A/N: Hey guys! I know, I know, I've been gone for simply ages, but I've been rather distracted lately. To make it up to you, I've decided to do a fic again...This time with 100% More Carl! :D I admit, I'm not as happy with this as I was with my previous work, but the second chapter gets better. Enjoy! -Kaylee
Dolores Robertson sat in the white, featureless room at the OWCA Base in Danville, scowling; for one thing, she hated being cooped up in one room for too long. She had been sitting in the little detainment cell for what felt like hours, hands cuffed behind the scarred wooden chair she was in. The second thing that she hated was the cold, clinical atmosphere of the place, akin to a hospital. From what she could see of the place, it was all too clean, too white and blue and mint green, again like a hospital or doctor's office, both of which she detested more than words could describe. But, the one thing that Dolly could stand the least was the tall, authoritative white-haired man sitting across from her, eyes trying to pierce hers as he grilled her with questions that she refused to answer.
Major Monogram's voice was strained with impatience as he asked the girl the same questions over and over again for a millennium. "For the last time! Where is the location of his lair? Just answer that question and we won't press any charges!"
Dolores' case was rather alien to him; she was just a minor, a teenage girl detained at the recently abandoned lair of a super-villain who the Agency had thought inactive for the time being. It had been almost a week since her capture and even now all they knew about her was her name, age and the fact that she was his laboratory assistant. Nobody could contact her parents; she wouldn't tell anyone their names or phone numbers. They had looked up all of the Robertson's in Danville and none of them had a teenage daughter named Dolores or even knew one. It was like she didn't exist. So far, she had been hostile, rude and disrespectful to everyone who had tried to grill her for information.
Dolly's eyes flicked lazily as she leaned in, seemingly ready to talk. All hope of that gave way, however, when the girl merely popped a Strawberry bubble in the Major's face. "Eat me, Monogram. You have to be brain-dead if you think I'd ever give YOU that information!"
Francis Monogram's eyes filled with rage as he stuttered incoherently. "That is IT, young lady!", he snapped.
Dolly smirked. "If you can call ME young lady then I can call YOU Old Man!"
He growled. "That is IT! I'm going to get another interrogator in here, someone who WON'T put up with any of your teenage backtalk!"
"Ooh, I'm shaking!", was her reply. "And I'm no traitor! Nobody here can make me say anything, not you and not anyone else!" She screamed like a little girl throwing a tantrum.
The Major slammed the door behind him, fuming. That girl was THE biggest brat he had ever met! It was as if she hated every authority figure that she came across! The people who hauled her away, the driver of the car, her guard, and the endless sea of people who, day in and day out for the last week, had interrogated her about the whereabouts of her ominous employer, had all said that she was rude, defiant and rebellious to a fault. He locked the door to the holding cell and began walking down the hall into his office, thinking, "If there was just some way to get through to that girl, maybe get someone her own age in there-"
"Major Monogram?", came a voice, interrupting the man from his thoughts. "I fixed the paper jam. Oh! And here's your dry cleaning, sir." Carl smiled at the Major, swelled with pride at his job well done.
"Gosh darn it, Carl, can't you see that I'm-!" It was then that Major Francis Monogram had a brilliant idea. A stupid idea. The Major got a brilliantly stupid idea. "Say Carl," he began slowly, trying to sound smooth. "How would you like to get that box set of autographed Stumbleberry Finkbat books that you've been eying online?"
"Would I!", the red-haired teen declared shrilly. "I'd do ANYTHING to get my hands on those! They're a collector's dream!"
"Great!" The Major grinned brightly, in a slightly disturbing way. "All I need you to do is ask our detainee in their a few questions."
Carl's leaf-green eyes widened. "M-Me? Interrogate a real criminal?"
"She's not a criminal, Carl, she's just a teenage girl!"
"Well that makes it even worse!", he gasped.
The Major groaned. "Just do this for me, Carl! That girl constantly shuts me out and a week of interrogation from adults hasn't phased her!" He sighed, going to fetch her recently-made, meager file. "Her name is Dolores Robertson, age sixteen, parents unknown. We caught her at The Regurgitator's old base and she says that she's his assistant. After his escape last month, we've been trying to find him nonstop and that girl is our only clue. But she isn't talking to anybody. Little brat has a HUGE disdain for authority. So we need YOU to see if you can speak to her. Do it, Carl, and those books are as good as yours!"
Carl saluted the Major. "You can count on me, sir!"
Monogram walked Carl down the hallway to Dolly's room. "And, one more thing, Carl." He pulled out a small object that appeared to be some kind of weapon. "She's a smart kid. Don't fall for any of her tricks. And if she somehow manages to get free and try to attack you, keep this taser on hand so you can defend yourself. Good luck, Agent Carl!"