DISCLAIMER: I do not own Regular Show, or any of the characters in the cartoon. All Copyrighted material and Rights to Regular Show belong to Joel Gregory Quintel (Affiliation JG Quintel) and Cartoon Network Studios.
Any and/or all characters never seen, heard, mentioned in Regular Show belongs to me. The use of names and/or characters that are non-fictional or copyrighted to anyone else in this story is purely coincidental and accidental.
Regular Show: The Great Game Caper-Section 5
Upon arrival at the Nebraska Avenue Complex, the daring trio was treated for any physical damage. Mordecai had some bruises and a bit of head trauma from his previous fight with the crazy CEO, but suffered no serious damage. In fact, he seemed to be the only one who took any physical damage, the other two barely had any physical contact with a hostile. Although, Bill might need mental and financial help for his blown up car, and Rigby did get a serious kick to the groan from the federal agent. They were in the briefing room where the first infiltration team was briefed, with their friends who were curious about what transpired during their mission.
"Wait, so you're saying that some guy who works behind a desk beat you up?" Benson questioned Mordecai about his injuries, a slight chuckle forming from under his breath.
"I'm serious! This guy was strong and punched like he was wearing iron gloves, or something!" Mordecai protested. "Besides, at least I threw the first punch. That counts for something, right?"
"All I know is that I put up pretty good fight back there." Rigby was leaning back on the office chair, rubbing his knuckles on his chest.
"Fight? All you did was jump on a guy that wasn't looking and scratched at his face." The blue-jay pointed out.
"Oh yeah, than who knocked him out, hm?"
"Himself, when he ran into the wall."
"At least you all returned safely, and with the information William wanted." Pops said to the two.
The door to the room opened a well-dressed gruff man came in. Bill got up and greeted him with a hand shake. "Sir."
"Bill. I take it you and your second team was successful?" He asked.
The federal agent presented the USB with what they gathered from the office. "It's all in here. These two are the ones who assisted me in obtaining it." He pointed out the two friends, sitting beside each other.
"Mordecai and Rigby I presume?" The two nodded at the question. The superior took a look at the yeti in the room. "Skips. I see you haven't aged a bit." The yeti gave a simple nod. "Okay, let's see it."
Bill turned on the laptop at the front of the desk and inserted the USB into one of the ports. The TV behind him turned on with the same screen as the laptops did. He opened the file with the USB's data, containing what they procured from Jones' office. Once they looked at the files, they found something they were not expecting. What was on the files was not the information they were looking for. All there was were dates for interviews, scheduled events, a daily exercise plan, and some incriminating college photos of him, but nothing that proved he was the master mind behind some dire plot.
"Bill, is this a joke? Because if it is, it's not making laugh, rather it makes me wanna punch someone in the face, drive a gas truck into an orphanage, throw a bag of puppies into a lake, um," The superior was thinking of other things he would do out of rage. "Fart on the second Brady kid's face, uh, th-throw pork bi-products through the window of Synagogue, the point is I'm pissed off! What is this crap?"
"Sir, I assure you I thought the intel was in there, and I could have checked but we were attacked by…well you the read the report about that, but still, it was havoc!"
During this small argument, Rigby discretely took a hold of one of the laptops at the table. He pulled out the copy of Dimensions of the Lost he had taken from TarTec and popped it in. Despite of everything they've been through and what they heard of the game's true use, he still wanted to play it. However, when a window popped up, instead of instructions for the instillation process, it had a black screen with a password bar in white."Aw man, weak!"
Mordecai saw what his friend was doing. "Dude, what is that?"
"It's a Dimensions of the Lost copy I grabbed off that crazy guy's desk."
"What, are you crazy? That thing's supposed brainwash people and you still wanna play it?"
"Yeah, if I can find out what this 'S' on the window is. I didn't even start it up and I have to enter a password?"
"Ahem," Bill, his superior, and everyone else noticed the two fidgeting about on the laptop. "Care to explain what you're doing?"
"Rigby's trying to get a game to start." Mordecai informed them.
"Holy crap," Rigby exclaimed, "The password I tried actually worked!"
"What was it, 'Password'?"
"No, it's 'Chicken Bits'." At first, the group thought it was a joke, but that was indeed the password.
"Doesn't matter," Bill approached the raccoon, "This isn't the time to goof off! Give it here." He took the laptop away, about to turn it off, when he noticed something. There was a schematic of a satellite, what looked like a formula for making an artificial gas, and logs depicting various dates, plans, and payments. Whatever Rigby had just booted up was not a game.
He showed to his superior as he skimmed over a few logs and raising an eyebrow at the gas formula. After taking it all in a bit, he made his announcement. "Gentlemen, I think this is what you were looking for." A few collective grins, high fives, and fist bumps was exchanged between the crew. After a good amount of hardship, they finally found the data they were looking for. "It'll take awhile before we can officially confirm what these things all mean, but at least we found something that—"
He was interrupted when another well dress man, this one being bald, came into the room, abruptly interrupting what else would have gone on. "Is this the debriefing regarding the investigation of TarTec Game Studios?"
"Yes, and who might you be?" The superior asked.
"That's not important, but do understand my presence here is of the upmost urgency. Any of you in this room who are on the investigation are to come with me immediately. Also, whatever evidence or important pieces of intel gathered during the course of it are to come with me as well."
"Under whose authority?"
"The President, sir." This had certainly made the group in the room wide eyed with amazement. "Now, if we're done here, will you gentlemen please come with me?" They had no idea what this man was doing or why he would be there on behalf of the President, but if the most powerful man in the United States needed them to go with the man, who could say no to an order like that? They got up from their seating places and walked out the door, leaving Bill's superior, as he wasn't actually part of the investigation. Before the bald one left, he said one more thing. "Oh, and uh, keep doing us proud, protect this country and those inside it, and all that other stuff."
The CO was left there, dumbstruck by how fast the man entered and left with one of his men and seven temp agents. A woman, looking like a secretary, came in, looking at the superior and then at the ones walking away. "Again?"
"The fifth, freaking time today!" He exclaimed. "I mean, first it was someone on behalf of the Secretary of Defense, then it was for the Vice President, then some guy who works at MacRonalds, I mean, we're important when it comes to this country's security to! Right?"
"Well yes, but we usually just monitor and detect threats, we mostly leave the grunt work for the other agencies."
"Just…just leave." He sat down to the table, rubbing his fingers against his temples. He started to sniffle a bit. "We're important to. Heck, half those guys who saved this land wouldn't even know what the threat was if it wasn't for us!" He then leaned down on the table with his head down in his arms and weeping away.
The group had boarded a Boeing CH-47 Chinook helicopter that the man had landed in. Its dual-propellers started to rotate and within minutes they were in the air. They all sat to one side of the helicopter as the strange arrival sat on the other. The group was silent and was a bit hesitant to ask the man why they were in an aircraft and heading for who knows where.
Benson was the one to break the silence. "Uh, so what's going on?"
"Well, Mr. Carenhaug's investigations into TarTec Game Studios did not go unnoticed. All records involving the case had been sent to my superiors and after some discussions over the contents of said records, we concluded that what you're facing is a real threat. When we gave our information to the President, he gave the green light for us to pick you up so we may assist you in stopping whatever threat this Rodd Casey Jones may pose." He replied with a quick and formal tone.
The pilot of the Chinook called from his seat in the cock pit. "We're approaching the LZ, sir. ETA should be two minutes."
"What are we approaching, exactly?" Skips asked the man in front of them.
He directed them look at the windows and look below. As they did, they saw a concrete structure built on the summit of a small island. It slowly came closer and closer as the helicopter came in to its vicinity. It started its decent onto a heliport on the roof of the facility. Once they landed, the door in the back of the aircraft opened and the group exited. They approached a door that had two armed men in ACU camouflage and wearing Kevlar armor. One of them opened the door as the other one stepped forward. They both turned and saluted as the group entered the doorway. It led to a staircase that continued downward into the building. They followed it to a door at the very bottom, where the man opened and revealed a spectacle to the eight unsuspecting unusual heroes.
"Gentlemen, this is Section 5." The man proclaimed. The view of the facility was astonishing to the new arrivals. The walls, floors, and ceiling were made of pure chrome. Rows of desks with advanced computers lined the floor, men and women typing away, relaying information or discussing something important over video conversation. A round virtual interface was built into the floor in the middle of the huge room, people working around it. Two sets of stairs led up to catwalks that interconnected and led to different rooms and offices. Six huge screens presented themselves high on a wall where everyone could see what was on them. With all this, people were walking back and forth, taking papers to somewhere, talking with someone else, rushing to work stations, and answering calls. To sum it all up, it looked like a standard spy agency one would see in a movie. "If you'll follow me," The man said and directed the group to do so.
"Dude, what is this place?" Mordecai asked, still gazing at everything around them.
"Let me give you a history lesson. In 1957, ten years into the Cold War, the Soviet Union launched the world's first Intercontinental Ballistic Missile, or ICBM for short. Now during this time, there was espionage going on and the US had some of our guys in Russia, keeping an eye out for anything the USSR might not want us to know. As it turns out, a group of extremist had secured schematics for these missiles and planned to launch three of them at eastern coast. The problem was they knew of construction of ICBMs earlier than usual and already had the schematics to build them. By the time Sputnik was ready to launch, the extremist were ready to point their guns at us. Once we realized this, we had a team of the best spies we can find to stop them. The operation was successful, of course, and thankfully no one else noticed it."
"And this explains the creation of this place how?" Bill asked.
"People in the US were already getting edgy about being attacked by the Soviets. We didn't need an absolute panic just because some radical idiots got their hands on some missiles. So instead of getting the American and Soviet governments involved, we made an independent agency on a small island just off the coast of Maine to combat any attack on us, during the course of the war, discretely. Thus, Section 5 was formed."
"Wasn't that one of the reasons the CIA was created?"
"The CIA was formed to procure intelligence and determine its objectives, as does MI6 and MI5 but their mainly focused on British affairs. We, however, deal with espionage operations that involve advanced technologies that would scare the populace because of what they can do. You know how the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency's mission is to keep technological surprises from the public? Our mission is to make sure those surprises are stopped should they be proven to be used as something to attack us, or any of our allies. They actually privately fund us."
During the course of this lengthy explanation, the group was proceeding down a flight of stairs to interconnecting hall ways that led different rooms, offices, and training courses. They stopped just outside a set of dual-sided doors.
"But now back to why you're here. Given the fact that who you are chasing is a definite threat to not just the United States, but to the entire world, and that you have the most experience with this person, you are going to be the ones to stop him, with the help of Section 5." He opened the door and inside was a white-walled room, with an oval-shaped, metallic table in the center and eight swivel chairs. On the desk were built in computer interfaces that almost resembled laptops, and a set of two screens on the back wall. In the center of the desk was half of what looked to be a clear-glass sphere. He directed them to enter the room and take a seat. "As of now, your employment at the Department of Homeland Security is now temporarily terminated, and you will be now working for Section 5 under the code name of Cell8. Your mission is stop Rodd Casey Jones and any of his cohorts that assist in his attempts at global domination."
"And who's in charge of this, exactly?" Bill interrogated the man, who simply opened his palm and extended a bit as if he was presenting the federal agent to everyone.
"Wait, him?" Rigby questioned. "But he's out to get me!" A complaint that was obviously in vain and had no relevance what so ever. The raccoon leaned in a bit and whispered: "Plus, he owns a Prius, that's yellow!" This was responded by a hard punch by Bill.
"I OWNED one, until you blew it up!" He yelled in an angered tone and then turned to the man. "But he does have a good point, why me? I don't have any experience in commanding a team."
"This coming from someone who led a bunch of groundskeepers on an operation to prove that the CEO of a game development company is plotting to take over the world, and was successful at it too?" The man responded, rendering Bill's complaint useless. "If you can do that, I wouldn't be surprised if you make these guys follow you into the very depths of heck and back!"
This gave Bill some reassurance, though he still felt that he may not be that successful with the team. At least Skips was there to help, he knew more things that Bill couldn't even comprehend. "Well, I'll try my best, Mr…"
"Alan Sites, director of Section 5. And that's 'sir' by the way. You'll be leading this team, but you'll also be reporting to me." The man said that with usual tone of a natural born boss. "If that's all, I think you should be looking over what you found right about now." With that, Director Sites walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving the mostly untrained and unlikely heroes of Cell8 to get to work.
Rigby recovered from his powerful punch to the arm and stated a useless threat. "Okay, hit me once, shame on you! Hit me twice, shame on me! But, hit me three times…" The raccoon realized that whatever he was saying was going nowhere. "Stop hitting meeee!" With that, he sat in one of the chairs and crossed his arms.
"How do you put up with him?" Bill asked Mordecai.
"To be honest, I don't really know anymore."
A/N Yep, yep, yep.
Sorry if the little Section 5 origin story made ludicrous sense. I mean, yes I took the time to research the internet about the different real life agencies and stuff about the Cold War, but I have to admit, I'm a 15 year old crazy kid with ADHD and a usually patient and sometimes short attention span, so yeah.
Feel free to point out anything wrong AT ALL, if slightest thing is out of place, let me know, I'll fix it. Hopefully I won't have to deal with an army of man-eating hotdogs during the course of such action. *wink, wink.*
Please R&R
-Drone person
P.S. Quick shout out to futureauthor13 for reviewing and liking this crazy story, check her out, you will be glad you did.