From this point on, all 'bad side'-centric scenes will be presented in italic so as not to confuse readers, unless it's like a newspaper or internet report.

I dedicate this chapter to the person who inspired me to continue this little gem. He's changed his name several times, but that doesn't make me any less thankful of him. Thank you, Ghost2291 (that's your name now, right?).

Mole paced back and forth in an important-looking office, irritation etched on his face. Beside him, Flippy stood by awkwardly, watching the blind man pace back and forth. Mole had been waiting not-so patiently for the team to return, and his divine lack of patience was certainly showing.

"Where the hell are they? I bet Niki got them lost again. She's already done it twice this year, I swear. Last time she flew to Paris for some reason…"

Flippy shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Mole continued his rant, seemingly unaware of Flippy's increasing awkwardness. Indeed, Mole's tangent was interrupted only when someone knocked on the door and entered. She was an albino-ish wolf, with starkingly white fur and long black hair that extended to about her waist. Wearing grey camo shirt & skirt, she bounded towards Mole with a spring in her step that was rare in her line of work, some shiny dogtags bouncing against her chest. "Mole! There you are, I've been looking for you for some time now." She said upon reaching the two.

"Alexis!" Mole stopped his pacing and looked in the general direction of the new arrival. "I didn't even know if you were still in the state."

"I wasn't. Anyway, I think I've got a lead for you." She said, before taking notice of Flippy standing by the sidelines. "Who's this?"

"Oh, that's Flippy. I feel he'll be a welcome addition to our team. Now what's this lead of yours?"

Alexis glanced at Flippy, before deciding that he looked trustworthy and told the story: "Alright, remember when you sent me to Las Vegas last week to follow up a new lead?"

"Yeah."

"Well, for the first few days the lead did nothing. I thought it was a dead end, but on the fifth day the lead suddenly drove to a small café on the outskirts of Vegas. Posing as I lost tourist, I asked the bartender for directions, and managed to overhead the lead talking to someone else. I didn't get a good look at this other person, but at least twice I heard the lead say the words 'Enemy Operatives.' I had to leave almost immediately after, but I did catch the lead organize another meeting at the same place on 3pm, in three days."

Mole nodded slowly, mentally processing this new information and weighing it up against other potential leads. "I see… Thank you, Lex, you've been very helpful."

Alexis smiled warmly. She turned to leave, flashing Flippy a glance, then paused. Her eyes were drawn to Flippy's dogtags, lying idly on his chest. "Army, Navy, or Air Force?" She asked, looking back into Flippy's eyes.

"Army."

Alexis nodded then pointed to the tags. "May I?"

Flippy nodded, and handed his dogtags to her. She studied them for a short moment, mouthing the words inscribed on them silently, before passing them back to Flippy. "Sergeant Fernando Henderfeild, call-sign Flippy, of the US Army."

"That's right. Can I see yours?" Flippy asked, putting his dogtags back around his neck. Alexis obliged, handing hers over with a tiny bit of reluctance. Flippy glanced at the etching in the tags and silently read it.

All it said was 'ALEXIS' and the symbol of the Phoenix Clan.

Flippy absent-mindedly handed the tags back to Alexis, noting that the tags left cuts on Alexis's chest, though she didn't seem to notice.

Another knock on the door, and this time a gray, scruffy dog, clad in black clothing, poked his head in. "Mole? I think you'd better see this." Pike said, a tinge of worry in his voice.

Zeke counted through the stack of 20$ bills slowly and tantalizingly, placing each bill, one after the other, on a wheeled gurney as the person in front of him shivered. "I gotta say, Truffles. This has gotta be a new low. Selling your team out just for 10 grand? Disappointed, Truffles."

Truffles shifted awkwardly in his seat, and chuckled nervously. "Ha, yeah… About that."

Zeke stopped counting the money momentarily, and glanced at Truffles suspiciously.

"See, Zeke… I gave you some very good, very valuable information that was most definitely worth your time… So I was thinking, uh… Maybe was could raised the payment just a bit. Say, another ten thousand dollars? I know you got the money, you're plain stinking rich, so this won't have that much of an impact on your overall wealth…" Truffles slowly trailed off as Zeke stared at him unblinkingly.

Zeke considered this for a moment. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he finally nodded. "I don't see why not." He said, indicating behind the traitorous pig.

Truffles grinned, relieved, and turned around-

BLAM!

A single gunshot from a pistol in Longhorn's grip shot straight though Truffle's head, making a small, neat, circular hole in the traitorous pig's skull. Truffle's body fell backwards, landing on the wheeled table and sending it rolling backwards for a few inches. Truffles laid still, blood slowly spreading on the gurney and the discarded notes, that greedy grin of his still etched on his face even after death.

Longhorn grinned, blew on the smoking pistol like a Western bandit, and glanced at his superior.

Now half covered in blood and bits of brain matter, Zeke glared at Longhorn, before breaking into a grin. "Longhorn… Expect a few extra dollars in your paycheck." He said, shaking his head playfully. Then, glancing at Truffle's corpse, the grin faded into a frown. "Greedy bastard. Selling his team out for a few measly grand. We did a good thing tonight, Long. If he betrayed them just for 20 grand, imagine how much he'd sell out us for. You can't trust a traitor, Longhorn. No matter what side they come from, you just can't trust them."

"That's right, sir." Longhorn nodded, then pointed at the side of Zeke's face. "You got a bit of Truffles right there."

Zeke casually picked the small string of flesh from his cheek, studied it for a moment, then popped it into his mouth like a string noodle. "Needs more salt."

"… Noted, sir." Longhorn replied, somewhat awkwardly. "What do you want me to do with the body?"

"Hmmm… Target practice?"

Longhorn nodded. "On it, sir." He replied, grabbing the handles of the gurney and beginning to push it away. "You might wanna take a shower or something, sir." He added.

"Well, I was going to walk around like this for the rest of the day, but your idea seems better." Zeke replied, and Longhorn wasn't sure if he was being serious or sarcastic. So he simply nodded and pushed the gurney out the large double doors.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure we can power through it." Mole waved away Pike's worries with an indifferent wave. "We've got the backing of the next high-ranking senator, remember? We've got all aces in our pockets, Pike."

"Yeah… About that." Pike said, handing a printed document to Flippy. "The supposed senator? The guy who's responsible for our funding? He'd kind of, well… Dead."

"WHAT?" Mole shouted, shocked. Pike made to hand the newspaper to Mole, but upon remembering that he was, you know, blind and stuff, instead thrust it to Flippy. Flippy glanced at the headline and raised his eyebrows.

'Breaking news: Possible Senator Lyle Jazed killed in fiery plane crash!

In a horrific twist to the US senator debate, heavy candidate Lyle Jazed was killed when his luxurious private jet inexplicably lost power over the Californian countryside, crashing to the ground and bursting into flames. Firefighters and ambulances were quick to the scene, but of all eighteen passengers on board, none have survived. Jazed, a heavy political candidate rumored to be a runner in the next US senator election, was known for the lavish lifestyle and his seemingly-endless care for children across the country.
However, minutes after his death, rumors surfaced about Lyle Jazed's connection with illegal drug industries, with our source claiming that Mr. Jazed himself was responsible for at least '40% of Heroin being imported into the United States, along with a large slice of the Cocaine market.' These rumors are being investigated at the time, but so far they prove to be true. Also accusations with his influence with several 'secret services' are being investigated.
Lyle Jazed was born in Manchester, England in 1968 as Leslie Jazed, son of a rich business tycoon. Lyle shared his father's knowledge of business transactions, and took over the business after his father had a fatal heart attack in 1989. He was married to a miss Mary Robin in 1984, and years later, in 1990, Lyle & Mary successfully had a son of their own, a Desmond Jazed, although Mary died during the birthing process. Her death crushed Lyle, and soon afterwards his business fell. With what money he had left, Lyle and his son travelled to America, and the rest, as they say, is history.
Coroners indicate that Lyle Jazed's death was accidental, although people are quick to disagree, stating that a plane doesn't just burst into flames mid-air for no reason. Officers, however, wish to alert everyone that there was no foul play, and there is nothing to fear. One officer quoted: "Accident and coincidence. Nothing more. It's just some conspiracy theorists trying to stir up the people of America. I repeat: There is no conspiracy, there are no terrorists, everyone is safe."
An official inquiry is being held to determine the exact cause of Lyle Jazed's jet's accident.
Lyle Jazed was 42 years old at the time of his death. It is under debate whether he will be shipped back to Manchester, England to be buried, or be buried in Washington, DC. When asked to give a comment, Lyle's biological son Desmond stated that he will take over Lyle's position in the senator run, as it was what he would have wanted.'

"Fuck fuck, fucking FUCK!" Mole swore loudly as Pike told him the news. "It could not have come at a worse time!"

"This guy was the guy paying for your stuff?" Flippy asked, passing the newspaper back to Pike. "He struck me as a real asshole."

"Oh, he was." Mole nodded. "Arrogant, demeaning, sack of shit, but he knew where the business opportunities lay. I think he was in the war with us, too."

"What do we do about the budget, sir?" Pike questioned.

"The paper said he had a biological son, right?" Flippy said, an idea forming. "Desmond, right? Following Mr. Jazed's death, all his belongings would be passed onto Desmond, including the money."

"Yeah, what's your point?"

"Maybe we could ask this Desmond guy. If he's anything like his father, he'll approve and continue the funding."

"That's… That's actually a good idea." Pike admitted, and glanced at Mole. "What you think, sir? Worth going after?"

"It's the only legal option I see." Mole sighed. "Alright, give it a day or two for him to settle down, and we'll arrange a meeting with him somehow."

"Hey, the helicopter's nearly here." Pike noticed, pointing. Flippy followed his finger out the window, the sight of two helicopters far off in the distance, catching his attention. "Took their time."

"Sooo… What kinda stuff do you do around here?" The hybrid abomination, CrayZee, asked as she around the room at all the crazy scientist shit.

"If you must know, a good deal of it is super-weapon stuff." Jay replied in annoyance. Tasked with the quest of 'keeping it under control' was turning out to be harder than expected. 'It' being CrayZee, of course. "Here, look at this." He turned his back to grab a potion, and as if on cue a crashing sound was heard. He sighed in frustration, and glanced back.

"Someone broke your thingy." CrayZee said, although it was pretty clear she herself had smashed it, whether intentionally or not. "Also, what was the thingy for?"

Jay put a hand to his face. "Alright, clearly we need some ground rules." He noted. "Rule number one: DON'T. TOUCH. ANYTHING."

"Can I touch the floor?" CrayZee asked, her tone making it unclear whether she was joking or not.

"… Yes, you may touch the floor."

"Can I touch the air?"

"Yes, you may touch the air."

"Can I touch this?"

"Yes, you may-" Then Jay saw what CrayZee was touching, and promptly screamed. "NO, NO YOU MAY NOT TOUCH THAT!" He ripped the thing away from CrayZee's grip, holding it away from her carefully. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THIS WEAPON WOULD DO TO US?"

In response, CrayZee spat in Jay's face, before laughing hysterically. Jay paused, wiped the spit away from his face, and held up two fingers. "Rule number two: NEVER DO THAT AGAIN."

There was a short pause.

Then CrayZee spat in his face once more.

The helicopters slowly descended, before landing in the landing zone and powering down. As the crew descended from the whirlybirds, chatting amongst themselves, Niki & Sam exited their respective choppers, arguing over who won their little game.

"I landed first, so I win!"

"Nu-uh, I got all my passengers out first, so I win!"

This would've continued for quite some time, before both of them noticed Mole staring at them with cold, empty, unseeing eyes. Creeping them the fuck out. "Heyyy… Mole." Niki hesitantly said. "I know we're kinda late, but we have a very good reason."

"And that reason is…?"

"Well, they had a REALLY good sale going on at Best & Less, so-"

A glare from the blind mole killed that reply before it finished.

"Sorry, boss." The two pilots said in unison. "Won't happen again."

"I'm sure it won't." Mole deadpanned, before shaking his head. "Tell everyone to join me in the briefing room in fifteen minutes."

Niki and Sam saluted.

With one well-placed shot, Truffle's head exploded into many, many pieces, splattering the ground and wall with more blood and brain matter.

"Whoo, bullseye!" Scourge cheered, taking several bows to nobody in particular. "Damn, I'm awesome."

Beside him, Disco Bear sat unimpressed. "Yeah, yeah. Budge over, Scourge. Let a real pro show you how it's done."

"Go on, then." Scourge said, stepping aside. "Show me what you got, fatty."

"I am rubber, you are glue. Bounces off me and sticks to you."

"I bet pretty much everything bounces off you."

Disco scowled, and grabbed the basic rifle from Scourge's hands, and aimed at what was left of Truffle's body. "Watch and learn, kid." He said, and took aim.

"Hey, have you two seen Shifty anywhere?"

Disco glanced at the new voice, and grinned. "Welll, hell Petunia. Looking fine as usual. How about you and me-"

"Not in a million years, Disco." Petunia interrupted, rolling her eyes.

"So there IS a time frame!" Disco exclaimed, his eyes widening.

"I think I saw him go round the back of the armory." Scourge said, pointing at said armory.

"Thanks, Scourge." Petunia nodded, faced the armory, and began walking away. Disco watched her go from behind, his eyes focusing on her hips and buttocks, grinning pervertedly.

The rifle fired unexpectedly, Disco too distracted by Petunia's behind to notice his finger curling around the trigger. The bullet sailed past Truffles, even missing the wall completely, and struck Handy in the head. Luckily he was wearing his construction worker's cap.

"Congratulations, Disco." Scourge stated. "You missed."

Shifty's eyes scanned the photograph in his hands, the brim of his dark green fedora serving well to block out enough sunlight so as not to clash with the precious picture. He gazed into the photo with dark, unblinking eyes, more or less dead to the world around him.

Petunia knew what the photo was, knew what his brother meant to him. She silently stepped towards the depressed raccoon, sliding down to sit next to him. He didn't even show any signs of noticing her.

"Nice day, isn't it?" She asked. Shifty blinked, glanced at the smiling blue skunk, and hid the photo.

"What do you want, Petunia?" He asked, no trace of emotion in his voice.

"I want to see how you're doing." Petunia said, rubbing a hand on Shifty's shoulder. "I know things must be very hard for you, an-"

"I'm fine, Petunia." Shifty replied, but Petunia could tell from his tone of voice that the raccoon was far from fine.

"Shifty-"

"I said I'm fine." Shifty forcefully said, yanking his arm from Petunia's grasp. He glared at Petunia once, before quickly getting to his feet and walking away.

"Sooo… Anyone got any idea what this meeting's supposed to be about?" Mac asked, glancing around the room at his colleagues. His question was met with shrugs and blank looks all around.

"I'll tell you why he's called this meeting." Charlie Graves spoke up, his excessively-paranoia eyes scanning the room, settling on each occupant for but a second before moving on to another. "It's cos we've got a mole in our midst!"

"My god… He's right!" Lumpy cried, punching the table with a fist, and promptly grimacing in pain. "Guys, I don't know how to tell you this… But I think that Mole might, MIGHT… be a mole!"

There was a short silence, broken only by the sound of many, many facepalms.

Pain slapped Lumpy around the back of the head once. "Lumpy, please. For the love of all that is good in the world, stop breathing."

"Lumpy being Lumpy aside, does anyone have any idea what this is about?" Maria asked, bringing the group back to the original topic.

"It's about a lot of things." Everyone snapped to the new voice, instantly saluting despite Mole being unable to see this. "Sit down, there's some things I need to discuss." Mole sat down at the head of the table, Pike standing behind and to the left of him, while Flippy waited awkwardly to the right. "First and foremost, when you go out training, could someone at least have the common sense to tell me? Jesus."

"We left a note with Sniffles." Midnight spoke up with her heavy southern accent. "Don't blame us if he couldn't find the balls to give it to ya."

"Regardless. Anyway, there's something more… important to discuss. You might not know this, but your training and weapons and stuff costs a lot of money. A good portion of that money comes from the private backing of a certain senator."

"That's right, Lyle Jazed, wasn't it? The definition of the word 'prick'?" Kurt said, stroking his chin in thought.

"That's the one." Mole nodded his head. "Earlier today he was killed when his private jet burst into flames mid air."

There was a short silence.

"That would suck." Iris said. "Any survivors?"

"None."

"Damn. That does suck."

"With Mr. Jazed dead, so goes our funding. Unless we can convince someone else to back us, financially, while still having enough pull in the government to keep us under the radar, then we're finished." Mole sighed, and ran a hand across his forehead. "The next few days are going to be very… stressful."

"I don't like the sound of that." Frost frowned.

"In other news, one of our agents have found a possible lead in Las Vegas, Nevada. This could be make or break time for us, so those of you who go to Vegas to follow up the lead, for fuck's sake, be careful. Additionally, this is Flippy." Mole pointed to Pike. Pike quickly guided Mole's outstretched arm so that it was now instead pointed at the army-clad bear.

"Uh… Hello." Flippy waved awkwardly, feeling everyone's eyes on him.

"Me and Flippy were in the army together, and back then he was the best leader I've ever seen. He has agreed to help us out, in terms of guiding and leadership and stuff like that. Also he's got a split personality that is psychotically insane and may attempt to brutally kill you and all you knw in the most creative ways imaginable, so try not to piss him off."

And with that note, Flippy facepalmed.

Anyone that didn't appear in this chapter WILL appear in the next, so don't cry and throw a tantrum just because your OC didn't have a line.

Thanks for waiting so much, thanks for reviewing, etc, etc. Yes, it was a short chapter, but better than nothing, right?