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?

32. Kazakhstan

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The Broken Silence

Chapter 32

Kazakhstan

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Crackle slowly opened his eyes, and then blinked when all he saw was white. Everything was too bright, and he gave another few blinks before glancing around him.

"You're awake!" Theodore exclaimed, startling him.

Crackle's gaze focused on the three people sitting by his bed, and he stared for a long moment, before he recognized them. Theodore, Roosevelt, and Paper Star. They were his team. Raising a hand to his face, he rubbed at his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what happened. All he could remember was meeting with Team Red, getting car sick and then saying he was going to walk. Everything after that was blank.

"What happened?" Crackle asked, "Where am I?"

The twins exchanged a look, and then Theodore hesitantly replied. "You had a seizure."

"You're in the hospital," Roosevelt added.

Crackle hurriedly sat up. "Hospital?!"

"We thought you were dying," Theodore answered sheepishly.

"Did you get authorization for this?!" Crackle asked in alarm, glancing around the room.

The twins both shook their heads, and Crackle frowned up at them. "This is against protocol!" he scolded, "I'll have to report this."

"Well, we could have just left you lying there," Paper Star responded with a shrug.

Crackle raised a hand to his aching head. "You should have called Dr. Bellum or Dr. Vess for authorization. I'm the leader of this team, and I'm going to be held responsible for this. They have every right to severely punish me for this!"

The twins gave him a look of concern. "But it wasn't your fault!" Roosevelt pointed out.

"It was my fault," Crackle corrected angrily, "As your leader, I should have ensured you'd never break protocol. I've clearly been too easy on all of you!"

Paper Star gave the twins a flat look. "Yeah...we should have just left him there," she deadpanned.

"No, I would have still helped him," Theodore said firmly.

Crackle let out a sigh, knowing there was nothing he could do about it now that it was done. "I don't remember the seizure," he replied, "What did the doctors say?"

Once again the twins hesitated, but Paper Star spoke up without hesitation.

"They said you have brain damage," she replied, "Your brain apparently looks like it got severe radiation damage. Your brainwaves were all over the place, and it seems like your brain is struggling to tell your left hemisphere from your right."

Crackle simply stared at her. "Brain damage?"

She nodded, not looking bothered in the least. "I'm assuming it was from whatever experiments Dr. Bellum did on you when she was erasing your memories. Your brain is pretty much scrambled eggs at this point."

Crackle grimaced, knowing this was not the result Dr. Bellum would have wanted. "And the seizure?" he questioned.

Paper Star gave a shrug. "From what the doctors can tell, your brain is trying to rewire itself from all of the damage. You took the seizure from an overload in your brain when a signal from your nerves was interrupted. They want to run further tests on you so they can tell the extent of the damage."

Crackle immediately shook his head. "No , no more tests. I'm V.I.L.E property and civilians cannot learn about any of Dr. Bellum's experiments. This could put V.I.L.E at risk. We need to leave."

"We should wait to get your blood results first," Theodore suggested, "They're trying to rule out all other causes of the brain damage, and are making sure it's not a parasite or infection."

Crackle hesitated, the thought of a brain parasite completely horrifying. "When are the results coming back?"

"In the morning," Roosevelt answered, glancing at the clock. "You should just rest for a few hours until the results come back."

Crackle looked at the clock and saw it was nearly 8pm. He had missed the whole afternoon. "Where's Dash?" he demanded, "Did you bring him with you?"

"No, we left him back at the motel so he could sleep," Theodore replied.

Crackle rubbed at his head, feeling frustrated, but knowing it would be wise to spend the night. Once they got his results, they could sneak out of the hospital. "I don't like the idea of Dash being left by himself this long. Someone needs to go check on him."

"We could just call him?" Theodore suggested.

Crackle shook his head. "No, he could need help getting up, and he'd never admit it. Plus I doubt he's been eating when I'm not there to nag him. Someone go check on him."

Everyone exchanged a look, and then Roosevelt nodded. "I'll go," he stated, "I needed to stop at the store anyway."

Crackle seemed a little more at ease now and he returned the nod. "Call me once you get there."

"Okay," Roosevelt agreed, "Do you need me to bring anything back?"

"We need to raid Team Red's base," Paper Star pointed out, "Bring Crackle his tablet."

Crackle had forgotten about that, and knew they'd finally be able to track down Carmen Sandiego. "Yes, bring my tablet, and I'll see if the tracking device worked. If we know where their base is, we'll begin making our plan of attack."

Roosevelt nodded. "Okay, I'll be back in an hour."

Roosevelt was honestly glad to get out of that hospital room, the whole situation making him extremely uncomfortable. He was always awkward around people who were sick or injured, and never quite knew how to react. Theodore on the other hand, had a much kinder nature, and he instinctively gravitated towards people who were hurt or upset. When their younger brother Delano was still living, it had always been Theodore who had comforted him when he'd cried or gotten injured. Delano had always been overly emotional, and Roosevelt didn't understand it, and had been more than willing to let Theodore handle that sort of thing.

Roosevelt grimaced at the thought of Delano, the loss still painful even though it had been ten years. For most of their lives, it had been just the three of them, and they always knew they could depend on each other for anything. Delano was smarter than the twins had any hope of ever comprehending, and they had depended on their brother to always make the plans and get them out of trouble. Delano in turn had depended on the twins to protect him, and they balanced each other out, making the perfect team.

Roosevelt thought of Delano's cocky smirk, and his laugh, and closed his eyes for a moment, pushing all thoughts of him out of his mind. Roosevelt was good at blocking out his emotions, and focused his thoughts on his task instead. He would stop at the store, and then check on Dash.

When Roosevelt left the hospital, he saw the sun was setting and it was going to be dark soon. Pulling the hood up on his sweater, he headed for the van, wondering where he could go to buy supplies for Steve. There was a ticket waiting for him on the windshield of the van, and he realized they'd forgotten to feed the meter in their haste to get Crackle to the hospital. Snatching the ticket off the windshield, he glanced at it and saw it was a $30 ticket for an expired meter. Rolling his eyes, he crumpled it up and tossed it over his shoulder without another thought.

Getting in the van, he turned on the ignition and then pulled out onto the road. As he drove along, he kept his eyes on the stores as he passed them, looking for a pet store. He finally spotted a large chain pet store and pulled into the parking lot, hoping they were still open. Relieved when he saw the neon 'open' sign, he found a parking spot and then got out of the van.

The second he entered the pet store, the store employees stared with wide eyes at the massive man wearing a hoodie, certain they were about to be robbed.

"Er...good evening," one of the employees called out towards him.

Roosevelt grunted, but didn't respond, simply glancing around the enormous store in confusion.

"Go ask him if he needs help!" the store manager ordered one of her employees.

"No way, I don't want to get murdered!" the employee responded, "Make Ashley do it!"

The cashier's eyes widened in horror. "Me?! Why me?"

"You're a new hire and are at the bottom of the totem pole!" the employee responded, giving her a shove in the direction of Roosevelt.

"I'm only fourteen!" Ashley protested, "I'm pretty sure this is against some kind of rule!"

"Go on!" the manager ordered, "We have to greet every customer and offer them help!"

Ashley glanced at Roosevelt, who had grabbed a cart and wandered off down an aisle, and gulped. "He looks like he's going to tear my head off with his bare hands!"

"Go!" the manager ordered, giving her another shove. "Go help him!"

Ashley carefully crept to the aisle Roosevelt had gone down and she saw he was staring at the cage of rescue kittens they had on display. Roosevelt stared for a moment, and then poked an enormous sausage-sized finger through the bars of the cage to gently pet the head of one of the kittens. Ashley relaxed and smiled, and then approached him with a bit more confidence.

"Good evening, Sir," she greeted, "Can I help you find anything?"

Roosevelt turned to face her, and Ashley froze in fear, his severe and angry looking expression chilling her to the bone.

"Where are your cat things?" Roosevelt asked, removing his finger from the cage.

"Um...I'll show you!" she replied, motioning for him to follow her.

Roosevelt followed her to the other side of the store, and Ashley motioned around her. "These three aisles are all items for cats. What were you looking for?"

Roosevelt honestly wasn't sure and scratched his head as he considered the question. "Everything," he finally responded.

Ashley paused. "Everything?" she repeated.

Roosevelt nodded. "I don't know what I need to take care of a cat."

Ashley nodded. "Oh, you just adopted a cat?" she guessed.

"We found him near a dumpster," Roosevelt explained, "His name is Steve."

Ashley smiled up at him, now certain that Roosevelt only looked scary. "I can help you get everything you need. Do you know what sort of litter box you want?"

Roosevelt frowned. "There's different kinds?"

"I'll show you!" Ashley said, gently taking him by the sleeve.

An hour later, Roosevelt had a cart rounded full of items and followed Ashley as she led him up to the register to pay. He had no idea cats needed so many things, and hoped it wouldn't be too hard to take care of Steve. What if they forgot something? Would he die? Roosevelt hoped not, and had a feeling Crackle would be furious if that happend.

The store manager stared at the cart in disbelief and then at the smiling Ashley, and slowly put down her phone. She'd already punched in 911 on the phone, and knew if things got bad, she just had to hit call.

She stood back as Ashley began ringing in the purchases, and as the total got higher and higher, the manager became skeptical. She looked Roosevelt up and down, and still expected him to rob them at any moment.

"Okay, so that $1342.57!" Ashley announced.

Roosevelt nodded and reached into his pocket, not noticing how the manager immediately reached for her phone. He pulled out his wallet and then held up his debit card. Ashley handed over the card terminal, and as Roosevelt entered his information, Ashley shot another smile at the manager.

"What's that?" Roosevelt asked, pointing to the large coffee can sitting on the counter.

"This is a charity for sick animals," Ashley responded, "Would you like to donate?"

Roosevelt stared at the can for a moment and then pulled a hundred out of his wallet. Stuffing it through the hole in the can, he then handed back the debit machine and waited as his receipt was printed.

"Here's a pamphlet from a really good vet," Ashley told him, placing the booklet into one of the bags. "You should probably bring your cat there to be looked at by a vet as soon as possible."

Rosevelt hadn't even thought of a vet, and gave a hesitant nod. "...okay."

"Do you need help out to your car with all these bags?" Ashley asked him.

Roosevelt looked down at the tiny girl and raised a brow. "No," he simply responded, grabbing the massive amount of bags in one hand.

Roosevelt didn't say another word and just headed for the door. Once he was gone, the manager let out a deep breath of relief.

"Did he hurt you, Ashley?" she asked.

Ashley let out a snort. "Oh, like you care, Debbie. You were fully prepared to let him murder me if he wanted. Luckily for me, he just looked scary. He was really worried about taking care of the little cat he rescued this afternoon. He'd never owned a cat before, and was a bit nervous."

The manager stared out the window at Roosevelt who was loading the bags into the back of the van. "I still think he's trouble," she stated.

When Roosevelt had the last bag loaded, he got in the van and didn't notice the pet store employees were all staring at him. As he drove away, he realized he'd taken a lot longer than expected, and hoped Crackle wouldn't be angry. When he pulled into the parking lot of the motel, he passed by a large man leaving the motel and he hesitated. That looked like Moose Boy… It couldn't be, he had to be mistaken! Roosevelt glanced over his shoulder, but he could only see the man's back and now he wasn't so sure. Shaking his head, he parked and then got out of the van to unload the bags.

He fumbled at the motel room door for a minute or so and when he finally got it unlocked, he was met with the sight of Dash glaring at him.

"You were gone for hours!" Dash snarled at him, "Why did no one call me?"

"Sorry, Dash," Roosevelt responded, setting the bags down on the floor. "We were waiting for answers before we called you."

"Well, what happened?"

"Um…" Roosevelt responded, trying to remember what the doctors had said. "Crackle has brain damage from...something. I don't remember."

"Wait, what?" Dash demanded, "Brain damage? What kind of brain damage?"

Roosevelt hesitated. "I'm not the best person to ask…" he answered, "I don't know."

Dash let out an aggravated sigh. "Trying to get information out of you is like trying to communicate with a mushroom."

Roosevelt nodded. "Thank you."

Dash rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention to the pile of bags. "What's all that?" he demanded.

"Stuff for Steve."

Dash stared at the dozen bags with an incredulous look on his face. "I thought you were just buying a litter box and kibble?!"

Roosevelt glanced over at Steve who was glaring at him from where he was curled up on top of Dash. "The girl at the pet store said we need this stuff in order to take care of him…"

Dash sighed, having a feeling Roosevelt had been tricked into wasting a lot of money. "What did you get?"

Dash watched as Roosevelt pulled out item after item out of the bags and saw he had chosen the most expensive brands. Steve now had a covered litter box, a scratching post, a cat bed, a cat carrier, a food dish, a cat fountain, a brush, nail clippers, shampoo, and dozens of other small items that had Dash sighing again.

"We're not even keeping the cat!"

"Well...we should still take care of him in the meantime," Roosevelt responded, reaching out a hand to pat Steve. He immediately got scratched and jerked his hand back in surprise.

"Serves you right," Dash responded irritably, "No one likes being poked at."

Roosevelt frowned at the cat and then went back to setting everything up where it wouldn't be in the way.

"Put the litter box over where Neal sleeps," Dash ordered. "The stench of Neal will probably mask the smell of the litter box."

Roosevelt rolled his eyes but did as he was told and put the litter box on the other side of the room, near Neal's spot. "Neal doesn't smell," Roosevelt pointed out.

"Well, he looks like he would," Dash responded unapologetically, "He's gross."

Roosevelt didn't bother answering as he filled the food bowl with kibble, and then set up the water fountain. Dash watched him without offering to help, and when Roosevelt was done arranging everything, he grabbed Crackle's tablet and then turned back towards the door.

"I told Crackle I'd only be an hour and I'm late," he explained, "I have to go."

"Wait, Crackle's awake and you didn't think to tell me this?!"

"Uh...sorry."

Dash let out a huff. "Can you get either Crackle or Paper Star to call me so I can find out what's going on?"

Roosevelt nodded. "Crackle is just waiting for some test results, and so we shouldn't be too long."

"Well, I still want a call," Dash ordered.

Roosevelt gave him another nod. "Okay," he promised, "I'll ask Crackle to call you. Oh, he told me to make sure you eat something so...please eat something."

Dash simply rolled his eyes, and didn't bother answering.

The second Roosevelt left the room, Steve immediately leapt down off Dash and sped over to the food dish and then began wolfing down food as fast as it could. Dash watched for a few moments and then grimaced.

"Ugh, you eat like Neal."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Moose Boy whistled jauntily to himself as he approached the motel, pizza in hand. Both hands full from the pizza box and soda, he gave a light kick to the door to knock.

[[Sven, my hands are full, can you open the door for me?]] he called loudly.

There was no response.

Moose Boy kicked again, a bit harder this time. [[Sven?]] he questioned, [[Open up!]]

There was still no response and Moose Boy frowned. Maybe Otterman was in the bathroom and couldn't hear him? Letting out a sigh, he set the pizza and soda on the ground, and then stuck his key into the lock. He opened the door, and while using a foot to hold it open, he picked up the food and headed inside.

Otterman was sound asleep on the bed, and Moose Boy gave him a fond smile, knowing how the other man hadn't been sleeping well. Setting the box and bottle of soda on the nearby desk, he closed the door and then headed for the bed.

[[Sven,]] Moose Boy said softly, shaking his shoulder. [[I'm back with supper. Wake up.]]

Otterman didn't so much as stir, and so Moose Boy gave him a harder shake.

[[Sven, it's too early to go to bed. You need to eat something,]] he told him, [[Come on, time to wake up.]]

When Otterman still didn't move, Moose Boy became concerned, and shook him incredibly hard.

[[Sven? Wake up!]] he said loudly, [[Sven!]]

Otterman lobbed as he was shaken, but his eyes remained closed. Moose was now in full panic mode, and he quickly checked to see if he was breathing, and was relieved to see the gentle rise and fall of Otterman's chest. Moose Boy hesitated a moment and then gave a light slap to Otterman's face. When he didn't get so much as a twitch, Moose Boy gave him a powerful slap that was hard enough to jerk Otterman's entire body.

Otterman's eyes flew open and he clutched at his face, having no idea what was going on.

"What the hell, Henrik?!" he yelled out in English.

Suddenly Otterman's stomach lurched and he had just enough time to lean over the side of the bed as he was violently sick. He couldn't seem to stop, and a moment later, he felt a gentle hand rubbing his back as he vomited. When he was finally done, Otterman simply laid there feeling dizzy and exhausted.

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy questioned, [[Are you alright?]]

When Otterman didn't answer, Moose Boy rolled him over and saw he was falling back asleep. Moose Boy immediately slapped him and Otterman jerked awake with a startled flail.

[[What happened?]] Moose Boy demanded, [[How many of those pills did you take?]]

Otterman's eyes were unfocused, and he didn't answer, looking like he was going to close his eyes again. Moose Boy slapped him again, but this time Otterman barely reacted.

[[Sven? Can you answer me?]]

Otterman didn't respond, his skin quickly turning pale. When his eyes closed, Moose Boy slapped him again.

[[I'm taking you to the hospital,]] Moose Boy told him, [[Don't you dare fall asleep again!]]

Moose Boy grabbed his com and then hesitated. What was the emergency number in America? Was it 999 or was that England? Moose Boy bit his lower lip, and then reached over and shook Otterman's shoulder.

[[Sven, what number do I dial? I can't remember!]]

Otterman let out a low groan and didn't answer.

Knowing he had to act fast, Moose Boy scooped Otterman into his arms, and then hurried for the door. Throwing the door open, he raced across the parking lot in the direction of Team Crackle's room. With one massive kick, he broke the lock on the door which flew open with a loud crash.

Dash let out a startled shriek and fell out of bed, Steve immediately poofing up and hissing at the intruder.

"I need your help!" Moose Boy begged, "What's the number for 911?" **

Dash stared up at Moose Boy in complete disbelief, still sprawled awkwardly on the floor. "What the hell, you moron! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I need your help!" Moose Boy yelled.

"What are you even doing in San Diego?!" Dash demanded, now noticing Otterman in the man's arms. "What did you idiots do now? What happened?"

"You need to help me!" Moose Boy said desperately, "I think Sven overdosed!"

Dash's eyes widened, and he was instantly serious. "Lay him down on the floor," he ordered.

Moose Boy did as he was told, and Dash crawled over to him, clearly in a lot of pain. He immediately noticed Otterman was incredibly pale, and his breathing seemed to be shallow and slow. Reaching out, he laid a hand on his cheek and noticed the skin felt cool to the touch. Gently lifting one of his eyelids, he saw his eyes were dilated, and when he gave him a hard pinch on the arm, he was unresponsive.

"What did he take?" Dash demanded, reaching for his duffle bag.

"I..I don't know," Moose Boy replied, trying to remember the name of the medication.

"I need to know this," Dash said impatiently as he unzipped the bag. "Heroin?"

"No, it was...oh, it's in his pocket!"

Dash felt Otterman's pants and then pulled a bottle out of his pocket. Looking at the label, he grimaced.

"Oxy... it's an opiate overdose. How much did he take?"

Again Moose Boy shook his head, feeling useless. "I don't know! He's been taking more and more lately and then lying about it. He told me he only took one, but I know he took at least two."

"These are an incredibly high dose," Dash said with a frown. "We need to move fast."

Moose Boy watched as Dash pulled a small kit out of his duffle bag, and then stared with wide eyes as he removed a bottle of clear liquid and a syringe. With practiced ease, Dash removed the cap of the liquid and then stuck the syringe through the rubber stopper, filling it with the liquid.

"What is that?!" Moose Boy asked in concern.

"Naloxone," Dash responded distractedly, "It will hopefully save this idiot's life."

Without another word, Dash pushed up Otterman's sleeve and then stabbed the needle deep into the shoulder muscle. Injecting the Naloxone, he yanked out the needle and then set it aside, keeping a close eye on Otterman's breathing. Opiate overdoses caused people to stop breathing on their own which is what normally caused brain damage or death.

Otterman's breathing was incredibly shallow,and so Dash tilted Otterman's head back, pinched his nose closed and then began giving him mouth to mouth. Moose Boy watched worriedly, and when after a couple minutes there was no improvement in the breathing, Dash once again reached for the Naloxone. He gave him another injection, this time in the other shoulder, and then once again, began giving him mouth to mouth.

After a couple minutes, Otterman began to breathe normally, and Dash let out a breath of relief and then looked up at Moose Boy.

"We just need to keep an eye on him now. The Naloxone will begin to wear off in about an hour, and he may need to be redosed."

Moose Boy stared at his partner, still feeling absolutely terrified. "Is he going to be okay?"

Dash stared at him for a moment, and then hesitantly asked. "How long was he unconscious before you brought him to me?"

"Just a minute or so," Moose Boy responded, "I managed to wake him up once when I slapped him, and he yelled at me and then threw up before falling back asleep."

Dash gave a nod, knowing that Otterman stood a good chance of recovering if he was only unconscious for a few minutes before the Naloxone was administered.

"How long was his breathing bad?" Dash demanded.

"It only started getting really bad once we were here in your room," Moose Boy replied, "We need to take him to a hospital."

"Do you have fake IDs you can use to admit him with?" Dash asked, keeping a close eye on Otterman's breathing.

"Er...I don't think so. We came here in a bit of a hurry…" Moose Boy admitted, "Mr. Roundabout wanted us to keep a low profile, and I don't think we were given fake IDs other than the ones we traveled with."

Dash stared at him in surprise. "What? Roundabout never mentioned there were other operatives here! I thought you two were on leave after the disaster in Turkey."

Moose Boy's eyes widened and he slapped both hands over his mouth. Dash raised a brow at him.

"What, are you on some sort of secret mission or something?"

Moose Boy seemed to panic and he frantically shook his head. "No, no, I've already said too much! We weren't even supposed to let your team know we were here!"

Dash rolled his eyes, knowing whatever their mission was, they'd probably already screwed it up. "Help me get him onto one of the beds."

Moose Boy easily lifted Otterman onto the nearest bed. Gripping the edge of the bed, Dash struggled to his feet, feeling like his abdomen was being ripped open. He set the syringe and Naloxone on the bedside table, and then rolled Otterman onto his side.

"Keep him on his side in case he throws up," Dash ordered, clutching his stomach in pain. "Make sure his breathing stays steady."

"You're not looking too good," Moose Boy observed.

Dash gave him a glare, and slowly took a seat on his own bed. "You think , moron? I just had an operation, and then I fell out of bed when you burst into the room like a...like a stupid moose!"

"Thank you, Dash Haber," Moose Boy said genuinely, "Thank you for saving Sven!"

Dash gave him a grumpy look, and laid back down with a wince, Steve immediately hopping back up to lay beside him.

"Why did you have that stuff?" Moose Boy asked, glancing at the Naloxone.

Dash gave him a shrug. "I worked closely with Countess Cleo and I've attended a lot of parties with excessive amounts of drugs and alcohol. The rich always like to have a good time, but sometimes they would overindulge and overdose. I saw several people die, and so I began carrying a Naloxone kit everywhere I went...just in case."

Moose Boy wasn't the most observant person in the world, but he had the feeling Dash wasn't telling him everything. There was a sad and distant look in Dash's eyes, and Moose Boy frowned, wondering what the other man was hiding.

Turning his attention to Otterman, he placed a gentle hand on top of his head, knowing how close he had come to losing him. Moose Boy had no idea what he'd do without Otterman and the thought was both devastating and terrifying. He couldn't even imagine a life without him, and Moose Boy wiped at his eyes, the full gravity of the situation finally sinking in. Otterman had lied to him, and then almost died.

"Oh, Sven…" he whispered, "Please don't die…"

Dash glanced over at him for a long moment, watching as the enormous man wiped at tears with his massive hands.

"He'll be fine," Dash found himself assuring him, "You caught it just in time. Once the drugs are out of his system, he'll wake up."

Moose Boy turned hopeful eyes to him. "You promise?" he demanded, desperation lacing his every word.

Dash honestly wasn't sure, but he gave him a nod. "Just keep an eye on his breathing. As long as he's breathing normally, we don't have to worry."

"Thank you," Moose Boy said again, "Thank you so much!"

"You'd better stay here tonight so we can both keep an eye on him during the night."

Moose Boy nodded, and then pulled Otterman up beside him, planning on staying up the whole night until his partner finally woke up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Neal awoke to the sound of thrashing, and Zack speaking in a hushed tone. Opening his eyes, he glanced over and squinted in the direction of the other bed. Due to his poor eyesight, he couldn't really tell what was going on, but it was obvious Mime Bomb was kicking and thrashing in bed. A nightmare possibly?

He heard Zack hushing Mime Bomb, and after a few seconds the thrashing stopped. Neal couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but Zack's tone was calm and gentle. A few minutes later, they went quiet and Neal assumed they'd gone back to sleep, and so he rolled over to go back to sleep himself. He dozed for a while but he was once again awoken when Mime Bomb had another nightmare. This time Neal sat up and stared over at the other bed, wondering if this was a common occurrence. When Zack got Mime Bomb back to sleep, he glanced over at Neal, and then slipped out of bed.

"Everything alright, ginger?" Neal whispered, as Zack approached.

"Mime Bomb sometimes has nightmares," Zack quietly replied, "I'm gonna go get some breakfast. You want some, or are you going back to sleep?"

"Breakfast sounds great actually," Neal replied.

Zack held out his hands and helped Neal to his feet, and then they made their way to the door quietly, leaving Mime Bomb to sleep a while longer. Once they were out of the room, Neal gave Zack a questioning look who pretended not to notice. Zack helped Neal into the kitchen, and once the villain was seated at the table, Zack made his way to the fridge.

"Oh...no one got groceries," he observed in disappointment, "Hopefully you don't mind cereal."

"Cereal's fine," Neal responded, resting an elbow on the table as he watched him.

Zack opened the pantry door and then stood staring with a frown. "Okay, we got Fruity Loop-de-loos, Captain Bunch of Munch, and Honey Nut Oat Circles."

Neal raised a brow.

"I know, I know," Zack grumbled, "Ivy thinks name brands are a waste of money and she always buys store brand everything."

"Sounds like my brother," Neal responded in amusement. "I grew up eating white label everything. We weren't even poor, he was just cheap. Not-Froot Loops are fine with me."

Zack gave Neal an odd look, never really considering the fact villains had families too. It seemed strange to think that he could relate to a villain, but he knew he shouldn't think like that. Mime Bomb used to be their enemy too, and Zack now saw that V.I.L.E weren't just cardboard cutout villains; they were real people with real thoughts and feelings. Everyone had their own story, and Zack had a feeling things were going to get more complicated the next time they had to face Neal as an enemy.

Zack set the box of cereal on the table and then got bowls and spoons from the cupboard. Luckily there was milk, and when Zack took a seat across from Neal, he filled his bowl without a word. They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Zack couldn't get something out of his mind.

"Um, Neal?"

"Hmm?"

"Look, I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life back at that lumbermill…"

Neal stared at him for a moment and then shrugged. "No big deal, ginger."

"No," Zack insisted firmly, "Thank you."

Neal cocked his head as if considering his response. "You're welcome," he finally replied.

To Neal's surprise, Zack then held out a hand towards him to shake. "My name is Zack."

Neal hesitantly accepted the handshake. "Well, now I guess I can stop calling you ginger."

Zack laughed. "Considering there's four gingers on our team, that's probably a good idea."

"Is Mime Bomb okay?" Neal asked, taking a bite of cereal.

Zack hesitated. "He's getting better," he finally replied, "He's been through a lot and it's taken its toll on him. He's a good guy, and he deserves better."

Neal gave him a thoughtful look. "You guys really are like a family, aren't you?" he asked.

Zack nodded. "It didn't start out that way, but after living and working together, we all got really close, and after a while we just became a giant family."

Zack paused and watched Neal for a moment with a frown. "Antonio told us he asked you to join us."

"He did," Neal confirmed, "I turned him down."

Zack furrowed his brow. "Why?" he questioned, "Why would you want to stay with V.I.L.E when you know how evil they are?"

Neal reached for the box of cereal and poured himself a second bowl. "I don't really want to get into this again, but I'm not betraying my team. You're loyal to your team, and I'm loyal to mine. I won't join you until the day my whole team does the same."

This made sense to Zack. "You have a found-family of your own."

Neal frowned. He didn't really think of his team as family, but he couldn't deny that he was starting to get attached to them. In his opinion, it was more like a one-sided friendship since he felt certain his whole team despised him. Neal was used to being hated, and so this didn't really bother him. He knew he was weird and annoying, and he wasn't willing to change who he was just to please other people.

Neal didn't answer Zack, instead focusing on his cereal.

"I should probably put on a pot of coffee for Mime Bomb," Zack said, more to himself than to Neal. "He pretty much lives on caffeine."

"Sounds like Dash," Neal responded in amusement, "You don't dare talk to him until he's had at least two coffees in the morning."

"I heard what happened with Dash, and I'm really sorry that happened," Zack told him, "I don't know what they were thinking."

Neal simply stared at him. "You weren't here during all that?"

Zack shook his head as he carried their empty bowls to the sink. "No, Mime Bomb and I were in Wales for the last few days."

"A mission?"

"Nope, just leisure," Zack replied.

Neal wrinkled his nose. "Wales? Who the hell chooses to go to Wales willingly?! There's nothing there besides sheep and rain."

Zack gave a shrug, having no intention of telling their enemy about any of this. He started a pot of coffee without a word, and as it began to perk, he turned back towards Neal.

"Normally I'd ask if you wanted to watch tv or something, but well...Mime Bomb kinda wrecked the tv last night and so there's not much else to do."

Neal shot him a grin. "Who knew that cute little mime had so much rage in him, eh?"

"...I don't think anyone was expecting that," Zack admitted, "Here, I'll help you back to bed and I'll bring you the Switch or a book or something."

Knowing he didn't really have a choice, Neal nodded, and allowed Zack to help him back to his feet. It was still dark and Neal had no idea what time it was, but figured he could grab a few more hours of sleep before he tried to come up with a plan of escape. Neal's foot was still bruised and painful, but he knew he could walk on it if absolutely necessary. He wasn't going to let Team Red know that though and so he allowed Zack to support him as he limped along.

Once he was back in the bedroom, Zack sat him down on the bed and then went to check Mime Bomb. The other boy was still asleep, and so Zack grabbed some clothes out of his dresser, and turned towards the door.

"I'm going to take a shower," he informed him, "You want the Switch or a book before I go?"

"I'm fine for now, love," Neal told him, "I'm just going to sleep for a while longer."

Zack gave him a nod. "If Mime Bomb wakes up, let him know there's coffee in the kitchen for him."

"Will do," Neal promised.

The second Zack was gone, Neal glanced around the room, looking for a way to escape. He didn't realize he was going to be left unsupervised, and he was definitely going to take advantage of this while he had the chance. Pulling himself up to his feet, he slowly and carefully made his way over to the shuttered window. Pressing a hand against the metal sheeting, he doubted he could get through that without a blowtorch.

"Neal, what are you doing?" came an accusatory voice over the speakers.

Neal glanced at the speaker and then at the camera that was aimed straight at him. "Er...nothing, Tiny Tim."

"Don't make me tattle on you," Player responded, sounding a bit distracted. "I'm keeping an eye on the cameras."

"Do you ever sleep, kid?!" Neal asked in disbelief.

"I sleep through my boring classes," Player answered, "And I do my homework while watching the cameras."

"Homework? What are you working on?" Neal asked.

"Advanced Calculus and it's kicking my butt," Player admitted, "Ugh, I have to have this sheet emailed to my teacher in an hour."

Neal scratched at his chin as he seemed to consider something. After a few seconds, he responded. "I was pretty good at math when I was in school. Do you need help?"

"You know advanced calculus?" Player asked in surprise.

"Well, I'm probably a bit rusty, but I took advanced calculus for three years of highschool, and then again during my V.I.L.E training."

"Really?" Player exclaimed in shock.

Neal rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone always assume I'm stupid?"

"Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that!" Player assured him, "I just didn't expect V.I.L.E to teach things like that."

"Don't sound so surprised, squirt," Neal answered in amusement, "V.I.L.E doesn't choose morons to enter their academy unless they can fight. Dr. Bellum's course involved a lot of math."

"Um, yeah," Player said hesitantly, "I could use some help. Thank you, Neal."

"No, problem, love," Neal answered as he limped his way back to bed. "Hit me with the equation."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Terry was not impressed at all. Instead of guarding a Siren-free lab like he'd been hoping for, he'd been assigned to guard Siren while he was unconscious. He was now seated in a lawn chair in the corner of the room, feeling bored and irritable. He glared at Siren for a while, but it was kind of hard to stay upset at someone who looked so pathetic.

Now that Siren was actually quiet for once, Terry noted how sweet and innocent he looked while sleeping. He let out a snort, knowing how deceiving looks could be. Siren was responsible for more deaths than any current V.I.L.E operative. If rumours were to be believed, he had been responsible for the previous building burning to the ground. It could never be proven however, since Siren's mind was such a wreck and he couldn't remember any of the violent things he did.

Terry pitied him in a way, fully aware of how none of this was Siren's fault, but he still resented him. Siren had no business being within V.I.L.E, and Terry knew he needed to be within some sort of institution. Someone like Siren was a danger to everyone around him, and he needed serious help that V.I.L.E could not provide.

Siren was hooked up to several machines to monitor him, and Terry had no idea what was in the IVs, but he suspected it was fluids and sedatives. Siren was just wearing a white hospital gown, and Terry could see how terribly thin the smaller man was. Dr. Vess really needed to start taking better care of Siren, because he was likely to get sick at this rate.

Terry finally tore his eyes away from Siren and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. Guards were strictly prohibited from use of personal phones within the compound, but there was no one here to see him. He doubted they'd fire him anyway, considering he was the only guard still willing to work anywhere near Siren.

He watched several YouTube videos in silence, and when the door suddenly opened, he glanced up in confusion. He didn't think anyone was supposed to come until later that afternoon. A doctor wearing a white coat entered the room and then froze at the sight of Terry.

"What are you doing in here?!" the doctor demanded angrily. "Are you hiding in here to avoid work?"

Terry gave him a dirty look. "No, I'm Siren's guard. I'm supposed to be here."

"Don't be ridiculous!" the doctor scolded, "Siren doesn't have a personal guard!"

"Dr. Vess assigned me to remain here until his return in a few days."

"Well, you can go take a lunch break, I'll watch him until you get back."

Terry shook his head and pointed to a backpack beside his chair. "Nope. I'm not supposed to leave this room for any reason. I have all the food and water I need for several days right here."

The doctor glared at him and then let out a heavy sigh. "Fine, but just don't get in my way while I tend to my patient."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Terry replied, going back to his YouTube video.

The doctor stared at Terry for a few seconds, but when it was obvious the guard was ignoring him, he approached Siren and knelt down beside the bed. Opening his medical bag, he pulled out a stethoscope and listened to Siren's chest silently. Although it appeared that Terry wasn't paying attention, he was actually watching everything the doctor was doing out of his peripheral vision. He noticed the doctor kept glancing at him, and so he made sure to look completely invested in his video.

The doctor did all the usual checks of blood pressure, checking the eyes and ears, all the while shooting glances at Terry. Terry then saw him remove something out of his bag and approach Siren's IVs. Glancing over, he saw the man had a syringe filled with a yellow liquid, and was removing the stopper from the needle. Just as he began reaching for one of the IV lines, Terry dove forward and slapped the syringe out of his hand.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Terry demanded, "What is that?!"

The doctor gave him an annoyed look. "It's just some medication to help with his...episodes."

Terry shook his head. "No."

The doctor gave him a confused look. "No?" he repeated.

"Dr. Vess said no one is to touch his medications or IVs while he's gone other than Dr. Brahm," Terry replied, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

The doctor stared at him for a few moments and then heaved a sigh. "Look, the whole compound wants this psycho gone. They're tired of living in fear of his next murder spree. I'll be doing the world a favour. It will be completely painless, I promise."

Terry placed himself between the doctor and Siren. "He's mentally ill," Terry responded in absolute fury, "It's not his fault he's forced to be here. None of this is his fault."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "You hate him just as much as everyone else. How many of your partners have you seen killed by this abomination?"

Terry clenched his jaw. "It's not his fault," he insisted, "He only lashes out when he feels threatened. The reason I've lived so long is that I've never tried to grab him when he's disassociating. If you don't go near him, he doesn't hurt you. I warned Natasha, but she didn't listen and she ended up dead because of it."

"Are you actually trying to defend him?" the doctor asked incredulously, "You're the person who complains the most about him. You never hesitate to tell anyone and everyone how much you hate working with Siren."

Terry glanced down at Siren with a frown. "It's true that I complain about Siren being a rude, vindictive little brat, but that doesn't mean I'd want to see him hurt."

"Step aside, guard," the doctor ordered, "Vess has never left Siren helpless like this before, and he probably never will again. We only have one chance to get rid of him, and I'll be damned if I miss the opportunity."

Terry shook his head. "I'm not going to let you hurt him," he said firmly.

"Step aside," the doctor ordered, shoving Terry in the shoulder to move him.

Terry shoved him back twice as hard. "I said no!" Terry snarled, "I suggest you leave this room or I'm going to throw you out!"

"Are you seriously going to defend Siren?" the doctor demanded angrily, "We'd be better off without him and you know it!"

Terry knew they really would be better off without Siren, but he wasn't going to allow the murder of someone so helpless. He was hired to protect Siren, and he'd be damned if he failed.

"Back off," Terry warned.

"It's not just me who wants this monster dead," the doctor informed him, "If I fail, others will be here soon. You can't fight off a whole mob. Eventually, they're going to get past you, and Siren will be killed."

Terry narrowed his eyes to slits and then, without any hesitation, he pulled out his standard-issued Crackle Rod and tased the doctor. He tased him a second time just to make sure he'd stay out for a while, and then he glanced down at Siren. What was he going to do? The doctor was right in the fact Terry wouldn't be able to fight off an entire mob of people. If he locked the door, they'd just break the lock, and then there'd be nothing he could do to stop them.

Terry frowned, and knew if he wanted to protect Siren then he had to hide him somehow. Where could he hide him though? Knowing he'd have to figure it out later, he unhooked the IVs from the stand and set the bags on top of Siren for the time being. He put on his backpack, knowing it was a possibility he'd have to hide for the next few days. He then wrapped Siren in a blanket and lifted him into his arms. Siren didn't weigh that much, and Terry knew he'd be able to carry him for a long time if necessary.

Adjusting him slightly so he could open the door, Terry peered out into the hallway and saw the guards that were supposed to be stationed at the door were gone. It really did look like everyone was involved in this murder plot. There was no one else in sight, and so Terry ran down the hallway in the direction of the stairs. Heading down as fast as he could, he entered the boiler room, hoping no one would think to look for them there. He found an isolated corner near some shelves and laid Siren down, and took a seat beside him, keeping an eye on the door.

It was about an hour later when Terry heard the alarms go off, and he knew they were discovered missing. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he knew they weren't going to be safe there for long.

Sure enough, after only another hour, the door opened and two guards entered, carrying flashlights. Terry pulled out his Crackle Rod, and waited for them to get near.

Without any warning, he smashed one of the men in the stomach as hard as he could with the rod and then tased the second man before he even had time to react. He then tased the other guard who had collapsed to the ground. Terry let out a breath of relief, and cursed, knowing they had to find a new hiding spot.

Scooping Siren into his arms, he headed for the door, and then peered out into the stairwell. Luckily there was no one there and so he continued his way downwards, now in the upper basement. Knowing how pretty much every patient hated and feared Siren, he knew hiding in a patient room was out of the question. He instead headed for the laundry room, hoping they'd finally be safe there. Terry snuck through the enormous laundry room, keeping out of sight of several custodians, ducking behind various bins of clothing and sheets. He carried Siren to the gigantic industrial washer and crawled behind it out of sight. Crouching uncomfortably in the tight space, he held Siren in his arms, not having anywhere to set him down.

Terry knew they couldn't stay like this for long, and tried to think of somewhere they'd be safe. Somewhere he wouldn't have to worry about being found while he slept.

Terry looked down at Siren and frowned in worry. Siren would be completely helpless if he fell asleep and Terry seriously doubted he could stay awake for the next several days. He had no way to know when Vess would return, and the more tired he became, the less he'd be able to protect Siren. Dozens of people wanted him dead, and Terry knew eventually they'd be found. Cursing under his breath, he tried to think of somewhere they could go.

The roof? No, they'd both freeze to death within an hour. One of the seldom-used labs? No, the doctors would find them if they did a thorough search. His house down in the village? No, they'd probably think to search his home. Terry then knew somewhere no one else could get to them. The lower basement. Only a few people had access to the lower basement, and Terry felt confident no high-level clearance doctors were in on the murder plot.

Terry then frowned, knowing the only way to get to the lower basement was through an elevator which required voice authentication. Terry did not have clearance, but Siren did. He stared down at Siren, and realized he was going to have to wake him up long enough to activate the elevator. He had no way of knowing what state Siren would wake up to, and knew he'd be in trouble if he was still disassociating. He considered all his options, and knew this was their best bet for surviving this ordeal. Terry knew he was probably making a big mistake, but he reached down and turned the dial on Siren's sedatives, turning them off and leaving the saline to flush the drugs out of his system. Now all he had to do was wait.

Guards came into the room several times to search, but Terry stayed perfectly still in their cramped hiding spot, and luckily no one spotted them. Hoping it wasn't going to take hours for Siren to come to, Terry checked him every few minutes, but he remained unresponsive. Brushing Siren's messy hair out of his face, Terry checked Siren's eyes, seeing he didn't show any signs of waking.

Terry's legs were starting to cramp from remaining in such a tight hiding spot, and he hoped he wouldn't have to remain there much longer. Almost as if some malevolent deity had granted his request, there was a sudden screech of surprise. Startled, Terry looked up and saw a custodian was staring straight at them, broom in hand. Letting out a curse, Terry practically jumped out of the hiding spot and ran for the doors, knowing they didn't have a lot of time. Sure enough only seconds later, he heard yelling from behind him, and he knew he was being pursued.

There was suddenly the sounds of gunfire, and he felt a searing pain in his arm as a bullet grazed him. Realizing they were getting desperate, Terry knew they would kill them both without hesitation if they were caught. Glad Siren was so light, Terry sped up and was certain he'd never run so fast in his entire life. He spotted the elevator and slammed a hand to it, the door opening painfully slowly. Gunfire rained all around them and Terry felt another bullet graze his leg as he jumped into the elevator, the second the door opened enough. He tapped the close door button, and the door began closing really slowly.

As bullets rained down around them, Terry pressed themselves tightly against the side of the elevator, using his body to shield Siren. The doors closed and Terry grabbed one of Siren's hands and pressed it to the reader, locking the elevator from use. He heard fists banging against the elevator door, and then there was gunfire. The metal of the door dented in the shape of the bullets, but luckily none of them could pierce. Terry sank to the floor in exhaustion, and he looked Siren over to make sure he wasn't injured. Siren was unharmed and so he turned his attention to his own wounds. Luckily the bullets had just grazed him and didn't cause any real damage, and so he sat there for a few minutes, just concentrating on catching his breath.

It was then that he heard the sound of tools being used on the elevator. Terry's eyes widened, and he knew they were completely helpless in that elevator. He'd used Siren's hand to lock the elevator and now no one besides Siren or another high clearance person could get the elevator to respond. Terry looked down at Siren and gave him a light shake.

"Siren?" he whispered, "Come on, now's a good time to wake up."

Siren remained asleep, and so Terry gave him a couple very light slaps on the cheek, trying to wake him. Siren squirmed a bit and Terry realized the sedatives were finally starting to wear off.

"Siren," he said a bit louder, "Wake up, I need you to speak, come on, wake up!"

Siren didn't react and Terry gave him a sharp shake. "Come on, you little shit, wake up!" he ordered, "Don't you dare go back to sleep!"

Siren shifted in his arms, but his eyes remained closed. Terry shook him again, and then once again lightly slapped his face hard enough to sting but not cause any harm. Siren made a noise of protest, and so Terry kept shaking him.

Suddenly there were sparks above them as a blowtorch began to be used against the door. Terry shook Siren even harder, knowing they only had minutes before the doors opened. He kept slapping him sharply, feeling a bit bad over it, but knowing it was necessary. Siren let out another groan and then raised a hand to push Terry's hand away from him.

"...stop," Siren said in a small, tired voice.

Terry hit the lower basement button and immediately a voice spoke up.

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

Terry took one of Siren's hands and pressed it to the reader.

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

Terry kept quiet and then began poking, shaking, and slapping Siren, trying to get him to speak again.

"Awaiting response."

Terry frowned, and shook Siren so hard the smaller man's head lobbed violently, and this finally got a reaction.

"Fuck off, Numa..." Siren muttered, swinging out a hand to weakly push at him.

"Voice authentication accepted."

The doors then began to open, and Terry tensed and made eye contact with the man who had pried it open. The man reached for Siren, and Terry quickly grabbed the man's arm, and they began struggling for Siren. The elevator then gave a lurch, and began to descend and the man panicked as he realized he was about to lose his arm. Terry released him, and the man just managed to get his arm out of the way before the elevator lowered out of sight. Terry felt absolute relief, and let out a deep breath. They were safe.

"...Kevin?" Siren questioned in a confused voice.

Terry looked down and saw Siren's eyes were open a crack.

"Everything will be alright," Terry assured him, "They won't get you."

Siren blinked tiredly. "Who?"

Terry knew Siren would never remember any of this and so he responded. "Dr. Vess had to leave unexpectedly, and since you were unconscious, the rest of the compound tried to kill you."

Siren blinked again, simply looking confused. "...oh." He then paused for a moment. "Why?"

"Because you're a miserable little shit," Terry answered distractedly, as he adjusted him in his arms. "Go back to sleep."

The elevator beeped and then the door opened to pure darkness and Siren immediately let out a whine of protest. "Noooo!" he begged, "Kevin, no!"

"Shh," Terry scolded, stepping into the darkness as he fumbled for his flashlight.

Siren struggled weakly in his arms. "Please, no, no, no!" he protested, "Kevin, stop, please!"

"We have to hide down here," Terry replied firmly, "Just go back to sleep."

Turning his flashlight on, Terry grimaced at the sight of the disgusting lower basement. He'd never been down there before, and wasn't quite sure what to expect. As he walked through the hallways, Siren clung to his shirt tightly, and Terry rolled his eyes. Honestly, what grown man was still scared of the dark? The sedatives were still in Siren's system however, and after a minute or so, Siren's grip loosened as he fell back asleep.

Terry wandered through the lower basement to find a good place to hide, and finally he found a room that was still pretty much intact. The room looked to be a lab of some sort, and when he entered, he was glad to see a medical cot in the corner of the room. Laying Siren down onto it, Terry let out another breath of relief. Now all they had to do was wait until Vess returned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Otterman was in constant pain, and he drifted in and out of consciousness, not really comprehending much of what was happening around him. He remembered Moose Boy's face several times when he briefly woke, and he remembered hearing his soft words, but there was so much pain and dizziness that he couldn't stay awake for more than a few seconds. As the hours went on, he could stay awake a few seconds longer, and he always saw Moose Boy's face every time he opened his eyes. The other man always seemed so happy when he woke, and Otterman couldn't make sense of any of this. He was aware of being wrapped in blankets and held in his partner's arms, but his mind couldn't really comprehend this.

He had no concept of time, but eventually, Otterman felt himself regaining consciousness. He let out a low groan and shifted in bed, not wanting to wake up. His entire body was in agony, and he felt positively awful. Reaching for his pocket, he was a bit disconcerted when the bottle of pills weren't there.

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy whispered, [[Are you awake?]]

Otterman didn't yet open his eyes, feeling too sick to respond. He felt a hand running through his hair and he shifted again, unable to find any relief from the pain. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he figured he must have slept quite a long time in order for the painkillers to have worn off.

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy whispered again, [[Can you open your eyes for me?]]

Otterman leaned into Moose Boy's touch, wondering why his partner sounded so concerned. He felt strangely exhausted, but the pain was keeping him awake.

[[Please, Sven, just open your eyes,]] Moose Boy begged, [[Please just look at me.]]

Confused, Otterman struggled to open his eyes, and the first thing he noticed were two concerned blue eyes directly in front of him.

[[Oh thank god,]] Moose Boy sighed in relief, hugging him close. [[We had to give you another shot.]]

Otterman blinked heavily, his vision blurred and when he reached a hand up to his face, he found his glasses were missing. Shot? We? What was Moose Boy talking about?

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy questioned, tipping Otterman's chin up so he could look in his eyes. [[How are you feeling?]]

Otterman didn't answer, his mind too confused to organize his thoughts coherently.

[[Sven, can you please answer me?]] Moose Boy asked, [[Can you speak?]]

"Hrnn," Otterman responded, blinking in confusion.

"He seems to be coming out of it," Dash stated from nearby, "He should be able to answer you soon."

Otterman was confused. Why was Dash Haber here? Something wasn't right, and he frowned, trying to put his thoughts together.

Moose Boy hugged Otterman close, who tried to squirm in protest, but Moose Boy refused to loosen his hold. Otterman fell back asleep for an hour or so, but once again it was the pain that woke him.

[[Henrik…]] Otterman complained.

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy questioned, [[How are you feeling?]]

Otterman groaned and opened his eyes. [[My back is hurting again. Where are my pills? I need a pill.]]

Otterman felt the other man tense up, Moose Boy's expression turning to stone.

" Nej ," Moose Boy replied.

Otterman looked up at him in confusion. [[No? What do you mean no?]] he questioned.

" Nej ." Moose Boy repeated firmly. [[No more pills.]]

Otterman frowned. [[I told you I need one,]] he said, narrowing his eyes. [[Did you take them from me?]]

" Ja ," Moose Boy responded unapologetically.

Otterman was still a bit disoriented, and was trying to comprehend this. [[Why?]]

Moose Boy stared down at him for a long moment. [[You lied to me, Sven. How many pills did you take earlier?]]

Otterman raised a hand to his head with a wince. [[Two.]]

Moose Boy's expression hardened. [[Stop lying to me. How many?]]

Otterman had no idea what Moose Boy's problem was and didn't answer. To his shock, Moose Boy then gave him a sharp shake.

[[How many?]] he demanded, tone angry.

[[Henrik, what the hell-]]

Moose Boy shook him again.

[[How many?!]] he demanded again.

[[...s-seven,]] Otterman hesitantly answered.

Moose Boy's expression turned furious as he realized Otterman must have been popping the pills all afternoon. [[You lied to me, Sven, and you lied right to my face! You almost died from taking too many pills!]]

Otterman's eyes widened. [[What?]]

"You almost died!" Moose Boy repeated in English.

"What? No I didn't! I'm fine!"

"He's right," Dash suddenly commented from the other side of the room, "You would have been dead within five minutes if it wasn't for your partner."

Otterman snapped his head around to face Dash, but his eyes were too bad to see him. "Where are my glasses?" he demanded, feeling around for them.

Moose Boy placed them into his hands, and he immediately put them, now able to see Dash laying in the other bed next to them.

"What the hell, Henrik?!" he yelled out, "Is this Team Crackle's room?!"

"When I couldn't wake you up, I knew I had to find help," Moose Boy replied.

"We were supposed to stay away from Team Crackle!" Otterman yelled, quickly getting mad.

"How about if you be a little more grateful?" Dash snapped from where he lay, "You overdosed like an idiot, and he did what he needed to in order to save you. Those pills were incredibly high doses, and it clearly says on the bottle not to take more than one."

Moose Boy scowled. "He took seven."

Dash met Otterman's gaze directly. "You are a moron," he snapped, "How you even got accepted into V.I.L.E is beyond me. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"

Otterman glanced between Dash and Moose Boy in disbelief. "I really almost died?" he asked.

Moose Boy nodded, his expression still furious. "You lied to me, Sven."

Otterman flushed, and he averted his gaze. "...I knew you wouldn't let me take one if you knew how many I had already taken…"

Moose Boy looked even more furious. "Of course I would have stopped you!" he snapped, "You almost died, Sven. How could you do this to me? Do you have any idea what that would have done to me if I'd come back to find you dead?"

Otterman grimaced. "I'm sorry, Henrik, I didn't mean for this to happen."

"How could you be that selfish?" Moose Boy said, raising his voice. "You almost left me all alone! I'd be lost without you, Sven, but you never once thought of me, did you?"

Otterman closed his eyes, knowing it was true. He hadn't thought of Moose Boy at all while taking the extra pills. All he'd thought of was getting rid of his pain and hiding it from his partner. "I'm sorry," he said again, "You're right. I'll only take one pill from now on… Where are they?"

To his surprise, Moose Boy got up from the bed, expression so angry that Otterman actually felt a little afraid.

"I need to think for a while," Moose Boy said, heading for the door. "Dash, keep an eye on him for me."

He slammed the door closed as he left and Otterman simply stared at the door, getting a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Dash was watching the whole thing in mild interest, and he let out a tsk sound as he adjusted himself more comfortably.

"What?" Otterman demanded with a frown.

"Every time someone says they need to think for a while, that means they're planning on breaking up with you."

Otterman's eyes widened. "What?!"

"You just got dumped, idiot," Dash replied, clearly not caring.

Otterman sat straight up, ignoring the excruciating pain this caused. "What?!"

"You're an addict," Dash stated, a touch of revulsion in his tone, "Why would he want to stay with you? Eventually you're just going to end up dead."

Otterman shook his head. "No, I'm not an addict," he denied, "I'm just in pain."

Dash stared at him for a moment as if considering this. "You're going through withdrawal right now which is why you want a pill so badly. It's the only thing you can think of, isn't it?"

Otterman wanted to deny it, but he was craving the relief the pill would bring from his pain. "I'm in pain," he insisted.

"Yes, because your body is becoming dependent on the drugs," Dash replied, "I've seen this dozens of times before, and you're only going to ruin Henrik's life. Do you think he wants to spend every day worrying about when you're going to overdose again?"

Otterman stared at the door worriedly. Would Moose Boy really leave him because of this? He certainly seemed angry enough. Was he addicted to the pills? He wanted to say no, but as his body ached, he had a feeling Dash was right.

"What can I do?" he asked in despair, "I need the pills to even move."

Dash let out a snort. "No you don't. The pain is from your addiction, not from your back injury. It's been weeks since your surgery, and you should be able to function normally by now."

Otterman shook his head. "No, I'm still healing. I just need to take them until the pain is more manageable."

Dash leveled him with a look. "Then be prepared to be alone until the day you finally overdose and die," he commented, "You will lose everything important to you, and it be will all just for a stupid pill."

Otterman shook his head. "No."

Dash narrowed his eyes. "Prove me wrong then," Dash said. "Stop taking those damn pills. What means more to you; being pain-free or being with Henrik?"

Otterman struggled to his feet. "I have to go after him! I have to apologize!"

"Wait for him to come back," Dash ordered, "Let him cool down."

Otterman shook his head as he winced as he took a step towards the door. "No, I have to find him right away. I was stupid and I have to make sure he knows I'm not going to take any more of those pills."

Dash knew there was no way he could stop him as Otterman opened the door to leave.

"You're an idiot!" he called after him.

When Otterman was gone, Dash let out a deep sigh, hoping this was enough of a reality check to smarten the other man up. Addiction was a sore subject for Dash, and he hated it more than anything else. He knew how addicts thought, and knew Otterman was in for a rough time. Hopefully with Moose Boy at his side, he'd be strong enough to overcome it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mime Bomb awoke to the sound of Neal's voice, and glanced over curiously, wondering who he was talking to. To his surprise, there was no one besides Neal in the room.

"No, love, you forgot the -1. Go through each line carefully to make sure you don't forget to carry anything over."

Mime Bomb was rather confused until he heard Player respond a few seconds later.

"Okay, got it, Neal! This was the last equation! Thanks for the help!"

"No problem, Tiny Tim," Neal responded, giving a long and lazy stretch. "Always happy to help."

Neal then glanced over and noticed Mime Bomb watching him. " Kia ora , Mime Bomb," he greeted, "Thank you again for what you did for me last night. I've never done well in isolation. Zack made coffee for you."

Mime Bomb simply gave him a nod and slipped out of bed, knowing he'd been out of his mime makeup for far too long. Approaching his dresser, he pulled out a change of clothes and then headed for the door, intent on taking a very long shower. Neal watched him go and then slowly got to his feet, testing his weight on his bad foot. Although it hurt, he knew he could use it if necessary.

Not wanting to reveal this just yet, Neal supported his weight on the wall and then began hobbling towards the door. It was still quite early and it seemed like the others were still asleep, likely exhausted from losing two days worth of sleep. He kept an eye out for any possible ways to escape, and as he edged his way up the hallway, he made note of the ventilation shafts that ran through the whole warehouse. He came to the kitchen and Zack looked up from the comic book he was reading.

"You shouldn't be walking!" Zack scolded him, "You should have called for me!"

"I'm not stepping on the foot," Neal assured him.

Zack set down the comic. "I thought you were going to sleep for a while?"

Neal gave him a shrug and edged his way across the kitchen, making sure not to use his bad foot. "Couldn't sleep and now I'm thirsty," he lied, "Do you guys have any juice?"

Zack gave a shrug. "We need to get groceries so I'm honestly not sure. Help yourself to whatever you want though."

Neal gave a glance around the kitchen as he did so, his gaze coming to rest on a display of kitchen knives. Neal then opened the fridge door and seized the jug of orange juice. Screwing off the cap, he lifted it up to drink straight from the jug and Zack frowned over at him.

"Ivy smacks me every time she catches me doing that, so you should probably get a glass."

"Wouldn't want to anger the scary ginger," Neal agreed, approaching to grab a glass out of the cupboard.

Zack turned back to his comic, and Neal slipped a knife up his sleeve as he poured the juice into a glass. He then leaned against the counter as he sipped it, wanting to make sure Zack didn't suspect anything.

"Mime Bomb awake yet?" Zack asked.

"Yeah, I think he went to take a shower," Neal replied staring at the vent in the kitchen.

"Good, I was worried his coffee was going to get old."

Neal finished the juice, put his empty glass in the sink and then hobbled over to put the jug back in the fridge.

"Did you say you have a Switch?" Neal questioned.

Zack nodded. "It's in the living room," he told him, "Don't accidentally erase Sheena's game-file or she will murder you on sight. Just ask Mime Bomb if you don't believe me."

Neal smirked at the thought of messing with Sheena, but he had no intentions of actually using the Switch. Zack didn't even turn to watch him leave, and Neal carefully made his way down the hall, staring at the air duct and following it all the way to the living room. The living room was empty and as he continued following the duct, he realized it led outside. Bingo. There was a vent just a couple feet above the couch and so he made his way over, and stepped up onto the couch. Staring into the vent, he knew he could easily fit and it didn't seem to be locked down like the rest of the base.

Neal gave another glance around and then pulled the knife out of his sleeve. Using the blade, began unscrewing the bolts holding it in he got three of them removed, he suddenly heard a voice.

"Neal...what are you doing?"

Neal gave a quick glance up at the camera that was watching him intently. "Sorry, kiddo," Neal responded, unscrewing the final bolt as fast as he could.

"Neal, stop!" Player ordered, "Stop that!"

When Neal didn't stop, Player activated the red alert and the alarm began sounding throughout the base. Neal ripped the vent cover off, and just as everyone poured into the room, he dove into the vent. Someone grabbed him by the ankle and Neal silently cursed, wishing he had his slick suit. He kicked out, landing a solid hit to Ivy's shoulder, and struggled to pull himself all the way into the ventilation shaft. The kick only caused Ivy to become infuriated, and with one mighty tug, she yanked him out of the vent, causing him to fall into the coffee table below hard. It shattered below him and he didn't dare move, glass around him on all sides. He looked up into the furious faces of Ivy, Tigress, El Topo and Le Chèvre and a few seconds later a confused Zack burst into the room.

"Aw, Neal, what did you do?" he said with a sigh, "Did you just try to escape?"

Neal was still staying very still, and he gave him a sheepish smile. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

"We most certainly can!" Ivy retorted angrily.

Le Chèvre stared into the vent with a frown. "This is a security issue," he stated, "We'll need to block this off so we don't have a repeated escape attempt."

"Are you hurt, Neal?" Antonio asked in concern, carefully helping Neal out of the glass.

"No, I'm fine," Neal replied after checking himself over. "Can't say the same about your coffee table though…"

Since Neal wasn't injured, he took a seat on the couch having a feeling things were about to get a lot worse for him.

"I have some sheet metal we can use to block off these vents," Ivy told them, "I'll just need to go grab my tools out of the workshop and I'll need a few people to help me hold it in place as I weld."

"What about Neal?" Antonio asked with a frown.

"Stick him in the basement," Tigress said with a shrug.

"You can't!" Zack protested, instantly standing in front of Neal.

"Not forever, you dweeb, just for like an hour until we fix the vents."

Zack relaxed. "Oh, well, that's not too bad," he replied, glancing down at Neal. "I'm going to have to tell Mime Bomb though."

Zack hurried from the room, and Antonio helped Neal back to his feet. "Sorry, Neal, but you have left us with no choice. Stop making things difficult, and just cooperate."

Neal rolled his eyes, feeling sullen over being sent to the basement again. The others followed along behind them just in case he tried anything, but Neal didn't give Antonio a hard time. He was made to sit down on the ratty mattress, and his eyes immediately fell on the dreaded chain.

"No, we won't chain you again, mi amigo ," Antonio assured him, "There's no way to escape down here. I promise we'll be as fast as we can and then you can come back up."

Neal was still sulking and didn't answer. He watched as they left, and then immediately got to his feet to look around the basement. When chained, he hadn't been able to see the entire basement, and so he carefully limped his way around, looking for anything at all that caught his interest. The tiny windows were too narrow for even him to squeeze through and the air vents were too high off the ground to reach. If he didn't have an injured leg, he would have tried to climb up, but there was no way he could do it with a bad ankle.

Neal instead limped from place to place, looking for anything he could use in his escape. He slipped the knife back out of his sleeve and stared down at it. He immediately shook his head. No, he wasn't going to stab anyone. Team Red weren't going to hurt him, and so he wasn't going to kill anybody. Neal let out a sigh, and then his eyes fell on something. Approaching the far corner of the basement, he saw a bit of metal on the floor. Pushing aside some dusty boxes, he saw it was an ancient drainage vent leading down into the sewers. Neal grimaced, but this wasn't the first time he'd had to crawl around in a sewer. The vent was small though, too small for him to normally fit through. Using the knife, he pried it open and then stared at the small opening thoughtfully. He was going to have to get creative.

"Neal?!" came Player's frustrated voice, "Are you serious?! You can't possibly fit down that hole!"

Neal let out a snort. Clearly Team Red didn't know why he was so infamous among his peers. Gritting his teeth, Neal slammed his shoulder against the wall, dislocating it.

"Neal!" Played called out in alarm.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he then slammed his other shoulder against the wall, dislocating that one as well. The alarm was once again going off upstairs, and Neal sat down and stuck his legs into the hole, just as the basement door opened. Twisting his hips into an unnatural position, he got his hips down and then released all the air out of his lungs. Just as everyone made it to the bottom of the stairs, Neal twisted and bent his ribs until he was able to squeeze through, and his dislocated arms easily bent so he could get all the way down.

"Ew, oh my god!" Tigress commented as she saw him disappear down the hole.

They rushed over and looked down the hole, but Neal was already gone, crawling his way through the pipes.

"How did he fit through that little hole?!" Zack asked in awe.

Mime Bomb, who was now back in full mime make-up, was not impressed at all, unable to believe they left Neal unattended in the basement. He knew very well Neal was a contortionist and thought the others would have been aware of this as well. Neal was well known for being an escape artist.

"...I'm not going in after him," Tigress commented.

"Where do these pipes lead?" Le Chèvre asked with a frown.

"Checking that now," Player responded.

"Not cool, Neal!" Zack bellowed into the hole.

" Haere Ra !" Neal called back in a mocking tone.

"What the hell does that mean?" Tigress demanded, crossing her arms.

"Kiwi slang for goodbye," Player replied, "It looks like the pipes lead into the main sewer system, and so there's no real way of knowing where he'll exit."

"Soooo, we lost him," Ivy stated.

"Looks that way," Player answered.

"Great," Le Chèvre grumbled, "Who's going to be the one to tell the others?"

"Not it!" Zack and Ivy chimed at the same time.

Tigress heaved a sigh and then turned away. "I'm going back to bed."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The moment Neal reached the main sewer, he slammed his shoulders into the walls to knock them back into their sockets and then hurried through the disgusting sludge, just wanting to find his way out of there as fast as possible. It was incredibly dark and Neal held his hands over his nose as he walked, looking for any sign of light. He could hear rustling near him, and hoped he wasn't about to be devoured by a crocodile or whatever it was Americans tended to have in their sewers. He walked for a couple minutes in silence and then paused. Alligators, it was alligators that were supposed to be in American sewers.

He continued walking, realizing that since he was in his bare feet, he had a very high chance of cutting himself on something sharp and then dying from sepsis. Hoping he didn't find a needle or piece of glass, he began stepping very, very gently and when he finally saw light in the distance, he let out a breath of relief. It was a storm drain and Neal peered out and saw a street in front of him.

Not caring what people thought of him, he lifted himself up and squeezed himself through the narrow gap, hearing a little girl scream as he twisted himself out of the sewer like some sort of swamp thing. He glanced over and saw the girl standing right beside the storm drain, both hands clapped to her mouth as she screamed and screamed. Her mother seemed equally shocked, and Neal gave them a salute.

" Kia ora, " he greeted in a friendly tone.

Without another word, he turned and ran off into the crowd before the police could be called on him. His foot was in absolute agony, but he ignored it, knowing that as long as he didn't rest it he could keep walking on it for a while. Barefoot and dressed in wet and disgusting pajamas, Neal was aware he was gaining a lot of stares, but ignored them as he walked in the direction of the motel.

He wasn't too far from the motel and he realized the Team Red base must actually be pretty close by. He glanced around at the buildings around him and knew it could be any one of these buildings. Speeding up, he hoped they wouldn't be able to find him.

Neal was barely paying attention to his surroundings, but when he saw someone trip over a garbage can, smash into a wall, and then faceplant into the ground, it certainly caught his interest. He paused and stared down at the man, and wondered how anyone could possibly be that clumsy. His eyes widened when he recognized the man.

"Otterman?!" he said kneeling down beside him.

Otterman looked up, and squinted at him. "Neal?" he questioned, "Oh, great, that's all I need right now."

Neal raised a brow and then got up to leave. "See ya then, jerk."

"Wait, wait!" Otterman called after him, "Please help me!"

Neal paused and then knelt back down. "Why are you in San Diego? Aren't you supposed to be recovering from a bullet wound?"

"Help me find my glasses," Otterman ordered, "They came off when I tripped."

Neal dutifully handed over the glasses, and Otterman put them back on, now at least able to see Neal a little more clearly. "...what in the world are you covered in?" he demanded.

"...long story," Neal said evasively, "What happened to you? Did you lose your emotional support moose?"

Otterman seemed to crumble right before him, and the smaller man covered his face with both hands, knowing he probably had lost Moose Boy. Neal was alarmed at the sudden change in him, hoping something terrible hadn't happened to Moose Boy.

"Oh, mihi, Sven, I shouldn't have teased you," Neal said in concern, "What happened?"

Otterman was so ashamed of himself that he couldn't even answer, simply shaking his head silently.

Neal gently took him by the arm and coaxed Otterman over to a nearby bench. Taking a seat beside him, he feared the worst when Otterman wouldn't so much as look at him.

"Come on, Sven, tell me what happened," Neal said gently, "Did something happen to Henrik? Is he hurt?"

Otterman shook his head.

"Did he...did he die?" Neal hesitantly asked.

To his relief, Otterman shook his head again. Although Neal absolutely loved to tease Otterman, he honestly did like Otterman and Moose Boy as people, even if he believed they were the worst operatives to have ever worked for V.I.L.E. They were roommates during training and since they were some of the oldest operatives, they'd been on quite a few missions together.

"Come on, tell me what happened," Neal coaxed, "Let me help."

"There's nothing you can do," Otterman responded miserably, "I messed everything up."

"That's nothing unusual, love," Neal said, trying to lighten the mood. "You always push through though."

Otterman hunched in on himself in shame. "Henrik will never forgive me."

Neal now realized that this was a completely different sort of conversation. "Nonsense," he assured him, "You two have been partners for like 15 years. Whatever you did, he'll forgive you."

Otterman shook his head. "No, I really screwed up."

"You cheated on him?" Neal guessed.

Otterman shot him a glare. "We're not a couple!" he snapped, "He's just my partner!"

Neal rolled his eyes. "Right."

Otterman let out an aggravated sigh, but it was half-hearted. Neal gave him a nudge with his elbow.

"Come on, love, spill it."

"I overdosed on pain pills last night," Otterman admitted, once again hiding his face in shame. "If it wasn't for Henrik and Dash Haber, I would have died."

Neal's expression turned incredibly somber. "Did...did you do it purpose?" he asked hesitantly.

"No, of course not!" Otterman snapped, "I was in a lot of pain and took too many pills. I didn't even realize I had overdosed and just went to sleep. I didn't even know what had happened until they explained it to me."

Neal realized he had missed out on a lot during his three days in captivity. "How did Dash get involved in all this?"

"When Henrik couldn't wake me up, he ran me to your team's motel room to get help. Dash helped him save me."

Otterman drew his knees up to his chest and simply sat there, covering his face with his hands, and Neal considered his response carefully.

"Why do you think Henrik is mad at you? It was an accident."

Otterman didn't answer and so Neal nudged him again.

"I lied to him," Otterman admitted.

"Oh?" Neal prompted.

"I...I lied to him about how many pills I've been taking. I've been increasing the number I've been taking but I lied to him and told him I was only taking one. When I overdosed I took seven, but told him I took one. He was so mad at me. I've never seen Henrik so mad. He walked out on me."

Neal realized how serious this was, and wrapped an arm around Otterman's shoulder, offering a bit of support.

"You stink," Otterman commented, but didn't push him away.

"What did Henrik say when he left?" Neal questioned, certain there was no way Moose Boy would have broken up with Otterman, especially not after a near fatal accident.

"He was furious and when he stormed out he said he needed some time to think."

"Yeah, and? You know how literal Henrik is, he probably really means he just wants to think for a while. I think you're reading too much into that."

Otterman shook his head. "Dash said that means he's left me and that no one wants to be with an addict."

"Sven, Dash is a bitch. You can't take anything he says to heart. I've never heard him say anything nice about anybody. Don't pay him any attention, okay?"

Neal saw Moose Boy lumbering his way down the sidewalk and waved at him. Moose Boy seemed surprised to see Neal, and then his gaze fell on his distraught partner. Neal held up a finger to his lips signaling to remain quiet, and Moose Boy seemed confused but nodded all the same.

"No, I know Henrik has left me!" Otterman said, still hiding his face from view. "I'm a liar and an addict. Why would he stay with me?"

"Well, what would you say to him if you could?" Neal asked, grinning wide.

"I'd tell him how sorry I am for lying to him, and how sorry I am for being selfish and not thinking about how my actions would affect him. I'd tell him how sorry I am for always being so irritable, and that I'm sorry for being such a bad boyfr-er partner. I'm never taking any of those pills ever again."

Otterman suddenly let out a yelp of surprise when he was pulled into a bone crushing hug from Moose Boy.

[[Oh, Sven!]] Moose Boy said sadly, [[I'd never leave you! I just had to think about what to do next! I wanted to think of how I could help you! I'm sorry if I scared you!]]

[[No, no!]] Otterman insisted, [[I messed up so badly, Henrik, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I put you through this, and I'm sorry for lying to you. I'll be better, I promise! Throw the pills away, I don't need them. You're all I need!]]

Moose Boy gave him a wide and dopey-looking smile. [[You're all I need too, Sven. We'll get through this together.]]

Otterman hugged him tightly. [[I love you.]]

[[I love you too.]]

Neal was watching the whole interaction with a cheeky smirk. "I don't speak Swedish, but that sure seemed pretty gay to me," he commented, "But you're just 'partners', right?"

Otterman leaned around Moose Boy to give him a glare. "We're just partners," he confirmed.

"Well in that case," Neal said, grinning wide, [[I love you too, Sven,]] he said in Swedish.

Otterman sputtered indignantly for a moment, while Moose Boy just looked confused.

"I thought you didn't know Swedish?" Moose Boy asked.

"Oh, I don't," Neal confirmed, "Since you're just 'partners' I'm sure what I said was completely not romantic at all."

Otterman looked like he'd sucked a lemon. "You are an idiot, Neal."

"What are you two doing out here?" Moose Boy asked.

"Me? I just crawled out of a sewer. I can't speak for Sven though."

Otterman wrinkled his nose and didn't doubt his words at all. "I was looking for you," he told Moose Boy, "I was worried you weren't going to come back."

Moose Boy ran a hand through his hair affectionately. "I'll always come back. How about if we get you back to the motel now, so you can rest?"

Otterman nodded, and got to his feet. Moose Boy glanced at Neal who was filthy, barefoot, and in his pajamas.

"Are you okay, Neal?"

"Er...don't suppose you'd be willing to help me, would you?" Neal asked. "I injured my leg and I don't think I can walk on it for much longer."

"Of course I'll help you!" Moose Boy announced, "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Sure, we are," Neal confirmed, reaching out an arm so he could be helped to his feet.

To his shock, Moose Boy scooped him into his arms bridal style.

"Er...this works too," Neal stated in amusement.

"You need a bath," Moose Boy commented, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah, I do," Neal confirmed with a laugh, "I have not had a good few days."

Otterman held onto Moose Boy's arm as they walked, in a lot of pain but not willing to mention it. He knew he was in for hell as his body went through withdrawal, and hoped he'd be strong enough to get through it. Looking up at Moose Boy's face, he knew he'd have to find the strength. He refused to ever allow something like this to happen again.

When they got back to the motel, Neal insisted he be set down, able to hold onto the wall to keep most of his weight off his bad foot. Moose Boy and Otterman entered the room, and Dash looked up at them from his bed, noting that both seemed to be a lot calmer now. When Neal walked through the open door, Dash stared at him in surprise for a moment before he noted that the other man was covered in greenish brown muck, and absolutely reeked like sewage. His expression instantly turned to one of complete revulsion and he narrowed his eyes at him.

When Neal saw the look, he let out a laugh. "Wow, what a look, Dashie! I missed you too!"

"Ugh," Dash commented, "What the hell are you covered in, you smell like dumpster slime!"

"I had to escape through a sewer," Neal replied with a shrug.

Dash immediately jerked upright, and then stared at him in complete horror. "Get out of this room, right now!" he ordered in a panic, "You're disgusting!"

"Sorry, Fancy, but I'm taking a shower whether you want me in here or not," Neal stated, limping his way into the room.

"No, get out!" Dash ordered, clapping a hand over his nose.

"What?" Neal asked, throwing his arms open wide. "I couldn't quite hear you. You said you want a hug?"

Dash let out a sound similar to a cat that had its tail stepped on, and reached for the nearby lamp. Lifting it over his head threateningly, he narrowed his eyes.

"Come near me, and I'll bash your greasy head in!"

Neal simply grinned at him. "Ah, Dash, I missed all of our pleasant conversations so much."

As Neal knelt down to get a clean set of clothes, he frowned at his bag. "Who messed with my stuff?" he demanded, "Everything's all mixed up!"

No one noticed the way Otterman winced and quickly averted his gaze.

"No one touched your greasy belongings," Dash replied, still not lowering the lamp.

Neal was about to respond when his eyes fell on the cat sitting in Dash's lap. "What's with the cat?" he asked.

Dash glanced down at the cat. "This is Steve," he replied.

Neal raised a brow. "Steve?"

"Yeah, we assumed you were dead and replaced you with a more competent operative," Dash replied with a shrug. "Steve has already proven himself more valuable to the team, and so you need to leave."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Where is everyone?"

"Crackle's in the hospital, but I spoke with him about an hour ago and they'll be back soon."

Neal nodded, and knew that after his shower, he'd have to get caught up on everything he'd missed.

"You guys sticking around?" he asked as Otterman took a seat on one of the beds.

"Yes," Moose Boy said firmly, "I might need help with Sven."

Otterman looked incredibly embarrassed and said nothing.

"Mean as," Neal replied, "I'm always up for company."

Without another word, Neal entered the bathroom to take a very long shower.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The city of Nur-Sultan (formerly Astana), Kazakhstan was a beautiful and modern looking city, and as the plane descended, Carmen and the others gathered at the windows to take a look. The building that was immediately eye-catching was of course the Bayterek Tower. It was surrounded in an almost a birdcage-like structure of metal that wrapped itself around the tower and a large golden ball was held at the tower's very top.

There were dozens of sleek and new-looking skyscrapers made of metal and glass, and the city looked bright and clean. Everywhere they looked, they could see unusually shaped buildings and structures, and off in the distance they could just make out the sight of the absolutely enormous Hazrat Sultan Mosque.

As the plane landed and began slowing down, Carmen turned to look at her three teammates. "It's beautiful," she commented.

"Alright Red, your rental car should be waiting for you right outside the plane," Player announced as their plane began to slow down to a stop on the tarmac.

"Any sign of V.I.L.E activity?" Carmen asked, gathering her equipment together.

"There's a privately-owned jet that is due to land five minutes from now. The timing is a bit suspicious, and I'm willing to bet that V.I.L.E are coming to collect MJ before he gets himself arrested. If you hurry, you should be able to beat them to the warehouse."

Carmen nodded. "Okay, gotcha, Player. No time to take in the sights."

The plane finally came to a full stop, and Carmen headed for the door, Chase, Julia and Shadowsan following behind her. Not waiting for the pilot to do it for them, Carmen opened the door and then waited as the airstairs lowered. As they descended the stairs, they saw a bright red sports car waiting for them.

"A bit flashy, no?" Chase commented in disapproval.

"It is rather...bright." Julia agreed.

"Oh, come on, guys," Player responded, "Red is kinda our thing. Our cars are allllways red."

Chase rolled his eyes, but didn't make any further comments, simply heading for the car and getting in the driver's seat.

"Okay, I guess Chase is driving," Carmen said in amusement, "Let's go."

Once the four of them were settled in the car, Chase turned on the ignition and then headed for the gate. As they drove along in silence, they were amazed at how clean the city looked, and they didn't see a single bit of graffiti on anything. There didn't seem to be a lot of people on the streets, and it didn't take them long to enter the city.

Carmen was studying the GPS as Chase drove along, and she could see a few possible ways to escape if things got bad. They had no way of knowing what V.I.L.E had in that warehouse, and Carmen didn't want to be surprised.

"The warehouse is coming up on the left," Carmen stated a few minutes later, leaning up from the backseat. "Pull over into that mall parking lot and we can walk the rest of the way. I don't want them to see us approaching. Once we apprehend Michael Jr., whoever the driver is can bring the car to collect us."

Chase gave her a nod and turned into the parking lot without a word. After he parked, he turned around to face the others.

"Who's going to stay with the car?" he demanded, "I'm not getting left behind; I'm going with you."

The four of them exchanged a look, and Julia quickly realized everyone had turned their gazes to her. She frowned, but knew it made more sense for her to remain behind than any of the others. Although Chase was brash and impulsive, he was also a fighter, and he would be able to offer Carmen the backup she would need in this mission. Shadowsan was Chase's complete opposite and was calm and cautious, and he would be able to balance the other man out.

"I'll stay with the car," she told them, "Call me if you need backup."

Chase met her gaze, and she could see the concern lurking in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but he reached over, gave her shoulder a squeeze and then got out of the car. They kept a close eye on their surroundings and made their way towards the warehouse. The warehouse once used to be a potato chip factory, but according to Player's research it had been closed for years before V.I.L.E bought it.

Once the factory came within sight, they hid and simply observed the building, trying to spot guards or anyone from V.I.L.E nearby. The building was large, and seemed to be in pretty rough shape, but Carmen knew this was done just for appearances. V.I.L.E tended to remodel the inside of their buildings but leave the outside looking terrible so they wouldn't attract attention.

Carmen eyed the boarded up windows, and the two doors on the front of the building. It was clear V.I.L.E didn't want any surprise visitors, and so they'd need to find a way inside using the front door, which was incredibly dangerous. Player had studied the blueprints he'd stolen off the V.I.L.E server, and there was no other way in or out of the building. Carmen knew there was likely a secret escape tunnel, but they would have no way to find that if they didn't know where to look. They'd have no choice but to go for the door.

"I'm going to circle the building Shadowsan told her, "Keep watch and tell me if anything happens."

Carmen gave him a nod as she put a pair of binoculars to her eyes to watch the front of the building.

"What are we waiting for?" Chase demanded, impatiently, "Let's go before our target escapes!"

"Patience, Chase," Carmen scolded, "We don't know what's waiting for us inside that building. It could be a trap, or there could be armed guards just out of sight."

Chase wasn't used to being patient, and let out a sigh, giving a stretch in preparation for a possible fight. Carmen glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, recognizing the stretches as ones she'd been taught herself by Coach Brunt.

"Did you used to fight?" she asked in interest.

"I used to box semi-professionally," Chase replied, cracking his knuckles. "I did it for years right up until...the incident."

Carmen gave him a sad look, knowing Chase needed the closure that taking down Volkov would bring. That was if Volkov even existed anymore...

Carmen had seen countless times how fearless Chase was, and she was honestly worried about him. He constantly threw himself headlong into danger without hesitation, and he had almost gotten himself killed in a dozen different ways in the short time she'd known him. He always had a slight defeated air about him, and Carmen suspected he'd been struggling with depression for quite some time. He had been doing better since joining their team, but she could still see the deep despair that lurked within his eyes. Someday he was going to get hurt if Carmen didn't keep an eye on him.

Since learning more about Volkov the night before, Chase seemed to have been given a bit of hope, and Carmen hoped they'd be able to track down the people responsible for the brutal murder. Perhaps if he finally got justice, he'd finally begin to heal and move on from the terrible ordeal.

"Isn't that your doctor friend?" Chase demanded, pointing towards the building.

Carmen glanced over, and sure enough she could see a black car had pulled up in front of the factory and Dr. Vess had just exited the drivers side. She could see the fury on his face and had a feeling he didn't want to be here.

Carmen smiled, glad to at least see one familiar face here. Dr. Vess was a dedicated doctor and even if he didn't agree with what V.I.L.E was doing, he would always do his best to treat the patient anyway. By his obvious anger, it was clear he despised Michael Jr., but had been forced to come tend to the boy's bullet wound. Carmen had a feeling she would be able to convince him to let her into the building if he knew the full scope of what Michael Jr. was responsible for. Dr. Vess wasn't a thief, he wasn't an operative, he was just a doctor who happened to be employed by V.I.L.E. She'd known him for most of her life, and knew she could trust him not to report seeing her.

"We just found our way in," Carmen told Chase, "Come on."

As Vess removed a couple bags out of the trunk of the car, Carmen stepped out of her hiding spot. Her bright red coat catching his attention, he glanced up, and then froze at the sight of her. He dropped the bags to the ground, and Carmen waved a hand in greeting.

"Dr. Vess!" she greeted with a smile. "Hello!"

Vess gave her a wary look. "...hello," he responded.

Carmen jogged towards him, and Vess simply stared at her, clearly not trusting her.

"Don't worry," she assured him, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Vess seemed a bit skeptical, raising a brow in question.

"I know they forced you to come here, and I know you don't agree with any of this," Carmen said, coming to a stop just in front of him. "You're a good and kind man, and I've seen the compassion you show your patients. Michael Jr. is the worst type of person, and you have no idea of the atrocities he's committed."

Vess frowned at her thoughtfully. "Oh? What has he done?" he asked.

"He's a murderer and a sociopath," she informed him, "He tortured Mime Bomb for three days straight and nearly killed him. He worked with his father to steal money from orphans and because of this hundreds of children starved to death."

Vess blinked at her. "I have a job to do," he responded, placing his thumbs into his belt with a frown.

"You don't have to work for V.I.L.E.," Carmen said, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "I've always cared about you, Vess, and I know you feel the same way about me. You were so kind to me as a child, and I don't want to be your enemy. Come with us, and you can finally escape V.I.L.E. You can join our family, and you'll never have to worry about any of this ever again."

Vess seemed genuinely surprised, and he simply stared at her for a long moment. Carmen gave his arm a gentle squeeze, and offered him a kind smile.

"I know you care about me, Vess."

Dr. Vess stared down at her in silence for a moment, and then he finally replied. "I think you're holding yourself in far too much esteem, Black Sheep. I care about you as much as I care about a fly in a window. Irritating but of little importance in my life."

It was then that Carmen felt the cold metal of a gun placed against her chest.

"Vess…?"

His eyes were as cold as ice, and just as his finger began pressing the trigger, he was shoved into the wall hard from behind. The gun went off and Carmen felt an explosion of pain in her abdomen. Gasping in surprise, she clutching at her stomach, her shirt quickly becoming soaked in blood. She fell to the ground and gasped in shock. Shadowsan was kneeling at her side in an instant as Chase punched Vess hard in the gut. Vess hit the ground hard, and he turned the gun on Chase who dodged to the side just as the trigger was pulled. The bullet caught him in the leg, and Chase let out a sharp cry, as he fell.

Turning away from Carmen for just a moment, Shadowsan lashed out at the fallen doctor, and smashed the back of his head against the wall hard. Vess went limp and the gun fell out of his hand, and Shadowsan quickly turned back to Carmen. Seeing the heavy bleeding, Shadowsan knew the wound was serious, and they needed to get her to a hospital.

Raising a hand up to his ear, he pressed his com. "Julia, get here now. Carmen and Chase have been shot and we need to get them to the hospital."

Shadowsan gave a look of absolute loathing at Vess. If they took the time to secure Vess and capture Michael Jr., Carmen could bleed out. They had no choice but to leave the second their car got there. V.I.L.E was going to win this round…

Chase was clutching at his leg, and he stumbled over to them worriedly. "Carmen?" he questioned.

Carmen didn't answer, her eyes now barely open. Shadowsan had a hand pressed to her wound, and he looked up when there was a screech of tires. Julia jumped out of the car, and she ran to Chase first, then turned to Carmen when she saw Chase's injury wasn't life-threatening. She didn't miss the dark look Shadowsan sent her way, but she pretended not to notice.

"What happened?" she demanded, helping Shadowsan carefully lift Carmen into the backseat of the car.

"She put her trust in the wrong person," Shadowsan responded, crawling into the car with Carmen.

Chase limped his way to the car, and Julia reached out to help him, but he waved her off. As he got in the passenger seat, Julia glanced at the unconscious doctor.

"What about him?" she asked.

"We have to leave him," Shadowsan responded, "Hurry!"

Julia gave one more glance to Vess and then got in the car and sped away in the direction of the nearest hospital.

Ten minutes later, Vess let out a low groan and opened his eyes, wincing at the horrible pain in his skull. Raising a hand to his head, his fingers came away red, and he let out an angry curse. Glancing around, he saw he was alone, the only evidence Carmen had been there was the red stain on the sidewalk. Still holding a hand to his head, Vess picked up his gun and placed it back in the holster hidden under his coat.

Getting to his feet, he glared at the red stain, hoping she died. That would be one less thorn in his side if she did. Now in an even more foul mood than he was before, he turned his attention to the front door of the factory. This whole mess was because one stupid kid decided to brag on social media about his crimes. He had almost ruined everything.

Vess clenched his fists in absolute fury, and then reached down to pick up his fallen medical bags. Making his way towards the doors, he felt his anger only getting stronger the more he thought about it. Swiping his hand across the reader, the door buzzed open for him and he entered. Walking down a long hallway, he heard the sound of laughter and followed it, narrowing his eyes into slits of raw fury. When he entered the room, he saw Michael Jr. and another boy the same age sitting on top of tables, eating some sort of takeout food.

Michael looked up in surprise, and then his face lit up at the sight of Vess.

"Oh, hey!" he greeted with a wide grin, "I didn't know you were coming! You here about the gunshot? I already pried the bullet out with my pocket knife, so I'm all good now."

"Who's this asshole?" the other boy demanded.

"That's Vess, Dustin, I told you about him," Michael said impatiently.

"Oh...him," Dustin replied, quickly losing interest.

Vess gently set down the two medical bags on one of the tables, and then began removing his bloody coat.

"Geez, what happened to you?" Michael asked, taking a bite of food. "We got kuurdak if you want some. It's a bit weird, but okay."

Vess then opened one of his bags and removed something. Turning around, they could see a surgical scalpel in his hand.

"Uhhh…what's that for?" Dustin asked uncertainly.

"Shut up, Dustin," Michael responded, not even bothering to look up from his food.

Vess then unholstered his gun and started heading for Michael Jr., his expression thunderous. Without so much as a glance, Vess raised the gun and fired a bullet directly into Dustin's forehead, the boy falling dead to the floor, fork still in his hand. Michael stared at the body with wide eyes, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

"What the hell!" he yelled in outrage, "That was my friend!"

Vess holstered the gun, and then descended on Michael in absolute fury. Without a single word, Vess raised his hand and slapped Michael straight across the face hard enough to almost cause the boy to fall off the table. Before Michael even had time to recover, Vess grabbed him by the front of the shirt and yanked him in close, placing the scalpel to his throat.

"Do you have any idea what you did?!" he hissed out, pressing the scalpel a bit harder to the delicate skin of the throat.

Michael's expression froze into a grimace and he stared up at Vess with wary eyes, barely daring to breathe.

"Of course you don't know what you did, because you're a moron !" Vess snarled. "A complete, and utter childish moron!"

"Um, w-"

"Silence." Vess warned, pressing a little harder on the scalpel.

Michael winced as a single drop of blood dripped from his neck, and he quickly fell silent.

"You announced to the whole world where you were hiding, and then you admitted to your crimes! On INSTAGRAM !" Vess snarled, eyes glaring daggers into the boy. "You led Carmen Sandiego straight to yourself, and if it wasn't for me you would've been back in jail before nightfall! You jeopardized everything!"

Michael's eyes widened in realization, and he stared up at Vess in horror. He now realized the scope of how badly he had messed up.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't slit your stupid throat right here and now!" Vess hissed, his grip tightening on the front of the boy's shirt.

"I-I'm sorry!" Michael gasped out, wincing as the movement caused his neck to be cut even deeper.

"If you ever, and I mean ever do something like this again, I won't hesitate to slit your throat from ear to ear, do you understand me?"

Michael's eyes widened even further.

"Do you understand me?" Vess snarled.

"Um... uh huh," Michael hesitantly replied, "I understand, never again."

Vess narrowed his eyes at him skeptically and didn't remove the scalpel.

"I'm sorry, Numa!" Michael insisted, "I didn't mean to, I swear! I'll delete my Instagram account!"

"You will delete all of your social media accounts and never post anything ever again." Vess said with finality.

"What?! All of them!" Michael cried out in protest.

"All. Of. Them." Vess said, tone taking on a dangerous edge.

"Okay, okay, fine!" Michael agreed, "I'm sorry!"

Vess took a very deep breath, and stared at Michael as if trying to sense any deceit. "This is your only chance," he warned.

"I promise!" Michael swore.

Vess gave him a nod, and finally his expression softened. Without another word, he leaned down and captured the boy's lips with his own. Michael relaxed as the scalpel stopped cutting, and responded to the kiss eagerly. When Vess pulled away, he stared down at Michael with an exasperated look.

"Tell me again why I like you?"

Michael gave a shrug. "Fucked if I know, Numa," he responded.

"Don't get yourself arrested, you little shit, because I don't want to have to rescue you again," Vess scolded.

"You left me there for a whole month!" Michael whined.

"Just be glad I had you rescued at all," Vess responded, going in for another kiss. "You repugnant little thug."

Michael smirked into the kiss. "You killed Dustin, you asshole. I liked having a henchman!"

Vess rolled his eyes. "I'll get you a new Dustin," he stated.

Michael laughed and then looked up at him. "Show me how much you missed me."

Vess gave him a smirk of his own, the scalpel falling to the floor.

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TBC