No Finer Weapon

by Zarius

Brad Turner and his band are invited to a birthday bash at a remote estate, only to find himself thrown into the lions den. Faced with a potentially hostile crowd and unable to communicate with MASK, Brad must depend on his alternative talents more than ever.

M.A.S.K:

"NO FINER WEAPON"

WRITTEN BY ZARIUS

This story was inspired by the events of the final episode of the M.A.S.K racing series "Cliffhanger", where hinted at a heated and feisty relationship brewing between M.A.S.K agent Brad Turner and V.E.N.O.M agent Vanessa Warfield

This story also brings up a personal fan theory that Vanessa Warfield was beginning to play for Matt Tracker's side while continuing to hold strong ties to her V.E.N.O.M roots. This angle was briefly hinted at in my previous M.A.S.K story "Her Fragile Aura", but is given greater emphasis in this piece. Enjoy.

-Zarius

DISCLAIMER: Only the characters of Vice and Ella Turner are mine, all other M.A.S.K characters are trademarked and owned by Cookie Jar Entertainment.

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Vice Turner couldn't help but take another photo. Another precious snapshot of the beautiful structure standing before her, the house that had served as host to her past, and would soon serve as a nest for her present and future.

The home of the Turner family for over thirty-eight years, it would soon be the care of a new generation, for twenty-six year old Vice, the eldest of two girls born to the family, was getting married in the summer to a Darwin Wyatt, and the home had been entrusted to her by her parents, who had elected to move into a high profile ritz-like apartment complex. They had already made the move, and Vice was eager to make every fresh minute with this high-rise responsibility count.

"Why are you even bothering to take photos? We've lived here all our lives" came a soothingly deep, but soft voice from behind her. Vice turned around and found her young sister, Ella, greeting her.

"For the album" Vice replied.

"We have albums FULL of shots of this place" Ella argued

"MY photo album" Vice continued, and went back to taking snapshots. Ella sighed and moved past her, making her way over to the door. She stood in front of Vice's view.

"Well?" Ella said, pointing at the door. "You've got the key…care to take us inside? We've got a lot of moving to do"

"Just one more shot…" Vice replied, only to take about five more shots of the house. Ella folded her arms and leaned gently against the door, patiently waiting on her sister. Vice seized the opportunity to take a photo of Ella's pose, making her an unwilling model.

Finally, Vice was satisfied with her set, and proceeded to open the door with the home key given to her by her mother. The two entered the house.

Once upon a time, stepping inside this accommodation came with all the familiar sights and sounds of a loving family homestead.. log fires, large cozy sofas, a study room filled to the brim with books and folders bursting with top-secret facts and figures, and wardrobes big enough for someone to imagine a whole other world contained within them

Now the fires were long extinguished, the sofas were draped over with white sheets to keep out the dirt, the study was empty, the confidential folder of files long been shredded and disposed of, and the wardrobes were bare.

To Vice, it felt like discarding an old coat of paint, ready to be graced with her own fresh color and flavor.

To Ella, it felt very alien. Like someone's familiar skin had been peeled off.

After a period of reminiscing about the home the whole Turner family had once shared, the two sisters made their way upstairs and pulled down a built-in ladder leading upwards to the family loft, where several marked boxes awaited them. These were the final pieces of the puzzle, the last few items left to take back to their parents, completing their transition from this place to the new complex.

The family memoirs.

Newspaper clippings documenting the activities of their father's crime fighting agency, diaries, photographs, home videos long transferred to DVD, everything that made up the history of the Turners were packed and ready for shipping.

Ella clambered up into the loft and made her way over to the boxes containing the memoirs, Vice positioned herself halfway up the ladder in preparation to take the boxes from Ella as she handed them to her sister.

As Ella picked up the first box, she noticed it contained several of her father's old trophies, which he had acuminated from his days as a field agent on the racing scene.

"Does Dad really need these? " Ella asked her sister as she handed over the first box, "Those races were almost all about politics and manufactured winners, I read once Dad's agency even helped the son of a president win a race when he was in no position to finish first place"

"There's a lot more to those missions than just their true nature sis", Vice replied, "It's about doing the right thing and defending national security as we know it. The real winners who those who overcome all the corruption and evil intent going on in those races, dad certainly earned his stripes on those stretches of road"

"Yeah I guess" Ella admitted, and went over to the second box, she checked the contents and found it contained the photo albums.

After the two sisters took both boxes down, they set about polishing up the trophies and examining the albums, checking if the photos were damaged in any way.

The contents of the album brought a warm nostalgic smile from Ella, as she found shots of her parents in the prime of youth, pictured next to their respective vehicles, Manta, and\ Razorback, her mother had a hose pipe in her hand, spraying a jet of water all over her father's head, her father had a dapper expression on his face, shrugging his shoulders as he was bombarded by the cool stream.

Another photo showed her mother cradling a newborn baby. Vice at an infant age, her mother's eyes were full of love.

And then , on one of the last pages, was a photo that centred around a choice favourite period for the Turner sisters: Christmas.

This one was taken about two years ago, Ella remembered taking it. Her parents, both wearing tight turtleneck jumpers, wrapped in each others arms, their heads gently resting on one another, smiling warmly for the camera, a bright Christmas tree behind them, the lights around it brightly lit, illuminating the background, and creating a bit of magic for the whole family.

Ella couldn't help but admire the hard work put into moments like this. Moments created by decades of hard work, and a blend of wild, combustible, and unnatural elements. Elements many thought would never stick.

Water and oil.

Fire and Ice.

Brand Turner and Vanessa Warfield.

"Hard to think mom and dad have been glued at the hip all this time, knowing their individual backgrounds" Ella remarked. "What do you think their secret is sis?"

Vice was barely paying attention, she was focused on taking photos again, insistent on samples for a "before and after" set she intended for her own album.

"Hey, I asked you a question" Ella continued. Vice sighed.

"Do you really have to bug me about this? Mom and Dad stuck it out and they've made it. That's all that matters" Vice replied, hoping Ella would give up and leave her to her photography.

"But how do you think it all went down?" Ella continued, to Vice's annoyance, "It couldn't be as simple as "guy meets girl, the birds and the bees, out roll the rugrats. Relationships are complex"

"With an attitude like that, you'll never find an easy man" Vice replied.

Ella sulked, and continued rummaging through the boxes. Eventually something new caught her eye, a small, violet book with a photograph lodged in the middle. Ella opened the book and took out the photo, and was alarmed and amazed at the contents.

"Hey, look at this, I don't think I've ever seen this before" Ella suddenly said

"What is it? Mom whipping dad's butt with her whip mask? I think we're old enough to see that sort of thing" Vice joked. Ella shook her head

"No. This photo…it's of dad and…VENOM agents" Ella revealed.

Now Vice was interested. She put her camera down and walked back over to her sister

"Where'd you find this?" Vice asked her sister.

"It was attached to a page in this book" Ella confirmed. Vice skimmed through some of the books pages, keeping her thumb on the page that held the photo so she didn't lose where she was

"This is a diary" Vice said.

"I recognize the guy with the Mohawk from researching newspapers in the archive for my journalist course" Ella continued "…The one on the left of dad is Bruno "Mad Dog" Sheppard, and, I think that's also Lester "The Lizard" Sludge"

"They look pretty shell-shocked in this" Vice observed as she looked at the odd expressions on the agents faces. Her father looked as unnerved as they were too.

"Maybe we ought to read the diary, it might give us a clue…maybe this tells us how he and Mom fell in love"

"Do you really think hanging out with known terrorists is a sure-fire way of eventually getting hitched?" Vice asked, " This isn't your average social mingle sis. For all we know, this was a mission he was on"

"Guess we'll have to find out. Read the entry" Ella requested "Dad won't mind at his age, and it'll give us something to talk to the folks about over at their flat tomorrow"

Vice breathed heavily, looked at her sister's enthusiastic and curious expression. She looked at the clock high above the living area, and shrugged her shoulder in defeat as she realized she had a lot of time to share a story.

She started at the top.

"Diary entry: November 22nd…."

FOURTY-TWO YEARS AGO

Brad had to find the rhythm. The piece he intended to play would be lost if he didn't remember it note for note.

As Razorback travelled up the long and murky road, cloaked in the intimidating blanket of the night sky and the ferociousness of the ill-fitting weather pouring down all over and around the vehicle, Brad was determined to keep cool and not let the frustrations brought by lousy rain and dodgy private roads break his concentration.

He checked his rear-view mirror. There was defiantly a car following him. At first he thought the car would cut off at the last junction before going up the road leading to the lush Estate ahead of Brad, but the car had been following his lead throughout the journey.

"No big deal" Brad thought, "This is a gig we're going to, it's bound to be a fan"

Finally, Razorback pulled up to the iron gates that cut off the mansion from the outside world. A coach was parked in front of Brad's gaze, forcing him to get out of the car and head towards the entrance.

As he walked over, he began humming the main chorus of the song he intended to play at this gig, a surprise birthday bash for a mystery client. The host of the party had sent out invites to Brad's band, with a hefty one million dollar performance contract attached to it. Brad wasn't keen on the anonymous angle, but was persuaded in conversation Matt to take up the offer, provided MAKS spend the money on various charities

Once he approached the gate, he found a crowd gathered around it. He soon realized it was the remainder of his group

"Hey, there's our guy. Nice to see you run into us instead of out on us Brad" came a raspy, yet friendly voice. Brad chuckled, it was his drummer Burton.

"Why aren't you guys snug indoors? Why are they making us wait out here?" Brad asked his band members

"Our host won't invite us in until the whole band is assembled" Burton replied, "I guess on this occasion we require your often divided attention"

Burton walked over to the intercom on the gate

"Alright, tell whoever sent us the invites that we're all assembled now, so we can cut the Hocus Pocus" Burton spoke.

"We'd all be better if we did that" another band member loudly mumbled with a wry dose of cynicism. Brad elbowed him, having overheard the remark

"Relax Brad, I was just kidding" the band member responded, rubbing his bruised shoulder.

"No you weren't" Brad thought to himself, "And frankly I don't blame you"

After a short period of waiting, a buzz on the intercom was heard and the steel gates leading to the estate opened. The rain finally began to let up, putting the band members in slightly higher spirits as it looked like things were looking clearer.

The members entered their coach and Brad clambered back into Razorback, both vehicles drove through the open gates and drove up to the front of the estate. The crew and Brad went up to the front door and knocked on it

"I wonder why the host was insistent we ALL show up?" Brad asked

"The host's friend's never seen us all as an ensemble" Burton explained "He's listened to your stuff and he really gets a kick out of it. You've carved out a bit of a myth about yourself…the man who comes and goes in the band, always leaving the crowd wanting more. As much as it royally peeves us, it's done wonders for the band's legend"

Brad felt a little better upon hearing this. It was always nice to believe he was a mystery to his fans, and that it gave the band a "too cool for school" edge. He just wished he could commit to them on a more consistent basis.

After what seemed like an age to rival the wait outside the fortified gates, the front door opened, and a fairly unkempt looking butler stepped out to gree them, he was wearing a half-torn sleeveless shirt with mustard stains all over his face.

"You are the entertainment?" he asked in a half-snobbish accent.

"That we are sir" Brad replied

"You are expected. Follow me" he continued, and led the band inside.

Although the identity of the special person was still a mystery, the party was already in full swing. It already felt like a real punk scene, with larger than life tattoos and pierced earrings to be had on many of the guests. Many were also sporting bizarre haircuts, ranging from porcupine hair to oversized Mohawks.

As the band passed the tables filled with a weird mix of meat and candy, the band members took to a few helpings on the way to the back.

"Whoever lives here has some sweet tastes. Proof is in the pudding and the punch" uttered a satisfied Burton. The other band members agreed. One even stuffed no less than eight Sausage Rolls into his pocket. Brad wisely chose to keep to himself, he had already eaten a fancy dinner at the Tracker estate, a place where the atmosphere was friendlier, and the manners much more preferable.

Finally, the two were escorted to a sound stage in the left wing of the estate.

"Your client will see you now" the Butler said, before taking his leave of the band members.

"Good, because when I see whoever's set up shop, I want to give that person a lesson in handling…" Burton began, but was cut off as the host stepped out from behind a set of curtains and appeared in full view of them.

"Ok, this I can handle" Burton finished. In awe of the figure before him, and felt obligated to let out a sexist whistle.

"Oh no" Brad thought as he recognized the host.

Her hair was scarlet and black. Her eyes were the kind that could stop a cobra dead in it's tracks, her demeanor was cold, and although history had proven she could have compassion, she reserved that side for rare occasions, and rarer men.

Vanessa Warfield.

"You're late" Vanessa remarked

"We were held up…but that's the story of our lives as written by our leading man" Burton said, and shot Brad a disappointing look that made Turner feel even more guilty

"You'd best start prepping your equipment, our birthday boy will be back from his trip any minute now" she said.

"What's this about Vanessa?" Brad asked with a tone of authority, "Why didn't you just invite these guys? You dragged me away from an important business dinner that brought up national concerns"

"You can worry about your global epidemics another time Turner, You've always wanted to take more of a centre stage on the music scene and I'm giving that to you, in a place where everyone of my friends can see your talents shine. Especially our birthday boy Bruno. I'm sure one of you will go all to pieces when you set eyes on one another" Vanessa gloated.

"Bruno? This is Bruno Sheppard's Birthday party?" Brad replied, "You want me to perform for a VENOM agent?"

"Does it really surprise you that people like us have a taste for the kind of music you put out?" Vanessa asked, "You can't expect your squeaky clean reputation with Trakker to keep you out of scenes like this. You signed up for gigs like this, you might as well live up to the hype…or is that all you are? Hype?"

Brad was incensed, he knew what Vanessa had planned, but he wasn't prepared to back down from the hot spot he had been placed in.

"You want me at my best? You got it" he said with a defiant tone "But if you think my fellow agents are gonna let me crash permanently at this party you can forget it" he said, showing Vanessa his M.A.S.K communicator wristwatch. Vanessa smiled.

"I'm afraid that's not going to work around these parts Turner. When this place was built, Miles installed various pieces of radio frequency jammers. I've already punched in the codes that activate them. Nobody knows this place is a haven for VENOM recruits and noone leaves without our permission. You want to make a good impression and leave with your tail still attached to your legs? Give us a show"

Brad formed a fist with his right hand and clenched it tightly as it shook. Brad had never known as much anger as the kind he was feeling right now. It was a mad, impossible situation he was in.

"I thought you were on our side now" he said. Vanessa laughed

"You're on my side of things tonight Turner, you better pray you end up on the good part" she replied, and slipped past him.

As Brad soaked in the situation, his fellow band member teased him about the friction he and Vanessa had put on display

"Ooooh burn" Burton said, grabbing Brad in a headlock and rubbing his hands through his hair. "That'll give you pause for thought. Of course I know what kind of things you'll be thinking about after that, but still"

"Didn't she beat you in a race one time MASK Man?" another band member heckled. "Maybe we should bring her and her audio jammers on the road with us, with her attitude and her resources, you need never bail on us again"

"Ok guys that's enough" Brad said, eager to rally the troops, "Let's keep it together. No intimidation factor. Tonight will be just like any other night for us."

"Yeah, our regular gigs usually don't include you" joked one of the band members "At least this time you have a ready made excuse to get out of dodge. Those VENOM flunkies are gonna blow you away along with the candles"

Brad was growing tired of the mocking, he felt like the band wanted to practise by themselves this night, and eventually tear the house down without him. It was like they were daring him not to turn up. After all, what better statement than to say they rocked out this particular nest of vipers without their leading man. Such a moment could allow the group to eclipse the legend Brad had built around himself.

He felt like this was their plan, and he wasn't content to allow them that moment. As much as racing and MASK was his calling and his duty, THIS was his PASSION, something he had aspired to be ever since he was young, and tonight, his passion and his professional life were merged into one whole.

"Guys, trust me when I say this…tonight, we're going to town. On all of them"

These choice words of attitude surprised and interested the band. The jabs and jokes stopped, and they pondered these words, and soon enough, were channeling that thought process into making music that could give the

Brad collected his own thoughts and feelings as he practiced with his guitar, going over the rhythm to the evening's closing song again and again in his head. It was a song he had written just as his racing career had taken off, a song about juggling priorities, and how one didn't have to lose every coat of armor they had so long as they had the will and the resolve to deflect any and all bullets shaped in the form of criticism and consequence.

The music also reminded him of very turbulent times for both MASK and VENOM. How the two worlds had gotten more personal over the year, where everyone knew each other's names. The masquerade was over. It felt silly even going by the name MASK these days since their lives were such public knowledge.

But very special things had happened during that time. A member of the VENOM family had taken a shine to Brads family, and had made choices that had helped preserve the free world. VENOM had gotten their hands on mind-altering seeds, seeds that could drive a sane man to manic, destructive behavior.

The seeds eventually found their way into MASK's hands due to the moments of hesitation, manipulation, and inactions of this particular VENOM recruit.

This agent's fateful choices were as of yet unknown to the organization, so perhaps, to save face in the event they did find out, there was no choice at all but to send out this offer and the invite Brad and his friends had taken up. What better present to a VENOM heavy than a gift-wrapped agent of the opposition?

Only Brad's own choices would determine if this agent's decision had a malicious outcome or not, or if it was an attempt at bridging the gap between the ever colliding worlds, and bring both factions to a consensual understanding.

It was all up to him.

"One minute to curtain Brad" a band member said, interrupting his reflective mood. Brad nodded. He was ready.

Brad approached the curtain with the band members, Burton took a peek at the bustling crowd that had started massing in front, he spotted someone make their way over to the front, almost to a hero's welcome. Chants of "happy birthday Bruno" echoed through the hall.

"There he is. The guest of dishonor" Burton remarked, as he spotted Vanessa greeting Bruno Sheppard with a big hug, before escorting him to the front of the stage. The master of the Stinger was now in a position to potentially storm Brad as he began playing. The tension was now at critical levels.

"Feel free to chicken out anytime man, I'd totally understand. They have looks that could drive anyone out of their mind let alone town" the drummer of the band added. Brad steeled himself

"I'm fine. Let's go" he said. In a display of unison, the band marched out together in single formation. An initial shower of uproar and applause from the audience turned to jeers and apathy as soon as they recognized Turner. People started throwing their hafl empty glasses of punch and alchahol at him.

"This isn't safe man, you'd better leg it" Burton said, trying to escort Brad off stage, Brad pushed his friend aside "I got this" he said.

"Well well, if it isn't the living legend himself" Bruno observed, "We'll soon see if he lives at all let alone up to the hype"

Brad approached the microphone, a deafening "I, I um…" Brad began, briefly stuttering. The crowd were quick to pick on him for this.

"Hey, I know him, isn't that one of the Proclaimers?" cried one heckler in the audience.

Brad composed himself and tried again

"Some of you might know my face from the news and the papers" Brad began "Some of you might even hate me, you'd have good reason to. Any other day of my life, I'm somewhere between a rival and a policeman. As much as we like to make a big song and dance against it for thrills, I'm part of the system. I'm part of what you can't stand. It makes me a bit of a hypocrite, it makes me, in your eyes, a phonie. Maybe that's why I was called up here, to face up to a reality about myself. If that was the intention then I thank that person, for it just gives me a platform to express how I really feel"

Brad twanged his guitar fiercely, and let loose a brief, but powerful riff that got the crowds attention. He stopped, the heckling died down, a small conversation began in the crowd debating this man's merits

"THAT is how I feel" Brad continued "THIS is how I react to life. Every sight I see inspires a new sound, a new sound triggers an old but reliable emotion, and emotions sustain us throughout this breif existence. We want to reach out, scream at the top of our lungs that we won't slip quietly away, and whenever I approve of your day to day activities or not, I respect that zeal and that want to take it all, because in my own way I want to own a piece of this world just like you do, and whether or not my sounds and songs shape your attitudes the right way or the wrong way, the best thing you can do with it is absorb it like you would everything else in life. Absorb the reality, because tonight, and all the days of life, there is no finer weapon than reality"

The crowd had now long debating the man, and were now all too keen to rock out to whatever he could churn out. Brad and the band did not let them down. They gave as good as they got, and the more they gave, the more the crowd could sense their passion, and in doing so, the band and their music helped to ignite their own.

After the gig, the band members set about enjoying the remaining hours of the party in their own ways. Most of them turned to the bar for a few drinks. Brad, long since disciplined in the art of the designated driver, turned down any offer of a drink.

The mood was much different than what Brad had previously experienced. Previously the faces were despondent and distant, putting on a smile for show. After the stirring speech and the sensational concert put on display, there was a real prescience of energy in the room. Faces associated with death and decay had become the life and soul of a party many of them wouldn't think of negatively.

But some people, as usual, shaped by previous conflicts and personal grudges,. proved impossible to please.

Brad felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, only to be greeted by a swift punch to the jaw. He staggered and fell into the punch, taking the whole table with him. As he staggered to his feet, he was grabbed from behind by Bruno.

"That was some performance MASK, but it won't save you from my own special version of the birthday bumps" taunted Bruno, raising a clenched fist to Brad's face. Lester leaned over and threw his drink over Brad's face. Bruno laughed.

As the two made preparations to lead Brad away to a place where he could be disposed of, a man suddenly threw himself in front of them armed with a camera

"Say cheese" he said, and took a photograph. Bruno and Lester both flinched.

"Hey, I told everyone when they got here not to take any pictures in this place, I oughta level you" Bruno said, grabbing the man by the rim of his shirt

"I wouldn't take your frustrations out on a distinguished member of the world press, not unless you want a lawsuit on your hands from my publisher" the man replied, showing his press card. Bruno let go and staggered back

"The press? How'd you get here, noone knows where we are…" he rambled. He quickly glanced in Brad's direction.

"…Except you" he concluded.

"At your service Mr. Turner" the journalist said, shaking Brad's hand. "I usually get lost, but I made sure to tail your car the whole way down, I wasn't going to let myself down again"

"You're the one that was following me?" Brad asked. The journalist nodded.

"Why you do-gooder goof, you did this on purpose" Lester rasped. Brad threw his hands in the air

"I swear, I didn't know he was following me" he protested. Lester was having none of it.

The journalist in the meantime, was lost in the excitement. He examined the instant photo he had just taken with glee.

"What a scoop this'll make. MASK agent Brad Turner rumbles secret VENOM rave party. It'll make all the entertainment headlines" the man said. Bruno was incensed.

Brad, understanding what needed to be done, took the journalist aside.

"I'll give you a cut of my million dollar earnings to keep this quiet"

"Brad, what are you doing man? You've earned your money tonight"

"Giving the snakes their oil. Bruno's done nothing wrong other than have a good time tonight. They'll be time for crime and punishment some other day, right now, let's break the ice before winter sets in" Brad replied.

Bruno approached him, he cracked his knuckles. Brad was unphased

"I'll forget you even gave me a light tap Bruno, just enjoy your party" Brad said.

"You call that light? Why I oughta…" Bruno began, only to be stopped by Lester.

"Come on man, it's over. Do as he says, enjoy it, if not for your sake, then for Vanessa, she put real effort into this" he begged. Bruno composed himself, and, after more pleads from Lester, finally cooled his jets and walked away from the scene.

"When I find out who let that pencil-necked press ant in here…" Bruno loudly mumbled to himself, although the remainder of his threat couldn't be heard as he was drowned out by crowd noise.

Burton came up to Brad, taking a shot of a glass of whisky.

"Dude…you can take as many vacations from us as you want, so long as we get more of where that came from. You handled that like a pro .This could totally be a thing, you cut your promo, we play a set, and we cause world peace during the after-show" he joked, shaking Brad's hand in a congratulatory manner and patting him on the shoulder, before electing to mingle with the crowd and put their concerns over the near fight to rest.

"Mr. Turner, you've got a deal" the journalist said, agreeing to Brad's offer.

"Great" Brad said, taking the photograph from him "Tell Matt "thanks" from me to him. Sending you to tail me was a stroke of genius" he continued.

The Journalist reacted in confusion

"Matt? As in your boss Matt Trakker?" He said, "I'm sorry Mr. Turner, but he had nothing to do with me"

"But if he didn't send for you, then…" Brad began, before cutting himself off…he had realized something.

"Mr. Turner, is anything the matter?" the journalist asked. Brad assured him nothing was up, and after another brief exchange of notes, he took his leave of him and began combing the area, determined to confirm his suspicions .He looked around the busy hall, cutting through the dance floor and mingling with the crowd, hoping to pick up a sign of the one person he sought.

He noticed a back door was open, it led into a garden at the tail end of the Estate.

He spotted a few heavies outside mingling, drinking a couple of beers. To the right of them, seated on a chair overlooking a row of hedges, was Vanessa. her shoes were off, her right hand gently coursing through her long hair, she had her head titled back, gazing at the stars.

Brad slid past the heavies, far too busy with their own conversation to notice him, and parked himself next to Vanessa on the seat. He gently pretended to cough, attempting to get her attention. He succeeded, Vanessa turned to her right, gave Brad a cold look, and stared back at the stars.

"Thanks" Brad said "Inviting me took a lot more guts than I thought,"

"Just play an encore and get out of here Turner" Vanessa replied, "And don't try to understand my choices, if I lose one friend on my side of the pond, our working alliance is over"

"If they're truly your friends, they won't stay mad at you for long Vanessa" Brad assured her. Vanessa folded her arms and sulked, she kicked her feet about in the air.

"Vanessa…you've been doing a lot for M.A.S.K lately, and noone's taken the time to thank you properly for that due to reasons regarding your security." Brad continued, "Allow me to thank you now. You could have easily intercepted those mind-altering seeds and gotten the drop on Ali at any moment with Manta. Instead you chose to complete the race with me, you stuck to your word to Matt that you would help us deliver the seeds to the P.N.A and the world owes you a debt of gratitude for that"

"You don't have to rub it in my face Turner. I took what I wanted out of that mission, I proved to your team and to you that a woman can wrap rings around the competition. It takes a bit of pure "Venom" to get the job done" she boasted.

Brad smiled, and thought back to something his good friend Ali Bombay had said to him when he saw her on the track that day

"Good old Vanessa" Ali had said.

He knew.

Not a lot of team members DID know, but word had been somehow spreading. Ali hadn't been in the inner circle that knew Vanessa was a double-agent.

Brad wondered how long they could keep up the façade, how long it would be before VENOM found out Vanessa's secret. He didn't need to know the notion was terrifying her, it was evident in her increasingly aggressive and bitter behavior. For a while, he couldn't event figure out why it was being thrown in his direction.

He came to the appropriate conclusions any man would as to why women work in these ways, it's what prompted him to keep his cool during that high-stake race he had with her, and what prompted him to act like a gentleman to her after that race was over. Something she clearly appreciated that day

Now he felt compelled to be that gentleman again.

"Vanessa, believe me when I say this, you've clearly left your mark. On all of us" he said, and extended his hand.

"Come on, you deserve to rock out to my superior sounds" he said, finally feeling comfortable enough around her to toot his own horn.

Vanessa looked at the hand, closed her eyes, allowed herself a faint smile, and put her hand into his. Her eyes snapped open and she looked at him with a cooled expression

"So long as I get a crack at that guitar" she said. Brad nodded.

Brad helped Vanessa up, the two stared one last time at the stars. Eventually Vanessa put her shoes on, and, as they headed back towards the party inside, Vanessa let go of Brad's hand and instead slung her arm around his shoulder. Brad, feeling he had made another breakthrough, turned his mind to the night ahead…for it had just begun.

In more ways than one.

PRESENT DAY

"Is that it? That's all that happened?" Ella commented as she reached the end of the diary entry. "I thought for sure it'd climax with a kiss, something special…instead it's almost like they agreed to be…friends"

"The best lovers in the world usually start out as friends" Vice remarked, looking through more of the diary's pages, "Maybe that's why dad marked down this day, it's when he and mom both found a zone of comfort with one another and built everything up from there"

"I guess it's selfish of me to want to know all the details…maybe it's best we don't show them this…I mean, mom might be reminded of her old roots and get all nostalgic for them. Getting sentimental about terrorists is no sound course for a woman of her now mellowed age and attitude"

"Somehow I think she's just fine with it" Vice replied, instructing Ella to look at the other entries, entries that reflected a sarcastic view of the "joy" of childbirth, a deep jealousy of Gloria Baker's realist attitude enabling her to overcome her sense of fragility, and a deep longing for other members of VENOM to join the side of the angels, and how this particular night came the closest to realizing that.

These were the ramblings of a remarkable solider serving on two fronts.

"It's mom's diary…" Ella realized. Vice nodded.

"Paints quite a picture doesn't it?" she said. "But it tackles a very simple question I had as a teenager, and gives it a very simple answer. I used to overcomplicate life almost to a breaking point, and now the answer is what I strive for in my life with Dwight. I know mom loves dad, and they'll be together forever and all that…but it's nice to know what she really pines for.

"And what's that?" Ella asked

Vice looked at the photo and smiled.

Two worlds. One choice. No finer weapon.

"Realty" she replied.

THE END