A/N: We're going back into the long chapters! This is part one of two of a chapter I should've had out last week, but didn't. Whoops! I was working on my other fanfic Helpless Indulgence, so I stopped working on this one for about a week. But now I'm back, and here's part one. Part two will be up shortly--or not, I really don't know. I still have to type up this week's chapter, so um...yeah, sorry. So review, disclaimer is in the first chapter.

"Geoff?"

"Sadie? What's wrong?"

"DJ's been shot."

"What?! How?!"

"I don't know! I think Zeke might know something. Remember how quickly he brushed off DJ's absence?"

"Yeah, but—"

"We need to know what DJ knows."

"Sadie, chill! We'll find out in the morning, okay?"

"Okay."

"Bye." And Geoff hung up. He called Noah, who then called Izzy, who then told Owen, who then called Duncan, who then called Gwen. All of them now knew of what had befallen DJ. However, Sadie resolved to call him or see him after he was released from the hospital.

A few more days passed, and Sadie had failed to go and see DJ. She wanted to, but couldn't bring herself to do it.

In the Twilight Mall, at around 11 AM, Courtney swam 30 laps in a narrow rectangular shaped indoor pool. It soon rolled into lunchtime, and she was eating some yellow bell peppers stuffed with a mix of vegetables and brown rice and a few leaves of lettuce. Nick was also at the table, eating the same thing as Courtney, and Bridgette was looking for a place to sit, the same food on her plate as Nick and Courtney's.

"Hello." Courtney greeted Bridgette, who was just walking by Nick and Courtney's table. Bridgette offered a smile. "Would you care to sit down?" Bridgette gladly sat down across from Courtney.

"I didn't know where to sit." Courtney started to strike up some nice conversation.

"I swam 30 laps today."

"Good for you."

"I'm tired now."

"It's important to exercise. I try to be my best." It was how the Mankins responded: in small sentences due to their mind wiped state. But Bridgette's last sentence struck a chord in Courtney, a chord that prompted her to ask Bridgette a question.

"Are you?"

"Hm?" Bridgette's mouth was somewhat full of the medley of vegetables and brown rice, but Bridgette quickly gulped it down. "I'm sorry, what did you ask?"

"Are you your best?" Bridgette's eyebrows furrowed a bit, and she was in deep thought.

"I'm not sure how I would know that."

"I think if you always try, that's best…right?" She looked to Nick for an agreement…or disagreement.

"Every day is a chance to be better." He didn't have a Russian accent anymore. And he proceeded to pick up a piece of broccoli and eat it. However, there were two pairs of eyes on the three Mankins: Chase and Cody.

"They're eating lunch Cody." Chase tersely responded.

"They're eating lunch TOGETHER dude. The same three. Even the same table." Bridgette, Nick, and Courtney had been eating at the same table for the past few days, ever since Bridgette and Courtney came back from their latest Outing, the one concerning Shania Gold, who was now back to normal and in Oregon performing. "They're grouping."

"Are you saying that they remember each other?"

"No, no, no, the wipes are clean. This goes deeper than memory, to instinct in fact. It's…survival patterns. They're flocking. Sparrows turning on a dime, salmon swimming upstream, this isn't a book club dude, this is the herd."

"They're not bison."

"They're a little bit like bison."

"They didn't used to be."

"I know. I know two of them. Sweet girls. Okay, maybe not one of them, but the other was certainly sweet." Chase was already walking away. "Fine, don't listen to me. But they're wiped clean; they can't remember each other. It's unheard of."

Heather was meeting up with her latest client, a Grecian billionaire named Kostas Argost. The two were discussing the terms of yet another Outing, and Courtney and Bridgette were being sent out once more.

"The problem is not insurmountable."

"What problem?" Kostas was a very aged man, around sixty years old, and he was dressed in a regular business suit.

"Upon review, your Outing was flagged as having certain…special requirements." Today, Heather was wearing black pumps, black pencil skirt, even her long sleeve loose blouse and camisole was black. And her jewelry, earrings and a delicate necklace with a large gem on it were black.

"I thought you could make your…Mankins have what I ask."

"That's correct; however, our computers do calculate possible risks to our Mankins."

"But you. You don't know."

"No one knows the details of your Outing but you." That was somewhat true. All clients were entitled to their right to tell Heather what the exact parameters of an Outing were—but if they didn't want to, company policy instructed that Heather must respect that privacy and not try to find out. As much as that made Heather want to grit her teeth, she knew there was nothing she could do, lest she want to be jobless. And she liked watching her former TD scum, as she called them. But then the phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. "Excuse me, I'm very sorry." She left to her desk and picked up the phone.

"Greer."

"Hello Heather. DJ is getting close to us. He's only in LA, a mere six hours away." The Sir immediately got down to the gist of his call. He knew she was in the middle of a meeting; not only was it written on her voice, she was also being watched by secret cameras dispersed throughout the room.

"Yes sir, of course I understand your concern. Our main goal now is to conclude this… matter as quickly as possible." Heather looked down at an Imprint card of Nick and photos of DJ.

"Good. Hurry up. We can't give him time to find out more about us."

"Yes, the less time we give him to spin his own theories the better I think."

"Kill him if you must, we need him out of our hair." Heather objected to this idea subtly.

"Well, he needs closure, and we're the experts at giving people what they need." She stole a glance at Kostas, who was now standing and looking over the Las Vegas skyline. The Sir did not take too kindly to Heather's defiance, but didn't let her know.

"Remember Heather, you owe me. And also, you get rid of him, by any means necessary."

"Yes sir, I'll keep you in—" The Sir had hung up in a way of telling her to submit to his rule. The Sir did not like being bossed around or defied as much as Heather did, except he was older and more brutal. She was just venomous, susceptible to succumbing to her feelings. "Formed, goodbye." She turned back to Kostas and started walking back to the leather couches. She plastered a smile on her face so she could conceal her mix of feelings towards The Sir's surprise phone call. "I haven't offered you a drink. Tea or something stronger?"

"These computers…if they say I have to pay more, I pay more."

"You're a very understanding man Mr. Argost. This way please. Judy will handle the details." The two were now at the door, and she had opened it to let Kostas out.

"This is not for me you know. This time, it's gift."

"You're a very generous man." He nodded and left Heather in her office to ponder her own medley of feelings towards The Sir.

"Trent was supposed to start performing today." Gwen couldn't get over Trent's sudden disappearance. "Are you sure he didn't just leave?"

"We're pretty sure he's been kidnapped Gwen." Noah calmly soothed her. Gwen, Noah, Izzy, Owen, Duncan, and Geoff were gathered in Conference Room 2B at 8 PM, which they had made their meeting place in the event of an emergency. Sadie and Ezekiel were at the hospital helping DJ check out. "I haven't found any records of her."

"Has this hit the news?" Duncan asked Geoff.

"Yeah. With a star as big as Trent, it's causing a lot of speculation. I have friends in the LA Times, so I know things."

"Is Hollywood High expecting you back at your job?" Izzy asked Duncan.

"Not for a long time. But I'm not sure."

"Yeah dude, we don't want you to lose your job over this." Geoff added.

"No, it's cool."

"Are you sure you don't need any company Gwen?" Izzy asked her.

"It's fine. I'll just stay at the hotel. However, I'm going to need a place to stay tomorrow, because I'm checking out tomorrow."

"I'll call Sadie and see if she can have you stay with her." Noah called Sadie using his Samsung Propel, yet another ancient phone compared to the ones out on the market. "Sadie, its Noah."

"He's gone."

"What?"

"DJ checked himself out of the hospital and Zeke and I called his cell and the hotel; he's not there."

"Do you need us?"

"I'm going to look for him with Zeke."

"Wait, could you have Gwen stay at your place tomorrow? She's checking out of her hotel suite tomorrow, and she needs a place to stay."

"Yeah, sure. Just uh…remind me tomorrow so I can get the spare room ready."

"Wait—"

"Bye Noah." And she hung up.

"Crap, she hung up on me. But you can stay over at her house Gwen."

"Thanks Noah. Who knew I'd actually be grateful for you one day, after all of the stuff that happened in TD."

"Yeah, things change over time."

"And it seems we all have." Geoff added. "Gwen, you should go. LA gets…dangerous around this time."

"Thanks so much for being here for me guys."

"No problem." Geoff smiled, and Gwen left the group.

"I better get going too." Duncan added to break the silence. The rest of the group nodded, and they all left the conference room.

Courtney (now known as Natalie "Taffy" Jensen) was now at the same hotel Gwen and DJ were staying at (both of them were in their suites, Gwen wallowing in her sorrow and DJ evading Sadie and Ezekiel), but Courtney was in the bathroom in the lobby, getting herself primped and ready. She was wearing an extremely deep cut V neck blood red long sleeve blouse, a short black leather miniskirt, and black leather stiletto boots that ended just above her knees. She applied a dangerously dark shade of red lipstick on her lips, stuffed a vial in her black bra (which was somewhat showing; the more dangerously sexy looking the better in her opinion), stuffed another tube of lipstick in one of her leather boots, checked her Omega watch hidden under the billowing sleeve of her blouse, fluffed her hair, and uttered one thing to the mirror.

"Blue skies." She grabbed her big black leather purse and walked out of the bathroom and to the bar to meet the three guys she was going to be hanging out with for the night. All four of them were starting to get loud, and fast, which got on the nerves of everyone in the bar, including the manager of the hotel, who had been called by the bartender to tell them to be a little more quiet. The manager walked up to the four.

"Gentlemen, ma'am."

"Sir." Courtney gave a wry smile to the manager.

"Perhaps you'd like to continue the party upstairs?" Courtney gave a groan in response and started pouting.

"But we were having fun!"

"We'll send up a bottle of complimentary champagne up to your suite." One of the men, around the same age as Courtney named Michael, looked at the manager.

"Make it two and you have yourself a deal." Courtney started laughing and squealing in delight.

"Two it is." The manager smiled and left the four, who now proceeded to walk to the elevator. Gwen, however, had just come down to the lobby to leave the hotel. She had to take a walk to dispel her troubles, and she saw Courtney with the three men. What's she doing here? Courtney saw her too, and her smile fell. Gwen…?

"Courtney?" Courtney and the three men were now in the elevator, and the elevator door was closing.

"Gwen?" Courtney recognized her, and then mouthed fifth floor before the elevator door closed. Gwen knew what she had to do. She left to the stairs and ran up them to the fifth floor, which just so happened to be the same floor DJ was staying on.

"Taffy, you know what to do?" Brad, another accomplice the same age as Courtney, asked her, and she was sent crashing back down into her imprinted personality.

"Yes."

"DJ, open up. I need to talk to you." Gwen knocked on DJ's suite door. He went to open the door, knowing it was Gwen.

"Hey, what's the matter?" DJ gestured her in, and she gladly went inside the suite.

"I saw Courtney in the hotel lobby. She said she was going to this floor."

"We'll get her then."

"DJ, she's not her normal self. She was with three other guys, and she looked like she was having FUN with them. She might not like Duncan anymore, but I always suspected she had some feelings left for him."

"How is this—?"

"She wasn't even dressed like she normally would be. I always thought she was conservative. Do you know what I saw her wearing? She was wearing stiletto boots; a low V neck cut blouse, and a black miniskirt!"

"That doesn't sound like Courtney at all. Are you sure it was her?"

"I'm dead positive. I can recognize my TD friends from a mile away. I don't know where on this floor she's staying though, so I think we should stay here and try to find her."

"No. Whoever's with her will try to alert security and have us kicked out. We need to wait." And so Gwen and DJ waited for Courtney to come knocking on their door, which she did—an hour later.

Courtney came tearing out of her and the guys' suite, shirt nearly unbuttoned, almost all of her black bra showing, blood trickling from a cut on her lip, and she was screaming.

"HELP! SOMEBODY?! PLEASE! HELP!" She banged on almost every single door on the floor, and it was all because the guys were after her. Brad and Michael had their dress shirts unbuttoned and each was carrying a champagne bottle, each half empty. The other one, a 45 year old art expert named Peter, stayed inside the suite.

"Taffy! Come on!" Michael yelled to her. Both were drunk out of their minds, and both wanted a piece of Courtney. Gwen and DJ both heard Courtney's cries for help and opened the door just a crack so the two men wouldn't notice them. However, at the same time, the manager of the hotel was walking through, and Gwen and DJ quickly hid back in the suite.

"What do we do DJ? Didn't you see her?"

"She has a lot of makeup on, but that's her alright."

"What do we do?!" DJ sat down on his bed, pondering Gwen's frantic question.

"There is one way we can find her. I admit, it'll be a bit tricky, but I know we can do it." Gwen immediately stopped acting frantic, and her resolve was back.

"What do I have to do?"

"You'll have to follow the manager. He's going to go to a locked down area of the hotel and take Courtney there to talk with her privately. It's through the kitchen, and they're already on their way, so you'll have to work fast. Do you have your cell phone with you?" Gwen took it out of her black leather miniskirt pocket and waved it in her hand.

"Always."

"Go." And with that, Gwen was tearing out of the fifth floor and down into the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Courtney and the manager had just finished walking through the kitchen and were now in front of a metal door.

"Don't worry; those idiots didn't follow us. Even if they did, they'd have no way of getting through here." The manager typed in an eight digit code to open the door. Courtney caught the numbers he was typing in to keep her mind off the guys who wanted to take advantage of her. "See? Everything's fine." And he closed the door after him. "Why don't you sit down?"

"That was not okay. And I know who I am, and what I do, but I didn't sign up for that. And I really have to go." She started to re-button her blouse up, bra being shown to the manager, who couldn't keep his eyes off of her for two reasons. One, he thought she was smoking hot. Two, he had other business to take care of.

"Wait."

"Is there a back door? I have somewhere I need to be. What are you doing?" The manager was now getting out a stack of money from his personal safe.

"I understand you've had a difficult evening ma'am."

"You bet your sorry ass I have!" Gwen heard Courtney's argument, and she started watching from the window.

"And we deeply regret any indignities you may have suffered. But it's hotel policy to offer a onetime payment to compensate you." He set down the stack of money in the line of sight of Courtney before going to a metal cabinet to get out a piece of paper.

"You want me to let those freaks off the hook? Fine, they're off the hook, I just want to go."

"You feel that way now. You might not feel the same way tomorrow. We feel it's in your best interest if you—"

"I'm leaving." Courtney was about to turn the knob on the door.

"Ma'am, that's ten thousand dollars on the table." That stopped her. That's a lot of money. "Now all you have to do is sign this piece of paper stating that you will not pursue legal action against the hotel or the guests in question, and you walk away."

"With…that?" She set her purse down next to the stack of money.

"Ten thousand dollars."

"I just take your ten thousand dollars and disappear?"

"Yeah. You'd be free. You can go anywhere."

"Thanks, but no thanks." She took her purse, taking care to also push the money off the table, and as she suspected, the man started to pick up the money. She made her move then. She kneed him in the chin, sending him hurtling to some metal lockers, and then he was effectively passed out. Courtney set her purse back down on the table, took out her cell phone, and called the three men who were now in the suite changed in all black clothing. "I'm in. Door code is 07341925." She picked up the ten thousand dollars and stood over the now knocked out manager, thumbing through the stack of money, and Gwen was outside, gasping in shock. "Blue skies. And thanks for the consolation fee." She licked the blood off her lips, and it was now gone, not even a scratch to prove she had been bleeding. "Ketchup makes great fake blood, don't you think?" She started to get changed into her own black clothes.

Gwen got out her cell phone and started running out of the hotel as fast as she could, calling DJ.

"This is Agent Jones."

"DJ! We've got problems! Courtney's planning something major, and she knocked out the manager of the hotel!"

"Please leave a message after the beep."

"CRAP! DJ! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?!"

In DJ's suite, he was down on the floor, out cold. The room was dark, and the shadow of a man was standing over DJ's limp body. The voice that filled the air was a hoarse Russian accent.

"It is for your own good Agent Jones." Nick, however, could not kill him, and jumped out of the five story window, landing on the ground without a hitch—or witnesses to see his superhuman power.

"They're called breasts, and yes, they're exceptional. So stop ogling and get back to work." Courtney was buttoning up her black dress shirt while Brad was moving the lockers and the file cabinets away from the walls.

"So boss, what do we really call you?" Michael asked as he pieced together a few C4 explosives—modified of course.

"You really call me Taffy. And the client's the boss. He put together this merry band of thieves, and in his infinite wisdom he decided that—well, guess I am the boss of you."

"Not taking him out's your first mistake." Brad remarked as he looked down on the manager. Courtney pinned him to the side of one of the lockers and started choking him, scaring Peter, who was nearby, out of his wits.

"I figured out on my first job with a little creative thinking on my part that almost got me not paid—never second guess a client—and wear comfy shoes. Our client's paying premium for no kill, so he gets no kill, okie doke?"

"I-I-I think you're hurting him." Peter remarked, still scared.

"Nice going Einstein, figure that out on your own? You're lucky this is a no kill job. Could've been trouble there." She loosened her grip on Brad and oversaw Michael applying the C4s to the blank gray wall.

"Right, shouldn't we go far away now?" Peter asked, not wanting to be around four C4s about to explode.

"Here's how this is going to go: in 64 seconds, the high security building on the other side of that wall will be shutting down their motion sensors, infrared sensors, security cameras, and we will be in a gray hour. In the one hour it takes them to revolutionize their security system impenetrable, we penetrate."

"Excuse me, if their system is down, they must know someone is going to try and break in."

"That's six seconds we can't get back. Inside security, five guards. They have GPS tracking devices implanted in their badges, and they're going to be focused on perimeter threats. They're not allowed on the vault floor during gray hour for security reasons. Do you have them yet?"

"Not till we're inside. The sensors won't pick up anything—" Courtney cut off Brad's explanation.

"Fifteen seconds. Ready to go boom?" She asked Michael.

"Ready."

"Shouldn't we sync our watches—?" Brad was cut off yet again.

"Sweetie! You're on Taffy Standard Time now. In 3…2…1…GO." And with that, the C4s were set off, and the wall was broken down.

"One hundred people must've heard this!" Brad hoarsely whispered as Courtney grabbed her black purse and started walking through the wall.

"Upstairs, they're just thinking a truck rumbled by, I am the BEST my man!" Michael praised himself for a minute.

"Yeah, yeah, we're all the best." Courtney laxly dismissed him, and all four of them kept walking through the corridor of the hotel underground. "So pretty." She laid her eyes on a giant safe.

"Hey, if she's the best, how come we've never heard of her?" Brad whispered to Michael. Courtney heard every word.

"You ever heard of Bonnie and Clyde?"

"You're Bonnie?" Brad asked.

"No, I meant that's stupid. Bonnie and her gun crazy beau didn't want to be the best. The best look for a quiet life, called upon when their talents can be used. Bonnie and Clyde wanted fame, notoriety, and they got it, but they also ended up dead. I'll pass on that. When all of this is over, feel free to forget I exist. Now be quiet while this baby and I get to know each other better." She kept working on the two dials, turning them to get the right combination to open the safe.

"Coming online…guards are—" Brad didn't get to finish his sentence, because the safe had started to creak open.

"Clock's ticking boys." Courtney went in, and Brad, Michael, and Peter followed her. But it wasn't money they were after—what they found was a huge safe full of stolen art. Everything from paintings by greats such as Picasso to sculptures from antiquity was stored here, but not all were real. Some were high quality counterfeits, as Peter explained. He specialized in identifying art from antiquity. "Hey, old stuff guy, old stuff's over here."

"Thank you gods…and goddesses." He laid his eyes upon sculptures covered in sheets and ran to them, examining each one.

"Gray hour is now 45 minutes long. This is what we're here for. Tell me if it's the real thing so we can pack it up and get out of here." Courtney took out a sketch of a frieze and showed it to Peter.

"I thought it might be this. Why else would I have been chosen?"

"Chosen for what? What are we taking out of here?" Michael asked. Peter looked up from the sketch.

"The Parthenon."

"Isn't that kinda big?"

"No, no, it's only a small part." Peter kept rummaging through everything. "Ah, here it is. Michael, can you come here and hold it for me? I need to check its authenticity." Michael shrugged and rolled his eyes before going to Peter and picking up the section of the Parthenon. "This is one of the missing Elegant Marbles. Okay, but we're looking for a frieze, not a model."

"Over their heads professor." Courtney could understand what Peter was rambling about, but Brad and Michael couldn't.

"The Elegant Marbles are large sections of the Parthenon's marble friezes and statues stolen in the late 19th century. Yeah, it's been a long time. People can hold grudges for generations."

"But we are stealing stolen art." Brad remarked.

"Not technically. You see, the Turks who controlled Athens at the time, they gave a very important earl permission to remove the marbles."

"So Greece hired us to take this one back." Michael got the picture.

"Client info is confidential." Courtney tried to shut Michael up.

"Explains why we got hired through middlemen." Brad added.

"And the no kill order. Things go bad; they don't want some kind of international incident."

"When a client doesn't say up front who they are, finding out's usually not healthy. How about we stop speculating—?" Courtney was cut off by Brad this time.

"The guards are rotating down the floors."

"They're not coming down here. At least not for the next 34 minutes."

"You better be right."

"I am."

"So…do you want to grab a drink after this?" Michael asked Courtney when Brad walked away.

"Hmph. Ask me when we get out of here, and I'll consider it."

"Hey, where are you going? HEY!" Brad screamed and ran to Peter, who now had the frieze and was ready to run out of the safe with it. Peter grabbed a sword and thrust it into Brad's stomach. It was too late. By the time Courtney and Michael realized Peter had absconded with their item, the safe door was closed and locked, and there was no way of getting out.

"BASTARD!" Michael screamed to the door. Brad almost collapsed, but Courtney caught him and helped him up.

"Hey, you're going to be okay. I'll get us out of here." She sat him down on a wood crate.

"When does the alarm go off?"

"Thirty one minutes. Hey, it'll be okay. I'm just going to make a quick call." She got out her cell phone and dialed Chase, who was conveniently in the same black van outside of the hotel.

"What's up?"

"It's me."

"How the hell do you get reception down here?!" Michael asked Courtney.

"I got a double crosser coming your way, on the southwest corner of the building. He has what we came here for. Black bag, you're going to have to complete this job for me, I need a happy client." Courtney instructed Chase.

"I'm on it. Everything all right in there?"

"We're locked in, my tech guy's going to need medical, but I'm fine and I can get us out, which is irrelevant if the job's a wash."

"I'll finish the job, just get out of there."

"Thanks. See you in a few—" A large static noise swept through the call, and it made Chase recoil back in shock.

"FUCKING HELL THAT'S LOUD!!!" Chase ended the call as quickly as he could (which was a long time considering he was sensitive to high pitch noises) and got out of the van, his silver revolver cocked and at the ready.

On the other end, Courtney's hand fell from her head, and she dropped her cell phone. She looked at Brad and Michael.

"Did I…fall asleep?"

"Neuro-modulator is your friend. And I don't mean friend from kindergarten that you see twice a year. Neuro-mod is your BFF! Brain mapping requires—" Cody was at his desk explaining brain mapping to Blaire Yamato.

"Pizza squares, ice cream bites, beef jerky, and barbeque flavored potato chips?" Blaire took a list off the in office fridge and showed it to Cody. She was wearing a white lab coat over a white spaghetti strap top, opal colored jeans, and black high heels over fishnet stockings.

"God Cody, I didn't know your eating habits were this bad." Tawny was also in the office and sitting on a desk, chewing some spearmint gum. She was wearing a white lab coat, but it was over a flashy orange top, white jeans, and orange heels. "They're almost as bad as mine! Except mine involves more meat."

"Okay, you MAY be the boy god of all things neuro-tastic, and I do worship at your feet—"

"That scrawny kid? Please. He's still the same ladies' man from TD." Tawny kept chewing on her gum. "I should know. I was a die-hard fan of the show. And don't even try to deny it Cody; you've tried to hit on Blaire and me for quite some time now, but I think we all know who you really pine for."

"Don't interrupt me Tawny. However, I'm not getting you all of this stuff Cody."

"Blaire, add juice boxes." Cody commanded from his desk.

"You're privilege abusing, you know that?"

"Huh, I guess spoiled only children DON'T change. Kinda like someone I know all too well…oh wait, she has a little brother." Tawny spit out her spearmint gum into the trashcan. "Score!" While Tawny took out another piece of gum and popped it into her mouth, Blaire rolled her eyes.

"Look, humility is part of the learning process. I break you down, and I build you back up again." Cody got out of his seat and went up to Blaire.

"Hey neuro-tastic boy god, you might want to check this out." Tawny gestured a thumb to a laptop.

"Don't call me—"

"Cody." Blaire got him to look at the laptop, and it was showing Courtney's heartbeat escalating through the roof.

"Uh oh. That can't be good."

"Shall I go now?" Courtney was in the fetal position and was near tears, crying.

"What's wrong with her? Hysterical woman syndrome?" Michael was circling Courtney, and getting more and more pissed by the second.

"Five minutes ago you were kissing her ass." Brad spat out, still clutching his side and sitting on the same crate.

"Five minutes ago we were on Taffy Standard Time! It's a private number; it's not letting me dial out." Michael was trying to use Courtney's cell phone, but he couldn't contact anyone.

"Shall I go now?" Courtney whispered to herself.

"Yeah, let's go; get us the fuck out of here!" Brad yelled to Courtney. Damn it, what's wrong with her? Michael threw the cell phone across the floor in frustration. "How long?"

"Not long enough. I've had my share of crazies; I know how to deal with this." Michael took off his jacket and knelt down in front of Courtney. "Taffy, hey, I'm not saying this isn't cute; it's adorable."

"…I go now?" Courtney whispered.

"The sooner you open that door, the sooner we can go get that drink, so let's do it."

"Shall I…go now?" Courtney whispered again, and this time, Michael slapped her, and she fell to the ground.

Peter had just broken out of the hotel's delivery section and was in a narrow stairway. Just a few more steps and he'd be free. But someone was waiting for him: Chase.

"Give me the bag."

"Who are you?"

"The bag."

"I can't do that."

"Give…me…the bag."

"I've got a buyer who pays me twice as much as whoever, so—" Chase was now only a few steps in front of Peter, and he had his silver revolver cocked and at the ready. "Okay, okay. You and me, we go in together, 50/50. I will drop this."

"I'll shoot you."

"This is the Parthenon, this is a piece of the Parthenon, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT'S WORTH, THAT'S MILLIONS! That's—I'll turn it into dust, I swear to God."

"Drop it, I shoot you. Then you don't get paid—or breathe."

"Okay, okay." Peter slowly approached Chase, and as Chase was about to take the bag, Peter put the bag down and ducked under his outstretched arm and started running up the stairs. Chase spun around and shot Peter's calf. Chase then picked up the bag. "FUCK! YOU SHOT ME!"

"Okay, it was just barely. Which means you won't die. And did you honestly think I wouldn't?" Chase started to drag Peter across the stairs to the van. That was too easy.

"I can't get in contact with Chase, he's MIA, and Courtney's vitals are—this is the chart. Yeah, they're OFF it." Cody had printed out a paper of Courtney's vitals and left to talk with Heather and Harold in her office, leaving Blaire and Tawny in his office.

"Chase checked in with Central eight minutes ago. Apparently, a member of Courtney's crew absconded with the target item and locked the rest of the team in the vault. Explains the change in vitals." Harold explained coolly. However, Heather and Cody both were in shock of the sudden betrayal.

"This…is a special skills felony Outing. Courtney could have an exploding belly bomb and her heart rate shouldn't go past 65 beats a minute."

"Maybe you made a mistake in the programming."

"Something's wrong. I'll initiate contact—" Heather went to pick up her phone, but Cody stopped her.

"Uh…yeah, Courtney's not picking up her cell."

"You reached out to a Mankin during an Outing without my consent?"

"The adrenaline! It makes me forget my protocols and cues."

"Courtney was on the phone with Chase when her vitals spiked." Harold started to play a sound file of the last few moments of the phone call. At the end, there was a high pitch squeal. "What was that?"

"Play it again." Heather instructed, but Cody already feared the worst.

"Don't play it again."

"What? Why?" Heather's eyebrows were creased, which meant someone was going to get a scratch on their neck soon if there was no explanation.

That's not—uh uh, that didn't happen. How do I know that didn't happen? Because that can't happen."

"What can't happen?"

"I'm pretty sure—no, positive—that something happened. The same exact thing happened…except…without the chair. PLEASE DON'T HURT ME!" Cody cringed in fear of Heather and her sharp fingernails.

"You've stated that remote wipes are impossible."

"I've said they're untested. I've said they're a very bad, bad idea. I've said I can't do them."

"How do we undo it?" Heather was hopeful for a solution, but alas, there wasn't one.

"We don't? Look, somebody out there figured out our frequency, hacked into our call, that's not even the hard part, I mean, we're talking about—I could not have seen this coming! THIS IS NOT MY FAULT!"

"Okay, we'll find a scapegoat later. What matters now is the reputation of this company. We have an Outing to complete!"

"I'll confirm that Chase retrieved the target item."

"About Courtney…how bad is it?"

"Being wiped is not unlike being born; it's traumatic. In here, we minimize the trauma with throw pillows and perfectly crunchy lettuce, there's no conflict, but out there, it's all…fluorescent lights and forceps. Right now, Courtney is experiencing EXTREME sensory overload, and that could lead to a coma, or it could turn her into Carey at the prom, either way, we have to help her, because she can't help herself."

"Okay, now you say it." Michael had been trying to get Courtney to help them for the past few minutes.

"I'm Taffy."

"And?"

"I know how to get us out of here."

"Good, what else?"

"I…try to be my best."

"You are the best, remember Bonnie and Clyde?"

"Are they here too?"

"Okay, let's rewind a few minutes. You were talking on this." Michael held up Courtney's cell phone.

"I was talking on this."

"You were talking, and you said that you could open the door."

"I know how to open the door."

"Yes, good, so open it."

"I try to be my best."

"Yeah, Taffy's gone man. She's not coming back." Brad was now slumped on the side of the crate, no longer sitting on it.

"Who's Taffy?" Courtney asked the two guys.

"What? That's you. You're Taffy." Brad explained.

"Are you okay?!" Courtney suddenly got up and ran to Brad.

"I'll be fine, but your name is Taffy."

"No it's not. My name is Courtney."

A/N: Oh damn! Cliffy! Now I bet you'll be itching to read the next chapter! Well, I'm too lazy to add anything else, and this is long overdue, so just for my sake (and yours too), review please!