Chapter 1: After
(10 years later…)
"Your move, Masters."
Vlad stared at the chessboard while rubbing his chin pensively. The blank white walls of the metal room were a stark contrast to the old wooden game placed before him.
Perhaps it was the rarity of this occurrence that held him back from calling security. Not many people had the guts to intrude on his personal medical containment cell, much less the ability to pass all of his protective measures. A fearless, ambitious attitude like that stood out to him; he could use this person to his advantage, if manipulated properly.
"I must admit, I am mildly impressed." Vlad mused out loud, advancing his king across the board. To be frank, he hadn't expected the person in front of him to advance this far into the game. Given his 'Reigning National Chess Champion' status, finding a worthy opponent was few and far in-between in his life.
The person opposite him snorted in response and moved their pawn. "Only mildly?"
Vlad pursed his lips, unresponsive as he stared at the board. A minute went by until he decided on a strategy.
"Will you be sharing your grand master plan anytime soon?" Vlad asked sweetly, moving his pawn. "Surely someone such as yourself should have some sort of reason to sneak into a diseased man's private home and past all his security just to challenge him to a chess game."
Granted said diseased man happened to also be a powerful billionaire and CEO of the Guys in White, but Vlad had a feeling money wasn't the reason for the random visit. He recognized this person—they had plenty of money and power already on their own.
His opponent glared at the board.
"Oh!" Vlad exclaimed, as if forgetting something, "And, checkmate."
How he loved uttering that one word.
He watched the other person clench their fist, shaking slightly. It made him giddy, knowing he caused it.
Ignoring the game, his little intruder stared into his eyes, a defiant fire burning beneath the surface. After some time had passed they quietly, but seriously, professed, "I want to work for the Guys in White."
Vlad's emotionless facial expression belied none of the shock he felt inwardly.
"We have both a paper application and an online—"
"You will hire me as a medical researcher."
Vlad blinked calmly and titled his head. "Will I?"
"I'm the top of my class. I graduated from college early. I have sufficient education and passion for ectoplasmic studies, as well as many resources and connections. It would be useful for you and beneficial for me."
Any other person would have laughed, perhaps felt indignant at these bold declarations. A position within Guys in White had many requirements— intelligence, strength, complete and total cooperation, confidentiality, background checks. It took most applicants years to actually be accepted, and even those admitted into the program weren't officially in. They had to pass multiple tests—tests that were just short of being considered torture and slavery.
Vlad merely smirked and questioned, "Beneficial? In what way?"
The person paused for a brief moment, before answering coldly, "I want to stop the ghost hunting."
When Vlad didn't respond, they continued in soft tone, "I know a cure can be made to reverse the effects of ectoplasm in humans. There has to be a way. And if I have any hope of discovering it, I'll need to use your resources."
The billionaire's lips twitched into a crooked grin, his steel blue eyes never leaving the others'. "My, my. You are determined, I'll grant you that."
He picked up his nearly-forgotten teacup from the side table, blatantly ignoring the nasty look being sent his way. After a few sips, he let out a slow breath, lazily trailing his eyes back to the one across from him. A thick tension permeated the room, though Vlad didn't acknowledge it.
What felt like hours passed by until he began to slowly, and formally, clap his hands.
"Well, I suppose the Guys in White have a new addition."
The Guys in White's new medical researcher widened their eyes in shock as Vlad stated, "I look forward to working with you, Ms. Manson."
"He hired you, just like that?"
"Just like that," Samantha Manson confirmed as she watered the plants in her personal garden.
"No questions asked, no blackmail, nothin'?"
"Would I be on the phone with you otherwise?"
"I don't know, Sam…sounds sketchy to me."
"Everything Masters does is sketchy," she rebutted.
Over the line, Sam heard Tucker Foley, her long-time best friend, sigh dramatically. "Of all the people you choose to work for, you decide to work for the creepiest, shadiest dude in the entire planet."
"It's not like I have a choice!" she argued. "What else do you expect me to do? Knit some sweaters? Buy a cat? I can't sit around and watch my grandmother turn into…into…"
She couldn't finish the sentence, but Tucker didn't push her further.
"Did you get past the security all right?" he asked, changing the topic of conversation.
"Whatever you did to his tech, it worked. Aside from the guards, zero problems breaking in."
Tucker cackled. "Hah! Brownie points for the Nerd Herd!"
Sam rolled her eyes, but grinned despite herself. "I start next week. There's a shit ton of confidentiality contracts and stuff that I have to fill out before I can gain any access."
"Confidentiality? As in, real confidentiality or just confidentiality from everybody but me?"
Sam gingerly pet her venus fly trap, smiling tenderly at its seemingly innocent appearance. "Like I can keep anything a secret from a geek who hacks into the government's server just to screw around with them."
"For the record, I'm doing it for the lack of spice in their life. They'd be terribly bored without me.
"I mean, really," he continued, "you can't tell me random pop-ups of baby kittens on their computer screens and Spice Girls music over the loudspeakers aren't beneficial towards their health."
"I think," Sam said, "That is my cue to leave this conversation."
"TMI?"
"TMI," she confirmed.
"Keep me updated on your new job."
"Will do."
She hung up, feeling lighter than she had in the past few days. Conversations with Tucker always grounded her. Of all the people in her life that actually mattered to her, Tucker was the only one who didn't come with baggage. In a dark, dreary world with emotionally damaged people, someone with his light-hearted humor and spunk was hard to come by—and Sam appreciated him more than she would ever let on.
Her hands smoothed along the edges of a plant's long leaf, sighing as she did so. Eyes travelling to the papers on the isolated glass table nearby, Sam reluctantly left her personal garden to sit down and start back on paperwork again. Only two days had passed since her meeting with Masters, and paperwork already piled up to the brim. Not that she expected the transition to be simple, but she thought there would be more time to adjust and prepare. Unfortunately, it seemed the Guys in White had little to no patience, leaving Sam to spend long hours packing her personal belongings while finishing applications and filling out forms.
Sam never thought she'd work for the Guys in White. In fact, she'd hated them for a while, watching the way they manipulated the public, observing how they treated those below them. Growing up in a rich lineage, Sam resented the pretentious and two-faced crowd she'd had to socialize with on a daily basis. The Guys in White were no different. They had pulled a lot of stunts to boost their power, and with the massive invasion of ghosts, Amity Park had no choice but to let them. They were the only candidates qualified to handle the ghosts.
She had to admit, though, they did a decent job keeping the city safe and relatively maintained. A decade ago, after the Fenton Lab Explosion, portals began opening up. Creatures wandered through these portals—"ghosts", the Guys in White had dubbed them—able to infect and possess human bodies, and morph them into sick, twisted ectoplasmic beings with no mental or emotional awareness.
Needless to say, the human race had faced a very real possibility of an apocalypse. Ghosts were infecting people with ectoplasm, taking control, invading countries all over the world. It had taken a few years for the government to finally invent technology and weapons that could be utilized against such creatures. Once they did, however, human numbers sprung again. Cities rebuilt themselves, in such a short period of time too. Defense mechanisms were set in place; an entire green dome shielded the city and prevented any ghosts from passing through.
In a perfect world, these defenses protected all Amity Park citizens from ghosts. As it was, portals randomly opened from inside the shield. Not to mention those who dared venture across the border, desperate to travel and explore, and throwing themselves immediately in the line of fire.
The Guys in White tried their best, Sam would admit. But there were always unfortunate victims. Her grandmother was one such case. Had Sam's parents not have been a massive funder of the organization, Granny probably would have been killed on the spot the second ectoplasm entered her system.
Fists clenched, the pen Sam held nearly cracked in her grasp until she controlled herself. She would find a cure. She had to.
For Grandma.
The pen scribbled a little faster. Determination flared up within her. Even if she had stoop so low as to cooperate willingly with the Guys in White, Sam would save her grandmother's life one day. And, hopefully, the lives of others as well.
Agent K glared at the screen.
"He's out. Again."
Dr. Lancer sighed from behind him. "You realize the more controlling you are, the more resilient he will be."
Yes, Agent K knew that. He knew a lot of things about the simpleton child he had been forced to babysit for the past ten years.
"Send Valerie to retrieve him."
Lancer frowned. "He won't be happy about that."
"Does it look like I care?" Agent K sneered, stalking out of the surveillance room. God, he hated when Lancer tried playing 'Daddy' for the dumb kid. The kid wasn't even a real kid—he was an imitation, a lookalike. Underneath the moody, annoying-as-hell teenager with an attitude thrived an inner freak, a monster just waiting to be unleashed.
Agent K didn't even know how the kid had survived this long. The rebellious, arrogant prick should have had his ass handed to him years ago. If Agent K had it his way, he would've shot him the second they found him, stumbling around one of the exits connected to the lab.
Masters wouldn't have it though. Masters practically obsessed over the child, for reasons Agent K couldn't even begin to guess. The billionaire saw the abomination as an asset, and had strict protection policies set to ensure no harm would come to the kid. How the indirect murderer of the Fentons managed to snag their brat away from social workers and orphanages went beyond Agent K.
Not that it mattered. One day. One day the freak would be exposed as the threat he posed, and Agent K would hunt him down.
He continued shoving past other employees, ignoring the offended "Hey!"s and annoyed scoffs. His black boots stomped along the bright white tiles of the hallway, while his hands clenched and unclenched their grip on the ectoguns in his suit pocket. A mission would be perfect to blow off some steam right now.
His communicator beeped. "Agent K," his partner greeted, "You're wanted in the debriefing room."
"Debriefing?" K beeped back, annoyance creeping into his tone. "The hell you mean, 'debriefing'? We don't have any new recruits!"
"Masters just sent word of a newbie. Hired on the spot. Medical practitioner. She is to be disclosed the general policies and information about the organization and then handed to Dr. Lancer as a mentee."
Fan-f***ing-tastic. Another doctor. And a girl doctor, at that.
Agent K muttered darkly, "Let me guess. Another sympathizer."
"Seems like it. Don't scare her too bad. Boss seems to like her."
He grumbled under his breath, but otherwise made no further comment to Agent O—who was by far the calmer of the duo. They had trained together decades ago; somehow always coincidentally assigned to each other during training missions and partnered tasks. After receiving the highest scores and rankings throughout their recruitment process, the department heads had allowed them to continue working together, so long as they remained successful in their assignments.
Though Agent K preferred working alone, he found Agent O's presence to be helpful. They were polar opposites, yin and yang: Agent O never lost his self-control and handled delicate issues calmly and only acted after serious thought. Agent K, to put it simply, didn't give a shit and handled matters the way he felt like handling them, usually barging into situations without fully thinking it through. Their partnership shouldn't have functioned so well, but it did.
Honestly, Agent K probably would have shot his partner by now had he been anyone else.
He started towards the debriefing room, wondering about the new doctor. Rarely, if ever, were members hired on the spot. It had only occurred once so far since the Guys in White had been established, with Valerie Gray. But, given Valerie's…special circumstance…her assigned position was rarely ever questioned.
Agent K may have respected Masters, but in no way did he understand him. The billionaire knew how to play the game of manipulation, and was not averse to using illegal and immoral means to get what he wanted. For someone who needed to stay confined in a cell for the rest of his life due to his medical condition, he contained enormous amounts of political, social, and financial power. His charm and intelligence only further served his purposes, leaving most people wanting to give him what he desired.
But then, in sporadic situations such as these, he would randomly have an unexpected change in heart and do something selfless for some random-ass stranger he didn't even know.
That, more than anything else, was why Agent K occasionally had the urge to bust into Masters' cell personally and slam his head into a wall.
Upon reaching the double doors that led into the debriefing room, Agent K swiped his thumb over the electronic finger pad. All too used to the feeling, he allowed the scanners from both the finger pad and the hidden ones in the walls to roam over his body—from his head, to his eyes, even down to his feet. Given their advanced model, the scanners were capable of scanning through physical material like clothes, allowing for extra security measures and efficiency.
When the light above the doors changed from red to green, the doors parted, granting the agent access into a large, dome-shaped room. Like everywhere else in the facility, the ceiling and floors were a metallic white, completely glossed over and shining as if they had just been created and designed. Faint grey lines were ingrained in the surface, forming a grid-like pattern that had animated green pulses constantly moving through them. For newcomers, it looked gorgeous. For Agent K, he found it an unnecessary reminder about the freaks that had invaded their world.
One lone figure stood at the center of the room, marveling the ceiling, and the moment Agent K noticed her attire he nearly stomped right back out of the room. Black—everything was black. Black boots, black tights, black miniskirt, black crop top.
Masters really knows how to pick them, doesn't he?
Her—again, black—hair was cut in a pixie style, and if Agent K hadn't known better, he would have assumed her to be a male from a distance.
Miraculously, he kept his thoughts to himself, though he couldn't help the look of disgust after seeing the various piercings and partly-shown tattoos littering her body.
"I am Agent K," he gruffly introduced, "I am to inform you of our methods and rules, as well as show you the layout of the building. This information will only be presented to you once, so I suggest paying keen attention."
She narrowed her lilac eyes at him. He glared in return, turning around and taking off without bothering to check if she could follow. He set for main headquarters, deciding the explanations would be easiest in the room that held most of the operations. Judging by the clanking of belt chains and muffled steps of combat boots behind him, the girl trailed closely behind.
Neither one spoke once throughout the trip. Thank God, because Agent K's patience already ran extremely thin, and he really didn't want to have to put up with Masters' rage if he had any…mishaps with the girl.
Only when they reached the main room did he start talking. "This is where most of the main operations occur. Each person has a specific reason to be in here; you are not to interfere with matters outside your business and others are not allowed to interfere with you."
Gesturing to the hundreds of various monitors placed throughout the multilevel room, he continued, "Each screen has a different purpose. Some monitor ectoplasmic levels in the city. Others keep track of the ghost shield's power level. A couple watch the areas outside the city so we can perceive threats in advance."
He explained the functions of everything, the policies, the rules, the regulations, what the technology could do and was responsible for. Agent K expected the newbie to yawn or doze off, as most of the new recruits happened to do, but she remained rapt at attention, eyes alert and aware as she took in her surroundings. Occasionally she would faintly nod at a piece of information he gave, as though she actually processed the words coming out of his mouth and hadn't just started daydreaming.
After he finished, he showed her the rest of the facility, taking her into the training room, weapons facility, records collection, and various other rooms. Most likely she wouldn't remember it all anyway, and would have to scramble after other employees until she familiarized herself with the layout. He only avoided one area of the building—one that held captive ghosts they had collected over the years to study and run experiments on. One had to be granted special permission to know of its existence, much less be allowed entrance.
At the conclusion of their tour, he finally turned around to face her directly, a stone hard expression on his face.
"Off-the-record, it takes a lot of balls to be in this place. It's not a job meant for little girls going through a rebellious streak. It's hard to get in, but extremely easy to get kicked out. Screw up, and I can promise you your life will be miserable as long as you live."
He left her then, walking away casually as though he had never uttered a word. He completed his job. More importantly, he gave her a very chilling, but accurate, warning. Not many agents ever disaffiliated or voluntarily left the Guys in White. And those that did…
Well…former workers couldn't be allowed roam around with top secret information. Meaning that, in the interest of Amity Park, they had to be eliminated and forgotten. Despite how difficult that task appeared, with the amount of resources and funding the Guys in White had, it was actually quite simple.
Masters usually left Agent K in charge of those particular assignments.
A quick and light ringing sounded from his pocket. The agent nearly groaned, just barely saving his professional and intimidating face.
His pager beeped whenever someone had to relay a message to him. However, his pager rang for only one subject in particular.
Putting it on an open stream chat, he coolly stated, "Nice of you to check in, Dan. Enjoy your road trip?"
"Oh, it would've been so much better if you were there, Romeo. I really missed your presence."
Agent K's eye twitched.
"We've been over the name you address me as."
"We've also been over how I think Romeo brings out the romanticism in your personality."
Subconsciously, his fingers trailed over to the gun in his pocket. Hm, would losing his job and his life be worth firing the little brat and killing him on the spot?
"Don't worry, I'll show you plenty of romanticism when I show you a very personal and detailed tour of all the ecto-weapons in the weapons' vault. Would you like that, Juliet? I do believe we need a new test subject to check the functionality of the guns."
Silence.
"Good response, Dan-Dan. You're not completely retarded. I expect to see you in G192's vault in 0300 hours. Don't be late. It wouldn't be…romantic."
He waited a moment until he smirked. Good. No snarky comebacks today.
Just as he went to turn off the stream chat, a voice sing-songed through the speaker, "It's a date! Can't wait to see you, my darling sunshine!"
The pager turned off, right before it crumbled within Agent K's palm.
He really f-ing hated that kid.
"Are you a coffee person?" Lancer asked Sam, turning away briefly to give his order to the barista. When he turned back around Sam nodded, the edginess from earlier beginning to dissipate.
Agent K's abrupt departure had left Sam lost and torn between feeling furious and feeling afraid. Even given her high level of patience and tolerance with people, Sam wasn't sure she could work alongside with people like that—people who were so cold, brutal, and distant. He clearly hadn't wanted her to be there, as he made evidently clear by his curt comments and hastiness in abandoning her. Luckily, Dr. Lancer had bumped (literally) into her shortly thereafter, introducing himself as her mentor and offering to discuss her new position over coffee.
"I like it black, no cream or sugar."
Lancer raised an eyebrow, but nonetheless relayed the order to the man behind the counter. They waited a few minutes until Lancer paid for their drinks and led her to a small table in the corner, away from the throngs of people scattered around the café. When they sat down, exhaustion from the day made itself apparent, weighing down Sam's limbs and making her eyes feel heavy. She gratefully sipped from the coffee cup, the hot liquid melting away some of her fatigue.
Lancer cleared his throat. "So, there has been quite a bit of rumors floating around about you. It's very rare for new members to be hired during a non-recruitment season."
Unable to help herself, Sam smirked. "I like to go against the flow, if you know what I mean."
"Hm. Good answer," her mentor nodded, then pinpointed her with a serious look. "It would be wise not to tell people details of how you ended up here or anything about your personal life. Unfortunately, there's a severe lack of hospitality between co-workers. They'll use any and every little fact against you if they can."
"Noted," Sam muttered, somewhat glad Lancer didn't sugarcoat facts. She preferred being direct and straightforward; her and Lancer would work well together, she could already tell.
As they both took sips from their drinks, Sam asked, "Are you included in this group of unhospitable coworkers?"
A small smile tugged at his lips. "I like to go against the flow, if you know what I mean."
Laughing, she said, "Please tell me you're the only person I need to work with."
"Unless you would like to personally file an apprenticeship request under Agent K's dictation…"
"That won't be necessary," she said immediately.
Comfortable silence fell between them. Sam downed a few more sips of her coffee. The bitterness soothed her, the aftertaste pleasant on her tongue.
"So…what exactly does our job entail?" Sam inquired, jumping straight to the purpose of their little get-together.
"Officially, to treat any agents who come back after battle and continuously conduct research on any medical or physiological information pertaining to ghosts and/or other ectoplasmic entities."
"Unofficially?"
Lancer smiled crookedly. "I believe you would best understand once I show you. It's a subject that shouldn't be mentioned in public. You never know who is eavesdropping."
"Fair enough."
They chatted idly about their backgrounds. Lancer had been born and raised in Amity Park. When his parents passed away at his ripe age of 17 (due to medical issues, Lancer claimed), he had emancipated himself and lived off of the leftover money in his parents' bank account. After high school he studied biochemistry in college, earning his Masters and afterwards going on to medical school. It was only later in his education that he became interested in ectoplasmic medicine. Back when there was little to no awareness of that area, he had been recruited rather quickly by the Guys in White, which had been a very low-key organization with barely any employees at the time. Given that he was one of the very few people knowledgeable in that field of study—his enrollment had been rather smooth and easy compared to the current process most newbies had to experience. Plus, he had connections with Vladimir Masters—they had been research partners in medical school, alongside the Fentons before the couple married.
That last piece of information caught Sam's interest. "You knew the Fentons? And Masters?" She paused. "Wait. Didn't Masters initiate the order to destroy the lab that killed them?"
In an instant, Lancer erected a barrier between him and her. His easy-going, friendly demeanor had evaporated, leaving behind a stoic mask. Eyes hardened and with a stern facial expression, Lancer replied, "Masters followed protocol. That is all you need to know about the subject."
There's definitely more to that story, Sam thought to herself, but decided not to push too hard. Though they were getting along pretty well, it was too soon to cross boundaries with her mentor. For now she would make a mental note of those little details, and perhaps revisit this topic with Lancer when he felt more comfortable with her.
Switching topics, Sam talked about herself. As the child of two billionaires, she too had many connections and resources. For personal and ethical reasons, she wanted to join the medical unit of the Guys in White to utilize her abilities and contribute to the local community. She always had been intelligent—she had graduated from public high school as the valedictorian of her class. Her parents had wished for her to attend a boarding school, but given her rebellious streak that most likely would've gotten her kicked out anyway, they had compromised on Amity High. Once arriving to college, she had enrolled in excelled classes and aced them easily, which allowed her to graduate early and with a Bachelor's in Biology and a minor in Applied Health. Originally she wanted to attend veterinary school after graduation, but due to personal issues (i.e. her grandmother) she had taken some time off.
And now, here she was. New employee of the Guys in White and under the jurisdiction of Dr. Lancer.
Lancer whistled impressively. "Only 21 and you're already working. That's quite impressive."
"I guess," Sam shrugged, trying to be modest, "I think it's more luck than anything. If other people grew up with what I was privileged with, they'd probably be in the same boat."
The man across from her gave a small smile. "While that's an endearing way to look at it, I wouldn't underestimate your accomplishments. There's nothing wrong with being prideful in your talents. Working with the Guys in White, you'll need to be able to boast and prove yourself to others who may not have faith in you."
His words made her think back to Agent K, and a sudden realization occurred to her.
"I—Dr. Lancer," she fumbled, "Does Agent K…I mean…Are there any rules implemented about sexism?"
The question seemed to throw Lancer off. "I beg your pardon?"
"There's rules about treating both men and women employees equally, right?"
Even before Lancer said anything, his troubled look had been answer enough.
"Rules don't necessarily apply to the Guys in White. As long as they perform their assigned duties to benefit the city and act politely towards sponsors, not much regarding civility and human rights concerns them."
It took Sam a few seconds to process that. "Wait…so…not even like freedom of speech or freedom of religion?"
No response.
A bit of anger in her voice, Sam asked, "So, what, they could kill an innocent stranger just because they felt like it and there would be no punishment?"
The question had meant to be a rhetorical exaggeration, but when Sam glanced at Lancer's face, she realized that was precisely the case.
I ended up feeling really satisfied with this chapter. I know there's a lot of background information; I apologize for this being more of a filler chapter than a plot-based one. I hope you found it interesting, nonetheless. There's still so much background and setting to cover, which will come in due time. I'm trying to make it more natural than forced.
Also, I had to blurp out or delete a lot of the curses originally present. If there's a part where it looks like a stronger curse word should have been there, it's probably an edit that I had to implement due to the T rating. I would bump this story up to M, but aside from the cursing there's not much explicit material, hence I decided to sugercoat vulgar language.
Little (sort of) spoiler/hint about next chapter: Danny will be making his first official appearance (grown-up, anyway). I hope he didn't come across as OOC in this chapter. He really, really, really does not like Agent K, and considering they've been forced to tolerate each other for years now, there's a lot of hatred and tension between the two. In the future, I plan on revisiting memories and having flashback scenes to bridge the past to the present; some of these flashbacks will show some moments between Danny and the agents.
***Also, keep in mind this is Agent K and NOT Agent O.***
Let me know what you think! If you find any discrepancies or plot holes, please tell me so I may fix them.
Thanks for the reviews/follows/faves!