The Broken Silence

by MangoKat

A massive misunderstanding causes several operatives to defect from V.I.L.E. Carmen must now protect them before they're hunted down and killed. As Team Red fight against V.I.L.E, they begin uncovering a disturbing web of mysteries involving kidnap and murder. Everything always seems to point back to a certain mime. Who is Mime Bomb, and why does everyone seem to want him dead?

30. Spinning

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The Broken Silence

Chapter 30

Spinning

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Siren awoke with a start when his alarm went off, and he stared at the clock uncomprehendingly for a moment, before he reached out and hit the snooze button. He did that five more times until finally he found the motivation to actually move. Rolling out of bed, he rubbed at his eyes tiredly and then realized he had fallen asleep still fully dressed. He had one sneaker off and apparently that's as far as he got when undressing before he'd passed out on top of his bed.

Now that he wasn't so exhausted, he felt absolutely disgusting and headed for his bathroom to take a shower. Peeling off his dirty clothes, he stepped into the shower and then turned it on, flinching at the hot water as he adjusted the temperature. He then just stood there for a few minutes enjoying the heat before he finally reached for the soap. Singing a jaunty folk song, he washed thoroughly and then reached for the shampoo. His hair was oily and matted, and he grimaced as he washed it, knowing he'd have to deal with it at some point.

Just as he finished rinsing his hair, the water suddenly went icy cold and he yelped and quickly jumped out of the shower. He scowled and turned the shower off, knowing he had reached his daily hot water allowance. V.I.L.E was a multi-billion dollar organization, but yet they were incredibly cheap when it came to their operatives. Twenty minutes of hot water was all he was allowed, and even that was a lot more than most operatives. He knew most employees at the lab got five minutes of hot water, but the scientists and doctors were allowed twenty.

Drying himself off, he stared at the mirror at his horrible hair and then hesitantly picked up a brush. He winced as he attempted to run it through his matted hair, but the brush became stuck and he couldn't get it out.

"Ow, ow, ow..." he complained as he tried to pry it out

Cursing under his breath, he managed to get the brush loose, and then frowned at his shoulder length hair. He really needed to get his hair cut one of these days. Short hair was much easier to manage but most of the time he was too busy to bother with personal grooming. Doing his best to at least make his hair a little more presentable, he worked at it for a few minutes, but it was pretty much hopeless. Giving up, he shaved the stubble from his face, brushed his teeth and then got dressed.

Northern Siberia was always cold and Siren didn't have much body fat to help protect him from the bitter air. He always wore several layers under his lab coat, but even then he was never completely comfortable. He and Vess had constantly fought over the thermostat in the lab, Vess always too hot and Siren always too cold. After dozens of arguments, they had finally decided on a temperature in the middle. Neither were comfortable, but at least it was bearable.

Knowing he was already late, Siren decided to forgo breakfast and instead wandered through the halls in the direction of the lab. Humming loudly to himself as he walked, he passed by the medical bay and then paused when something red caught his attention. Staring down at the floor, he saw a small toy car simply sitting there by itself.

Frowning in confusion, he stepped into the room and knelt down to pick it up. Turning the car over in his hands, he glanced around the empty room, wondering where it had come from. Using his thumb to spin one of the wheels, he stared at it for a moment and then peeked behind the curtains to make sure there were no patients there. The room was indeed empty, which then raised a few questions in his mind. Why was there a toy car in a V.I.L.E run facility? Did a patient drop it? Was there a child somewhere in the building?

He spun one of the wheels as he thought, and then gave a shrug, figuring he'd return the car later to whoever had dropped it. Continuing his humming, he left the medical bay and headed for the lab, not looking forward to another long and boring day of translations.

The guards at the door to the lab stepped aside as he entered, and Dr. Vess looked up at him briefly. Siren immediately noticed the doctor wasn't doing paperwork and seemed to be testing some sort of ointment. Knowing whatever Vess was doing was far more interesting than translations, he headed over to Vess' desk to be nosy.

Vess gave him another glance as Siren looked down at what he was doing, and the doctor's gaze immediately settled on the car in Siren's hand.

"Getting in touch with your inner child?" he questioned dryly.

Siren turned the car over in his hand. "Oh, I found this on the floor. Does it belong to a patient?"

Vess clearly wasn't interested and gave him a shrug. "It probably belongs to the patient in Room B1-12. I gave her the year four boosters yesterday."

Siren had forgotten about the little girl in room B1-12, and frowned down at the car. "I'll return it to her after work," he stated, placing the car into his lab coat pocket. "What are you working on? Is this the burn ointment?"

"No," Vess answered distractedly, "This is a new cream I'm coming up with for severe psoriasis. It shows promise, but it's still not quite right."

"Can I see the chemical compounds?" Siren asked eagerly.

Vess spared him a glance and then looked him up and down, noting that he had cleaned himself up. "Did you eat today?" he demanded, "You look pale."

"Yes."

Dr. Vess narrowed his eyes. "Are you lying to me?"

"No," Siren answered, pulling a chair over so he could join him. "Who is the cream for?"

"No one yet," Vess replied with a sigh, "I'm just experimenting for right now."

"Doesn't B1-3 have psoriasis?"

Vess nodded. "He does," he acknowledged, "But he can't use anything with steroids because of his heart condition. If I ever get this composition right, I'm thinking of marketing it."

Siren reached over the desk and pulled the stack of papers towards himself so he could take a look. Vess glared at him but didn't comment, used to Siren's nosiness after ten years of working together. He simply sighed and went back to what he was doing. Siren flipped through the pages and quickly committed them to memory so he could put a bit of thought into them later.

He watched closely as Vess measured out various chemicals, and after a few minutes, the doctor glanced at him again.

"Siren, you have your own work to do," he pointed out, "I don't need you breathing on my experiment. I can manage this on my own."

"Vess, you're such an ass," Siren commented, purposely poking at various things on the desk to bug the other man.

"And you're a flake," Vess responded, slapping his hand away without looking up. "Go do something productive and stop distracting me."

Rolling his eyes with a sigh, Siren got up from his chair and headed to his own desk where a mountain of paperwork waited for him. Plunking himself down into his chair, he stared at the paperwork and then let out a groan of complaint. The stack was even taller than it was yesterday.

Sighing, he grabbed a handful of papers and then reached for a pen. Knowing there was no point in complaining about it, he simply began to hum to himself as he began his first translation. Now that he wasn't so tired, he was able to go through a fairly large stack of translations over the next couple hours, but he was still bored out of his mind. His humming evolved into quiet singing as he worked and he heard a sigh of exasperation come from Vess.

"Right, I'm going to lunch," Vess commented, getting up from his desk. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to you singing country songs. Get it out of your system and I'll be back in an hour."

"You're just jealous," Siren responded in amusement.

"Oh, that's definitely it," Vess stated, rolling his eyes. "Don't touch my desk while I'm gone. I will know, and I will slap you."

Siren let out a snort. "I'm not going to touch your precious experiment. I'm busy with my own work."

Vess narrowed his eyes, but headed for the door all the same. "V.I.L.E expects at least a hundred pages from you today," he informed him, "I suggest you don't slack off."

"Go away, Vess."

The doctor gave another roll of his eyes, and then left the room without another word. No one else would have ever dared speak to Dr. Vess in that way, but Siren had worked with him long enough to know how far he could push him. They both had foul tempers and they both were impatient and rude, but they had an understanding. They were coworkers, and so they had learned to tolerate one another. What Vess didn't know was that Siren had already completed over 100 translations and so he was done work for the day.

As soon as the door closed, Siren was instantly to his feet and heading for Vess' workspace.

"He told you not to touch anything," one of the guards told him, "I'll be forced to report this as soon as the doctor returns."

"I'm not touching anything, Kevin, I'm just looking," Siren snapped, glaring at him.

"My name's not Kevin," the guard responded, "It's Terry."

"Do I look like I care, Kevin?" Siren responded rudely, "Go back to standing there doing nothing."

The guard scowled at him, seriously detesting Siren in every possible way. "I'm telling Vess," he repeated.

"Go right ahead, you snitch!" Siren snapped, quickly becoming agitated.

"Terry, stop it," the other guard whispered, "He hasn't touched anything."

Siren glanced at her, realizing this was a new guard. "Where's Other-Kevin?" he demanded, "I don't know you."

"Sergei...quit," she supplied, "I'm your new guard."

Siren gave a nod and quickly lost interest. "Listen to Girl-Kevin, Kevin, she seems to have a few braincells left rattling around in there."

"Girl-Kevin?" she whispered, glancing to her partner.

Terry rolled his eyes. "He's an asshole who can't be arsed to remember our names and so all guards are Kevin, all receptionists are Linda, all cleaning staff are Peggy, all the cooks are Olga, and everyone else is John. I've been trying to get him to say my name for like six months now."

"And I can hear you, Kevin," Siren responded, his gaze on the paperwork on Vess' desk. "I'm not deaf."

The female guard frowned for a moment, and then strode across the room. She then held out her hand towards Siren who glanced up at her like she was grime on the bottom of his shoe.

" Здравствуйте ," she said in a respectful tone, "My name is Natasha."

" Уходи ," Siren responded irritably, glancing back to the desk.

"Don't be like that," Natasha said, keeping her tone friendly, "We'll be working together, and I thought I should introduce myself."

"Go away," Siren repeated, this time in English.

Siren was reading the papers closely, and he immediately spotted an error Vess had missed. Unable to resist the urge to correct it, he grabbed a pen and fixed the formula, tuning out the guard as she continued trying to engage him in conversation. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and the unexpected contact startled him and he jerked back, nearly stumbling over his own feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Natasha apologized, "I didn't mean to scare you!"

Siren flushed, and was instantly defensive. "You didn't scare me!" he snarled, "I just wasn't expecting to be touched!"

"Sooo, you were scared," Terry commented in amusement.

"Shut your mouth, Kevin!"

"I'm sorry," Natasha said again, "I was just trying to talk to you."

Siren glared at her and then mock dusted himself off. He really detested the guards in this lab, and wished he didn't have to interact with them.

"Leave me alone, Girl-Kevin." Siren snapped, walking away from Vess' desk to cross the room. "Have you seen, Ted?"

She cocked her head. "Ted?"

Siren heaved a sigh. "Ted Roo, he's my assistant," he said irritably, "They really don't prepare you damn guards very well, do they? He's kind of hard to miss, brown hair, built like a tank and like seven feet tall?"

Natasha then gave a nod. "Ohhhh, yes, Ted, of course! No, sorry, I haven't seen him."

"Dr. Vess sent him to the lower basement early this morning," Terry responded, earning him a surprised look from Natasha.

Siren let out an irritated sigh. "What? Why?"

Terry gave him a shrug. "No idea, but I think it was important."

"Am I getting another assistant to use for the day?" Siren demanded.

"Not to my knowledge," Terry answered with a shrug.

Siren heaved another sigh. Considering how much he had complained about Ted the day before, he wasn't surprised Vess was keeping him out of his sight for a while. "I need someone to help me with research today…"

"You could always go down there and get him," Terry said in a teasing tone of voice.

Siren hesitated. He thought of the lower basement where it was extremely dark, damp and absolutely terrifying, and he shuddered. He hated going to the lower basement.

Terry then leaned in to whisper in Natasha's ear. "He's scared of the dark."

Siren flushed scarlet and he was instantly in a rage. Without even saying a single word he began flinging things at Terry as hard as he could, who simply stood there, allowing the objects to bounce harmlessly off his helmet. Siren then snarled several obscenities at the other man, and then stomped back to his desk, embarrassed and angry. He really hated guards.

"Told you," Terry said with a smirk.

Siren visibly bristled. "Don't be stupid!" he snarled, "I have no problem with the lower basement!"

Terry's smirk grew. "Then go." he dared.

"Terry, stop it." Natasha hissed at him. "You're being mean, and you're going to get yourself fired."

"You're not going to make friends with him," Terry informed her, "Siren has no friends for good reason."

Siren glared at him and wished he was a bit bigger so he could challenge the other man to a fight. He wasn't an idiot and knew he'd never win against someone a foot taller than him.

"Maybe I will go get him!" he snapped.

"You don't have to, Siren," Natasha told him kindly, "Don't pay Terry any mind."

"Shut up, Girl-Kevin." Siren ordered, opening his desk drawer.

He grabbed his Ipod out of the drawer and then put his headphones on. Glaring at the two guards angrily, he stormed from the room without a word. He could hear Terry's laughter follow him down the hall, and so he turned his music on to drown it out. Turning the volume up high enough to block out all noise, he headed for the nearby elevator.

Placing his hand to the terminal at the elevator, it opened for him and he typed in a code so no one else could summon the elevator while he was using it. Stepping onto the elevator, he pressed the very bottom button for the lower basement.

"Authorization Needed: Please place your hand on the terminal"

Siren saw the words on the screen and then placed his hand on the terminal.

"Welcome, Siren, please speak into the microphone for voice authentication."

"Fuck off!" Siren snarled, impatiently.

"Voice authentication accepted."

As the elevator began descending, Siren felt a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Only a few seconds later, the elevator dinged and the door opened to pure darkness. Siren stared at the emptiness in front of him, and took a step backwards, feeling like something was lurking just out of sight. The lower basement didn't have electricity and there were no windows at all. He backed up another step and felt his back hit the wall, his gaze never leaving the inky blackness in front of him.

The door closed again and instantly Siren felt like an idiot. Taking a deep breath, he hit the button to open the door and as soon as he saw the darkness, he felt another wave of fear come over him. There could be someone standing just out of his sight and he'd have no idea. The longer he stared at the darkness, the more intense his fear became until finally the door closed again.

Cursing at himself angrily, Siren knew he was being a ridiculous coward. Glancing down at his Ipod, he scrolled through his music until he found the most chipper and happy music he could. Pressing play, Aqua began blasting through his headphones at full volume. Turning the Ipod's flashlight on, he took a deep breath and steeled himself as he pressed the door button.

The elevator door opened and he shone the light out, revealing the damp hallway in front of him. Stepping out of the elevator, he focused on the music, trying to ignore how he was already tensing up. He was an educated man, and he knew there was nothing in the darkness, but still he couldn't stop a shiver of fear make its way down his spine as he started walking.

Where would Ted be if he was down here? The lower basement was almost entirely empty and so Siren wasn't even sure where to look. His best guess would be the file room which was where most of his paperwork came from. The old building had been destroyed right when he first joined V.I.L.E, and they'd been trying to recover from it ever since. Valuable research had been lost and every server and computer had been destroyed in the fire. Siren was there to translate any and all paperwork that survived in the chance the research could somehow be recovered. Most of the paperwork had been too damaged to make out, but there were still millions of pages that survived. He had spent the last ten years translating them.

He walked and walked through the maze of dark hallways, but saw no signs of his assistant. The file rooms were empty, and so were the nearby offices, and so he continued wandering the halls, knowing Ted had to be down there somewhere. He entered a section of the lower basement he'd never been to before and immediately felt uncertain.

Siren came to the first room in this new section, and shone the light inside, seeing a room that had tiny triangles of foam on the walls. It seemed to be sound-proofing of some sort, but for what reasons, he had no idea. The room was empty, and so he moved on to the next. Every room in this whole wing had similar soundproofing, and the heavy locks on the doors didn't escape his notice. Most of the rooms were covered in what looked like black ash, and the whole wing was a mess of destroyed furniture and equipment. He stared at what looked like a charred bone laying in the middle of the floor and seriously hoped that's not what it was. He carefully stepped over it, and continued on, really not wanting to be here.

V.I.L.E had a lot of enemies, so what if someone really was lurking in the dark? He shone the light around himself in a circle, but it didn't make him feel any better. He was a scientist, not an operative, and what could he do to fight off an attacker? Not much. He wasn't tall, he wasn't strong, and he'd be helpless to stop them. This only made him feel even more nervous and he once again glanced around to make sure no one was hiding in the shadows.

Reaching into his pocket to see if he had anything he could use to defend himself just in case, his fingers touched something small and metal. Pulling it out, he looked down at the toy car and frowned. Having nothing else in his pockets, he held the car in his hand, using his thumb to spin the wheel, hoping if he had something to fiddle with, it would make him feel better.

Spin .

Why would Ted be all the way down this far in the lower basement? What could possibly be in here?!

Spin. Spin.

The song on his Ipod switched to 'Goodbye to the Circus' and as the creepy music began to play, Siren's eyes widened, and he began spinning the wheel faster and faster. It was fine. Everything was fine. There was nothing here. It was just creepy music in a creepy basement.

Siren gave a shudder, feeling more and more terrified as he walked along. This basement looked like something out of a horror movie, and he hated horror movies. The music was seriously starting to set him on edge and so he glanced down at his Ipod and switched the song. 'Halloween' started playing and he let out a curse and switched the song again only for it to land on 'Freaky Friday'. Yanking his headphones off, he was suddenly assaulted with the sound of complete silence, and he froze. The silence seemed to press in on him with the darkness, and Siren felt his courage quickly disappearing.

The sound of his panicked breathing was like thunder in his ears, and when there was a metal groan from above him, he nearly had a heart attack. What was that?! There was a creak from down the hall and Siren quickly began to panic, fiddling with the toy car in a desperate attempt to calm down.

Spin, spin, spin, spin.

There was nothing there, it was just the water pipes. Or maybe a rat? There definitely wasn't a crazy murder clown lurking in the shadows. Siren's eyes widened. Why did he just think of that?! Cursing his overactive imagination, he sped up his pace. He was not about to be murdered. He was not about to be murdered. He was not about-

There was another creak from somewhere behind him and he felt his heart beginning to pound in his chest.

Spin, spin, spin, spin, spin.

Why was he even down here? Ted was practically useless and he probably could have gotten by without him. He never should have come down here. He was going to die and it was all Ted's fault.

Siren suddenly stopped walking. Wait a second… Ted didn't have authorization to come down to the lower level…only the people with top clearance were allowed down here... Vess couldn't have sent him down here...

He stood there for a moment as the realization hit him that he'd been tricked, and he suddenly felt really stupid.

Siren scowled angrily. Damn that Kevin! Now he looked like a complete idiot! Ted wasn't even down here!

There was another groan of pipes above him, and Siren hurried back the way he had come, just wanting to get out of the basement. He then realized he had no idea which of the maze-like hallways he had come from. His brain seemed to have stopped working, and his normally excellent memory was blank from the fear. Panicking, he chose a random direction and hurried down the hall, unable to stop the feeling of something following just behind him. What if something was reaching out for him right now? Maybe he was about to be grabbed and mauled by something horrible?

Gasping, he spun around, but of course there was nothing there. Siren could feel his fear increasing by the second, and he suddenly heard the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere in the basement. Letting out a small noise of distress, he took off running, the darkness seeming to close in on him from all sides. He heard a door bang closed and scrambled desperately just trying to find his way out of hellish basement. Turn after turn he saw no signs of the elevator, and he heard something metal fall and hit the floor somewhere behind him. Someone was in here with him, and they were quickly catching up to him!

He dashed into a nearby room and saw it was some sort of medical lab. Tripping over a stand, he sent it crashing to the floor with a deafening crash and Siren let out a squeal of terror, knowing he had just given away his location. Spotting something glinting on the floor, he saw it was a knife and he dove for it, knowing he was going to have to fight his attacker off. Dropping his Ipod to the floor, he clutched the knife tightly in his hand and scrambled into the corner of the room out of sight.

He spotted the beam from a flashlight shining down the hallway outside, and he tensed up, hoping they wouldn't come in the room. It was then that Siren realized his Ipod was still lit up and sitting in plain view of the door. He let out a gasp and sure enough the flashlight was suddenly shone into the room. Siren curled himself up into a protective ball as the footsteps approached him, and he began blindly swiping out with the knife as he shrieked in terror.

He suddenly heard a voice and the beam of the flashlight landed on him, and he just kept swinging and shrieking. A hand caught his wrist and Siren started screaming and struggling as if his life depended on it. He then felt a gentle hand brush his hair out of his face, and the soft, reassuring words spoken penetrated his fear. Opening his eyes, he looked up and saw Vess and Ted both kneeling down beside him, expressions concerned. Vess gently cupped Siren's cheek, his words nothing but reassuring.

"Shh, shh," Vess hushed softly, "You're okay, calm down now. Nothing's going to hurt you."

Siren felt tears spill over and run down his cheeks, and Vess used a gentle thumb to wipe them away, offering him a smile.

"Give me the knife, Siren," Vess ordered, "You're safe, you don't need the knife. Give it to me now."

Sobbing in pure relief, Siren clutched at Vess' hand, allowing the knife to be taken away. Vess tossed the knife across the room, and then took him by the arm.

"Come on," he said softly, "Let's get you out of here, alright?"

"Where were you?!" Siren cried out angrily towards Ted.

"I was at lunch, you know this," Vess said patiently.

"No, not you !" Siren cried, covering his face with his hands. " Ted!"

"I'm sorry, bro," Ted told him, "I overslept."

"Until two in the afternoon?!" Siren bellowed at him, looking at him from between his fingers.

Ted had the good grace to look sheepish. "Sorry…"

"Oh my god I hate you," Siren moaned.

Vess gently pulled Siren's hands away from his face and he placed a pill into the palm of Siren's hand.

"It's a mild sedative," Vess told him, "Let's get you calmed down."

Siren stared down at the pill and then popped it into his mouth without protest. Vess watched him for a moment, and when he was sure Siren had swallowed it, he held out a hand towards him.

"Come on, let's get you out of this basement."

Siren nodded silently, and accepted the hand. Vess helped him up, and Siren immediately clung to Vess' arm in a vice-like grip.

"Here," Vess said, pressing his Ipod into his hand. "What in the world are you doing down here? You know you have a phobia of the dark!"

Siren said nothing, simply tightening his grip even more, unable to stop shaking in fear.

"I'm sorry," Ted told him again, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"Come on, let's go," Vess ordered, leading him out of the room. "You need to calm down, alright? I just don't understand why you even came down here!"

"Kevin…" Siren muttered.

Vess rolled his eyes. "Of course, I should have known," he said with a sigh.

Now that he wasn't alone, Siren found himself beginning to calm down, but he didn't loosen his hold on Vess' arm. Vess glanced down at him, and then let out another sigh.

"You're a nuisance, Siren."

"And you're an ass." Siren automatically responded.

"Well, looks like you're feeling a little better," Vess said, trying to disentangle his arm from the other man.

Siren didn't let go, and so they walked in silence through the dark halls. When the elevator finally came within sight, Siren let out an audible breath of relief, never wanting to step foot in the basement ever again. They stepped into the elevator, and once he was out of the darkness, Siren finally released Vess' arm, now feeling rather embarrassed. Vess stared down at him for a moment, his expression turning back to its normal impassive look.

"Don't think I didn't notice you touched my desk." Vess stated as the doors closed. "We will be discussing that later."

"Don't know what you're talking about." Siren responded with a shrug. "Never touched it."

Vess rolled his eyes. "Wretched goblin."

"Stuck-up bastard."

Ted pressed the main level button and nothing happened. He pressed it a few more times and then turned a confused look to Siren. "It's not working…"

"You're not authorized, stupid," Siren informed him. "Of course the buttons won't work for you."

Vess rolled his eyes and reached out and pressed the main floor button.

"I want to fire Ted, Vess."

"Aw, bro, not this again…"

"I've told you not to call me 'bro'." Siren snapped. "You don't talk to superiors that way!"

Vess sighed. "Knock it off, Siren. You've caused enough trouble for today."

As the elevator ascended, Siren fell silent, still feeling embarrassed and angry. He really hated the Kevins, and he really hated Ted.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

[[I'm sorry, Sven…]] Moose Boy said for the hundredth time.

Otterman rolled away from him and faced the wall, his expression furious, and he didn't answer. Moose Boy climbed up onto the bed beside him, and laid a gentle hand on his side.

[[Come on, don't be like this. I'm sorry!]]

Otterman made an impatient noise in the back of his throat and still refused to look at him.

[[It was an accident.]] Moose Boy told him, [[Won't you please just speak to me?]]

" Nej ." Otterman snapped.

[[Aw, come on, Sven. I didn't do it on purpose. I'm sorry! Won't you forgive me?]] Moose Boy pleaded.

" Nej !"

Moose Boy leaned over him so he could see his partner's face. Otterman was scowling at the wall, and he shot Moose Boy a glare out of the corner of his eye.

[[Come on, let's just talk about this.]]

" Nej !"

[[Do you need a hug?]]

Otterman's response was to elbow him in the gut without a single word. Moose Boy winced and rubbed at his stomach, knowing the other man was absolutely livid. Used to his partner's bouts of anger and sulkiness, he set a hand on Otterman's shoulder, knowing he just had to be persistent.

[[Sven, we're going to talk about this.]] he insisted, [[Look at me.]]

" Dra åt helvete!"

[[No.]] Moose Boy said firmly, forcibly turning the other man to face him. [[Talk to me.]]

Otterman stared at him with narrowed eyes. " Din jävla dum skalle! " he hissed, trying to turn back around.

Moose Boy held him in place. [[Enough cursing.]] he scolded. [[I said I was sorry.]]

[[And you think that fixes anything?]] Otterman snapped. [[You've screwed everything up as usual! I never should have trusted you!]]

Moose Boy gave him an incredibly hurt look. [[I'm sorry I'm stupid, Sven.]] he said in a small voice. [[I know it's all my fault. I always mess everything up...I'm sorry I'm so dumb.]]

Otterman's expression softened a bit, but he was still looking pretty cross. [[How did you even forget something so important?!]] he demanded.

Moose Boy looked completely ashamed. [[When you handed the envelope to me, I put it in my jacket pocket so I wouldn't lose it. I then found out California was a hot place and switched my jacket for a lighter one…]]

Otterman groaned. [[You left the envelope in your winter jacket.]]

" Ja ."

Otterman let out a deep sigh, and raised a hand to his head in exasperation. [[I just don't know what we're going to do.]] he admitted. [[That was every bit of cash we were allowed for this mission. We're not allowed to use credit cards, and we're not allowed to steal. We are screwed.]]

[[I'm sorry.]]

Otterman let out another sigh. [[Do you have cash on you?]]

Moose Boy pulled out his wallet to check. [[I have 200 American dollars and 1000 Krona.]]

Otterman groaned. [[I have 40 American and 2500 Krona in my wallet. If we exchange the Krona we will still only have around 590 dollars. That's not going to last very long…]]

Moose Boy scratched at his head as he thought. [[Maybe we can ask Roundabout for more money?]]

Otterman grimaced. [[We're already on thin ice from our last failed mission and I have a feeling this might just push V.I.L.E over the edge. We can't let him know we've already screwed up. We'll have to make due as best we can. Go to the bank to exchange our Krona for American dollars, and don't spend any of it. I'll have to do some careful budgeting to figure out how long we can make this last.]]

Moose Boy got up from the bed eagerly. [[I'll go to the bank right now for you!]] he declared, just wanting to help in any way he could. [[I promise I won't disappoint you again!]]

Otterman glanced towards the clock. [[It's already after four, and so you'll have to hurry. Don't lose any of the money.]]

[[I promise I won't.]] Moose Boy assured him. [[I'm going to make this up to you. I'll find a way to fix this.]]

Otterman gave him a skeptical look. [[Don't get lost.]]

Moose Boy grabbed Otterman's wallet and took out the Krona. [[I'll be right back!]] he promised, heading for the door. As he opened the door, he hesitated and looked back at the other man. [...I love you.]]

Otterman gave him a hard look and then turned away from him. Moose Boy gave him crushed look, and then swallowed heavily. Just as he was closing the door, he heard the quiet reply.

" Jag älskar dig. "

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Crackle had been feeling off all morning but he couldn't quite put his finger on why. He didn't feel sick, and he wasn't tired, but his mind was feeling unusually fuzzy. It was hard to focus his thoughts and it felt like the fog in his mind was trying to spread itself further. His dreams all night had been strange and confusing, and he wasn't sure if they were memories or just stress dreams. He kept seeing a small town surrounded by trees and faces of people he didn't recognize, and it left a deep ache within him that he didn't understand.

Crackle found it was extremely hard to concentrate on anything the next morning, and when he accidentally put salt in his coffee instead of sugar and didn't notice, his team finally realized something was wrong.

"You feeling okay?" Roosevelt asked, watching Crackle drinking the salty coffee with a wince.

"Fine." Crackle responded, his gaze distant as he stared across the cafe.

The twins exchanged a look and Paper Star stared at Crackle thoughtfully but didn't say anything. Crackle had been oddly patient with Dash that morning, who was not making things easy for anyone. Crackle had dealt with an extreme battle of wills as he made Dash eat a bowl of oatmeal before they left and it had taken him over an hour of pestering him before Dash finally gave in and tried it.

Dash had been irritable and whiny, and had complained about everything he could think of, but it hadn't bothered Crackle. Crackle was unmoving and didn't stop nagging Dash until he'd deemed he'd eaten an acceptable amount before he finally left him alone. Dash still couldn't move very much, and Crackle had been a bit uncertain about leaving him by himself during the meeting with Team Red.

It had been Paper Star that pointed out they needed all four of them there in case things took a turn for the worse. Crackle knew she had a point, but he was having an odd sense of protectiveness over his injured teammate. He didn't understand the emotion, but knew there was no way he could take Dash with them and he couldn't remain behind. After making sure Dash had everything he could possibly need while they were gone, they left the motel to grab lunch before meeting with Team Red.

Crackle was acting twitchy and kept spacing out all during lunch. He didn't even notice when he drank the salty coffee, and he forgot to pay when it came time to leave. Theodore had to dig through his pockets to look for American cash to pay for their meals, and then they'd followed after their leader who didn't even notice.

"Are we going for the kill?" Paper Star asked Crackle as they got into the van. "If I get a good position, I can take them out as they get out of their car."

Crackle immediately shook his head. "No, if we kill them, we'll have no idea where Neal is. He could starve or die of dehydration before we find him."

Paper Star blinked at him in confusion. "So?"

Crackle frowned at her. "What do you mean 'so'? I'm not going to allow Neal to die."

"But our mission is to kill Team Red," Paper Star pointed out, "If we can complete our mission, V.I.L.E isn't going to mind one casualty."

Crackle felt an odd emotion in his mind, and he found himself shaking his head. "I am the leader of this team, and no one is going to die." he said firmly. "We are getting Neal back."

"At the cost of our mission?" Paper Star demanded.

It was like a conflict within his mind was taking place, and Crackle didn't answer. Everything within him was screaming at him to obey his orders and kill Carmen Sandiego, but another part of him fought against it. He was responsible for Neal, and he couldn't just abandon him… He thought of Neal's goofy smile and the man's neverending optimism and felt another wave of fog threaten to cloud his mind.

"This meeting is for a conversation only." he told Paper Star firmly. "No fighting unless absolutely necessary."

Paper Star shook her head, knowing this went against the mission. "We were sent to kill them," she said with a frown.

"And we will." Crackle vowed. "Just not today."

Paper Star stared at him long and hard, and knew he was ruining a perfect opportunity to strike. She was so tired of being a part of this little group, and she'd do anything to return to working solo. Cocking her head thoughtfully, she knew that if she killed both teams, V.I.L.E would have no idea she was responsible. Crackle seemed to be a little off that day, and this would be the perfect opportunity to make her move.

As Roosevelt drove them to their meeting spot on the edge of town, Crackle kept fidgeting, his mind still on the strange town from his dreams. He could clearly see the streets, and it left a sad feeling inside him as the thought of the buildings and people. Was this homesickness? Was it possible to feel homesick for somewhere he didn't even remember?

Crackle ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, having no idea what was wrong with him today. He couldn't seem to concentrate on anything and his head was aching in strange, raw way.

"Do any of you have a Tylenol?" he demanded.

The twins both shook their heads no, and Paper Star didn't even bother answering. Letting out a sigh, Crackle rubbed at his forehead, just wanting to get this over with.

They arrived at the outskirts of a large park, and as Roosevelt parked the van, they could see Team Red waiting for them.

"They're early," Crackle observed.

"They probably didn't want us to set up an ambush like last time," Paper Star said with a frown. This was going to make things a lot more difficult…

Crackle observed how Carmen was leaning against the hood of the car, arms crossed and simply watching them as their van came to a stop. He could see several teammates waiting for her in the red car, and he knew they were outnumbered.

"Stay in the car unless necessary." he ordered. "Until we secure Neal's safe return, we don't want to provoke them."

Paper Star bristled, knowing this made it even more difficult for her. Crackle unbuckled his seat belt and then slowly got out of the car, never taking his eyes off Carmen.

"Both our teams stay in the car." he called over.

"Agreed." Carmen called back.

Not wanting to approach them, Crackle instead motioned towards a nearby picnic table. Carmen glanced around, but there was nowhere for operatives to hide near the picnic table and so she gave him a nod. Crackle's eyes were narrowed to angry slits as he took a seat at the table, and Carmen sat down across from him, offering him a smile.

"Hello, Gray," Carmen greeted, "How is Dash doing?"

"Return Neal to us." Crackle stated, having no interest in small talk.

"We will return Neal if you agree to come with us," Carmen replied, this being a conversation they'd already had multiple times over com.

"You know I can't do that." Crackle answered. "I will not abandon my mission."

Carmen let out a deep sigh. "Your mission to kill me?" she questioned.

Crackle didn't answer, and so she frowned and rested an elbow on the table. "I know you don't want to kill me."

"Return Neal." he repeated, not wanting to listen to the same old speech again.

"Just come with us so a doctor can look at you, and I'll let him go," Carmen promised, "Your memories were erased again, but I'm certain there must be a way to get them back."

"Again?" Crackle asked with a frown.

Carmen nodded. "We attended V.I.L.E academy together and we were best friends. You became like a big brother to me, and we cared a lot for each other. We spent every day together, and we used to prank the school and we got in trouble a lot. You were always so happy and goofy back then. I miss you."

Crackle stared at Carmen, and really stared at her for the first time. He studied her face and for just a moment he had a memory of a young girl with short red hair and a sweet smile, and he frowned. Shaking his head, he knew this couldn't be right.

"Your memories were erased by V.I.L.E and you were sent home to Sydney, Australia," she explained.

A memory of the tiny town came to his mind and he knew this was wrong. No, he worked in Sydney but his home was...someplace else, someplace small, someplace he couldn't quite remember.

"We met again while you were working at the Sydney Opera House, and then again in New Zealand where we worked together. I don't know what happened after this, but V.I.L.E must have taken you back and did another erase on you."

Crackle had a brief flash of memory where he watched Neal fight against Carmen, and then he had shocked the other man with a crackle rod. The man's pained yell filled his mind and Crackle clenched his hands. Neal. He had attacked Neal...

"How do I even know Neal is still alive?" Crackle demanded

Carmen's eyes widened. "You think we'd kill him?!"

"Let me speak to Neal." Crackled demanded.

"I'm sorry, Gray, but that's not going to happen," Carmen said in an apologetic tone of voice.

"Let me speak to him now, or I'm walking away." he threatened.

Carmen stared at him, and knew he was completely serious. "Very well, but only for a few seconds."

Carmen pulled out her com and called El Topo. When there was no answer, she called Le Chèvre with the same results. Frowning in worry, she called Player who answered right away.

"What's up, Red?" he asked, "Is the meeting with Team Evil over with already?"

Crackle narrowed his eyes.

"No, I'm sitting here with Gray right now and he wants to speak with Neal. Can you get a hold of El Topo or Le Chèvre? They're not answering their coms."

"Sure thing, Red, just a sec."

There were a few second's pause and then Player was back. "Er...you're not going to like this."

"What is it?" Carmen asked in dread, hoping Neal hadn't escaped.

"They're all asleep…" Player answered.

"What?" Carmen said. "All of them?"

"Yup, all of them. Neal and El Topo fell asleep while watching a movie, and Le Chèvre is asleep in his bedroom. I tried using the speakers but I couldn't wake them up."

Carmen grimaced and glanced over at Crackle who didn't look like he believed a word of it.

"Can you try again?" Carmen asked, "We kind of really need them to wake up right now…"

"Okay, I'll try again," Player said, going silent for a minute or so. "Sorry, Red, they're completely passed out and even yelling didn't wake them up."

"...great." Carmen commented.

"Oh! Zack is trying to get through to you right now," Player told her, "You want me to connect the call over to you?"

Carmen shook her head. "No, we're busy right now. You take the call, okay?"

Player gave her a nod. "Okay, I'll answer it now. Cya later, Red."

As soon as the call ended, Crackle got up from the table without a single word.

"Gray," Carmen protested, "They were sleeping, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. Neal is perfectly fine."

"We will meet again once you can provide confirmation Neal is alive. For your sake you'd better be taking proper care of him."

"Gray, don't be like this," Carmen said, reaching for his hand as he passed by.

The second her hand touched his, his mind was flooded full of memories of a short haired girl and his group of friends at the academy. He reacted on pure instinct, and he slapped her away from him, slipping something in her pocket as he did so. As Carmen staggered back, clutching her face, Team Red instantly got out of the car, ready to come to Carmen's aid.

"Don't touch me!" Crackle ordered, backing away from her. "Just...don't."

Carmen held up a hand to stop her team from approaching, and then turned a sad gaze at her former friend. "I'm sorry, Gray. You're right. I shouldn't have touched you without your permission. I just really wish you'd stay and listen to me, just for a while."

"No." Crackle responded firmly. "Contact me when you can prove to me that Neal is safe. Until then, I have nothing to say to you."

Crackle's headache was so bad now that he felt like his skull was going to split open. Forcing his expression to remain indifferent, he turned and walked away.

"Gray!" Carmen called after him.

Crackle said nothing, and continued walking back to the van without so much as a glance back at her. When he got in the van, Paper Star leaned forward and gave him a questioning look.

"They refused to confirm Neal was alive," he explained.

"Neal's dead?!" Theodore said in alarm.

"No...well, at least I hope not," Crackle answered, "I told them I'm not listening to anything they have to say until they can prove Neal is unharmed."

"So this was a giant waste of time." Paper Start stated, narrowing her eyes.

"Not at all," Crackle responded.

"Oh?" she demanded, "And why is that?"

"I slipped a tracker into her pocket when I slapped her," Crackle responded with a smirk, "We can trace them right to their base and rescue Neal ourselves. Wanna go massacre Team Red, Paper Star?"

Paper Star blinked in surprise, and then gave him a nod. "Yes, yes I do."

Crackle gave her a smile and she returned it, finally having something fun to look forward to. He glanced over at Team Red who were still sitting in their car watching them.

"Okay, Roose, let's get going," he said, "Once we're back at the motel, we'll watch where Team Red goes, and then make our plan of attack."

As they drove away, Crackle's head gave another throb and he winced and rubbed at his temples. This headache seemed to be getting worse and he could feel the fog once again trying to creep in. He sat in silence for a few minutes as they drove, and then suddenly his headache got so bad, he became nauseated. As his stomach gave a turn, he realized he was about to be sick.

"Pull over!" he ordered. "Pull over now!"

Roosevelt pulled over to the side of the road and gave Crackle a look of confusion as he quickly scrambled out of the van. Ignoring the honks of the cars that passed him, he ran for the sidewalk and retched into the nearest garbage can, his headache only getting worse and worse. He suddenly felt a hand on his back and when he looked up, he saw Theodore standing over him with a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "Do you have the flu?"

Crackle wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and shook his head, instantly regretting the action when it caused a sharp stab of pain in his skull.

"I'm fine, Teddy, I was just feeling a little car sick," Crackle assured him, his stomach already feeling a bit better.

Theodore frowned at him and then reached over and placed a hand on Crackle's forehead, not willing to take any chances after what happened with Dash. Crackle allowed it, and then Theodore gave him a nod, not detecting any signs of fever.

"You going to be okay?" he asked him with a frown, "You need anything?"

"I'll be fine," Crackle said, glancing over at the others who had rolled down the window to watch. "I just need a bit of air. We're not far from the motel and so I'm going to walk back."

Theodore hesitated. "You sure?"

Crackle nodded. "I'll be fine after a bit of air."

Theodore frowned but gave him a nod. "Alright, but call us if you need us."

Crackle nodded, trying his best not to wince as his head continued to throb. "Wait for me, I shouldn't be long."

Crackle watched as the enormous man crawled back into the van, and as they drove away, he had no idea that a certain red sports car was parked just down the street from him, watching the whole thing. He glanced around the busy street and then headed for the nearby Chinese Grocery. Buying himself a can of cold ginger tea, he cracked it open as he left the store, hoping this would help settle his stomach a bit. His head was throbbing in agony, and he felt something crack deep within him.

Taking a sip of the tea as he stood on the sidewalk, he glanced around and suddenly felt confused. What was he doing just now? Why was he here? He gave another look around. Where was here?! Graham turned around in a full circle and didn't recognize anything around himself. He then glanced down at himself and saw his V.I.L.E jumpsuit and reached down to touch it in revulsion. What in the world was he wearing? Why was he dressed like a mechanic?!

He took another sip of his tea and then winced. Why was he drinking iced tea? He hated tea. Dropping the can into the nearby garbage can, he stared around himself trying to figure out where he was. The last thing he remembered was celebrating his 17th birthday with his friends, and they'd been heavily drinking all night. Graham squinted at the nearby American flag on the front of the store and then frowned. Why was there an American flag in Australia?

Graham rubbed at his throbbing head, wondering how much he'd had to drink the night before. This obviously wasn't his small hometown, and so he must have gotten on a bus at some point. Ugh, his parents were going to kill him. He was probably going to be grounded for the rest of the school year.

"Oi, mate!" he called to a man standing nearby.

"Yeah?" the man demanded suspiciously.

"This is gonna sound a bit strange, but I had waaaay too bloody much to drink last night and I must have gotten on a bus, because I have no idea where I am. Is this Sydney?"

The man simply stared at him. "What?"

"What city is this?" he asked, gesturing around.

The man furrowed his brow. "San Diego..."

"What?" Graham demanded, "San...Diego?"

"God, how drunk were you?" the man demanded, shaking his head. "San Diego, California?"

Graham simply stared at the man, feeling bewildered and a bit surprised at the man's American accent. He then snorted and rolled his eyes. "Oh, ha ha, mate, that's a good one, you wanker. You know what, you can go bugger yourself. I'll ask someone else."

The man simply looked confused as he walked away.

"Bloody tourists." Graham muttered to himself. "Thinking they're all comedians."

Graham then waved down a woman pushing a baby stroller.

"Ma'am?"

She gave him a cautious look. "Yes? What do you want?"

Graham frowned. Another tourist? This was getting really bizarre. "I seem to be a bit lost...which city am I in right now?"

"San Diego," she replied.

Graham shook his head and walked away from her, certain someone was playing a joke on him. He stopped an old woman and offered her a smile.

"Excuse me, Gran, I'm lost and was wondering if you could tell me what city I'm in?"

"Oh, what a lovely British accent you have!" the woman gushed, "I've always loved the British, such a polite people!"

"Er...what?"

"I once went to London when I was a young woman. I took a picture of Buckingham Palace! How long are you here in the United States for?"

Graham shook his head. "What?" he repeated.

"You're not very eloquent for an Englishman," the woman teased.

"I-I'm Australian," Graham said in a hesitant tone of voice.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Disabilities can be so hard to deal with, especially at your age."

Graham began to feel really nervous. She was senile. She had to be senile. There was no way he was in a completely different country...

Hurrying away from her without a word, he saw a newspaper stall and headed for it. Grabbing a newspaper he stared at the front page, his gaze zeroing in on San Diego Times. Tossing it aside, he grabbed a different newspaper and saw it was the San Diego Star. As he tossed that one aside the vendor noticed what he was doing and began approaching.

"Hey! You have to pay for those!" he yelled.

Feeling incredibly freaked out, Graham took off running, hearing the sound of the man yelling behind him. He ran until he could no longer hear the yells, and then slowed down. Glancing behind himself nervously, he reached up and ran a hand through his hair. Why was his hair a different style? Oh god, did one of his friends drug him and stick him on a plane as a joke? Graham let out a curse. Correction, he wasn't going to be grounded for the rest of the school year, he was going to be grounded until he was thirty.

Graham looked all around himself, suddenly very afraid. He had no idea what to do. Should he go to the police? His gaze fell on a payphone and he ran for it, realizing he could call for help. He picked up the receiver and then realized it probably took American money. Frowning, he knew he only had $4 in Australian dollars leftover from his allowance. He'd left all his birthday money at home when he'd gone out partying.

Wait a second...he'd bought that disgusting iced tea and so he must have some money! Reaching into the pocket of his jumpsuit, he pulled out a wallet he didn't recognize. Opening it, he was shocked to see a substantial amount of American cash inside. Where in the world did this come from?! He then noticed several credit cards. Taking one out, he stared at the name with a frown. John Smithenson. He had a stolen wallet on his person…

Graham glanced all around as if he expected the police to suddenly swarm him, and then he turned his gaze back to the wallet. Okay, he was definitely in a lot of trouble right now...but maybe he could claim he found the wallet, and could just use some of the cash as an emergency? Biting his lower lip nervously, he hoped he didn't get arrested for this mess. He'd never been outside of Australia before and now he was halfway across the world all by himself!

Picking up the phone receiver again, he hit zero and waited as the call connected to an operator.

"Operator, how can I help you?"

"Uhhh, g'day," Graham greeted, "I need to make a call to Australia, please."

"Collect, phone card or credit card?" she asked.

Graham knew his parents would have an aneurysm if he called them collect from another country, and so he hesitantly pulled out a credit card.

"Er...it will be mastercard." he replied, hoping this wouldn't count as grand theft.

"Provide me the phone number please."

Graham provided her with his home phone number and then waited as the operator set up the call.

"Your credit card will be charged $2.49 a minute," she informed him, "Please read off the card number slowly."

Graham read her the number off the card, the expiration date and then the three numbers off the back. Once she ran his card and okayed the call, she connected him and he suddenly heard ringing. It rang about five times before the voice of a woman answered.

"Hello?" she answered, sounding a bit confused.

"Um...hi mum…" he said hesitantly, "Look, I can explain!"

"Graham?!" she shrieked into the phone.

"Er...yeah."

"Oh my god, we thought you were dead !" she cried out, her tone completely anguished. "Where have you been?! Do you have any idea how worried we've been? Where were you?"

"You thought I was dead already?" Graham asked in disbelief.

"You were gone three years, Graham!" she yelled into the phone. "Where the hell have you been all this time? How could you do this to us?! Do you have any idea what you put us through?!"

"Three years? What are you talking about?" Graham asked in complete confusion. "I've only been gone a day!"

His mother went silent on the other end of the line.

"Mum?"

There was no answer.

"...mum?"

There was still dead silence, and Graham glanced at the receiver with a frown.

"Mum? Are you still there?"

"It's drugs, isn't it?" she asked, her voice shaking. "You're taking drugs."

Graham rubbed at his head which was beginning to throb painfully.

"I don't know!" he cried out in distress. "I don't know what happened! I just woke up on the street!"

"Where are you?" she demanded.

Graham raised a hand to his face, feeling like he was about to cry. How could he have been gone for three years? He'd never been so terrified in his entire life, and he felt his hands begin to shake as he held onto the phone. "I just...I just want to come home. I'm sorry, mum! I snuck out drinking, and I don't know what happened! Please. I'm really scared."

He couldn't stop the choked sob from escaping him, and he felt the hotness of tears as they made their way down his face.

"I'm sorry, mum! I'm really sorry! Please don't leave me here!"

"Okay, sweetheart, calm down," his mother's voice urged. "Take a deep breath for me, and just calm down. We're going to come get you. Where are you?"

Graham hesitated.

"Graham?" she prompted. "Tell me where you are. We're bringing you home."

"...you're not going to believe me."

"Tell me anyway." she ordered. "Where are you?"

"I-I'm in San-"

Suddenly a painful stab burst in his skull and Graham dropped the receiver as he clutched at his head.

"Graham?" his mother called out. "Graham, are you there?"

Graham fell to his knees, the pain so intense he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Graham answer me!" his mother called out, desperation in her voice. "Please, sweetheart, just talk to me! I promise we're not mad! Just answer me! You can come home, just tell us where you are so we can come get you!"

Crackle stood up and glanced around himself in confusion, and then looked down at his hands. Where did his tea go? Scratching at his head, he glanced towards the phone beside him.

"Please!" the woman on the phone begged. "Answer me! Sweetheart, please, don't hang up!"

Unconcerned with the phone, he turned away and raised a hand to his face. Why was his face wet? Although a bit puzzled, he shrugged it off and walked away, not giving the phone another thought.

As he walked through the streets, the fog pressed on his mind so heavily that he couldn't seem to remember where the motel was. Nothing looked familiar to him, and he kept seeing flashes of the tiny town from his dreams. One moment he'd know he was in San Diego and the next he thought he was walking the streets in Australia.

He walked and walked, and as afternoon became dusk, his memories were still switching from past to present, and he had to admit that he had no idea where he was. It was with great relief when he finally spotted Double Trouble approaching from up the sidewalk. When their gazes fell on him, their expressions looked relieved as well.

"Where have you been?" Theodore asked, "We've been looking for you everywhere!"

Crackle had no answer for him. "Let's just get back, alright?"

The twins looked rather confused, but they nodded anyway and Crackle followed behind them, his mind a swirling mass of fog and memories. Everything was spinning together, and he rubbed at his head, wishing this pain would just end.

Pausing for a second as there was a stab of agony behind his eyes, he glanced to the alley beside him and saw an orange cat staring at him. The cat was the mangiest, ugliest cat he had ever seen in his life, and he simply stared at it in disbelief. It was missing an eye, one of its ears was mangled and it was missing giant patches of fur all over its body.

A sudden memory came to mind and he remembered his childhood cat. His cat had been orange, enormously fat and he had lovingly named him Steve. He used to carry the cat all over town with him when he was young and the lazy tom hadn't minded in the least.

Crackle stared at the mangy alley cat and wondered why Steve was in town by himself. It was dangerous here, and he could get hit by a car!

Kneeling down, he held out a hand towards the cat. "Here kitty kitty," he said softly.

The cat narrowed its eye at him and hissed.

"Come on," Crackle urged, slowly crouch-walking towards the cat, "C'mere, Steve."

The cat made a low warning noise in the back of its throat, and lowered itself down low to the ground, its claws now clearly visible.

"Erm...Crackle?" Roosevelt questioned, "Whatcha doing?"

"Shh." Crackle scolded. "You're going to scare him."

The twins glanced at the cat, and then back at Crackle, having no idea what their leader was doing.

"Come on, Steve," Crackle said gently, "Let's get you home."

As Crackle got closer to it, the cat began backing away from him, what little fur it had remaining beginning to raise angrily. Crackle suddenly lunged forward and grabbed a hold of the cat whose immediately reaction was to let out an angry scream and claw his face as hard as it could. As claws dug into him, Crackle let out a shrill shriek of surprise and fell backwards, but he didn't let go. The cat fought and snarled as it bit and scratched him, and Crackle yelped in pain as he struggled to hold it.

After fighting against him furiously for a few seconds, the cat realized it wasn't being hurt and relaxed a bit, but never once stopping its hissing.

"...ow." Crackle commented, pretty sure his whole chest and face were now nothing but a mass of scratches.

Why did this seem somehow familiar?

"Uh…" Theodore commented, "Erm."

The cat was still hissing like crazy, but Crackle didn't seem to notice. Without a word, Crackle got up and continued walking, carrying the unhappy cat with them. Double Trouble exchanged a look between them, both desperately trying to remember if Crackle had mentioned anything about a cat in his plans. They tended to zone out during long lectures and they weren't entirely sure whether they were missing out on something important. Deciding to just go along with it for now, they continued leading the way to the motel.

When they finally reached it, Crackle began feeling a little odd in the head. His mind felt numb, like it had pins and needles and he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Opening the door, he waited until the twins were in and then set down the cat who immediately swiped at him and ran for it. Paper Star stared at the cat and then stared at Crackle's bloody face, her expression slowly becoming more and more confused.

The cat raced around the room, looking for somewhere to hide and finally it dove onto the bed where Dash was sleeping. Landing on top of his back, it huddled itself up into an angry ball and growled lowly. Dash slowly opened his eyes and then glanced over his shoulder at his back. When he saw the mangy, one-eyed cat, he let out a startled shriek.

"What the hell is that?!" he demanded, struggling to get up.

He couldn't move however, and the cat didn't seem inclined to move off his back, simply digging its claws into the blankets.

"That's Steve." Crackle commented.

Dash flailed an arm at the cat, not wanting to touch it, but it ignored him, clearly not seeing him as a threat.

"Steve?!" Dash cried out, "What the hell is this thing? Someone get it off of me!"

Crackle started to reply when suddenly a hot stab of agony coursed through his head and he fell to the floor. This was the worst pain yet, and he let out a scream as he clutched at his head. As he began to lose consciousness, he became aware the world was beginning to spin, and his entire body was convulsing uncontrollably. The last thing he heard were the sounds of his teammates calling his name

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Zack and Mime Bomb ran through the woods as fast as they could, ignoring how the rain was coming down harder and harder. Both boys were scrambling through the mud as they struggled to climb a hill, and they were out of breath and tired.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Zack asked him, "It's been fifteen years since you were here after all…"

Mime Bomb gave him a confident nod and pointed up the hill. He and Alys used to steal apples from Omar's Orchard all the time as children and he remembered the way to get there perfectly. Zack returned the nod, trusting him, and they clawed their way to the top of the hill, both freezing cold and covered in black muck. Zack let out a breath of relief when he saw they were now in an apple orchard, and they ran across the orchard in the direction of the farm house.

"Where does he keep the truck?" Zack asked, not seeing anything in the driveway.

Mime Bomb pointed to the barn, and they ran across the yard, hoping no one was awake to see them. It took the both of them to pull open the barn door, and when they finally got it open, they were met with the sight of an ancient pickup truck that looked like it was ready to fall apart.

"No wonder this guy wasn't worried about his truck being stolen…"

They opened the driver door and to their dismay, the keys weren't in the ignition. After searching the truck, they realized the keys were nowhere to be found.

"What are we going to do?" Zack asked worriedly.

Mime Bomb held up a finger to signify just a moment and to Zack's complete surprise he watched as the other boy hotwired the car.

"Wait a second...I thought you couldn't drive?" he questioned.

Mime Bomb gave him a shrug.

"You can hotwire a car, but you can't drive?"

Mime Bomb once again shrugged.

"Okay, that's weird but I'm not complaining. I'm going to call the pilot so he can get the plane ready."

As Zack made the call, Mime Bomb glanced around the barn, his gaze immediately settling on a nearby rifle. Approaching the workbench where it was laying, he picked it up and looked it over. It seemed to be in working condition as he inspected it, and when he checked, he saw it was loaded. Turning around with the gun in his hands, Zack's eyes widened and he quickly hung up the call.

"No way!" he said firmly. "We are not shooting anyone! Put it back!"

Mime Bomb shook his head.

Zack narrowed his eyes and he approached. "Put it back now." he ordered. "We don't kill people, even if they're bad guys."

Mime Bomb stared at the gun, and he gave Zack a frustrated look, willing to do almost anything to never be taken by those men. Zack reached out and yanked the gun away from him.

"No." Zack told him. "We're not going to hurt anyone."

Mime Bomb stared at the gun for a long moment and then turned and walked away, looking frustrated. Zack watched as Mime Bomb crawled into the passenger seat of the truck, and he glanced down at the rifle in his hand. Grimacing at the thought of shooting someone, he set it down on the workbench and then approached the truck. As he crawled in, he could see the fear in Mime Bomb's eyes, and he felt terrible.

"What did they do to you?" Zack asked him softly.

Mime Bomb stared at him with wide eyes and simply shook his head.

"We'll be talking about this later," Zack promised him. "Enough secrets. You're going to tell us everything and you're going to let us help you. We're family, and family doesn't hide things from each other...well nothing this big anyway."

Mime Bomb looked away, and the truck sputtered noisily as Zack put it in gear. As Zack drove out of the barn, the lights turned on in the house and it was obvious the owner had heard his truck. Stepping on the gas, Zack sped away just as the front door was thrown open.

"The pilot is going to have the plane ready for us," Zack said, clenching the steering wheel tightly, "I just hope this old truck can make it that far."

Zack turned onto the main road, and as they sped along the highway, Zack glanced in the rearview mirror.

"Thirty minutes and we'll be to the airport," he stated, "Hopefully the cops don't find us before then."

Blasting the heat to warm them up, Zack sped along, glad that there weren't very many cars on the road at this hour. As they reached Cardiff, Zack suddenly spotted two black vans pull onto the highway behind them.

"Aw, man, really?" he complained, "How did they find us?!"

Mime Bomb turned around to stare behind them at the vans, and then he gave Zack a nervous look.

"Don't worry, bud, I'm not going to let them get you."

Zack sped up and the two vans did as well, and one of them pulled up beside the truck. A man stared across at them and then motioned for them to pull over. Mime Bomb gave him a look like he was crazy, and then to his surprise the man began signing at him in fluent sign language.

'Pull the truck over now' he ordered.

Mime Bomb didn't respond, and so the man signed again.

'Pull the truck over and you will not be harmed'

Mime Bomb still didn't respond and the man was cleary getting frustrated.

'We will kill the boy you're with if you don't surrender to us now'

Mime Bomb glanced at Zack, and his expression hardened. 'Touch him, and I will kill myself .' he answered. ' I'm no use to you dead'

The man seemed surprised at this and he turned to speak with his driver for a moment. He then looked back to Mime Bomb with a frown.

'You're bluffing'

'Try me'

The man narrowed his eyes at him, and then said something to his driver. The next thing they knew, the van slammed into the side of their truck and Zack jerked the steering wheel to stop them from being run off the road.

"Geez!" Zack cried out, his eyes wide, "Are they crazy?!"

Zack knew the old truck would never be able to outrun the vans, but there was something he knew that they clearly didn't. He gave another jerk to the steering wheel and the truck slammed into the side of the van solidly, sending it crashing into a ditch. Old trucks were built completely solid and the impact didn't so much as leave a dent in it. The remaining van was keeping its distance, and Zack had no idea what he was going to do. The truck could only drive so fast, and there was nowhere they could lose their pursuers.

"We're going to have to run for it once we get to the airport." Zack told him with a grimace. "If we can't make it, I'll do my best to hold them off while you get to the plane. I should be able to buy you a few seconds at least."

Mime Bomb crossed his arms against his chest and gave him an unimpressed look. Like hell he was going to leave his brother behind to get shot. He'd rather get captured than watch the other boy die.

The van tailed them the whole way to the airport and Zack was desperately trying to think of something to do. As the gate to the tarmac came within view, Zack had an idea.

"Take off your seatbelt and get ready to run for it." Zack instructed. "I have an idea that might buy us a minute."

Mime Bomb nodded, and unbuckled his seatbelt as Zack did the same second he was past the gate, he stopped the truck and then got out and began closing the gate after them. The men in the van immediately slammed on their brakes, and as they drew their weapons, Zack was already scrambling back in the truck. He then reversed it and stopped the truck right against the gate, ensuring it couldn't be opened.

"Okay, run!" Zack ordered, jumping out of the truck.

They both ran for it as fast as they could across the tarmac, and the sounds of gunfire sounded after them. Neither stopped running, and a second later there was a tremendous crash as the men slammed into the gate with the van, successfully pushing the truck back far enough for them to get through on foot. The men then exited their van and took off running after them, weapons drawn.

Zack and Mime Bomb had a decent headstart on them and they pushed themselves to run faster and faster as they heard gunfire behind them. They saw their jet waiting for them, and the pilot hurried up the airstairs at the sight of them approaching. Just as they reached the stairs, Zack felt a sharp pain in his leg and he let out a cry of surprise and stumbled to the ground. Mime Bomb was at his side instantly and he pulled a dart out of Zack's leg and tossed it aside.

Zack was already woozy from whatever was in the dart, and Mime Bomb helped support him as they started up the stairs. Mime Bomb then felt a dart pierce his shoulder and pulled it out without stopping. Feeling dizzy, he hit the automatic door button and the airstairs retracted as the door began to close. Mime Bomb stared at the men as they reached the jet and they took one last shot at him as the door closed. The dart bounced off the floor harmlessly and Mime Bomb collapsed backwards, too woozy to sit up. Zack was already passed out, and within seconds, Mime Bomb joined him.

Outside, the men let out a curse.

[[Aim for the pilot!]] one of them ordered. [[Kill the pilot and we'll finally have him. Volkov should be unconscious by now, and if we can get in the plane, he's ours.]]

The men shot at the pilot who was slowly pulling forward in the plane, and he ducked as a bullet whizzed by his head. Accelerating the plane, he gasped as a bullet struck his chest, but he still continued, knowing they would all die unless he got them into the air. The bullets continued raining on the side of the jet and just seconds later, the sounds faded as he successfully got them into the air. Holding a hand to his bleeding chest, he set the plane on autopilot and then staggered to the back of the plane to get the medical kit.

Seeing his two passengers were unconscious, he gave them a quick glance over, but saw no signs of injury. He then saw the dart laying on the floor and quickly realized they'd been drugged. Seeing to his injury first, he knew better than to remove the bullet, and instead wrapped his chest to slow the bleeding. There was no way he could make it all the way to San Diego in his condition and he'd have to make a detour. Dragging his passengers onto one of the couches, he headed back to the cockpit to arrange an emergency landing in London.

When Mime Bomb and Zack came to several hours later, they were a bit confused. Their heads were pounding from the sedatives, and when they looked out the window, they saw the plane was grounded.

"Where are we?" Zack asked in confusion.

Mime Bomb squinted out the window and recognized the city immediately. Knowing Zack wouldn't know the signs for this, he mimed a queen. Zack frowned and scratched at his head and then took a guess.

"England?"

Mime Bomb nodded.

"What are we doing here?" he wondered out loud.

Mime Bomb frowned and gave a shrug, hoping something hadn't gone wrong.

They carefully got to their feet, still feeling a bit unsteady, and they slowly made their way to the cockpit, holding onto the wall for support. The pilot looked up as they entered, and he gave them an angry look.

"This is going to be a very expensive bill this time." he informed them. "I'm doubling my usual rate."

"What's going on?" Zack asked. "What happened?"

"I had to divert the plane to London to get medical treatment," he replied, "I'm now just waiting for air clearance. It shouldn't be more than a couple hours."

Zack looked him up and down, but the pilot wasn't acting like he was injured. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked in concern.

"I've had worse," the pilot responded, going back to his magazine. "I'll inform you when we're about to take off."

Zack glanced at Mime Bomb. "We need to tell Carmen about this."

Mime Bomb grimaced but gave a nod all the same. As Zack headed back, he followed after him, knowing this was not going to be a pleasant conversation. They took a seat on the couch, and edged close together so they could both see the screen to the com.

As Zack dialed Carmen's com, waiting and waiting as it rang. After about twenty rings, Player answered. The boy was eating a burger meal and looked to be at a restaurant.

"Hey, guys," the boy greeted.

"Wow, are you actually out of your room?!" Zack asked in shock.

Player rolled his eyes. "I do leave my dark cave occasionally," the boy replied.

"We're trying to get a hold of Carm, is she busy?"

Player nodded as he ate a fry. "She's meeting with Team Crackle right now, and she could be a while. What's up?"

"Er...well, we're now in London…"

Player paused mid-bite and raised a brow. "What? Why?"

Zack wasn't entirely sure how to explain everything when he didn't even understand it himself. "Erm, well, some men showed up and were after Mime Bomb. They shot at us and we had to leave Wales before they took him."

Player simply stared at him, and then took a drink of his soda. "What men? Police?"

Zack shook his head. "No, they definitely weren't police, they were shooting tranquilizer darts. They weren't interested in me and were only interested in Mime Bomb. They even knew his real name!"

Player frowned and knew this was serious. Who would be after Mime Bomb if it wasn't the police? Was it V.I.L.E perhaps?

"Ok, I'm going to do a bit of poking on the V.I.L.E servers to see if I can find out what they know about Mime Bomb. If V.I.L.E is responsible for this, then someone will be talking about it. What's Mime Bomb's real name?"

Zack glanced over at Mime Bomb who nodded his consent.

"Mime Bomb's real name is Yuri Volkov."

Player proceeded to choke on his drink, his eyes going saucer wide. He coughed a few times and then stared at Zack, his expression completely horrified.

"Volkov?! Mime Bomb's real name is VOLKOV?!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Siren silently stewed as the elevator went up, still feeling angry and embarrassed. Luckily Vess wasn't the type of person to hold any of this over his head to humiliate him, and so he knew it probably would never be mentioned after today. As they stepped off the elevator, Siren wished there was something he could do about Kevin's constant disrespect. He hated that Kevin, but for reasons unknown Vess wouldn't allow him to be fired.

A thought then occurred to Siren.

"Have the Kevins taken their lunch break yet?" he asked.

"No, I was going to send them once we got back," Vess replied without looking at him. "Why?"

"Perfect," Siren said, turning to walk away.

Vess immediately grabbed him harshly by the arm.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, his tone instantly impatient.

"Cafeteria."

Vess narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You're actually going to eat something without me having to force you?" he questioned skeptically.

Siren nodded, but Vess didn't look convinced.

"I don't like the idea of you going by yourself after I just gave you a sedative," Vess stated with a frown, "You could fall, and I'm too busy to go with you."

"I feel fine," Siren assured him, "Besides, I won't be alone, Ted will come with me, right Ted?"

The enormous man gave him a nod. Vess didn't look at all reassured and he let out a deep and aggravated sigh.

"Fine, but if you're not back in twenty minutes, I'm sending someone to find you."

Siren rolled his eyes, and walked off without even bothering to answer. Honestly Vess was worse than the guards half the time.

"You better not tell anyone about me having problems with the dark." Siren said, glancing up at Ted as they walked along.

"I promise," Ted assured him, "We're here for you."

Siren let out a snort. "What, are you plural now?" he demanded, "You're an idiot, Ted."

They walked along in silence for a few minutes and when they came to the cafeteria, the sound of singing could be heard. Pushing open the doors, Siren saw a group of Kevins gathered together singing Happy Birthday to another Kevin. He slowly approached and the singing quickly tapered off as they caught sight of him. Everyone was staring at him with wide and cautious eyes and Siren let out a sigh.

"Where's the Kevin fridge?" he demanded.

Without a word, someone pointed to a large set of fridges nearby. He could feel every eye on him as he crossed the room and instantly became irritable. Yeah, he never came to the cafeteria, but was it really that big of a deal? Honestly. People were staring at him like he was going to eat them or something.

Letting out a sigh, he opened one of the fridges and stared at the bagged lunches thoughtfully. Terry Douglas...where was the lunch for one Terrence Douglas? He dug through the fridge looking at the names on the lunches, hoping Terry hadn't been planning on buying his lunch for once. After digging for a few moments, he came across a brown paper bag with Terry's name on it. Bingo. Grabbing the bag, he closed the fridge, and then glanced up at Ted.

"I need you to help me with research this afternoon," he informed him, "I actually have a bit of free time, and I want to start researching a new vaccine."

"Sorry, bro, but I can't do that."

Siren narrowed his eyes. "What you do mean you 'can't do that'?!" he demanded, raising his voice. "And stop calling me 'bro'! I am your boss, and you don't disrespect me like this!"

Ted gave him a shrug, clearly unconcerned, and Siren felt himself becoming agitated.

"Why?" he demanded. "Why can't you help me?"

"You know why," Ted answered, giving a long and lazy stretch.

"Vess." Siren said, narrowing his eyes. "He's trying to punish me for touching his damn research, isn't he?! He's ordered you to be useless!"

Ted shrugged.

"Well, you work for me , and I order you to ignore him!"

"Sorry, but Dr. Vess kinda scares me," Ted admitted.

"You're like seven feet tall, you could crush him if you wanted!" Siren snarled, "Stop being an idiot."

"Sorry."

Siren reached into the fridge and grabbed a lunchbox. He then whipped it at Ted, but missed by a long shot, hitting one of the nearby Kevins instead. Cursing his terrible aim, he turned away, not wanting to deal with Ted anymore. Every eye in the cafeteria was on him as he turned around, and he frowned at the dead silence in the room.

"What?" he demanded.

Siren then glanced down at the stolen lunch in his hand. "If anyone tells him I stole this, I'm going to be pissed off." he informed them.

Several of the Kevins exchanged a look, but no one answered him. Siren's gaze then fell on the large birthday cake on the table.

"Can I have a piece of cake?" he asked.

The Birthday Kevin hesitantly reached for the knife and then cut him a generous slice, placing it on a paper plate. Holding it out towards him, Siren took the plate and then grabbed a plastic fork.

"Thank you," Siren said, turning towards the door. "And Happy Birthday."

Siren left the cafeteria, ignoring how as soon as he left the room it erupted into immediate conversation. He walked back to the lab in silence and when he entered, he glanced at Terry, noting the sullen look on the other man's face. It seemed Vess had already given the guard a piece of his mind. He walked past them without a single word, purposely bumping into Terry as he did so, and then took a seat at his desk, making sure the name on the paper bag wasn't facing the guards.

Vess glanced over at him suspiciously, and frowned at the bagged lunch, but didn't comment since he didn't especially care. Terry stared at Siren in surprise, fully expecting to be yelled at or have something thrown at him, but Siren seemed completely calm. Terry was instantly on edge, knowing this wasn't right.

Siren opened the bagged lunch, and pulled out a tupperware container. A post-it was stuck to the lid and he turned it around to read it.

'Have a good day at work, handsome, I love you -Lucy'

Siren snorted, and opened the lid to see what it was. It was some sort of casserole, and he pulled a fork out of the bag. Not especially caring whether it was cold, he took a bite and immediately didn't like it. He kept eating it however, having every intention of finishing every bite of the stolen lunch. He normally had a terrible appetite and after a few minutes, Vess gave him another suspicious glance.

"What are you eating?" Terry asked after a few minutes. "It smells good."

Siren gave a shrug. "Some kind of casserole...chicken I think."

"I didn't know the cafeteria made casseroles," he commented in surprise, "Who made it? Sarah?"

"It was made by a very sad woman with extremely low standards in life," Siren replied, finishing the last bite of casserole.

"Maybe I'll buy a small dish to try," Terry said thoughtfully. "I'm starving and haven't taken my lunch-break yet. I can then compare it to my wife's casserole."

"Wouldn't count on it," Siren replied, pulling the piece of chocolate cake towards himself. "It's all gone."

Terry gave a shrug. "Oh well."

"You two can go take your breaks," Vess told told them without looking up from his experiment. "We'll be fine here."

Terry and Natasha didn't need to be told twice and they left the room without a word. As soon as the door closed, Vess glanced over at Siren.

"That was Terry's lunch, wasn't it." It wasn't a question.

"Sure was." Siren replied, taking a bite of the cake. "And this is his wallet."

Siren plunked a leather wallet onto the desk, and Vess simply sighed.

"If he slaps you, I'm not stopping him."

"Fair enough."

"Did you steal someone's birthday cake?" Vess asked, going back to what he was doing.

"No, they gave me a piece. They're having some sort of birthday party for a Kevin in the lunchroom."

Vess said nothing more and so Siren picked up a pen and grabbed a handful of paperwork. He translated several dozen pages, humming as he did so, and Ted stood nearby simply watching him. After an hour, the Kevins returned and Siren smirked when he saw the foul look on Terry's face. He noticed Terry was glancing around at the floor and Siren subtly pushed the wallet out of sight behind the paper bag.

Deciding he was bored with translations, Siren got up from his desk and approached Vess' side of the room. He stared at the various bottled specimens in curiosity, but knew better than to touch anything. He was still humming to himself quietly, and he looked at the huge collection of medical texts that filled several bookcases. As with the bottles, he made sure not to touch, and he wandered from place to place, simply being nosy. As his humming escalated to quiet singing, Vess let out a sigh, but didn't bother commenting. It was normal for Siren to begin getting bored after a few hours of paperwork, and the sedative was clearly wearing off.

The guards watched Siren aimlessly wander around the room, and Natasha leaned in to whisper in her partner's ear.

"You know, he actually has a really nice voice," she observed.

Terry rolled his eyes. "That's the only reason no one has strangled him yet," he replied, "He's like a walking jukebox."

Siren soon found himself standing next to a large globe and he reached out a hand and spun it, simply watching as it went around and around. A little bit mesmerized, he spun it and spun it, watching the blur of colours as it turned. Reaching out a hand, he stopped it, and then glanced over at Vess.

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you choose to go?" he asked.

"I can go anywhere in the world I want to." Vess replied, impatiently. "I'm exactly where I want to be right now."

Siren rolled his eyes. "Don't be so boring. I've always wanted to go to Seoul."

"Fascinating." Vess deadpanned without looking up.

Siren glanced over at Ted. "Where would you choose to go, Ted?"

Ted seemed a bit confused, but approached all the same. He stared down at the globe and then pointed a finger to a location. Siren squinted at where he pointed and then gave him an incredulous look.

"New Jersey?! Out of everywhere in the entire world, you'd choose to go to New Jersey?!"

Ted smiled and nodded.

Siren sighed. "Somehow that is very fitting for you, Ted…"

Siren spun the globe again, and Vess finally looked up. "If you break that I'm taking it out of your pay."

Siren blinked. "I get paid?! When did this start?!"

Vess rolled his eyes, knowing Siren was just joking. "I have a meeting I need to attend in a few minutes. Do not touch my desk while I'm gone or I'll snap every single one of your fingers."

Siren rolled his eyes in return, knowing Vess would never actually do that. "I told you I never touched your damn desk, Numa. Stop being so full of yourself; your research is not that interesting."

"Siren, I trust your self-control about as much as I'd trust a thief with my credit card." Vess responded, getting up from his desk. "You're like a spoiled child."

Siren spun the globe so hard, it teetered a bit and he glared at his lab partner. "And you're like an ornery old man." he shot back.

Vess sighed. "Don't you have work you can be doing?"

"Oh, probably," Siren acknowledged, giving another spin to the globe. "I'm going to get a few files out of the archives so I can do a bit of research later."

"Good, maybe you'll actually accomplish something for once." Vess stated, gathering a few papers together.

"God, you're an ass today." Siren commented. "You need to take a nap or something."

Vess didn't respond as he placed a few papers into a folder and then grabbed his briefcase. As he headed for the door, he shot Siren one last warning look and then left without another word. Siren spun the globe again and glanced over at Ted.

"Now that Dr. Gloom is gone, do you want to help me with my research?"

Ted nodded. "Sounds like fun."

Siren clapped his hands together, glad Ted was actually going to do his job for once. "Perfect!" he exclaimed, heading for his desk.

He then noticed the Kevins were having a conversation between themselves.

"Did you check your locker?"

"Of course I did! I have no idea where I could have dropped it! I couldn't even buy my lunch and I'm absolutely starving! My rent money was in there!"

"I only have a ten, but I can lend it to you until tomorrow if you like?"

Siren smirked and Terry quickly noticed.

"Of course you would think this was funny." he grumbled.

"Don't talk to me, Kevin." Siren responded, opening his desk drawer.

"My name isn't Kevin, it's Terry."

Siren seemed surprised. "Is that so? That's also the name on this lunchbag! Imagine that."

Terry simply stared at him. "What?"

Siren turned the paper bag around so the name written on it was clearly visible. Terry stared at it and then gaped at him in realization.

"Is...is that my lunch?!"

"Well, it doesn't say Kevin on it, so probably not." Siren responded with a shrug.

Terry strode forward and snatched the bag, glanced inside and saw the note from his wife. His mouth tightened into an angry line, and he glowered down at the smaller man who simply gave him an innocent look.

"You stole my lunch?!"

Siren glanced over at Ted who was still standing next to the globe. "Ted, why is this Kevin trying to talk to me? He seems to think I care what he says."

Terry's eyes then fell on the wallet and he sputtered angrily for a moment as he reached out to snatch it back. "You stole my wallet?! Are you serious right now?!"

"Go away." Siren ordered, pulling a few folders out of his desk. "I'm busy."

Terry slammed his hand on top of the desk, causing Siren to jump in surprise. When he looked up, Terry was leaning over the desk so they were face to face.

"You earn ten times what I do, and you stole my lunch and my wallet?!"

"To be fair, your wife is a really horrendous cook and I instantly regretted it."

Terry slammed his hand down again and Siren shrank back, suddenly aware of how much bigger the other man was than him.

"This whole facility just lets you do whatever you want and it's ridiculous!" Terry snarled. "The way you're catered to, the way no one ever says anything to you, the way they let you get away with murder! I am sick of being assigned to you, but apparently I do a 'good job' and they won't let me transfer. I'm stuck babysitting you, and I've had enough!"

As Terry moved one of his hands, Siren jerked back and lifted his hands over his face, fully expecting to be slapped. Natasha was suddenly there, and she grabbed Terry by the arm.

"Don't you dare hit him!" she said firmly.

"I'm not going to hit him." Terry snapped. "Even if he does deserve it."

Siren peeked through his fingers at him, not quite trusting him and Terry narrowed his eyes at him.

"You're buying me a replacement lunch." he informed him.

"Ted!" Siren called. "A little help over here?!"

Ted simply stared back at him looking completely confused and helpless.

Terry once again slammed a hand on the desk. "Stop it." he ordered. "No one is going to help you out of this. Not this time."

Siren shook his head. "Go away, Kevin, just leave me alone."

"No." Terry said firmly. "You are going to listen to me whether you want to or not."

"Terry, you kinda did deserve it." Natasha informed him. "That prank with the basement was mean-spirited."

Terry took a deep breath, and then glared down at Siren who was still holding himself like he was expecting a slap.

"Ugh, you're not worth it." Terry scoffed, turning away.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked Siren kindly.

"Go away, Girl-Kevin." Siren ordered, finally lowering his hands away from his face. "I have work to do, and you idiots have wasted enough of my time. Сука блядь."

Natasha raised a brow at how casually he went right back to insults once the threat of retaliation was gone.

"I'm just trying to be friends," she told him, "We're going to be spending every day together, so wouldn't it be better to at least be nice to each other?"

"No." Siren responded, not even looking at her.

"How did you steal his wallet?" She asked. "I never even saw you do it!"

Siren gave her a shrug.

"Did you learn that at the academy?"

"I don't remember." Siren answered, getting up from his desk.

Natasha cocked her head. "Don't you have a photographic memory? How is it possible you don't remember?"

Siren glanced up and a look a confusion crossed his face. Why didn't he remember? He always remembered everything, so why couldn't he remember the academy? Did he even go to the academy? He scratched at his head, his expression quickly becoming distressed. He had never really thought about it before, and that in itself was strange.

Every memory he had was of this lab, and he froze as he considered what that meant. He wasn't an idiot and he knew all about V.I.L.E's habit of mind-erasing their operatives. Did they do that to him? He was just a scientist, why would they do that to him? He wasn't even anyone important!

"It'll be alright, bro," Ted informed him, flashing him a goofy smile.

"What are you even talking about?" Siren demanded, throwing a pen at the other man.

For once, his aim was perfect and he watched as the pen sailed straight through Ted's chest. He stared with wide eyes and felt his breath quicken, not fully comprehending what had happened. Beginning to tremble, he slowly crossed the room and approached him. Reaching out a hand towards him, his fingers passed right through him. Ted then faded from view and he was left staring at nothing. Siren began to shake even harder, staring wide-eyed where his assistant had just been. Fear began to course its way through him as he realized Ted had never been there.

Ted Roo...Teddy Roose...Theodore and Roosevelt. Ted wasn't a real person, he was a memory.

Fire… There was fire everywhere, and screams surrounded him. Everyone was screaming, and there was nothing but pain and blackness all around him. The darkness was filled with death, and everyone was burning. The children were burning...

Siren clutched at his head and let out a feral scream. All the pain and memories came crashing over him in a suffocating wave, and he screamed and screamed, just wanting it to stop. Pulling at his hair, he fell to the floor and writhed in agony, his skull feeling like it was splitting open. He felt hands on him and the touch seemed to burn and he lashed out, knocking the person away. He curled into a ball of misery and kicked and hit at anyone who touched him.

Siren smashed everything within reach of him, and he could hear the guards yelling to him, but he ignored them, just wanting the pain to stop. They had taken everything from him, and he let out another scream, this one of pure frustration. They had stolen everything he cared about.

The memories were too much, he couldn't handle it and Siren felt himself distancing himself from them, his mind going numb. He went quiet as his mind went into a foggy haze, and he sat up, still ignoring the guards. He began to rock back and forth feeling like the world was beginning to slip away from him. The pain was too much and he allowed it to happen, not wanting to deal with it.

He began to hum to himself, trying to calm down, and after a few minutes, he finally opened his eyes. Terry and Nastasha were kneeling down beside him, but he ignored them as he got back to his feet. Not stopping his humming, he stared around the lab in a daze, his mind quickly retreating further and further away. He began walking towards the door, having no real destination in mind, and he heard his guards yelling after him.

"Get Dr. Vess." Terry ordered.

"He's in a meeting with the faculty!" Natasha said in horror.

"Interrupt the meeting. We need him here now. I'll get help while you get Vess."

Terry hurried after Siren, as Natasha ran the opposite direction, having a feeling the faculty weren't going to appreciate being interrupted.

Siren hummed louder and louder as he walked along, the familiar action helping with the bad feelings that welled within him. He found himself in the now empty cafeteria and he stared at the half-eaten birthday cake left on the table. Moving on autopilot, he reached for the cake-knife and was about to cut himself a slice when he heard a loud crash from the hallway. Approaching to investigate, he didn't even realize he still had the knife in his hand. One of the cleaning staff had knocked over her cleaning cart and Siren stared at the mess uncomprehendingly. Stepping over the bottles and mops, he passed the cleaning woman without so much as a glance.

Siren's humming turned into quiet singing and he could feel himself slipping further and further away from reality. He could sense Terry's presence just behind him as they walked along, and he ignored him, having no interest in what the other man was doing. He walked along the halls aimlessly as he sang to himself, and he became aware that two more guards joined Terry.

When he took the stairwell down to the upper basement, they followed right along behind him, and Siren sang louder as he realized there was a good echo here. When he reached the upper basement, it was poorly lit and he found his eyes drawn to the shadows, the semi-darkness making him uneasy.

Siren stared upwards in the gloomy basement as he walked, his mind feeling detached, like he was an outsider looking in. He loved how his voice carried through the maze of hallways as he sang, and he closed his eyes, simply listening as his words echoed around him. He slowly spun in place and reached out his hands, his fingers brushing across the rough stone of the walls around him. The knife he held scraped along the wall with a sharp noise, and he opened his eyes, once again staring into the nothingness above him. The darkness seemed to press in from above, and so he sang louder and turned his eyes away. He would not think about the darkness.

Siren began slowly walking through the halls, his haunting song carrying through the basement like an ominous promise of death. Every bit of pain and sadness came out through his words, but he didn't understand these emotions, and didn't like the feeling of them. The world was a confusing and terrible mess, and Siren only wanted to enjoy his song. He spun around and around as he sang, the knife scraping the wall as he moved, and he felt hypnotized as a sense of calm came over him. Around and around he spun, his mind feeling like it was beginning to spiral along with him. Around and around the knife went, its noise now a part of his song. Around and around the world went, and he passed through the halls not caring where he ended up.

Siren sang his song loud and clear, allowing his mind to sink deep within himself, his song shielding him from everything around him. The world wasn't a real place, and it was full of nothing but loneliness and pain, and he wanted no part in it. There was no pain while he hid within his song, and nothing could touch him here.

He passed by door after door, but he wasn't interested in them, ignoring the terrified patients as he walked along.

Around and around his mind went, his memories becoming a swirling mess of confusion and loneliness. He sang loud and clear, nothing else mattering to him, and he spun and spun, holding the knife tightly in his hand. He passed through hallway after hallway, and no one tried to stop him.

Siren's spinning dance took him to a heavy metal door that was locked. A single touch of his hand to the keypad opened the door, and he now found himself outside.

The cold air bit at his skin as the snow blew around him, and he held up his arms towards the sky and simply spun. He stared at the untouched world of white around him and watched the snow spiral all around him. Everything was a spiral, and everything was spinning. Around and around he spun, his arms beginning to hurt from the bitter cold, but he barely noticed, closing his eyes against the harsh wind.

Suddenly he heard a voice calling out to him, and he slowly opened his eyes. That was an unpleasant sound. That was not part of his song. He stopped his spinning and looked over and saw three men and a woman standing in the open doorway, simply staring at him. One of them called out to him, but to him the words were noise and nothing more. He ignored them, not once pausing in his song, and once again he stared at the snow that spun all around him. He then joined its spinning once more, the white going around and around in his vision.

He felt irritated when once again the annoying sound of the guard's voice pierced his song. His song was important, his song was everything, and he didn't like having it interrupted. He slowed his spinning as the guards began to approach him, and he knew they were just part of the world that didn't exist. They were part of the world that was full of pain and death, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

The guards' black coats were like a stain on his beautiful white paradise unlike his own snow-white lab-coat. They kept making that horrible mouth noise at him, but he couldn't understand the words, and he didn't want to. He wanted the sound to stop and when the woman reached out towards him, Siren silenced her with one single swipe of his hand. There was a new sound that joined his song as the woman fell to the ground at his feet and he considered it thoughtfully. This was a noise he could easily ignore, imagining it to be the gurgle of a nearby stream.

The remaining three men slowly backed away from him, and Siren felt hotness on his hand. He saw his hand was covered in red and as he looked down, he saw the snow was drenched in it. The colour of red against white was actually quite beautiful and Siren paused his spinning to kneel down beside it. The vibrant red stood out against the beautiful snow, and he reached a hand out towards it. The red was very warm, and he felt like this was now a part of his song. A song of red and white.

Siren put his hand to his face, and felt the warm stickiness against his skin and he once again closed his eyes. He couldn't feel his hands or feet anymore but he continued his spinning, his song still not stopping. He didn't want to stop. He never wanted his song to end.

He was quite annoyed when he once again heard someone interrupt his song. Opening his eyes, he saw a man stepping outside into the snow. This man wore a white coat like his and Siren stared at him, feeling like he looked familiar. He stared at the man's black hair and his angry eyes, and Siren felt a tiny wave of lucidness cross his mind. Dr. Vess...this was Dr. Vess.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Vess commented, seeing the body of Natasha at Siren's feet.

Siren was then grabbed harshly by the shoulders to stop his spinning, and the knife was taken from his unresisting hand. Siren stared up at Vess with glassy eyes, and without any hesitation, he was slapped hard across the face. It took two more slaps before Siren was brought back to reality, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. Every bad feeling he'd been holding at bay crashed back over him, and he began to cry hard, his song finally stopping.

Without a single word, Dr. Vess scooped the small man into his arms and then headed back for the building, the guards all too frightened to even approach.

"Someone clean up this mess." the doctor ordered furiously.

Siren closed his eyes and sobbed wholeheartedly, going completely limp in Vess' hold. He knew he was in trouble when Vess forced a pill down his throat, but he wasn't quite sure what he had done. Why did Vess look so angry? Siren shivered, just now noticing how cold he was, and he clutched at Vess' coat, not realizing he was leaving a smear of red across the white fabric.

He had no idea what the pill was, but it was strong, and Siren found himself getting sleepy as Vess carried him through the hallways. He was barely able to keep his eyes open, and as they got on the elevator, he lost his grip on Vess' coat. Fighting to stay awake, he shook his head, but the heaviness of sleep was pulling at him too strongly.

Only a couple minutes later, he became aware they were entering his bedroom. He was then tossed none too gently onto his bed, and Vess began stripping off Siren's bloodsoaked clothes. Vess didn't speak at all, but his expression was absolutely livid. Vess fetched a damp cloth from the bathroom and began scrubbing the blood off the other man in a business-like fashion. Siren was barely awake at this point and he squirmed in discomfort at the rough treatment, but Vess was persistent.

When Siren was finally clean, Vess carelessly tossed a blanket over him, and simply turned and left the room without a single word. Siren blinked tiredly at the closed door, already feeling his memories beginning to fade away. A few moments later, Siren fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake until the next day.

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TBC