does not mean having fun goes sailing out the window, like you did that one time when we were trapped in that artifacty-roach motel version of the B & B; you know you can check in but you can't check out."
Pete laughs which makes me smile wider.
"I remember that, and I know fun is still allowed even when you're an adult." Pete says with a sweet grin. "You're a pretty cool but sarcastic partner and you never fail to impress me every single time we go out on a mission, Agent Donovan."
"You can be awesome too sometimes." I reply still smiling and now for my Dr. Phil moment. "You know everybody is still a work in progress dude and everyone should always want to be better, I do."
"How did you get so wise all of the sudden?" Pete teases but there is a genuine warmth to his voice.
"I had a hard knock life and it made me grow up faster than I should've, but it also made me appreciate what I have all that much more." I reply and as fast as the words left my mouth I can tell Pete wants to hug me, but I really don't want any PDA just now so. "But on a more important note Pete, since I bagged the artifact that means you owe me some grub."
"What, when did we agree on that?"
"It's unspoken agreement, now feed me because I'm feeling a little clammy." I retort with a smile of satisfaction. And its satisfaction based on giving Pete a taste of his own medicine, and that I'm determined to help my not so apt pupil reform, grow because that's what I think real friends, family are for.
"Seafood it is then, my treat." Pete replies with a smile. "And you're gonna make one seriously scary, badass caretaker one of these days Claude."
"Don't I know it." I retort as I pull my shades down out of my hair and put them back on.
{-{-{-END-}-}-}
Soundtrack: "The Magnificent Seven" by The Clash, "Sheena Is a Punk Rocker" by Ramones, "Speedballin" by Outkast & "Baby, I'm a Star" by Prince & the Revolution
Final Words: Yeah, I'm still taking a pause on doing B&W stories. Not to worry though because I absolutely adore writing (fixing) B&W, but unplugging from it once in a while is healthy and so is playing with the other characters in this fandom. So thank you wide-load style for reading this because I used up a hella lot of my limited free time to shake this one out. *gives you a long, but not uncomfortable cyber hug in shameless gratitude*