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The Broken Silence
Chapter 22
Team Crackle in San Diego
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Dr. Bellum was feeling incredibly proud of Crackle. They had just received word from The Driver that she had safely transported the ruby and now V.I.L.E were 230 million dollars richer. The Driver told them of the A.C.M.E ambush and how Team Crackle had worked together to get her out of the building. She couldn't say for sure whether the whole team had survived the encounter, because the building had collapsed just seconds after she left the garage. Dr. Bellum found it strange that she hadn't heard from Crackle, and when she tried to reach his com, there was no answer. She checked the plane that had been waiting for them at the airport and it left on-time for San Diego an hour ago. At least some of Team Crackle made it to the plane, but why weren't they answering?
Dr. Bellum tried calling the com over and over for ten minutes and there was still no answer. Wanting to see for herself what the problem was, she hacked into the plane's cameras and brought up the feed on her tablet. She saw Team Crackle sprawled on the floor of the plane, and none appeared to be moving. They were covered in blood and grime, but all seemed to be accounted for. Her brows furrowed in concern, and she then hacked into the speaker system.
"Crackle." she said loudly.
There was so response.
"Crackle." she repeated. "Answer me."
No one moved.
"Answer me now or there will be consequences." she threatened, knowing Crackle would respond to that if he could.
Still nothing, and she frowned in concern.
"This is Dr. Bellum, Team Crackle, can you hear me? Respond to me Team Crackle."
She spotted movement on the feed and slowly Paper Star sat up. The girl's eyes were barely open and she glanced around in confusion, clearly not knowing where she was.
"Paper Star!" Dr. Bellum called out loudly.
The girl turned to stare at the speaker system, not really seeming very alert.
"Pick up the ringing communicator." Dr. Bellum ordered.
Paper Star blinked heavily and then glanced around as if looking for the source of the ringing.
"Pick it up now, Paper Star."
Paper Star shook her head, trying to clear the fog, but it felt like she'd been drugged. Dizzy and tired, she slowly crawled over the others laying on the floor, and made her way towards Crackle. Staring down at him, she rolled him over and then reached into his pocket, trying to find the source of the ringing. Pulling out his communicator, she answered it and then held it up to her ear. Dr. Bellum disconnected from the speaker system and switched to her com.
"Put Crackle on the phone." she ordered.
Paper Star turned her attention to Crackle and shook his shoulder. She waited a few seconds and then shook him even harder. When there was no response, she reached out and pinched him hard on the neck, twisting the skin as she did so. Crackle woke with a sharp yelp, and he stared up at Paper Star, surprise and betrayal written across his face. She didn't say a single word, simply holding out the com towards him. The second he accepted it, she laid back down beside him, the sedatives still making her confused and drowsy.
"...'ello?" Crackle answered in confusion.
"Hello Crackle." Dr. Bellum greeted him, her tone pleased and somewhat excited.
Crackle sat up so quickly, he nearly dropped the communicator. "Dr. Bellum!" he exclaimed in alarm. "I'm sorry I haven't contacted you yet! We had a very difficult hand-off and my team is completely exhausted. I didn't even realize I fell asleep!"
"Yes, I heard all about your fight with A.C.M.E and it is very impressive how your team handled themselves. Are any of you severely injured?"
"No, ma'am." he replied. "A few bruises and cuts, but a couple days rest will cure that."
"How did your team handle working together?" she asked. "Any weak links?"
Crackle glanced down at his sleeping team and smiled down at them. "No, they were perfect." he answered. "My team is the best."
Dr. Bellum wasn't sure she liked the way Crackle seemed to be getting attached to his teammates. This could lead to problems if he ever had to dispose of them later.
"Crackle, remember that you are the leader of this group and you need to keep your emotions in check. I taught you that a leader cannot show weakness to his subordinates or they will take advantage of you. You need to remain distant and firm with them at all times. Never show them kindness and never show them compassion! Just because I am not longer supervising you, doesn't mean you can forget what you've been taught."
The smile instantly left Crackle's face, and he straightened himself up and gave her a serious nod. "Yes, ma'am, I won't let you down. We will take down Carmen Sandiego and wipe out her whole team. You can count on us."
"Your team did well, and we are giving you one day to recover once you land in San Diego. I expect you to be making progress on the search by the end of the second day."
Crackle nodded. "Yes, of course. I will make sure my team is ready as soon as possible."
"You will have access to V.I.L.E funds to buy supplies and lodging. If you're making a purchase over $5000, it will need to be approved by one of the faculty."
Crackle once again nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"Make me proud, Crackle."
"I will." Crackle promised.
Dr. Bellum ended the call, and he slowly lowered the com away from his ear. It seemed like Dr. Bellum had been displeased with him about something, but he wasn't sure what. He had completed the mission, and they had done everything they were supposed to, but yet he had been scolded. He frowned and tried to think of what he had done wrong. Was she upset he hadn't called her right away, or was she simply in a bad mood about something unrelated? Pocketing his com, he glanced down at his sleeping team and knew he should check them for injuries.
Slowly sitting up tiredly, he got to his feet and then approached the medical kit stored near the front of the plane. Once he had it, he knelt down beside Paper Star and gave her a look over, but didn't see any signs of blood. Moving on to Dash, he found a lot of blood and so he shook the other man's shoulder. Dash let out a groan of protest, and didn't open his eyes.
"Dash Haber." Crackle whispered. "Wake up."
Dash let out another groan and so Crackle shook him even harder. Dash's eyes finally cracked open tiredly, and Crackle pulled him up into a sitting position.
"What are you doing?" Dash demanded irritably.
"You're bleeding." Crackle pointed out. "Tell me where you're injured."
Dash blinked heavily a few times and then glanced down to his stomach where his shirt was shredded.
"Okay, let me take a look." Crackle ordered.
Tired and sore, Dash struggled to undo the buttons of his shirt and vest but his fingers were bloody and he was having a hard time with them. Crackle took over for him and ripped the ruined shirt off him so he could see the wounds. Dash had several deep scratches across his stomach and there was a smattering of bruising from being struck during the fight. Nothing required stitches and so Crackle carefully cleaned and disinfected the wounds and then bandaged them, knowing Dash would be fine after some rest. Dash's hands were another story. When Crackle peeled away the blood-soaked fabric that wrapped Dash's hands, the knuckles were a mass of blood and bruises. Dash winced when Crackle looked them over and then let out a yelp of protest as they were disinfected.
"I don't want you using your hands any more than you have to for a few days." Crackle told him, bending each finger carefully to make sure nothing was broken.
He wrapped the hands in bandages, and then turned to the next teammate. Neal was laying beside Dash, using Theodore's leg as a pillow as he slept. Crackle reached out to shift him slightly so he could look him over and didn't see any signs of blood. Neal moved slightly as he was poked and prodded, and then opened his eyes.
"Kia Ora, wombat." he greeted tiredly. "We in San Diego?"
"Not yet." Crackle told him. "Are you injured anywhere?"
Neal shook his head. "A few bruises, but I don't think anything serious."
"Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when we land." Crackle ordered.
Neal didn't have to be told twice, and shifted closer to Theodore, still using him as a pillow. The twins were both sitting upright, their backs against the wall as they slept, and Crackle began looking over Theodore first. He quickly realized that both twins were covered in blood and so he reached out and shook Theodore.
Theodore gave a startled jerk and lashed out and Crackle barely avoided a fist to the face. Theodore blinked in confusion and then he frowned at Crackle.
"What?" he demanded tiredly.
"I need to you to take off your shirt so I can clean your injuries." Crackle told him.
Theodore gave a yawn. "Oh."
Theodore glanced down at Neal who was already back asleep, and then slowly and carefully removed his shirt, careful to not jostle the Kiwi. Crackle saw Theodore was covered in bruises and gashes and he realized this would need longer than a day to heal. Not saying anything, he disinfected and cleaned the wounds, and bandaged every cut, hoping they wouldn't have another fight for a least a few days. As Theodore settled himself back into a comfortable position, he watched as Crackle approached his brother.
Crackle gave a shake to Roosevelt but there was no response.
"Roosevelt." Crackle whispered, shaking him harder. "Wake up."
Roosevelt continued snoring, and didn't move.
Crackle shook him hard. "Roosevelt!" he hissed a bit louder. "Roosevelt!"
Roosevelt didn't move at all and Crackle frowned at him, starting to become concerned. It was then that Crackle saw the puddle of blood on the floor. Letting out a curse, he reached out and began pulling Roosevelt's shirt off, so he could see the damage. If he thought Theodore's wounds were bad,, they were nothing compared to Roosevelt's. Deep gashes covered his stomach, and his entire stomach and chest was a mass of ugly looking bruises.
Letting out a curse, he turned to Theodore. "I need your help. Roosevelt is injured worse than I thought. I need you to help me get him into a laying position on the floor."
Theodore gently shifted Neal off of him, and then scrambled over to help, feeling instantly wide awake. He stared at his injured brother with wide eyes, and then helped lower him to the floor.
"Help me with his pants." Crackle ordered. "It looks like his legs have been injured as well."
Theodore helped peel the blood-soaked pants off and they saw more deep lacerations across Roosevelt's hips and legs. Theodore suddenly grabbed Crackle by the arm to get his attention.
"Save him." he begged. "Please. I can't lose another brother. Please save him!"
Theodore's face was completely white, and Crackle gave him a confident nod.
"He'll live." he assured him. "But I need your help so I can stitch these wounds up. You'll need to hold him down in case he wakes up, and you need to make sure he stays still."
Theodore nodded, and watched as Crackle began cleaning and disinfecting the dozens of deep wounds. Roosevelt didn't react at all, and Crackle really regretted not checking on him sooner. He was a weak leader and had given into exhaustion, and because of this, one of his teammates was in danger. Now Crackle understood why Dr. Bellum had seemed angry, she had seen his weakness and was disgusted by it. Crackle had no right to rest before taking care of his team and his duties as leader. Angry at himself, Crackle focused all of his energy on Roosevelt as he threaded the needle.
"Okay, hold him." Crackle ordered as his hands approached the worst of the injuries.
When Crackle began stitching the wound closed, Roosevelt moaned in his sleep, but didn't wake. Crackle worked as fast and carefully as he could, and as he was starting the fourth wound, Roosevelt woke. He let out a pained roar and tried to thrash, but Theodore quickly held him down.
"Stop." Theodore said calmly, and surprisingly enough, that one word was all it took.
Roosevelt took a deep breath, and went still, staring at Theodore with wide and pained eyes.
"I need to finish the stitches." Crackle told him. "You need to stay still."
Roosevelt glanced down at what Crackle was doing and then quickly looked away again. "Bad?" he asked.
"Yes." Theodore answered. "Don't move."
Roosevelt sucked in another deep breath and then held it as Crackle pierced his skin with the needle. Roosevelt didn't move a muscle as Crackle worked, and when he finally finished with the stomach and chest, Crackle moved to the wounds on the hips and thighs. Roosevelt clenched the handle of the first aid box as Crackle worked, and as Crackle started on a particularly deep wound, he squeezed hard enough to crush the handle. Crackle finished the last stitch and Roosevelt let out a breath of relief only to bellow as Crackle poured more disinfectant across the fresh stitches.
"Sorry." Crackle apologized. "I should have warned you."
Neal jerked awake at the bellow and stared over at Roosevelt, quickly taking in the scene and seeing the blood that stained the floor. Slowly sitting up, he rubbed at his eyes, and then edged over.
"Do you need help?" he asked.
Crackle glanced over at him and shook his head. "Just finished." he replied. "Roosevelt needed stitches."
Neal's eyes roved across the dozens of stitches. "I can see that."
Crackle wrapped thick bandages all around Roosevelt's stomach, chest and legs, and then looked over at Theodore. "Make sure he doesn't try to move without help." he ordered. "He could rip his stitches."
Theodore grabbed Roosevelt a clean pair of pants from his dufflebag and helped his brother into them, just glad Roosevelt was going to be okay. Roosevelt was incredibly weak, and now that he was no longer in pain, he was starting to get drowsy again. Theodore grabbed him a blanket from the medical hatch in the plane and then covered Roosevelt with the blanket, still feeling worried.
"Rest." Theodore ordered his brother. "Get better."
Roosevelt made a grunt of agreement and closed his eyes, almost immediately falling into a deep sleep. As he began to snore, Theodore sat next to him and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as well.
"You should get some more rest too, Neal." Crackle suggested, gathering up the medical supplies. "We still have two hours of the flight left."
Neal had been woken up twice now, and so he was wide awake and not even tired anymore. He shook his head and helped Crackle pack up the kit. "Naw, I'm alright, love. I'm not as hurt as the others."
He observed Crackle's upset expression and Neal gave him a frown. "Is everything alright, wombat?"
"Yes, of course, why wouldn't it be?" Crackle demanded, defensively.
Neal cocked his head at him. "Well, you do look a little bit...upset." he stated.
Crackle let out a sigh. "I'm just a little mad at myself for not seeing Roosevelt was injured." he admitted. "I'm your leader and he could have died because I was sleeping."
Neal wasn't actually expecting an honest response and was surprised. "You just fought your way through 9 levels of hell in that parking garage, love. You're exhausted like the rest of us. I'm surprised you were able to drive us to the airport, let alone make sure we all got on board. Roosevelt never mentioned he was hurt, and you're not psychic."
Crackle gave him a glare. "I am the leader of this team, and it's my responsibility to check these things."
Just as Crackle was about to close the medical kit, Neal slid it away from him. "You made sure we were all taken care of, so now let's get you patched up as well."
"I'm fine." Crackle said a little more aggressively than necessary.
"You're bleeding." Neal pointed out.
Crackle glanced down at his aching side and saw there was indeed blood staining his clothes. He let out a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be an inconvenience. Without a word, he unzipped his bodysuit and pulled it off to his stomach. Glancing down, he saw a deep gash across his side.
"You need stitches, wombat." Neal pointed out.
Crackle let out another sigh, knowing he was right. "Fine, just do it." he said irritably, sitting down in one of the plane's seats.
Neal raised an eyebrow at him and then obediently pulled out what he needed from the medical kit. He disinfected his hands, and when he disinfected the wound, Crackle tensed up but didn't move a muscle.
Neal threaded a clean needle, and then reached towards the wound. "Ready, love?"
"Yes." Crackle answered.
To Neal's surprise, Crackle never moved or made a single sound the entire time he stitched him up. He sat there stoically, and Neal eyed him in disbelief, knowing how much it hurt to get stitches. When he was finished, Neal wiped away the blood, disinfected the wound and then bandaged it up. Without a word, Crackle righted his bodysuit, and then closed the medical kit. As he returned it to its place, Neal watched him, still trying to figure him out. Neal knew there was something definitely off about Crackle, but he wasn't quite sure what. There was a deep sadness that lurked in Crackle's eyes, and Neal had a feeling something terrible had been done to him by V.I.L.E. Crackle seemed confused by the most basic of things, and Neal suspected his mind had been altered in some way. Neal had seen operatives that had been mind wiped, and this seemed completely different. Neal couldn't quite place his finger on what was wrong with him, but he was sure he'd figure it out eventually.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Crackle demanded with a frown.
Neal gave him a shrug, and Crackle let out a sigh.
"Have you been to San Diego before, Neal?"
"Sure."
"If you're not going to sleep, you can help me choose the best location for us to make base at. We could be here for days, or it could be weeks and so we need to figure out a motel we can lay low at without attracting attention."
As Crackle pulled out a map, Neal took a seat beside him so he could take a look.
"Well, wombat, I know of a few places we should consider..."
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Julia stared at the screen with a sigh. Great, her flight had just been delayed by two hours. Just as she was debating on going into the nearby cafe for some overpriced coffee, her phone rang. Considering she'd just purchased it an hour before, she was a bit surprised. She'd called and left her report with A.C.M.E, and so she assumed it must be someone calling her back.
"Hello?"
"Agent Argent." The Chief's voice greeted her. "I am incredibly disturbed by your report. You're certain you were the only survivor?"
"Yes, ma'am. I spoke with the A.C.M.E cleanup crew and no one else survived."
"Are you injured, agent Argent?"
Julia glanced down at her scraped knees. "No, ma'am, just a few cuts and bruises but nothing serious. I'm waiting for my flight to San Diego now, and should arrive in five hours."
The Chief let out a deep and weary sigh. "No, Agent Argent, I'm pulling the plug on this mission. This failure has been a devastating blow to A.C.M.E and we cannot afford to lose any more agents. This new team that V.I.L.E created wiped out almost every field agent we had, and we need time to rebuild, and come up with a new strategy."
"But we know where they're going!" Julia protested. "We could at least gather intel on them!"
"No, Agent Argent, I'm not taking any chances right now. Return to Poitiers immediately. V.I.L.E has won this round, and there is nothing A.C.M.E can do at this time."
"Ma'am, I must protest!" Julia said. "They could lead us to Carmen Sandiego! We must investigate this!"
"No, Agent Agent." The Chief said firmly. "You will get yourself killed if you go, because I have no one to send for backup."
"But, Chief!"
"This is an order, Miss Argent, return to Poitiers."
The call then went dead, and Julia frowned down at the phone feeling frustrated. Putting her phone away, she let out a deep sigh and glanced back at the screen, seeing that the flight to France was leaving in a little over two hours. The flight was leaving almost the exact same time as the flight to San Diego. Julia reached up and adjusted her glasses, feeling like The Chief was wrong. She needed to find out answers, and she wasn't going to find them in Poitiers.
Julia didn't believe Carmen Sandiego was the villain everyone believed she was, and she didn't believe Chase Devineaux was a traitor. She felt a little pain of sadness when she thought of Chase, and felt bad over what had happened to him. He had been a good Interpol agent, but was just much too stubborn for his own good. She'd gotten to know him extremely well during their partnership, and she felt certain to her very bones that Chase would never become a criminal. Chase lived and breathed law and order, and she knew there had to be something serious to make Chase break so many laws. It was incredibly worrying, and Julia wished she could just speak to Chase for a few minutes to find out what happened. Chase Devineaux hated La Femme Rouge with a passion, and if he partnered up with her, then he must have found a bigger threat. Was the threat V.I.L.E or someone else?
Julia had tried calling Chase after the incident in Poitiers, but there was no answer to his phone. When they traced the signal, they found his cellphone abandoned in a trash can in front of a grocers. There had been no trace of him after that and it was like he had simply dropped off the planet. Julia had a sneaking suspicion he was with Carmen Sandiego, and if that was the case, he wouldn't be easy to find.
There was a ding to her phone and Julia pulled it out to take a look. A confirmed plane ticket to Poitiers had just been texted to her. Julia frowned and then glanced down at the ticket to San Diego in her hand. If she went to Poitiers, she'd probably never find out the truth, but if she went to San Diego she would likely lose her job and put herself in danger.
Julia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing the decision she made now would set the course for the rest of her life. Julia knew what the most logical choice would be, but for once in her life it didn't feel like the right choice. Julia realized she didn't care what danger she might be putting herself in, she just wanted to learn the truth. She needed to find Chase, and she needed to find Carmen Sandiego. Her mind made up, she clutched her ticket tightly in her hands, and waited for her flight.
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When they finally made it to their motel, everyone was still exhausted and just want to rest for a few years. It took three of them to help Roosevelt into the room, and once they had him settled on a bed, they began bringing in their belongings. Dash laid claim to the shower the moment they entered, and no one protested, too tired to care. Neal fell face-down on one of the bed and remained that way until Dash left the bathroom an hour and fifteen minutes later.
"Dibs!" Neal called out.
He looked up just in time to see Paper Star enter the bathroom and close the door. He let out a groan, scowled at the closed door and then went back to lightly dozing as he waited for her to come out. Surprisingly enough she only took twenty minutes, and the second the door opened, Neal was instantly awake.
"Dibs!" he called out again, grabbing his dufflebag and speeding for the bathroom.
Hoping there was hot water left, Neal began stripping off his slick suit, wincing at the pain the movement caused. Once he had it off, he stared at himself in the mirror and saw his entire body was covered in bruises. Turning around so he could look at his back, he saw a really bad bruise that covered the whole length of his spine.
"Well, this is fun." he commented. "No hot shower for me, I guess."
He didn't have any cuts at least, and so he turned on the shower setting set it to cold, knowing it would help with the bruising and swelling. Taking a deep breath as he stepped under the freezing water, Neal squeezed his eyes closed miserably, hating being cold. Neal always avoided going to cold places if he could help it, loving the heat since that's what he was used to. Shivering as he stood there, he glanced around and his eyes fell on a bottle of shampoo in a fancy glass bottle. Did Dash accidentally leave his shampoo behind? Plucking it off the edge of the tub, he removed the stopper and gave it a sniff. Yup, this was Dash's all right. It even smelled expensive, and Neal smirked as he dumped a fair amount into the palm of his hand. As he scrubbed at his oily hair, he had to admit Dash had good tastes in scents. He purposely left the stopper out of the shampoo, knowing Dash would have a fit if he realized someone touched his stuff. Ten minutes later, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, shivering uncontrollably. Grabbing some sleep clothes, he hurriedly got dressed, and then left the bathroom, wanting to wrap himself in a blanket.
As Crackle passed him by to head for the bathroom, Crackle suddenly caught him by the wrist. Startled, Neal stopped and glanced back at him and saw Crackle was staring at the bruises on his arm.
"No cuts, love." he assured him. "Just a few bruises."
Crackle pulled up Neal's sleeve, revealing the bruises only got worse the higher they went. Crackle frowned and lifted Neal's shirt and stared at the massive bruises covering his stomach. Crackle then turned a stern look at him. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" he demanded.
Neal yanked his arm away. "Just a few bruises." he repeated. "Nothing I'm not used to."
"I'll get you some ice." Crackle told him. "Where are the worst of the bruises?"
"My back." Neal admitted.
Crackle nodded and then headed for the door.
"You don't have to go right now." Neal informed him in amusement. "Take your shower, love."
"The shower can wait." Crackle said, disappearing out the door. "No one leave."
Once the door closed, Neal shook his head in amusement. Glancing over at the others, he saw everyone was fast asleep, despite it only being a little after eight. Neal hadn't fought as hard as the others, but he was exhausted as well and decided that everyone had the right idea. Crawling into the only empty bed, he laid on his stomach to give a bit of relief to the bruises, and chose the best pillow, leaving Crackle the slightly lumpy one. Setting his contacts case on the stand beside him, he found a comfortable spot and closed his eyes. Within minutes he found himself drifting off into a light sleep and when he felt something cold suddenly touch his back, he gave a surprised flinch. Opening his eyes, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Crackle had laid several medical grade ice-packs on his back. He turned his head just in time to see Crackle enter the bathroom without speaking a single word to him.
Although freezing cold, the ice-packs were numbing the pain in his back and Neal once again felt himself drifting off to sleep. He didn't even stir when Crackle crawled into bed twenty minutes later.
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Crackle was frowning down at his notepad thoughtfully, ignoring the chaos around him. Dash was furious over something that Crackle didn't care about and was yelling and pitching a fit. Tapping his pen against the paper, Crackle began writing out a list.
"Just tell me where they are!" Neal angrily ordered.
"I'll tell you where they are when you admit it was you who stole some of my $14,000 shampoo!"
"You're being ridiculous, where are they?!"
"Admit it was you!" Dash bellowed. "I can smell it on you!"
Neal let out a aggravated sigh. "FINE! Yes, I stole some of your overpriced shampoo! Happy now?"
Dash narrowed his eyes. "You owe me a new bottle now that your grease has ruined it."
"Where are my contacts?" Neal demanded impatiently. "You said you would tell me if I admitted it!"
"And I'll tell you exactly where I put them." Dash ground out, looking furious enough to lash out.
"Where?" Neal demanded, equally as angry.
"I flushed them." Dash replied, smirking at him.
Neal stared at him, gaping silently for a moment, before his voice found him again. "What?! You didn't!"
Crackle let out a sigh and added contacts for Neal to his list of supplies.
"Dash, I literally can't see five feet in front of me without those!"
Dash gave him a shrug. "That sounds like a you problem."
Neal angrily reached down to the bedside table, grabbed a phone book and threw it at Dash as hard as he could, missing by several feet.
Dash scoffed, and Neal felt his face redden. Just as he was striding forward, Crackle reached out and caught him by the wrist.
"Enough." Crackle ordered. "There will be no fighting today, am I clear?"
"But my contacts!" Neal protested furiously.
"Wear your glasses for now. We'll buy you more contacts this afternoon."
Neal shot a glare at Dash, and then stomped his way over to his dufflebag. Digging to the very bottom of the bag, he pulled out a glasses case and opened it, still looking furious. Pulling out a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses, he put them on, and then gave the whole room a glare, daring them to say anything. Dash snickered and Neal's reaction was immediate, and he whipped the glasses' case straight at Dash's face, this time his aim perfect.
"Ow, dammit!" Dash cried, clutching one of his eyes.
"Enough!" Crackle ordered again. "The next one of you to throw, yell or do anything to annoy me is going to be shocked."
Neal crossed his arms grouchily and Dash glared at him, clearly wanting to retaliate.
"Do any of you need any supplies before we confront Carmen Sandiego?" Crackle demanded, looking at his list with a frown.
Dash was instantly at his side. "Yes!"
He snatched the pen out of Crackle's hand and then proceeded to make an enormous list of items. Crackle glanced through the list and furrowed his brow. "A sawblade? What is all this?" he demanded.
"What I need to rebuild my hat." Dash responded. "None of these items can be substituted for anything else, and everything is necessary."
"Really? Nail polish remover is necessary?" Neal demanded, peering down at the list.
Dash flushed. "Shut up, Neal!"
Crackle let out a sigh. "I don't know what half of these things are." he admitted. "Do you feel up to buying them yourself?"
Dash nodded, feeling perfectly fine. His hands were sore, but nothing he couldn't handle.
"I'll do it." Neal offered, snatching the list out of Crackle's hands. "I need to go to the store anyway."
"You'd have no idea what to get!" Dash accused. "I am not trusting you with something this important!"
Neal rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I could figure it out, fancy."
Dash shook his head. "No way. What do you need to get anyway?"
Neal raised brow. "You reeeeeeally want to know?" he asked.
"No." the whole room collectively answered.
Neal folded the paper over and stuffed it down into his jean's pocket. "I won't be long." he promised heading for the door.
"Dash, go with him."
Neal froze at the door. "Er...no thanks, wombat. I'd rather go myself."
"No, I'm tired of you both and I need a break." Crackle responded. "Dash can pick out his own supplies and you can get everything else on the list. You will both take this time to calm down and learn to get along. This bickering is getting very old, and I'm getting tired of it. Go on this errand and prove to me you can both be trusted to work together."
"But-" Neal started to protest.
Crackle cut him off. "This is an order and if you continue to argue, we're going to be having a different sort of conversation."
Crackle's gaze shifted over to the crackle rod sitting nearby and both Neal and Dash winced.
"No fighting for the rest of today, or else." Crackle warned. "This is the only warning I'm giving you, and so I suggest you either learn to get along or learn to ignore each other."
Neal looked decidedly unhappy, and glanced over at Dash. "Fine. Come on, princess."
Dash huffed, but didn't say anything.
"Call if you're going to be gone longer than two hours." Crackle ordered.
"Okay." Neal told him, opening the door. "Where are the car keys?"
Crackle tossed them over and Dash was quick to catch them. He flashed Neal a smug look, and then pushed past him without a single word. Rolling his eyes, Neal followed after him, having a feeling this shopping trip was going to be hell.
They didn't speak the whole drive to the department store, and they maintained their silence until they were in the store.
"We'll need a cart." Dash informed him. "And I'm not touching that dirty thing."
Neal yanked a cart away from the stack, and then followed him into the store.
"We'll need to head to the hardware department first." Dash informed him. "I know what I need, but I have no idea what Crackle needs."
Neal pulled the list out of his pocket and glanced down at it. "Medical supplies, AA batteries and..oh, he added contacts for me on the list."
"What do you need?" Dash asked.
Neal hesitated a moment too long. "Doritos, beer and Twizzlers." he answered.
Dash rolled his eyes. "Just the essentials then."
Neal flashed him a smirk. "Why don't we split up so we finish faster?"
Dash narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. What was Neal up to? Why did he want them to split up? "No, we need to stay together."
"Why?" Neal demanded incredulously.
"...because I refuse to touch that disgusting shopping cart." Dash replied. "Children probably wiped their snot all over that handle, and I don't know if any of those previous customers ever wash their hands."
Neal let out a deep sigh. "Whatever you say, princess primpleprude."
Neal followed Dash to the very back of the store, and then watched in utter boredom as Dash compared different tools. After standing there for ten minutes as Dash carefully inspected a soldering iron, he let out a groan.
"Don't rush me." Dash snapped. "I'm not used to using such low-end garbage and I need to be certain it will work."
"Does it really matter?"
Dash pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, it 'matters' you idiot. I'm building a hat with weapons inside it. Do you have any idea how difficult that is to do with high-end technology, let alone having to try to build it with Walmart crap? I really don't want a saw-blade to suddenly malfunction while it's on my head! I have to carefully select everything from the fabric of the hat to the quality of the metal! Every single part of this process is so delicate that the slightest imperfection could be catastrophic! I will take as long as I damn well please, and I don't want to hear about it you slimy-"
Dash turned around and saw Neal was gone, the cart left behind.
Letting out an angry curse, Dash removed his hand sanitizer out of his jacket pocket and dumped it across the handle of the shopping cart. After making sure it was clean enough to touch, he began pushing the cart, feeling furious. He stalked through the aisles, wondering where the greasy idiot had disappeared to. He couldn't find him anywhere and after ten minutes, he was fed up.
Just as he was considering leaving Neal behind and going back to the motel, he spotted him standing near the magazines. Stomping up behind him furiously, he was about to tell him exactly what he thought of him, when he realized Neal was looking through greeting cards. Dash frowned, wondering why a V.I.L.E operative would need a greeting card. His gaze settled on the cards Neal was going through and saw they were birthday cards. Dash was even more confused. Did Neal have a partner he hadn't mentioned? That was the only person Dash could think of that you'd give a card to, but he was confused by it. Why was Neal being so secretive about it?
Neal hadn't noticed him yet and so Dash stood there watching as Neal looked through the cards carefully as if looking for something very specific. After several minutes, Neal smiled brightly and it was obvious he'd found the perfect one. Dash squinted at the card to see what it was, and then his eyebrows rose in surprise when he saw the card had a smiling zebra on the front with the message 'Woohoo, you're two!'. Neal smiled fondly down at the card, and then grabbed an envelope.
Dash stepped back behind a display of magazines so he wouldn't be seen, just wanting to watch what Neal was going to do. Did Neal have a secret family that V.I.L.E didn't know about? Starting a family was the biggest no-no for any operative, and V.I.L.E responded extremely harshly to operatives who disobeyed. Not only were the operatives mind's wiped, but so were the family's. Dash smirked, realizing the power this information held. He had the ability to destroy Neal's entire life if he tattled, and he could definitely use this to his advantage. He tip-toed behind Neal at a distance and watched as Neal stole a pen off a shelf and then made his way into a secluded corner.
Neal stood there for quite a while as he wrote, and Dash could see he had filled in the entire inside of the card with a really long message. That card was all the evidence Dash would need to prove to V.I.L.E what Neal had done. As Neal stuffed the card into the envelope, Dash quietly snuck over. He went to make a grab for it, but Neal's training made him see the movement coming at him and lash out without even fully turning around. Neal's fist caught Dash on the cheek, sending the smaller man crashing into a display of party streamers.
Neal stared at him in surprise. "Oh, sorry, love." he apologized as Dash pulled himself out of the display. "You startled me. Why were you grabbing at me?"
Dash scowled at him as he rubbed at his sore face, hating Neal with every fiber of his being. "I know what you did!" he accused.
Neal simply stared at him. "Um...you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, Haberdashery, I've done a lot of things."
Dash flushed. "I saw the card!"
Neal raised a brow and lifted the card up. "What, this?"
"Yes, that!" Dash snapped.
"Oh, this is nothing." Neal responded with a shrug.
"You've started a family against V.I.L.E rules!" Dash accused, feeling very smug.
"I'm pretty sure I haven't." Neal responded with a snort.
Dash crossed his arms. "Then show me the card!"
"Sure thing." Neal said, tossing it at him.
Dash caught the card and as he began pulling it out of the envelope, Neal walked past him. "I'll be in the candy aisle."
Dash ignored him, too intent on seeing what the card said. He opened the card and his eyes fell on the first words written on it.
'50 reasons why Dash is an irritating, nosy little shit'
He glanced down and saw there were indeed 50 reasons listed and he scowled, feeling embarrassed. The whole thing had been an elaborate ploy to make him look like an idiot! He slammed the card to the floor and stomped on the smiling panda on the front. Dash was about to stomp again when he paused. Wait a second...panda?! The card Neal picked out had a zebra on the front! His eyes widened in realization. Bait and switch! Neal still had the real card! Letting out a curse, Dash abandoned their cart and ran for the postal office at the back of the store. Sure enough, Neal was there and was heading for the postbox, card in hand. Picking up a can of soup, he drove it at Neal as hard as he could, successfully hitting the card out of Neal's hand. Dash had excellent aim, and smirked at the shocked look on Neal's face. He then dove for the card before Neal had a chance to recover from his surprise.
He scrambled away from Neal as the other man let out an indignant cry, and the next thing he knew, Neal had tackled him to the floor.
"Give it back!" Neal ordered, reaching for the card.
"No!" Dash snarled. "You broke the rules, and you're going down for it!"
"It's not what you think!" Neal insisted, slamming an elbow into Dash's stomach.
Dash let out a cry of pain and lashed out with a knee, getting Neal in the stomach in return. As the other man laid there stunned for a second, Dash took that opportunity to begin ripping open the envelope.
"No!" Neal protested, lunging for the card.
He caught the edge of it, and they were suddenly playing tug-of-war, both swinging out at the other with a fist in an attempt to win.
"You're going to rip it!" Neal protested. "If you rip it, I'm going to shove it down your throat, Dash Haber!"
"I'd like to see you try!" Dash responded, suddenly throwing himself at Neal, knocking him backwards into a display of soup.
The whole display came down in a deafening crash, and Neal barely managed to avoid being buried under a thousand cans of soup as he rolled out of the way. Dash took off running with the card, and Neal was to his feet in an instant and took chase. Although Dash had a head start, Neal was a lot faster and he tackled Dash into a shelf just as Dash began to take the card out of the envelope. The force they hit the shelf caused it to topple over sideways and before they knew it, there was a domino effect of shelves falling down all around them. Ignoring the screams and stares they were receiving, they kicked and pummeled at each other, both trying to get the upper hand.
Dash grabbed a nearby bottle of ginger ale and slammed it into Neal's face, knocking his glasses from his face. The bottle of soda burst on contact, soaking them both, making the floor slick. Neal's gaze went to the card, but luckily it was unharmed and Dash managed to get up, kicking at Neal as he lunged for him. Neal got kicked in the chin and once again Dash was off, pulling the card out of the envelope as he went. Neal grabbed his glasses and took chase, scooping up the empty envelope as he ran, and then dove at Dash, once again knocking him into a display. A tower of salsa crashed to the floor, and bottles shattered all around them. A glob of salsa landed on the card, and Neal angrily punched Dash, reaching for the card. Dash wasn't giving up that easily and he flung a handful of the broken glass at Neal's face, and Neal barely dodged it, a piece of glass cutting him on the cheek. Dash took that opportunity to open the card and Neal jumped on him, reaching for the card as Dash began to read, kicking and punching at Neal as he did so.
"Kia Ora, Adam! Sorry it's been a while since I've called, but it's been really busy at the sanctuary and the phone service is unreliable. Happy big 50, you old fart! I think at this point you're considered an old man, and I'd like you to know that I've already called a few retirement homes, but they didn't want you. Something about you being really lame, and them being concerned for the safety of the other old people . I tried to defend you, but they didn't want their residents dying just to escape your boring conversation topics. Sorry, but maybe next year. I'm in the U.S.A on a business trip right now, and so I'll be able to call you a bit more frequently for a short while. You'll probably get a call from me before this card arrives, and-"
Dash suddenly went still and he simply stared at the card. "What is this?" he demanded.
Neal punched him in the stomach and snatched the card out of his hand. He wiped the salsa off the front and then glared at Dash furiously.
"What is that card?" Dash demanded, clutching his stomach from the hard punch.
"It's none of your business." Neal snapped.
Dash lashed out with a foot, and kicked him hard in the ribs. "Tell me, or I'm tattling."
Neal glowered down at him, and Dash glared right back, meaning what he said completely.
Neal then let out a groan and sagged against him in defeat, and then rolled to his feet. "Fine." he said grumpily. Neal then noticed that there was a large crowd of people watching and three security guards were making their way towards them. "But we should leave first."
Dash glanced around and then cursed, completely forgetting they were in a public place.
Reaching down, Neal grabbed Dash by the hand and pulled him to his feet, and they took off running without another word. Security took chase and so Neal shoved over a display of chips into their path, giving them a bit of a lead. They made it to the entrance, and they both slammed their shoulders into a security guard that tried to block their way, easily bowling him over. Once they were outside, they bolted down the sidewalk and didn't stop running until they reached their car. Jumping in, Dash started the engine and sped off with a screech of tires. He parked the car several blocks away so they could catch their breath, and Dash turned a glare at him.
"Alright, now spill it, grease-stain. What's with the card?"
Neal let out a deep groan, and then glanced down at the card in his hand. "It's a birthday card for my brother." he answered.
Dash was confused. "Why would you want to send your brother a birthday card?"
"Because...he's my brother?" Neal responded.
"Is he with V.I.L.E?"
"No, my brother is perhaps the most law-abiding citizen New Zealand has ever seen." Neal responded, rolling his eyes. "I don't think he's ever even gotten a parking ticket before. He would never work for V.I.L.E."
Dash crossed his arms. "Then why would you send him a card? I don't understand."
"It's my brother's birthday and I wanted to let him know I hadn't forgotten about him..." Neal said, with a frown.
"You mean you don't hate your family?" Dash asked in disbelief.
"Well, my brother's the only family I have, and so no I don't hate him."
Dash squinted at him skeptically. "Everyone in V.I.L.E had terrible childhoods, and everyone hates their family. V.I.L.E recruits operatives from bad homes on purpose. Are you lying to me?"
"Nope." Neal answered with a shrug. "I actually had a really good childhood."
Dash narrowed his eyes, and didn't believe it. "You mean you actually enjoy being around a family member?" he demanded.
"This whole conversation is starting to make me feel a little sad for you, Dash."
"Oh, shut up." Dash snapped. "What happened to the rest of your family? Why is it only a brother left?"
Neal gave him a shrug. "I was raised by my brother and never met my parents. They died in a plane crash along with the rest of my siblings when I was only a few weeks old."
Dash was still skeptical. "Why would your parents leave behind a newborn baby and go on a flight?"
"You really want to hear my whole life story, Dashie? Well, fine then."
Dash glared at him, but said nothing, simply waiting for his answer.
"My parents had to fly to Australia for my grandfather's funeral. I was sick with a cold and my oldest brother, Adam, offered to stay home with me so my parents wouldn't miss the funeral. They were only supposed to be gone for a day, but their plane's engines failed and they crashed into the ocean. My brother was only eighteen, but gained custody and raised me. He's the only family I've ever known."
Dash couldn't wrap his mind around the fact a V.I.L.E operative had a good childhood. "But your brother hit you?" he questioned.
Neal actually laughed. "Are you kidding me? Adam never laid a hand on me my whole life. He was so over-protective that I wasn't even allowed to play sports!"
Dash leaned back in his seat and frowned. "Why was he over-protective?" he asked. "Was it because the rest of your family died?"
"Well, perhaps that accounted for a bit of it, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly normal." Neal bent one of his arms into an abnormal position, and Dash curled his lip up in disgust. "I have type 3 Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome."
"And I'm supposed to know what that is?" Dash snapped rudely.
Neal rolled his eyes. "Basically it means I have hyper-flexible joints that easily dislocate, I have skin that's very elastic, I bruise easily, I'm built very long and lanky, the scleras of my eyes are grey instead of white, I have bad teeth, a long and thin face, pointed nose, bad eyesight and a whole bunch of other stuff that you don't care about."
Dash looked Neal up and down, never considering that Neal's unusual body was due to a medical condition. "And is this condition life-threatening?"
"Well, for some it can be, but I lucked out and didn't get any of the really nasty problems. Type 3 is pretty mild in comparison to those with heart or lung defects."
"Does your brother know you're with V.I.L.E?" Dash demanded.
Neal scoffed. "Of course not, he would have had an aneurysm. He thinks I work with Mountain Zebras at a sanctuary in South Africa. He believes I've been working my way up through the company over the last 14 years, which is why I travel so much."
Dash squinted at him. "Zebras?" he repeated.
Neal gave him a shrug. "I love zebras. It was a believable lie at the time." Neal glanced down at the zebra on the front of the birthday card. "Every birthday I send him a zebra card."
Dash scowled at Neal and let out a huff of annoyance. Although Neal was technically still breaking the rules by remaining in contact with family, Dash knew V.I.L.E was unlikely to do more than lecture him about it. Neal had 14 years of service to V.I.L.E and Dash knew that awarded him with certain privileges when it came to the rules. Dash had nothing to use against him.
"Does V.I.L.E know about this Yearler-Danny Syndrome?"
"Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome." Neal corrected. "And of course they do, I still had to go through a complete medical when I joined the academy."
Dash sighed, and then glanced up the street. "I suppose we should probably find another department store."
"You gonna tattle?" Neal demanded.
Dash glared at him for a moment and then looked away. "No, I suppose not. You'll owe me a favour though."
Neal rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, love, although I did save your life yesterday."
Dash flushed. "I knew you weren't just going to let that go!" he snapped. "I would have been fine! I was just about to dodge the collapse when you stupidly jumped into me!"
"Of course." Neal agreed with a grin.
Dash glared at him, and then reached into his pocket. "You're an idiot." he commented, shoving something into his hands. "Here."
Neal glanced down and saw it was his contacts case. "My contacts! You didn't really flush them!"
"I will next time if you touch my stuff again." Dash vowed. "Now let's get to another store before you cause any more problems."
Neal nodded as Dash started the car and was silent as they drove along. He glanced down at the dirty and bent card in his hands, and opened it. There was a salsa handprint inside, but the words were still legible. He knew he should probably just get another card, but it was also kind of funny in his opinion, and he decided to just leave it the way it was. He could just imagine his brother's exasperation when he opened the envelope and caught sight of the card. That dirty and bent card couldn't have been any more Neal, and he knew his brother would still display it with the others. Once they finished with their errands, he'd find a new envelope and mail it off.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
When Neal and Dash arrived back at the motel, they dropped their bags on the floor, and both glared at one another. They had continued to bicker during the entire shopping trip and both were sick of each other. Crackle looked them up and down and could immediately tell they'd been fighting again. Both were filthy and covered in some sort of red sauce, and he frowned at them.
"I told you two not to fight!" he said angrily. "I specifically warned you!"
"We didn't fight." Neal lied with a shrug. "A shelf of salsa collapsed at the store and splattered us."
Crackle narrowed his eyes, his hand reaching for the crackle rod.
"It's true." Dash quickly agreed. "We actually got along fine for once. No arguing or anything!"
Both had their eyes fixed on the weapon and Crackle made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, knowing they were lying but unable to prove it. He held a glare on them for an uncomfortably long time and then put away the crackle rod.
"Go get cleaned up, and you had better not so much as look at each other for the rest of today." he warned.
Knowing how narrowly they had come to being tased, they both gave him a nod, and headed for their dufflebags to find a change of clothes.
"Crackle, can you put on the football game?" Roosevelt asked. "It should be starting soon."
Crackle gave them one final glare and then reached for the television remote.
"Aw, rugby's better." Neal complained. "Football is for wusses."
Roosevelt looked ready to fight, but was too injured to move, and so he settled for a dark glower in Neal's direction.
Crackle turned on the tv and immediately the room filled with the sounds of a siren. Everyone glanced to the screen as a reporter stood in the middle of department store.
"I'm on scene where two men destroyed a local department store and then fled the scene. Video surveillance caught the entire act on tape, and if anyone recognizes these two men, you are to contact your local law enforcement immediately."
A video began playing and it clearly showed Neal and Dash violently fighting each other in the middle of the department store, all the while knocking down shelves and collapsing displays. Everyone watched the video in stunned silence as they knocked down the entire left side of the store by causing a domino effect with the shelving, never once pausing in their attempts to kill each other. It then showed them fleeing the scene and tackling a security guard on the way out, still knocking displays down as they went. Paper Star outright laughed at the carnage, and Theodore and Roosevelt simply exchanged a look with one another. Crackle slowly turned the television off and then turned to face Neal and Dash who had frozen in place.
"Aw...shit." Neal muttered.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
TBC