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?

35. One Player Down

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The Broken Silence

Chapter 35

One Player Down

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.

.

It was like time had frozen. No one spoke, and no one moved. The silence weighed heavily on everyone, and Carmen slowly turned wide eyes to Shadowsan. The older man's expression was grim, and he clenched his hands into fists, but he too remained quiet. The silence stretched on, until suddenly Zack's voice came across the com, startling everyone.

"Mime Bomb, what are you doing! No, you are not getting up! Stop it! Mime Bomb, stop it!"

There was the sound of scuffling, and then once again Zack called out.

"Mime Bomb, no, you can't get up! You're going to hurt yourself! No! I'm not letting you! Knock it off!"

Everyone could hear the sound of a struggle over their coms, and Shadowsan frowned in concern.

"Mime Bomb," Shadowsan spoke up, "I know that you feel like you have to help Player, but you need to rest and focus on recovering. We will get Player back, and he is not going to be harmed."

Mime Bomb struggled against Zack, but the other boy was bigger and heavier than him, and Mime Bomb was still weak from the surgery. He heard what Shadowsan said, but he shook his head defiantly.

"Stop!" Zack ordered, "You're going to hurt yourself! The doctors said you can't get up for several days!"

Mime Bomb stared up at Zack miserably and then went limp, too tired to struggle any more. Zack eyed him for a moment, and then very hesitantly released him. Mime Bomb signed something to him frantically, and Zack frowned, not understanding. The frustration was evident on Mime Bomb's face, and so he pointed to himself over and over. Zack furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out what the other boy was trying to say, and then his eyes widened.

"You're saying they want you?" he guessed.

Mime Bomb nodded. He then pointed to himself and then to the door. Zack shook his head.

"No, we're not allowing you to give yourself up."

"Zack's right," Carmen said, her voice growing exhausted, "Even if you did hand yourself over to them, there's no guarantee they'll let Player go. They might keep both of you as bargaining chips against the rest of us."

"What are we gonna do?" Ivy asked worriedly, "We can't let them hurt him! He's just a kid!"

Carmen could barely move her head let alone go on a rescue mission, and she gave Shadowsan a desperate look.

"No, you will take a long time to recover, and there's nothing you can do," Shadowsan said firmly, "You will need to let the rest of us handle this."

"I will be back on my feet within the next day," Chase suddenly stated, "V.I.L.E is not going to harm another child as long as I'm still breathing! I'll get him back."

"Chase, you were just shot!" Julia pointed out.

"That's right," El Topo responded, "We're a large team, and while the three of you are recovering, the rest of us will rescue Player."

"We'll get the little runt back," Tigress promised.

"I'm going to make a few calls to see if any of my contacts know anything," Chase announced, reaching for his com.

Julia quickly snatched it before he could touch it. "Chase, we're likely both wanted felons now. Any contacts either of us know are now too risky to reach out to. You'd risk both Interpol and A.C.M.E coming for us if they're monitoring our friends and colleagues. Carmen and Mime Bomb are too weak to chance that."

Chase knew she was right, but he still felt frustrated. "We can't just sit here and do nothing!" he challenged.

"Let's go over what we know carefully, and then we figure out our next step from there," Julia suggested.

"That would make the most sense," Shadowsan agreed.

"Very well," Chase said with a frown, "Let's get to planning the rescue."

Carmen could barely keep her eyes open, and she felt a deep sense of dread. She was the leader of her team, but she couldn't help Player because of a stupid mistake that left her bedridden. He could die, and there was nothing she could do about it. Player was her very first friend, and now his life was in danger all because she was a failure.

Carmen clenched her fists, and squeezed her eyes closed as tears blurred her vision. She had trusted Vess, but she was an absolute idiot. He'd never cared for her, and she'd only seen what she wanted to see. She could have died, and she felt ashamed of herself. She was useless to her team like this, and Carmen wanted to scream in frustration. She felt a gentle hand wipe her tears away, but she didn't open her eyes.

Too weak to stay awake any longer, Carmen fell asleep, her mind filled with thoughts of Player.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Player took a very slow and deep breath, trying to force himself to calm down. He was surprisingly unharmed, but his hands and feet were duct taped together and he had a sack over his head. The men had carried him out to their vehicle, and Player had never been more terrified in his life. What happened to his parents? He had no idea if they were home or not since he'd spent the last twelve hours glued to his computer. Had the men shot them, or were they working when the kidnapping happened?

Taking another deep breath, Player tried not to think about it, instead concentrating on what he knew about the men who had taken him. There were four of them, and they spoke Russian to one another, and Player knew it was probably safe to assume these were the same men who had gone after Mime Bomb. They were all large and strong men, and so they were likely the muscle and not the brains of the operation.

Player tried to memorize all the stops and turns as they drove along, but after several dozen turns, he lost track. He was seated between two men in the back seat, and anytime he so much as shifted, one of the men would place a hand on his shoulder threateningly. The sack was stuffy and hot, but Player didn't dare say a single word, having a feeling these men could not be negotiated with.

They drove for several hours until the car finally stopped. Player was lifted out of the car, and one of the men carried him as if he weighed nothing at all. He listened intently, and heard the sound of planes, and he realized with horror they were taking him out of the country. Trying to stifle his panic, he had no idea how he was going to get out of this. Half of Team Red were in the hospital, and they would have no way to trace him.

Player remained completely limp and cooperative, and once they boarded the plane, he was made to take a seat, and he was belted in. He listened intently to what the men were saying, but Player couldn't speak a word of Russian and by their tones of voice, the men seemed pleased with themselves. Player had been hoping the police would show up, knowing how fast they reacted to amber alerts, but to his disappointment no one came for him. He wasn't even sure if anyone knew he was gone yet.

The plane began to rumble as the engines were turned on, and once it began moving, Player knew no one would be rescuing him any time soon.

He sat completely still and quiet for the next ten minutes. Then to his surprise, the hood was pulled off his head. He looked up at the large bald-headed man standing over him, and the man offered him an awkward smile.

"Do not be scared," the man said, obviously trying to sound nice, "We will not hurt you."

Player swallowed heavily, but couldn't find the words to respond.

"You will not be with us for long," the man assured him, "All we want is Yuri Volkov, and you are simply our bargaining chip. We will release you unharmed once we get him."

Player grimaced. Well, that certainly confirmed these were the same men from Wales.

"My name is Viktor," the man said, kneeling down so he was eye-level with Player, "I am not a bad man, but I have my orders. I promise I will not hurt you."

"Did...Did you kill my parents?" Player asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Viktor snorted. "Of course not. There was no one else home when we took you. They are bad parents for leaving such a little boy home all by himself."

Player blanched. Just how young did they think he was?! Player was short for his age, and his voice hadn't changed yet, and so he supposed he did look several years younger than he was. Perhaps he could somehow use this to his advantage? Giving the man his best sad and pathetic puppy-dog eyes, he sniffed loudly.

"My arms hurt, can you please take the tape off?" he asked, trying to make his voice sound as young as possible.

Viktor frowned at him for a moment, and then exchanged a look with the other three men.

"Are you scared of the little boy?" one of the men demanded with a laugh. "Frightened he will hit you with his little fists?"

Viktor flushed. "Shut up, Boris!"

Scowling irritably, Viktor pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and Player jumped as the blade popped out with a ' SHING '. The tape was cut away from Players wrists, and the moment his hands were free, Player rubbed at them, unable to believe Viktor really untied him.

"Are you hurt, Matteo?" Viktor asked, looking him up and down.

Player's eyes widened to the size of saucers and he stared up at him in complete shock. "How do you know my name?" he demanded.

"We did our research," he replied with a shrug. "Three people lived at your residence; a woman, a man and their son. Not much was known about you however. No school registration or anything of the sort."

"I'm homeschooled," Player replied.

"And you like computers," Viktor stated with a knowing look.

Player went silent and the man laughed.

"You are very good hacker for such a little boy, but you made a mistake."

Player was instantly indignant. "Mistake? What mistake?" he demanded.

"I don't know how you are involved with Mr. Volkov, but you did indeed make a mistake," Viktor informed him.

"Oh?" Player demanded skeptically.

"You contacted Alys Firth," he replied with an amused smile.

Player's eyes widened in realization.

"We traced that call straight to you, despite your attempts to mask your location."

"Why are you telling him this?" Boris demanded angrily. "Don't tell him that!"

"I am telling him so he knows for next time," Viktor replied with a shrug. "Such a smart little boy could someday be great if he continues to improve himself. Maybe even work for us."

It was starting to grate on Player's nerves being called a little boy, but he ignored it, knowing it was in his favour if they thought he was helpless.

"Can you cut my feet loose too?" Player asked plaintively.

Viktor shook his head. "Sorry, but your feet remain tied," he answered.

"It's too tight," Player said, doing his best to look small and innocent, "I promise I won't move out of this seat."

"He is lying," Boris stated with a snort. "He will run."

"No, I promise I won't!" Player protested.

" нет , you will remain tied," Viktor said in a firm tone.

"Can you at least loosen it a little bit?" Player asked hopefully. "Just so I'm more comfortable?"

"Keep pushing after I've said no, and I will tie your arms again," Viktor warned, "No sneakiness. You will be quiet and obedient, is this understood?"

Player went quiet.

"Is this understood?" Viktor repeated, crossing his arms.

Player gave him an uncertain look, and simply nodded.

Viktor seemed satisfied with this and he ruffled Player's hair.

"I will put cartoons on for you now," Viktor said, turning on the nearby flatscreen. "Let me know if you get hungry or need to pee."

Player said nothing, knowing he had to be extremely cautious. If these men even suspected he was going to attempt an escape, they could seriously harm him. He would wait for an opportunity, and make it seem like he was fully cooperating. There was nothing he could do while they were on a plane, and so he'd have to be patient and simply wait for his opportunity.

Player stared at the colourful Russian cartoon on the screen, and took a deep and steadying breath. He was safe for the moment, his parents were safe, and Mime Bomb was safe. As long as he kept a cool and rational mind, he felt confident he would be able to get himself out of this mess. All he would have to be is patient for a little while longer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Neal glanced over at Dash who was pointedly refusing to look at him. He was staring down at his sketchbook with an angry expression on his face and refused to say a word. Neal was now sporting a walking cast on his foot, and had strict instructions from the hospital to take it easy for a few weeks. When they first got back to the motel room, Crackle had tried to force Dash to apologize, but the other man stubbornly refused. Even the threat of the Crackle Rod hadn't been enough to make Dash give in. Crackle was clearly angry enough to shock Dash a few times, but when Neal said it was fine, Crackle relented, and dropped the subject.

Everyone was now seated around the room as they watched tv, far too many people crowded in there to be comfortable. Moose Boy had returned from the pharmacy and was fussing over Otterman, the other man clearly not doing too well. Crackle had demanded all medications be turned over to him, and he was going to be handling how much of the painkillers Otterman was allowed.

Otterman was shaking from the cold yet sweating heavily, but he didn't say a single word of complaint. Moose Boy had wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and sat beside him at the end of one of the beds, watching the movie with no real interest.

"I'm going to take a shower," Crackle commented after a time, "Can one of you order something for supper?"

"I'll do it!" Dash volunteered, not wanting to eat whatever greasy food the others were bound to pick out.

Crackle gave him a glare, clearly still annoyed, but nodded all the same. "Nothing spicy."

Otterman watched Crackle out of the corner of his eye and once he'd left the room to take a shower, he turned to Neal.

"Neal, could I speak with you alone for a minute?" he asked.

Neal glanced over at him, and simply nodded, already knowing what this was about. Grabbing his crutches, he pulled himself to his feet, and he awkwardly hobbled after Otterman, ignoring the curious looks everyone was giving them.

[[I'll be back in a few seconds, Henrik,]] Otterman told Moose Boy, who looked like he was about to follow them.

Stepping outside the motel room, Otterman glanced down at Neal's broken foot and then winced guiltily. Rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, he wasn't quite sure what to say. Neal simply waited patiently, and finally Otterman looked up at him.

"Thank you for not telling on me," he said hesitantly, "I know you saw me earlier…"

Neal stared at him in silence for a moment, and then he leaned against the wall. "You going to explain?" he asked, his tone not sounding particularly angry.

Otterman let out a deep sigh. "Everything always goes to shit," he responded.

"For you two? Yeah, it does," Neal agreed.

"I'm sorry you got hurt because of me," Otterman said, feeling even more awkward.

He'd never really gotten along with Neal, but he certainly didn't want him to get hurt.

"Why did you steal Dash's things? Was it a prank?" Neal didn't sound like he believed it, knowing how serious the other man was.

Otterman sighed, and then groaned, raising a hand to cover his face in shame. "No...Henrik and I were here with no funds and we couldn't pay for our room and didn't even have money for food. Everything is just one giant mess, and I didn't know what else to do."

"Why are you guys so broke? What happened?" Neal asked curiously.

"We were supposed to be here in secret and we were given a limited amount of cash. Henrik had the cash and-"

"Say no more," Neal replied, holding up a hand. "And I suppose asking for more was out of the question?"

Otterman flushed red and nodded. "This was our last chance before V.I.L.E were going to erase our minds. We failed before the mission even began. We couldn't chance being seen or caught stealing from pulling a job, and so we…"

"Mugged Dash?"

"...yeah. Sorry."

Neal stared at him, and then let out a deep sigh. "Did you return everything you took?"

Otterman mutely shook his head.

"Okay, I won't tattle on you, but I'm not going to let you steal from my teammates. Just give me everything you took and I'll return it when no one is looking."

"I'm sorry you got the blame."

Neal gave him a shrug. "It happens. Do you need some cash?"

Otterman flushed even redder. "...yeah."

"Just mention to Crackle that he needs to pay for your room. I think he was planning on doing that anyway."

Otterman nodded. "Wait here for a second, and I'll grab the stuff out of my room for you."

Neal watched Otterman hurry away, and he gave a long and lazy stretch as he waited. Moose Boy and Otterman were truly the worst operatives in the entire organization, and although they should have been 'fired' long ago, Neal didn't want the faculty to find out about their failure. Having fourteen years of your memories removed was the cruelest thing he could think of, and he wanted no part in it. He saw no possible way Moose Boy and Otterman would survive for too much longer, knowing how fed up the faculty were getting with their constant failures. It was only a matter of time. Almost Neal's entire graduating class were gone now, and there were only a handful of them left. He knew Rhino was still around, and The Driver was doing well, but everyone else was long gone.

Otterman returned just a couple minutes later, and he held out a handful of cash, as well as Neal's ipod. Neal recognized it as his own, and Otterman ducked his head, carefully avoiding eye contact.

"Geez, did Dash have this much cash on him?!" Neal said, thumbing through the money in amazement. "No wonder you robbed him! I'm half-tempted to mug him myself!"

Neal then clapped Otterman on the back. "Let's get back inside before your guard moose gets worried."

Everyone looked up at them as they re-entered the room, and Dash gave Neal a look of distaste, but said nothing. Neal honestly had no idea what Dash had to be mad at him over, but knew it wasn't worth the effort of calling him out on it. Instead, he took a seat, and let out a sigh of relief as his foot finally got a bit of relief.

"I ordered the food," Dash commented to no one in particular.

"Nice, what did you get?" Neal demanded, "You ordered something for me too, right?"

Dash rolled his eyes. "Yes, Neal, I got you food."

Neal gave him a skeptical look. "Real food or just like a fortune cookie or something?"

"Real food," Dash confirmed with a smirk.

There was something sneaky lurking in Dash's eyes that Neal didn't like, and he was suspicious.

"You didn't get me vegetarian food or a salad, did you?"

"No, I got you a combo," Dash replied, "I think it comes with a side-salad, but just don't eat that part if you don't want it."

"Uh huh," Neal answered, knowing Dash was scheming something. "What did you order?"

"Don't you want to be surprised?" Dash replied, amusement in his voice.

"He ordered Japanese," Paper Star replied, rolling her eyes. "He didn't order you anything weird."

Neal stared at her in surprise. "Oh, well okay then,"

"I've never eaten Japanese before," Theodore commented thoughtfully.

"I have," Roosevelt replied, surprising his brother.

"You have? When?" Theodore asked.

"Remember that time I took Delano to the science fair in eighth grade? You were sick with the flu and had to stay home."

"Yeah, I remember that; he won first place. You guys had to take a bus, and Grams was worried you'd get lost."

"Well, I was starving after that boring nerd-fest, and so we stopped to grab supper. I wanted a burger, but Delano pitched a fit and so I let him choose where we went. He chose some weird little Japanese place."

Theodore frowned. "How was it?"

"It was fine," Roosevelt replied, "He didn't order anything too strange. I think I had some sort of soup and a tuna rice thing."

"Huh," Theodore commented.

As twins, they normally shared all experiences, and so Theodore felt a little left out.

"I bet Delano yelled at the waiter," he commented in amusement.

Roosevelt let out a snort. "Of course he did. He yelled at the waiter in Japanese for like ten minutes straight, and we ended up getting our meal for free. I still have no idea what he was so mad about, but I think he overheard the waiter talking about us."

Theodore smiled sadly for a moment, and then glanced back towards the tv, falling silent. A few minutes later, Crackle came out of the bathroom, his hair wet and dressed for bed.

"Did you order supper?" he asked Dash, approaching to take a seat beside Neal.

Dash nodded and then turned his attention back to his sketchbook. Crackle reached for his tablet, and then powered it on, glancing up at the others as he did so.

"I'm going to log in to view the tracker, and hopefully we'll now know where Team Red is located. We can plan our attack for tomorrow."

Crackle now had Paper Star's undivided attention. Crackle logged into the program and then waited as the information loaded. He then simply stared at the map with an incredulous look on his face.

"Did you find them?" Paper Star demanded, "Do you know where Carmen Sandiego is?"

"...yes," Crackle replied hesitantly.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense, wombat," Neal teased, "Where is she?"

"Kazakhstan."

Everyone stared at him in confusion.

"Pardon?" Dash demanded, "Did you say Kazakhstan?!"

Crackle furrowed his brow and nodded. "It appears that Carmen Sandiego spent several hours walking around San Diego and then went to the airport and flew to Kazakhstan…"

Paper Star reached out and snatched the tablet out of his hands and stared at the information in silence. When she saw that he was right, he scowled angrily and tossed it back into Crackle's lap.

"Then she's on a mission and we have no idea where her base is," she stated, glaring at Crackle like it was his fault.

"It appears so," Crackle responded, "We'll have to wait for her to return and hope that she doesn't discover the tracker before then."

Paper Star didn't say another word, simply going back to her bed to take a seat. Although her expression was completely blank, her hands were folding star after star. Everyone eyed her warily for a moment, and then Crackle turned his attention to Dash.

"You seem to be a lot better today," he observed, "How are your stitches?"

"Fine," Dash answered distractedly.

"Come here for a second so I can check on them,"

"What? No. I'm not taking off my shirt in front of this many people. I checked them a while ago, they're fine."

"No one cares if you take off your shirt," Roosevelt commented.

"Well, I care!" Dash snapped.

"Everyone already saw you naked anyway," Paper Star pointed out.

Dash looked up from his sketchbook sharply. "What?!"

"When Vess brought you home, you were naked," Roosevelt pointed out with a shrug.

Dash stared with wide eyes. "What ?!" he repeated. " Why?!"

"He needed to remove your clothes during the surgery, and he had to escape with you immediately afterwards. He didn't have anything sterile to cover you with at the time," Crackle replied.

"...wait...didn't you say all of Team Red were there during my surgery?"

Crackle nodded.

Dash looked completely horrified. "You mean, not only did all of you see me naked, but all of Team Red saw me naked as well?!"

"Yes, that is probably the case," Crackle responded.

Dash's face turned completely scarlet and he clapped his hands to his face in complete humiliation. "Oh my god," he moaned.

Neal grinned widely at him, but Dash wasn't looking at anyone in the room. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

"Aw, Dashie, it's not so bad!" Neal assured him, "At least you're not some old, fat wrinkled guy."

"Our sworn enemies saw me completely naked!" Dash snarled, "Just kill me. There's no recovering from this. Kill me now please."

"Don't be so over-dramatic, you princess."

"Shut up, Neal!"

"It's really okay, Fancy, Team Red all saw me naked too."

"I DON'T CARE IF THEY SAW-wait...why did they see you naked?!"

Neal gave a shrug.

"You never did tell us what happened while you were Team Red's prisoner," Crackle pointed out, "Did they treat you well?"

Neal grimaced.

"What?" Crackle demanded, "What happened?"

"Well, Dash and I didn't exactly have the best time while we were with Team Red…"

Neal now had everyone's attention, and he began his story right from the beginning.

"Well, when Team Red captured Dash, I knew I had to go with him since he was in no condition to escape on his own-"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Carmen was sound asleep, too weak to stay awake despite the horror of everything going on. Shadowsan refused to move from her side, holding her hand as she slept, but he listened carefully to what the others were saying over his com.

Upon his insistence, Mime Bomb had been moved in with Chase, and now everyone was trying to come up with a plan to rescue Player. Mime Bomb was barely able to stay awake, and he struggled to pay attention to what everyone was saying.

"Do you know who those men were?" Tigress asked, glancing over at Mime Bomb with a frown.

Mime Bomb didn't have Player to translate for him, and he knew from experience how frustrating it was trying to make Tigress understand pantomime. He furrowed his brow, glanced over at Zack and knew the other boy's sign language wasn't good enough to help. He had no choice but to resort to communicating in a different way.

Mime Bomb looked around the room, but didn't see what he was looking for. Making a writing motion with his hand, Tigress nodded, and then turned to look for a pen.

"Anyone got any paper?" she demanded.

"I have a notepad in the pocket of my coat," Chase replied.

A few seconds later a crumpled notepad and pen were shoved into Mime Bomb's hands. He couldn't sit up, and so he flipped to an empty page and then began awkwardly writing.

'The men are with the lab I escaped from'

"One thing I'm not understanding is who exactly is responsible for this. The people who kidnapped you may not have necessarily been the ones who you escaped from," Le Chèvre stated, "You told Zack that there was a violent attack at the lab, and then a complete staff change. Volkov may have dissolved into V.I.L.E, or perhaps the fight was an internal one? We have no way of knowing who we're going after."

"Volkov were still active when my wife and I were investigating them," Chase stated, staring long and hard at Mime Bomb. "Your name is Volkov, and we can't rule out the possibility your family is responsible for this."

Mime Bomb blinked at him, and then flipped to a new page. 'I don't know anything for sure' he acknowledged.

"Well, do you know where their base of operations is?" Chase demanded.

'...Russia?'

"Helpful, Mime Bomb, real helpful," Tigress grumbled.

"Well, how is he supposed to know?" Zack shot back, "He was only a kid when he escaped!"

"Okay, okay," Chase announced, "Russia is at least a start. Perhaps we can investigate the old Volkov building?"

"It burnt down," El Topo pointed out.

"Was a new building ever built on the site?" Julia asked, "Maybe Volkov is still in the exact same spot?"

"Player was the one who knew the location," Ivy pointed out, "He had the information on everything involving our missions…"

"So...we know nothing without Player," Le Chèvre commented, crossing his arms.

The team exchanged looks, just now realizing how much they depended on Player for everything.

"What can we do?" Ivy asked worriedly, "First Carmen and Chase got shot, then Michael Jr. and Dr. Vess got away, and now Player was kidnapped! What else could possibly go wrong?!"

Mime Bomb went deathly pale, and he slowly turned his head to stare at Ivy, his expression completely horrified.

"What?" she demanded, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Mime Bomb simply stared at her, his eyes wide, and she frowned at him.

"What?" she repeated.

Mime Bomb slowly flipped to a new page, and then began writing.

'Michael Finnegan Jr. is out of jail?'

"Aw, shit!" Ivy gasped, "You didn't know that! I am so sorry Mime Bomb! With everything that happened, I completely forgot you didn't know!"

"We were going to tell you once he was back in police custody," El Topo said kindly.

"We'll get him!" Zack vowed, "I swear he'll never step within a hundred yards of you!"

Mime Bomb's gaze was absolutely terrified, and Zack reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder.

"He won't hurt you," he promised, "No one will hurt you!"

'What if Michael Jr. has Player?'

Mime Bomb's hands shook as he held up the notepad and everyone's eyes widened in horror, this never occurring to them.

"No, there's no way!" Ivy said, shaking her head. "Player is going to be perfectly fine. That psycho has nothing to do with this!"

Ivy looked around at the others in the room, and now they were all looking decidedly worried, knowing the horrendous torture Mime Bomb had endured at the other man's hands.

"I think the first thing we need to do is investigate Player's hard drives," Julia stated, "If he stored his research, we should be able to find the location of the Volkov lab. If the building still exists, that's likely where Player is being held."

"Player lives all the way in Niagara Falls, Canada," Tigress pointed out, "It will take us a whole day to get there,"

"Julia and I can retrieve the hard drives, and the rest of you remain here with Mime Bomb and Carmen," Chase stated, a determined look entering his eyes.

"Chase, you were just shot," Julia pointed out, "You need to take it easy."

"I'm fine," Chase argued, sitting up to prove his point. "The doctor said I can walk in the morning. By the time we reach Canada, my leg will be perfectly fine."

Julia frowned at him. "You were still shot, Chase. I don't think you're going to be ready for a mission this soon."

Chase shook his head. "My leg doesn't even hurt," Chase lied, "You and I are the best ones to pose as Canadian law enforcement to gain entry to the crime scene. We have experience, and we also both speak fluent French."

"I don't think that's an issue in Ontario," El Topo pointed out, "I'm pretty sure that province is mostly English-speaking."

Chase waved him off. "I'm going," he said firmly.

"But Chase-" Julia began.

"Chase is correct," Shadowsan suddenly spoke up through their coms, "The two of you are best suited for this. Neither of you are strong fighters, and Carmen and Mime Bomb need to be protected until they recover."

Julia frowned again, and seemed like she was going to argue, but Chase spoke up before she could.

"We will leave immediately," he announced, swinging his legs out of bed.

Julia heaved a sigh. "Very well, but you are not walking on that leg until tomorrow!"

"Nonsense," Chase said standing up.

He winced, but quickly masked the expression into a very fake-sounding cough. Julia narrowed her eyes, but knew that no one on Earth was more stubborn than Chase Devineaux. He'd clearly made up his mind and now all she could do was go with him to make sure he didn't end up hurting himself.

"I'll arrange the plane to take us as soon as possible," she said, feeling rather resigned.

Chase's brows rose in surprise, not expecting her to give in this easily. "Oh...er, yes, of course!"

Mime Bomb stared at Chase, and he knew all of this was his fault. The men were after him, and now Player was in danger and Chase and Julia could be putting themselves into danger as well. Player could be dead for all they knew, and he was to blame. He knew eventually people would come after him, but he still allowed himself to get close to Team Red, still allowed himself to find a family. Alys had been attacked, Zack had been attacked, and now Player had been taken. He was only one person, and his life wasn't worth that of everyone he cared about.

'I want you to trade me for Player'

Zack stared at the page of the notepad, and then with a scowl, he reached out and ripped the page out. He then crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it to the floor, his meaning clear. Mime Bomb's reaction to that was to simply write the message a second time.

"No," Zack said, his tone like steel, "We are not trading you to the bad guys."

'They want me, and they will never leave us alone. All of you are in danger'

"No," Zack repeated, "We're family and we're not going to trade one family member for another."

Ivy reached out and took Mime Bomb's hand. "We will face this as a family, and we'll get Player back."

'This is all my fault. Player was taken because of me.'

"Don't be ridiculous," Chase spoke up, surprising everyone. "You were a child. How were you to blame for anything? Volkov is to blame for our misfortune, not you."

Mime Bomb frowned, but Chase held up a hand towards him to indicate he wasn't done speaking yet.

"I'm sorry that I suspected you were involved at first, but I don't blame you for any of it. A child can't help who their father is."

A small flash of pain crossed Chase's face, but he quickly masked it with a reassuring smile. "You did nothing wrong, and it's not your fault Player was taken. We will get him back, and we will make sure the men responsible pay. If Volkov still exists, I will do everything in my power to destroy them. They will never hurt another child ever again!"

Mime Bomb averted his gaze, and Ivy gave his hand another squeeze.

"We're not letting you trade yourself," she told him, "We love you just as much as we do Player. Don't you think we'd miss you if you were gone?"

Mime Bomb hesitated a moment too long before he flipped to a fresh page.

'Player is only a child. I can't let him go through what I did.'

"We'll get him back," Tigress said, cracking her knuckles aggressively. "I'll claw out every single person's throat that dared lay a hand on our tech-nerd."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and instead focus on how you can help," Le Chèvre snapped, crossing his arms. "You're the only one of us who has had direct contact with them, and so you need to stop this idiocy, and tell us everything you know."

"Jean Paul!" El Topo gasped.

"I just said what needs to be said," he defended, "Arguing about this is just a waste of time. Now is the time for action, not for whining."

"Hey man, tone it down!" Zack snapped, "Mime Bomb has been through enough! How about some understanding?"

"And what will that accomplish?" Le Chèvre retorted, "He's bedridden, and so the only use to us he has right now is information."

"That is enough," Shadowsan scolded from over the coms, "No fighting. Mime Bomb, you are not trading yourself to those men. This is final. You are going to rest, and then tomorrow, we are going to find out what Player had on his hard drives. Everyone is to leave Mime Bomb alone, and allow him to recover."

Le Chèvre rolled his eyes, and clearly wanted to say something, but he remained silent. Zack and Ivy sat with Mime Bomb, and they each held one of his hands, not saying anything, simply offering their silent comfort. They watched as Chase very carefully took a step, struggling to keep his expression impassive, but it was clear his leg was in a lot of pain.

"Has anyone seen my pants?" he demanded.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

There was complete silence after Neal finished his story. Crackle's expression was completely stony, and his fingers were clenching his blankets so tightly, his knuckles were white. Everyone glanced at him, clearly able to see the barely suppressed rage, but no one commented on it.

"Carmen Sandiego will pay," he finally stated, his tone icy. "I never would have expected her to jeopardize the lives of my team. I'm sorry I left you with her for so long. I had no idea she was putting you through this."

"It's alright, wombat, everything turned out right as."

"No, it's not alright," Crackle snarled, "No one, and I mean no one harms my team. If it wasn't for you, Dash would be dead!"

Dash averted his eyes, this now the third time Neal had saved his life. He'd had no idea any of that stuff had happened, and now felt a bit guilty over breaking Neal's ankle. He would never say so however, and he scowled down at his sketchbook, pretending to be annoyed over the story.

"No wonder I felt so gross when I woke up," he commented, "You had your greasy mitts all over me!"

Neal tsked him with a shake of the head, but otherwise didn't comment. A loud knock at the door made them all jump, and Crackle was to his feet in an instant.

"Who is it?" he demanded, reaching for his Crackle Rod.

"Uhm, Tokyo Tornado! Did you call for a delivery?" called a voice through the door.

"Oh, right, food," Crackle responded, unlocking the door.

A teenager stood holding several large bags of food, and he held a receipt out towards Crackle. "So, that'll be $343.89."

"What the hell did you order that costs $350?!" Neal demanded in awe.

Dash simply shrugged without looking up.

Crackle paid for the food, and then brought the bags in and set them on the desk. Ripping open the plastic, he picked up a styrofoam container and stared at the handwritten number on the top.

"Who had combo 11b?"

"That's mine," Paper Star responded, approaching to take it.

Crackle passed out everyone's food, and Neal opened his immediately and then stared down inside the container. There was indeed a side salad, some sort of noodles, and then a blackish meat in a dark sauce. He could see Dash staring over at him out of the corner of his eye, and so he gave the food a sniff, but all he could smell was the sauce.

"Raw fish?" he guessed.

"No, it's cooked," Dash corrected, snapping apart his chopsticks.

"But it's fish, and not something weird?"

Dash rolled his eyes. "Yes, Neal, it's fish,"

Neal was fine with fish, but he was still suspicious. "And the sauce is teriyaki?"

"Yes," Dash responded, and he opened his own container.

Neal squinted at Dash's food, and saw a neat stack of white meat. "What did you get?"

"Snow Crab," Dash replied.

Neal was still feeling suspicious, and he glanced over at Double Trouble who were trying to figure out how to use the chopsticks. He watched them fumble for a few minutes, and then to his amusement they finally stabbed the chopsticks into their sushi like a spear and then began eating it that way.

Neal snapped apart his own chopsticks, and then hesitantly picked up a small bit of the meat and gave it another sniff. It smelled perfectly fine and so he tasted it. The meat was soft, and a bit oily, but the flavour was fine, and so shrugged and began eating, trying his best to ignore the smirk Dash sent his way.

Crackle was eating his with an odd expression, and so finally it was Otterman who questioned him on it.

"You don't like sashimi?"

"It's...alright," Crackle said hesitantly. "It would be better if it was grilled though."

He didn't notice the glare Paper Star sent his way.

Neal then noticed he was the only one who had this particular meat. "What did you say this fish was again?" he asked with a frown.

"Unagi," Dash replied with another smirk.

"Right, unagi," Neal repeated, still not sure what was wrong with his food.

He finished the fish, and then hesitantly tried the noodle dish, the vinegary flavour going well with the teriyaki.

"So what kind of fish is unagi anyway?" he asked.

"Eel," Paper Star responded without looking up at him.

Neal froze and then looked down at his food, aware of how Dash looked like he was trying to hold back laughter.

"Aw," Neal said in disappointment, "Cannibalism."

"Just seemed fitting to me," Dash commented, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Looks like you're committing cannibalism too," Neal observed, pointing towards Dash's food.

"What?" Dash asked with a frown.

"You're a cannibal."

"I'm eating crab, how is that canni…" Dash then cut off, and rolled his eyes. "oh haha, very funny, grease-stain."

Neal glanced over at what everyone else was eating and his gaze settled on Moose Boy's California Rolls.

"Hey, Henrik, can I try one of your sushi rolls?"

"Yeah, sure," Moose Boy replied, holding out his tray towards him.

Neal reached out with his chopsticks and nabbed one off the tray, but as he was bringing it back, the sushi slipped out of his grasp, and fell to the floor.

"Five second rule!" Neal announced, quickly grabbing it again.

"THAT'S NOT A THING!" Dash cried out in absolute horror. "DON'T YOU DARE EAT THAT!"

Neal picked a bit of cat hair off the sushi, made a show of blowing imaginary dust off it, and then popped it into his mouth as Dash gagged.

"Neal, you are the most disgusting human being who ever oozed their way into existence!" Dash snarled, setting his food aside. "Now I've lost my appetite."

Neal simply sent him a smirk.

"What's this green stuff?" Moose Boy asked, poking at the paste beside his food.

"The best part of the sushi," Neal replied, "You should try it."

Moose Boy gave it another poke. "But what is it?"

"Wasabi," Paper Star replied, turning to stare at him.

"Try it," Neal insisted, grinning wide.

Otterman let out a deep sigh. "Neal stop trying to get Henrik to-"

"Okay, I'll try it!" Moose Boy exclaimed, scooping the whole pile of wasabi into his mouth.

" NEJ !" Otterman bellowed in alarm. "Henrik, no!"

Moose Boy sat there with wide eyes, and everyone stared at him in silence, simply waiting for his reaction. Moose Boy didn't move a muscle, and simply sat there with an odd expression on his face. He swallowed heavily, smacked his lips with a grimace, but then gave a shrug.

"I like it," he finally stated, "It's spicy."

No one knew what to say to that, and even Paper Star looked a bit taken aback.

"Do...do you need a drink, Henrik?" Otterman asked.

" Nej ."

"I...I think you should have some water or something," Otterman said, sounding a bit uncertain.

" Nej , I'm alright," Moose Boy assured him.

"Better be careful kissing him, Sven, or you could end up with heartburn," Neal teased with a giggle.

Otterman was immediately defensive. "We're not a couple!" he snapped.

Neal raised a brow in amusement. "Really, love? I worked with you two during the Berlin caper, and I shared a wall with you guys at our motel. By the sounds you were making all night long, I can confirm you either have the weirdest sleep apnea ever, or that Moose Boy is very good at what he does."

"I'm the best," Moose Boy confirmed with a proud nod.

Otterman flushed scarlet. "Shut up, Henrik!" he cried out in horror, "You moron!"

"What?" Moose Boy asked, expression growing confused. "What did I do?"

"I don't care what either of you do in your leisure time as long as it doesn't affect your job," Crackle commented, frowning between the two Swedes.

Neal burst into laughter, and Otterman simply groaned, and clapped his hands to his face without another word. Crackle's com then began to ring, and he reached for it, wondering who would be calling him this late. Turning the com over, he sat up straight when he saw it was Dr. Bellum. Hurriedly setting his food aside, he answered it, the doctor's impatient face appearing on the screen.

"Evening, Crackle," she greeted.

"Good evening, Dr. Bellum," Crackle responded, his tone nothing but respectful. "How can I help you?"

"Do you know where Carmen Sandiego currently is?" she demanded.

Crackle gave her a slow nod. "Yes, ma'am, it was just brought to our attention that she's in Kazakhstan."

"So far your team has been very disappointing," she stated, "You've been in San Diego for nearly a month but yet you've accomplished nothing."

"My apologies, Dr. Bellum," Crackle answered, feeling completely ashamed. "We haven't been able to locate their base yet. I managed to place a tracker on Carmen Sandiego however, and I'm hopeful she'll lead us straight to her base."

"There is likely no need for that," Dr. Belum responded, running a hand through her hair with a sigh.

Crackle gave her a questioning look and so she elaborated.

"It appears Dr. Vesalius has done what the six of you couldn't," she stated with a frown, "A few hours ago, he shot her, and the wound may have been fatal."

The whole room went silent, Dr. Bellum now having their complete and undivided attention.

"We have no way to confirm her death as of right now, and so your team is going to remain in San Diego for another three weeks to see if she returns. If there's no sign of her, your team will be dissolved."

Crackle didn't know what to say to this. "I...I understand."

"How is Dash Haber recovering?" she asked.

"He's been improving," Crackle assured her, "Dr. Vess said he should be fully recovered in a couple weeks. The infection should be cleared by then."

Dr. Bellum nodded. "Keep me informed on his recovery. Your team has been a great disappointment, and it's clear you need a lot more training before you can be trusted as a leader again."

Crackle kept his expression indifferent, but he clenched his hands into fists, her words obviously bothering him a lot.

"I will contact you soon with further instructions."

Without another word, she disconnected the call. Crackle stared at the com for a long moment, and then slowly set it aside.

"Crackle, you okay, love?"

Crackle felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. They had failed, and he had disappointed Dr. Bellum. Another operative had shot Carmen Sandiego when they hadn't even come close to harming her. Crackle's eyes widened as he remembered the horrible punishments he'd endured in Dr. Bellum's lab, and he didn't want to return to that. He should have worked harder. He should have made his team work harder.

"Crackle?" Theodore questioned.

Crackle dug his nails into his knees as he sat there, terrified but trying his hardest to hide it. His team gathered around him worriedly, and Neal took a seat beside him.

"Hey, wombat, everything will be alright," he assured him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't your fault. There was nothing we could have done differently."

"We had no way of knowing she was leaving the country," Dash pointed out, "They can't blame you for this."

"Sure they can," Paper Star commented with a shrug. "He had plenty of opportunities to kill her, but he squandered them to keep you guys alive. It's weakness, and V.I.L.E will not tolerate it."

Roosevelt clapped Crackle on the back. "That's not a weakness," he disagreed, "Caring for those weaker than you is a strength."

Crackle squinted up at Roosevelt, this sounding nothing like the normally dim man.

"I doubt she's dead anyway," Dash commented, "Carmen Sandiego is like a cockroach that just keeps coming back again and again. I'm sure she'll show up again sooner or later."

Crackle's whole mission was to find and kill Carmen Sandiego, but he too wished she would survive this. If Carmen survived, his team would remain together, and he'd get another chance to prove himself. Crackle took a deep breath. There was nothing they could do except wait.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chase and Julia stepped off the plane and descended the stairs, seeing a car waiting for them nearby. Chase forced himself to walk normally, but Julia could tell his leg was still bothering him a lot. Knowing how stubborn he could be, Julia doubted he would accept her help or even a painkiller if she offered it. Chase clearly wanted to appear strong and ready for anything, and Julia couldn't help but worry about him.

Normally Player would have arranged to have their disguises ready for them, but now they were left to wing it wearing regular suits. Their plan was to pretend to be part of Interpol in order to gain access to the crime scene. From what they were able to research on the trip over, it appeared that Player had already been discovered missing, but his parents didn't know where he had gone. They had come home from work and he was simply gone. When he hadn't returned by morning, they had contacted the police, but there were no signs of Player anywhere.

As they made their way towards their black rental car, they both clipped their Interpol IDs to their jackets, hoping no one would think to contact Interpol to verify their identity. Chase got into the driver's seat and as he started the ignition, Julia shot him a worried glance. Chase had been oddly silent since the day before, and Julia had a feeling Player being kidnapped was hitting too close to home for him. His own daughter was taken by Volkov, and now another child they were close to was taken as well.

It was a forty minute drive from the Markham airport to Niagara Falls, and Chase seemed to grow more and more tense as they drove along. Every time Julia tried to start a conversation, his responses were short and close-ended. After a time, Julia gave up and the only sounds within the car was the voice from the GPS.

Player's house was just a couple streets away from the crowded Clifton Hill where most of the Niagara Falls attractions were located, and Chase had to drive slowly as tourists walked in the street. Chase slammed his hand on the horn incessantly and was getting angrier and angrier as people kept stepping out in front of his car.

"OUT OF THE WAY!" he bellowed out the window, "WALK ON THE SIDEWALKS! MOVE! GET OFF THE STREET!"

"Chase…" Julia said with a frown.

"Look at these people!" Chase cried out, waving a hand towards the crowds. "This is ridiculous! They should all be ticketed!"

"It's a tourist area, and so this is to be expected," Julia pointed out.

Chase banged a fist on the horn again, ignoring Julia as he once again yelled out the window. "I'M TRYING TO DRIVE HERE! GET OUT OF THE STREET!"

A lady stopped walking, turned a withering glare at him and then gave him the finger.

"ARG! PEOPLE ARE SO RUDE HERE!" Chase yelled, holding down the horn for so long that people turned to stare.

Julia reached over and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Chase, it's alright, we're almost there. Please calm down."

Chase made an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, and didn't reply. Reaching over, Julia hit the button to slide Chase's window up.

"Every second counts," Chase said, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Every second we sit here, is another second Player is left in danger. We need to save him, and these idiot tourists are blocking us!"

Once again Julia rested a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her, and when he saw her expression of concern, he let out a deep sigh of resignation. He visibly sagged in defeat, and then sat in silence as he waited for the pedestrians to move out of his way. Julia kept a gentle hand on his arm, and Chase began slowly driving again, not saying a word when he had to stop several more times. Reaching the crest of the hill, they turned and luckily there weren't many people on this street.

'You have reached your destination.'

They both jumped at the sudden loud exclamation from the GPS, and Chase scowled at it. Looking up, they knew which house was Player's when they saw four police cars parked in front of the tiny house. Parking on the street, Chase exchanged a look with Julia and then they exited the car, hoping they could pull this off.

Chase ran a hand through his hair a couple times, and then they started up the walkway towards the front door. An officer was standing on the front porch smoking, and when he saw them, he held out a hand to stop them.

"I'm sorry, but no one is allowed inside at this time. We have an amber alert, and the home is being searched."

"Yes, I am well aware!" Chase said, his tone dripping with condescension. "We were called in to do our own investigations."

The officer raised a brow and then snuffed out his cigarette. "Are you RCMP?"

" Non ," Chase replied with a snort, "We are with Interpol."

The officer's eyes widened. "Interpol?! Why is Interpol involved in the case of a runaway?"

"We have reason to believe this is not a runaway," Julia stated, reaching up to adjust her glasses. "We are currently investigating a series of crimes, and we think this may be somehow involved."

The officer was clearly skeptical. "Identification?"

Chase and Julia both handed over their Interpol and the officer squinted at them with a frown. It was obvious he'd never seen an Interpol I.D before because he turned the cards one way and then another, a look of confusion on his face.

"You are impeding our investigation," Chase said impatiently, "Do I need to speak with your police chief? I am going to hold you personally responsible for this!"

"Sir, that tone won't work with me," the officer replied, handing the cards back, "We're all on the same side here, and I'd appreciate it if you could show me the same level of respect I've been showing you."

"I apologize," Julia spoke up before Chase could respond, "It's been a long morning for us, and this case is anything but cheery."

"What exactly are you investigating?" the officer asked, crossing his arms.

"That is confidential!" Chase snapped, crossing his arms as well.

"We are keeping any theories we have to ourselves until we gather more evidence," Julia explained, "I'm sure you understand the sensitive nature of this case."

"I suppose," the officer responded, "Very well, go on in. My supervisor will likely ask for your I.D again once you're inside. She's a stickler for the rules, and so don't be surprised if she calls Interpol to verify your credentials."

Chase grimaced, but nodded all the same.

"Thank you," Julia said, following Chase inside.

The inside of the home was cluttered with books, and everywhere they looked were stacks upon stacks of books. Stepping down the hallway, they passed a few officers who were chatting and they saw a woman sitting on the stairs head in hand sobbing.

"His mother," Chase said confidently.

No one else was near her for the moment, and Chase cautiously approached, never one to be good with tears.

"Ma'am?" he said softly.

The woman looked up, and they could see Player's round face in her features, and they knew for sure this was his mother.

"Yes?" she asked, "Have you found him yet?"

"We're still doing our investigations," Julia said, offering the woman a sympathetic look.

"No one will listen to me," the woman said, once again clutching her head. "Why won't you listen?"

Chase knelt down in front of her, and gently took her hands in his own. "We're listening," he assured her, "If you know anything at all, we will listen to you."

"I told them that Matteo wouldn't have run away, that he's not that kind of boy, but they wouldn't listen to me. They told me that 13 year old boys run away all the time and that I have nothing to be worried about, but I know something is wrong! He'd never do this to us, he'd never leave without telling us where he's going!"

Chase and Julia both nodded.

"What do you believe happened?" Julia asked.

"Someone took him," she replied, tears falling down her cheeks, "Someone took Matteo."

"I believe you," Chase said firmly.

The woman seemed surprised. "You do?"

Chase nodded. "We're beginning a new line of investigations, and I believe you're right."

A brief flash of relief crossed her face. "Do you know who took him?"

Chase shook his head. "Not yet, but I promise we'll find him. We will do everything in our power to bring your son home safely."

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "How can I help?"

"I understand that your son was into computers?"

She nodded. "Oh yes, he's always chatting with his online friends and playing games. He's such a smart boy. Did you know he built all his computers himself?"

"No, I didn't know that," Chase admitted, knowing from experience how smart Player was. "Can you show us his computers?"

"His computers? Why?"

"We're looking for any hint at all to who may have taken him," Julia replied, "They may have sent him a message, or they may have been trying to chat with him."

A look of horror crossed the woman's face. "He knows better than to talk to strangers! He'd never do something like that!"

"Sometimes these people can be very persuasive," Julia answered, "It's better to be safe than sorry, and check his computer."

"None of the other officers asked about his computer," she pointed out.

"We're investigating other possibilities," Julia said, "It's really crucial we take a look as soon as possible. Every second counts."

Wiping her eyes again, the woman nodded and then motioned for them to follow her. She led them down to the basement where a massive computer setup was leaning against one of the walls.

"Go ahead and take a look," she invited, "I'm going to speak with my husband for a moment."

They watched her leave, and the second she was gone Julia rushed for the computers and began removing the tower shells. She yanked out the harddrives, and then checked the surrounding drawers on the computer desk and seized all thumb drives and SD cards. Chase was glad to leave this stuff to her, because he had no idea what was important and what wasn't.

"Where's the V.I.L.E drive?" Julia asked out loud, frowning as she looked around. "Help me look."

Although Chase only vaguely knew what the V.I.L.E drive looked like, he helped her move objects around the room, looking for where Player hid it.

"It has to be here somewhere!" Julia said in confusion.

Chase lifted up the mattress on the nearby bed, and found a few comic books but no hard drive. They searched his dresser, and then his closet, but still no sign of the drive.

"What if we weren't the first ones here?" Chase asked with a frown. "It took us a whole day to get here."

Julia searched a few more places, and then had to admit that was a possibility. Reaching a hand up to her com, she activated it.

"We got Player's computer harddrives, but the V.I.L.E drive is missing. Carmen, are you awake?"

"She is still asleep," Shadowsan replied, "She overdid it yesterday, and she's completely exhausted."

"Do you know where Player kept the drive?"

"He kept it inside an encyclopedia," Shadowsan replied.

Julia scanned the room and her eyes fell on a massive encyclopedia on the nearby bookshelf. "Okay, I see it!" she announced.

Taking it off the shelf, she opened the cover and saw the book had been hollowed out. Inside was the V.I.L.E drive. Chase and Julia both let out a breath of relief and then pocketed the drive, just as they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Julia glanced around the room, but everything looked completely untouched.

They were expecting Player's mother, but instead they were met with the sight of a very familiar face. The woman was wearing a skirt and blazer, and her blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun. The woman froze with wide eyes at the sight of them, and for a long moment, no one spoke.

"Agent Zari," Julia greeted with a grimace.

Zari narrowed her eyes to slits as she took in the sight of Chase and Julia, and then she drew her weapon.

"Freeze!" she ordered, brandishing the gas gun at them.

Without hesitation, Chase charged forward and held his breath as the trigger was pulled. Bursting through the green cloud of gas, Chase knocked the gun out of her hand. Zari winced in pain, but recovered quickly and lashed out with her fists to defend herself. Although Zari was thin, she was also a fighter, and she took Chase by surprise when her fist connected solidly with his face.

Chase had been hit in the face more times than he could count in his lifetime, and he recovered quickly, knowing they couldn't allow her to call down reinforcements. Taking on a boxer's stance, Chase readied himself and held up his fists as she lashed out at him. He sidestepped her swing and then retaliated with one of his own, striking her hard in the chin. Although she winced in pain for a brief second, she went right back for him, clearly not willing to let them go.

Chase then noticed she had heels on, and in a split-second decision, he kicked at her ankle as hard as he could. Sure enough, Zari's ankle turned and she fell to the floor, Chase pinning her down in an instant. Zari stared up at him in absolute fury and struggled, but Chase didn't let her go. Just as she kneed him in the groin, Chase grabbed her gas gun from the floor. Zari kneed him in the face as he fell to his knees, and just as she pulled her fist back to hit him, he shot her in the face with a blast of gas from the gun.

A brief look of betrayal crossed her face, and then she slumped to the ground unconscious. Chase clutched at his groin with a pained groan, but forced himself back to his feet, knowing they had to get out of there. Julia had stood and watched the fight, never feeling more helpless in her life. Julia wasn't a fighter, and had frozen when the confrontation started.

"Chase, I'm sorry-" she began.

She didn't have a chance to say more because Chase seized her by the hand and then they were running up the stairs.

"Argent Marco to your left," Julia hissed.

Chase screeched to a halt at the sight of the dark haired man, and turned to head the other way. Cutting through the living room past several officers, they found the back door and headed for it.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

They paused at the sound of Player's mother, and turned to face her.

"Yes, ma'am," Chase replied, "We now have to investigate our findings."

"We'll keep in touch," Julia assured her, as Chase opened the door.

"Why are you leaving through the back?" she asked them in confusion.

"Checking for clues as we head back to our vehicle," Chase replied distractedly.

Without waiting for her response, they ran out the door and circled the house back to the front. They could see a very conspicuous black car parked out front and two more A.C.M.E agents were waiting next to it. Having no choice, they ran past them, and Chase shoved them hard to the ground as he passed, heading for the car as fast as they could. Chase unlocked the doors, and they jumped in just as the A.C.M.E agents charged towards them, weapons drawn. Sticking his key in the ignition, Chase floored the gas, and the A.C.M.E agents dove out of the way just in time.

As they sped down the street, they both let out a deep breath of relief. Julia then gave Chase a guilty look.

"I just stood there watching as you were in danger. Chase, I'm so sorry."

Chase let out a dismissive snort. "Don't be ridiculous, Julia, you don't know how to fight. What good would you have done?"

Chase had obviously meant this in a reassuring way, but it hit Julia hard. It was true, what could she have done? Julia had never fought in her life, and what use was she to the team if she couldn't step in if she needed to? How could she help protect her friends if she was always just a damsel in distress? Julia was an excellent shot with a gun, and she knew her way around computers, but she'd never been very physically adept.

This was twice now Chase had gotten hurt while she could do nothing to help. Julia clenched her fists, and for the first time in her life, she wanted to fight. Never again would she stand aside as someone else fought.

Julia was going to ask to be trained. She would be a part of Team Red in all ways.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Siren was feeling awful when he woke, and he let out a low groan of complaint, raising a hand to his face. There was a painful tug on his arm and when he opened his eyes, he saw there was an IV in his arm. He stared at the IV stand beside him, noting that there were a couple bags of saline set up. He was still feeling drowsy and squinted around the room in confusion. What happened? Was he sick? Glancing down at himself, he saw he was in his own bed and frowned. His head was pounding, and he closed his eyes again, just wanting to sleep. It was then that his alarm clock went off, sending stabs of agony through his skull.

Giving another groan, he glared at the alarm clock and reached out towards it. Picking it up, he then threw it against the wall as hard as he could. It made a very satisfying smashing noise, and Siren closed his eyes, having every intention of skipping work that day. He had no idea why his head was pounding like it was, but knew he had no desire to move.

He was just starting to drift back to sleep when he heard his bedroom door open. Knowing there was only one person who would ever enter his room without knocking, he kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep.

A few seconds later, he felt hands checking his IV, and he then heard Dr. Vess sigh in irritation. Assuming Vess had noticed the broken clock, Siren knew he'd be given a new one by the end of the day. He'd smashed dozens of them over the years, but for some reason they still insisted on making him get up early every single morning. Siren was definitely not a morning person, and he was positively foul when he was tired. Siren had always been a night-owl and so getting up at 7:30am was pure torture.

Vess gently removed his IV, disinfected the area, and then pressed a bandage over the small wound.

"I'm starting you on a few medications," Vess informed him, "Hopefully within a few days, we'll begin to see some improvements."

Siren had no desire to get up and ignored him, still pretending he was asleep.

"You have to be to work in thirty minutes, and so I suggest you get up."

Siren stubbornly kept his eyes closed.

"I know you're awake," Vess said impatiently, "Sit up and take your medication, and then get yourself cleaned up for work."

"Fuck off, Numa," Siren muttered tiredly.

Siren didn't move, and a second later he was pinched sharply on the arm. Letting out a yelp of surprise, Siren gave a jerk and reflexively opened his eyes. He then glared up at Vess who was holding a small plastic cup with pills in it.

"Get up," Vess ordered impatiently, "You have a few stitches you need to be careful of, but you're still able to walk and you're still able to work."

"I'm using a sick day," Siren responded, rolling away from him. "Get out of my room."

Vess gave him another hard pinch, and Siren kicked out at him, missing by several inches. Vess then forcibly turned him around, and Siren only now noticed how angry the other man looked. Vess' expression was tired and fed-up, and it was clear he wasn't in the mood to deal with this.

"No, you are getting up and you're going to work," Vess told him firmly. "Apparently I can't even take my eyes off you for twenty fucking minutes without you causing mayhem in this building. I'm keeping you where I can see you for today."

Siren had no idea what Vess was talking about, and struggled to remember what had happened. His memories were a bit fuzzy, but he remembered something about Terry, and something about the lower basement. Resting a hand on his side, he could feel tenderness there, and he felt like something important had happened. His head ached as he tried to remember, but everything was a blur, and it was frustrating.

"How did I get hurt?" Siren demanded.

Vess stared at him with narrowed eyes, as if debating whether or not to answer. "There was an incident," he finally replied, "One that we don't want repeated. Now take your medication and get up."

Siren rubbed at his sore head, and wished he could remember what had happened. Everything within him was screaming that it was important, but his mind was filled with a thick fog.

Reaching out a hand, he took the cup of pills and stared down at them with a frown. He didn't recognize any of them.

"What are these?" he demanded.

"Antidepressants, a mild sedative, and...a few other things."

"What other things?" Siren asked, rattling the pills around in the bottom of the cup.

"Just take the damn pills," Vess said impatiently, "I don't have time for this. You know very well I wouldn't give you anything dangerous."

Siren accepted the bottle of water shoved into his hands and he picked up the first pill and then popped it into his mouth. He took the pills one by one and when he'd taken the last one, Vess gave him a nod of approval.

"I expect you in the lab in thirty minutes or I'm sending someone to look for you."

Siren gave him a foul look. "Why can't I take a sick day?" he demanded, "I'm tired, and my head hurts."

"Hurts?" Vess questioned, pulling a penlight out of his pocket. He reached forward to check Siren's eyes who winced when the light was shone into them. "Describe the pain to me."

Siren shrugged, and Vess gave him an impatient look.

"Is the pain sharp or is it more like a dull throb?" he demanded.

Siren slapped Vess' hands away from his face. "It feels like my skull is splitting open."

Vess frowned thoughtfully. "It's likely a reaction from the anesthesia," he commented more to himself than to Siren. "I'll give you a mild painkiller when you get to the lab."

Siren heaved a sigh, knowing he was never going to be allowed to take a sick day. It was clear Vess was angry at him about something, and whenever Siren got on his bad side, that's when his workload suddenly increased.

"What am I doing today?" he demanded.

"You've been slacking for the last two days and your work has been piling up. I expect 300 translations by the end of the day to make up for it."

Siren stared at him with wide eyes. "300?! Are you crazy?!"

"Want it to be 400?"

Siren went silent, and then let out a sigh of resignation. "Fine."

Vess eyed him a moment, but when it seemed clear Siren was going to do as he was told, he gathered up his medical supplies and left without another word. Siren watched him leave the room, and then slowly got to his feet, stretching as he did so. Wincing in pain, he glanced down at himself and saw he was wearing a clean hospital gown. Scowling at the fact Vess had at some point dressed him, he pulled it off and then looked down at the stitches on his stomach.

The stitches were red and sore, but they honestly didn't look that bad. Realizing Vess hadn't mentioned whether he could shower or not, Siren hesitated a moment before deciding not to chance it.

Getting dressed, he rubbed at his eyes irritably and then headed for the door, knowing this was going to be a long and boring day of paperwork. Yawning tiredly, he made his way down the hall towards the lab, not really paying much attention to the people around him. He didn't notice the way guards scattered at the sight of him, nor did he notice when someone began following after him.

Hearing footsteps running up behind him, Siren started to turn around but was suddenly shoved hard in the back sending him face-first into the wall. His nose smashed into the concrete, and Siren felt an explosion of pain as his nose began gushing blood. He fell to the floor, stunned and he heard a snort of laughter behind him.

Clutching at his bloody nose, he rolled over and looked up, having no idea what was going on. Michael Jr. stood over him, expression set into a cocky smirk, and Siren's eyes widened.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Siren yelped out, scrambling backwards away from him.

Michael seemed incredibly pleased with himself and took a step closer. "Hey, Eunuch," he greeted, "Did you miss me?"

Siren got back to his feet, and wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his lab coat. "As much as I would miss a pimple on my ass," he retorted, furious at himself when he felt tears well in his eyes from the pain.

Siren hated how sensitive he was, and tried with every ounce of self-control he had to hold his tears back. He wouldn't cry in front of Michael, he refused. That's what the boy wanted, and he wasn't going to do it.

Michael's eyes widened momentarily, and then he let out a snort. "You're awfully bold this morning," he pointed out, "Maybe I should smash your face into the floor a few more times? Maybe that will change your attitude?"

"Stay away from me, Michael," Siren warned, backing up a few steps, "Don't make me tell, Vess!"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Oh, yes, you little snitch. Run off and tattle!"

Siren eyed him for a moment. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here now," Michael responded with a shrug.

Siren felt like he'd just been punched in the gut. He had never gotten along with Michael for brief visits, let alone for any extended period. He shook his head in denial. No. Vess would never allow Michael to live there indefinitely. Michael was just messing with him.

"Oh, whatever," Siren muttered, turning away. "I have to get to work."

Michael gave him another shove and Siren almost lost his balance, but managed to catch himself against the wall.

"Don't touch me!" Siren snarled, turning furious eyes to the boy.

Michael raised a brow. "Now this is interesting, you really are feeling brave today."

"Are you bored or something?" Siren demanded with a scowl.

"Yeah, I am," Michael admitted, "This lab is a boring shithole"

"Then piss off back to Ireland," Siren muttered angrily.

"Can't," Michael responded, "Numa ordered me to stay here until people forget about the fact I'm a wanted man."

"Well, at least someone wants you," Siren responded, pushing past Michael to get by.

Michael grabbed him by the arm to stop him. "You never learn, Eunuch," he commented, "You always have to run your mouth and disrespect me!"

Siren heaved a deep sigh. "Do you really need to go through this whole show of alpha dog aggression every single time we meet? You know you're stronger than me, I know you're stronger than me, every single fucking person in this lab knows you're stronger than me. What do you hope to accomplish with this?"

Michael's eyes became a bit uncertain for a moment, and then he quickly became angry. "I think you need a beating!" he snarled. "I'm sick of you backtalking me!"

Siren was suddenly jerked back by the arm, and he stumbled into Michael hard, losing his balance. Using his hands to attempt to push away from the other man, the only thing he accomplished was knocking Michael to the floor with him as he fell.

Michael cursed as his elbow hit the floor as he fell, and he was instantly furious. "You did that on purpose!" he accused.

Siren struggled underneath him, but was pinned down and he couldn't move. "Get off me!" he snapped.

Michael sat up, but didn't get off him, instead grabbing Siren by the front of the lab coat and pulling him up as he raised his fist to hit him. Siren cringed back and raised his hands to cover his face, knowing from experience how hard Michael could hit.

"Is there a problem here?" came a voice from behind them.

They looked up and saw an enormous guard standing over them, baton drawn. Michael sneered at him, and didn't release his hold on Siren.

"Mind your own business, fatty," Michael ordered, "The little weasel and I are in the middle of something."

"I am Siren's new guard, and after the incident the other day, I have been instructed to protect him from any attacks."

"New guard?!" Siren questioned, lowering his hands, "Where's Kevin?"

The guard didn't respond, never taking his eyes off Michael.

"Look rent-a-cop, I have special privileges here. I can pick on the dick-less wonder all I want. I've been doing it for years."

"You will let him up," the guard ordered, "Now."

Michael narrowed his eyes and then looked the guard up and down. The man was easily six and a half feet tall, and was pure muscle and Michael knew he probably wouldn't win a fight. Not wanting to look like he was backing down, Michael scowled down at Siren.

"You're lucky I'm late for...something," he commented, finally releasing him. "I would have beat the shit out of you otherwise."

Siren said nothing.

Once Michael was back to his feet, he scoffed at the guard and then turned and stormed away. Siren watched him leave and then wiped a bit more blood from his face. Getting back to his feet, he looked up at the enormous guard.

"Er...thanks," he said awkwardly.

"You're not where you're supposed to be," the guard replied, tone firm. "Head to the lab or I will be forced to drag you there."

Siren simply stared at him in confusion. "What?"

"I was hired to keep you in line, and you will do as you're told and go to work. Give me a hard time, and I will have no choice but to use force."

"What?" Siren repeated, completely confused.

"A schedule has been drafted for you, and right now you are supposed to be in the lab working until 5pm. If you don't willingly start walking, then I will use force to make you."

Siren raised a brow. "I don't know who you think you are, Gorilla-Kevin, but your job is to guard and that's it."

"Are you refusing to comply?" the guard demanded.

Siren crossed his arms, his curiosity piqued. "What if I am?"

Without any hesitation, the guard brought down his baton and struck Siren hard across the back. The force almost knocked him off his feet, and Siren staggered before catching himself against the wall. Fighting desperately to hold back his tears of pain, he let out a loud curse, and then turned furious eyes to the guard.

"Your ass is out of here!" he snarled, "How dare you lay a hand on me!"

The guard's response was to strike him a second time, and Siren let out a howl of pain, the blow taking him by surprise. Without another word, he fled from the guard at a run, who followed behind him, his every movement threatening. Siren made it to the lab, and Vess glanced up as he entered, taking in the sight of his distressed lab partner with a frown. Siren headed straight for him and then pointed an accusing finger at the new guard.

"He's fired!" he snarled, wiping his tears aside in humiliation.

Vess glanced between Siren and the guard, and then raised an eyebrow. "It's his first day, I'm not firing him. I had to hire all new staff because of you."

"He hit me!" Siren cried out. "Twice!"

Vess turned his attention to the guard who nodded in agreement.

"He was refusing to comply," the guard stated, "I struck him until his attitude changed."

"I see," Vess replied without interest, "Get to work, Siren."

Siren was instantly furious. "He hit me!" he repeated, "Do something!"

Vess steepled his fingers together and then gave Siren an impatient look. "Braxton has been hired for a very specific reason, Siren. He has been hired to make sure you don't cause any more trouble. He has been authorized to use mild force to get you to comply. V.I.L.E is tired of the trouble you've been causing and so my hands are tied in regards to this. Do as you're told, and you won't have any problems."

Siren was completely flabbergasted. "Are you serious?! V.I.L.E hired a gorilla to follow me around and hit me if I disagree with him?!"

"It appears so," Vess replied, turning his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. "I have nothing to do with this, and so kindly let me get back to work."

Siren swept the paperwork off Vess' desk in a fit of anger. "Like hell I'm going to allow this!"

Vess let out a deep sigh. "Siren, just let it go. There's nothing you can do about this. Prove to V.I.L.E you can be trusted and perhaps they'll be a little more lenient."

"You're seriously going to do nothing?!" Siren cried out in fury.

Vess simply reached down to pick up his paperwork without a word.

Siren glared over at Braxton, realizing he would have to deal with this in a different way. He would get the man fired one way or another.

Letting out another curse, he crossed the room to his own desk, glaring at the guard the whole time he did so. Taking a seat, he glowered at the massive pile of paperwork, having a feeling this was another punishment. He couldn't remember what he had done to earn this type of treatment, but he had a feeling something serious had happened.

There were two painkillers and a bottle of water sitting on top of the paperwork, and Siren snatched them, hoping they would help with his migraine.

Wiping at his eyes irritably, he then grabbed one of the papers and began translating, humming angrily to himself in an attempt to calm down. Siren was actually quick when it came to paperwork, and so after an hour, he had completed a pretty good stack of translations.

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," Vess informed him, getting up without another word.

Siren watched him approach the door and didn't answer, still feeling furious with the other man. Vess claimed to be completely innocent when it came to Braxton, but Siren seriously doubted it. Vess hired all guards in the complex, and this one likely wasn't any different.

"Braxton, would you come with me, please?" Vess demanded. "I want to speak with you for a few minutes alone."

"What about him?" Braxton demanded, glaring at Siren.

Siren returned the glare, but said nothing.

"He'll be fine for a few minutes," Vess replied, shooting Siren a warning look.

Braxton narrowed his eyes at Siren but gave a nod and followed Vess out of the room. Once he was alone, Siren tossed his pen across the room as hard as he could. Whipping a few other office supplies in the general direction of Vess' desk, he heaved a deep and angry sigh.

It was ridiculous that they expected him to put up with this. He had to figure out a way to get that guard fired. What could he do? Frame him for something? Reaching back to rub at his sore back, his whole body seemed to ache from the blows, and he scowled.

Reaching into his lab coat pocket, he pulled out all the items he'd pickpocketed from Michael during their scuffle. There was a large baggy of weed, a wallet, a pack of gum, some rolling papers, and a lighter. Knowing Michael was going to be furious when he noticed he'd been robbed, Siren smirked and opened the wallet. There were a few hundred Euros, but not too much else. He stared at Michael's driver license who seemed about 16 in the photo, braces showing in his nervous smile. Siren was willing to bet Michael hated that picture.

Digging through the wallet, he ignored the credit cards, and found something tucked away within a card slot. Pulling it out, he discovered a photograph, and stared at it with a frown. The photo was of a young blonde woman who, despite her smile, had a deep sadness in her eyes. She was standing in front of an apple tree, and she held a baby in her arms. She looked so much like Michael that Siren had no doubt this was his mother. Turning the photo over, he saw something was written on the back.

'Katherine and Michael '98'

Michael didn't seem the sentimental type, but it was clear this photo was being hidden out of sight. It was slightly crumpled around the edges like the photo had been pulled out hundreds of times. Siren stared at the photo for a moment and then carefully put it back where he'd found it. He wasn't enough of a jerk to destroy the picture, and he had a feeling it was something Michael valued a lot. Setting the wallet aside, he turned his attention to the large bag of weed. He stared down at it for a long moment, and then cocked his head thoughtfully.

Siren doubted Michael would be able to easily replace his weed, considering they were so far away from civilization, and debated what to do with it. He was tempted to flush it down the toilet, but it seemed like a waste. Siren stared at the lighter and then at the rolling papers, debating. Giving a furtive glance towards the door, Siren opened the baggy, the overpowering stench of the weed making him gag.

Siren poked at the bag for a moment, before pulling a small bit out. His back was in agony and maybe this would make the work day a little more tolerable? Keeping a wary eye on the door, Siren rolled as much weed as he could fit in a rolling paper, hoping he was doing it right. He'd never so much as smoked a cigarette before, and honestly wasn't certain what to do.

He had a brief flash of memory where he was in a dark basement with a lit cigarette in his mouth, and he frowned, having no idea when that had happened. Shaking his head, he brought the joint up to his lips and lit it.

Taking a huge puff, he immediately began coughing, the smoke absolutely foul. Grimacing at the taste, he frowned down the joint and then hesitantly brought it back to his lips. He took a second puff, and this time didn't cough. Pocketing everything he'd stolen from Michael, he leaned back in his chair, focusing on smoking as fast as he could before Vess returned. He began feeling the effects after only half the joint, but he kept going, already feeling himself beginning to relax.

Siren then began feeling odd, his foggy mind reeling at the sensation the drugs were causing. Siren stared across the room as he smoked, his mind feeling like it was spinning out of control. Was the weed interacting with the meds Vess had given him? Everything was spinning, and he had a feeling this wasn't right. Was this something he should be concerned about?

Siren rubbed at his head as the fog seemed to be fighting against him violently, and then suddenly the fog was simply gone. Siren's eyes widened as suddenly a lifetime of memories slammed into him. He sat frozen in place as he remembered absolutely everything. He remembered his training days, he remembered his brothers, and he remembered the fire.

Thousands of memories burst into him mercilessly and Siren suddenly found himself vomiting on the floor as he clutched at his head. He remembered how V.I.L.E had kidnapped him after his accident, and he remembered being in agony as his body had slowly healed from the burns. It was then that Siren remembered Kevin. First Kevin.

Kevin had been his very first guard when he'd been brought to the lab. Because of how injured Siren was, he'd depended on Kevin for absolutely everything, barely able to move on his own. Kevin had been by his side 24/7, V.I.L.E knowing that he couldn't be trusted. Siren was incredibly angry and bitter when he'd first arrived at the lab, and he'd never so much as thanked Kevin. He had treated Kevin horribly, but the other man had been patient, and never once losing his temper with him. He had taken all of Siren's verbal abuse without a word, and after a few months, Siren mellowed out towards him. Siren had gotten quite attached to him, and it was with Kevin's help that he learned to walk again.

Siren clenched his teeth tightly as he remembered how Kevin had died to protect him during the fire. All V.I.L.E employees were being executed, but Kevin had taken the bullets to allow him to escape. Siren thought of Terry and remembered everything that had happened in the lower basement. Terry had taken the bullets for him just as Kevin had.

Siren remembered saving the little mute boy, and he remembered being the only V.I.L.E agent left alive at the lab. Volkov had left him behind as the building burned, and he had faced V.I.L.E's full wrath, everyone assuming he was the one responsible. Siren sat up from where he was kneeling on the floor and clenched his fists.

He had been responsible for the attack on V.I.L.E, but they could never prove it. He'd worked for months to take them down, and V.I.L.E had under-estimated him. Siren was a genius and he'd hid his true intentions from them without suspicion. They had no idea the web of death he'd begun constructing around the lab until it was too late.

Siren had tried to destroy all records of the experiments in the lab in an attempt to stop V.I.L.E from ever committing such atrocities ever again. He thought of the children in the lower basement; dozens and dozens of broken children. Volkov had been monsters, but V.I.L.E were no better.

Siren took a deep and shaky breath as he remembered the day of the fire. Siren was the last person left alive who knew Volkov's secrets, and he knew how dangerous that information was. He'd shattered his own mind using the very experiments V.I.L.E didn't understand, and V.I.L.E were never able to get any useful information out of him. They had beaten him, they had tortured him, but the memories had remained locked away. V.I.L.E had spent the last ten years trying to replicate the experiments without success.

All the experiments had died except for little Yuri Volkov, and Siren had torched any relevant paperwork. Everything was gone and Siren was the only one who knew. V.I.L.E had made him translate useless paperwork for over ten years, not knowing he'd already destroyed everything. They would never get their hands on the research.

Wave after wave of memories kept slamming into his mind and Siren once again vomited as he was overwhelmed. It was too much, way too much.

It was then that Vess and Braxton re-entered the lab. Vess' gaze immediately fell on Siren, and he quickly approached him, kneeling down beside him.

Siren cringed as Vess laid a hand on his back, and he stared up at Vess, knowing the other man couldn't be trusted. Vess was a danger to everyone. Vess was trying to create monsters for V.I.L.E, and he was getting closer and closer at succeeding.

"The medications have upset your stomach," Vess commented thoughtfully. "Couldn't you have aimed for the garbage can?"

"Go to hell," Siren snapped, pushing Vess away from him.

Completely unbothered, Vess turned to Braxton. "Radio a custodian to come clean this up."

Braxton nodded, and did as he was told.

"You're looking a bit pale," Vess observed, "Have you eaten today?"

Siren had no desire to look at Vess right now, and he got to his feet, his mind in complete chaos as memories crashed through his mind like a tornado.

"I'm using a sick day," Siren informed him, turning away. "I'm sick, and I'm not working like this."

Vess sniffed the air and then wrinkled his nose in disapproval at the smell of the weed. "Was Michael in here?" he asked.

Siren wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Briefly," he lied, "He said something about being bored and then left again. I'm taking a sick day, and I want to go back to bed."

Vess eyed him for a moment and then let out a deep sigh. "Fine, I'll authorize a sick day, but you are expected to complete all your missed paperwork. Take it with you, and complete it when you're feeling a bit better. Your stomach should settle down once you've had something to eat. I'll send someone to bring you breakfast shortly."

Siren just wanted to get away from Vess, and so he nodded and fled towards the door, taking the paperwork with him. The memories were overwhelming and he just wanted to take the time to go through them in peace. Having an eidetic memory was a curse in this instant, his mind spinning and spinning as thousands of memories kept coming.

To his annoyance, Braxton followed after him, and Siren had a feeling he'd been assigned to follow him 24/7. Knowing this was going to make things extremely difficult for him, he'd have to find a way to get rid of this guard as soon as possible. Ignoring him for now, Siren made his way to his private quarters, and saw a chair was sitting outside his door. It was now confirmed that Braxton was not going to let him out of his sight. Siren said nothing, and simply entered his room and then closed the door in the other man's face.

He threw the paperwork as hard as he could across the room, watching as the papers fluttered all around him in a shower of white. Curling up on his bed, Siren knew that he was only certain of one thing right now. He couldn't allow V.I.L.E to complete their experiments. V.I.L.E needed to be taken down. He'd done it once before, and he'd do it again. He'd burn all of V.I.L.E to the ground.

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TBC