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?

36. Patient DD

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The Broken Silence

Chapter 36

Patient DD

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Player once again had the stuffy sack pulled down over his head, but he didn't complain, doing his best to concentrate on what was happening around him. He wished he understood Russian, because the men who kidnapped him seemed to talk a lot, and he probably could have gotten some useful information out of them. Viktor had a hand on his shoulder, and Player understood the silent threat. He'd made sure to be on his very best behaviour the entire flight, and true to their word, no one tried to hurt him.

Once the plane landed, Viktor scooped him into his arms, and Player felt himself carried through the plane and a moment later, he was met with the sounds of an airport. He strained his ears for any other voices, hoping to figure out which country he was in, but there was no one. It was incredibly dark, and no light made its way through the sack, and Player knew it must be nighttime wherever they were.

He was jostled a little bit and then he heard the sound of footsteps on concrete as they walked along. Player then heard someone shouting distantly, but he didn't recognize the language. It wasn't Russian, and from the few words said, it wasn't enough for him to figure it out. From the warm air, and that distant voice, he felt pretty confident he wasn't in Russia.

He heard a car door open, and he was jostled again as Viktor got into the car. Player was seated on Viktor's lap, and so he assumed they were in a small car without any extra room for him. Everyone piled into the car and he heard the men muttering unhappily to themselves, and he assumed it was because of the cramped space.

The ignition was then turned on, and a few moments later the car was moving.

"You are being a very good boy, Matteo!" Viktor praised, "Keep being a good boy, and things will be easy for you."

Player grimaced, and wondered how old Viktor thought he was. "Um...Mr. Viktor?" Player asked in his sweetest voice.

"Yes, what is it?" Viktor asked, "Do you need to pee?"

"No, but I'm feeling very hot. Can I take off the hood yet?"

"Not yet, little hacker," he replied, "It won't be long."

Player knew it had been a long shot, and decided to try a different strategy.

"I feel faint, can you please just roll the window down a little bit?"

"No one is around to hear you call for help," Boris' voice spoke up. "We're on the highway, and are nowhere near a town,"

"I wasn't going to yell," Player replied, "I'm not dumb."

Viktor let out a snort of amusement. "No, you are not dumb," he acknowledged, "You are clever, and sometimes cleverness is far more dangerous."

Player wasn't sure what to make of that and so he said nothing at all. A second later he heard the sounds of the window being rolled down. Manual windows meant an older car. If this was a rental, then this likely meant they were in a country without a lot of access to newer car models. He inhaled the smells around him and detected a hint of tobacco smoke. A country which allowed smoking in car rentals.

The open window actually felt really good as the breeze helped cool him down a bit. They drove along the highway for what felt like hours before suddenly the car turned onto a bumpy and uneven road. He could smell dust and knew they were now on a dirt road. Smelling the air as they drove along, he detected the hot smell of spices. Were they near a market or town? Sure enough, he soon heard voices and the car slowed down to barely a crawl. Where would there be a market in the middle of the night? This was incredibly unusual.

Player strained to hear the voices that seemed to surround them on all sides, but it was too much of a noisy jumble to properly hear. He felt the car make a few turns, and then it finally came to a stop.

"Okay, Matteo, just a few minutes longer," Viktor promised.

Player was lifted out of the car, and then once again he was being carried. There was the sound of cicadas around them, but otherwise it was completely silent. He heard the men unlock a door and a few seconds later the feeling of AC hit him, and he let out a breath of relief. Viktor carried him through the building and only a few seconds later he was set down on a soft surface.

The bag was finally pulled off, and Player blinked against the sudden light. He immediately looked around and saw he was in a tiny room with no windows. There was a small bed, a toilet, a sink and a television. There was nothing else in the room at all. Viktor gently began peeling the tape from Player's ankles, and he winced in pain as the blood-flow in his feet returned to normal.

"Ow…" Player said quietly.

Viktor looked at the swollen feet and then very gently rubbed the sore ankles to help the blood-flow. Player stared down at what he was doing, and he frowned, having a feeling Viktor wasn't a bad person. How did someone like this get involved with V.I.L.E?

"There you go, Matteo, is that any better?" Viktor asked.

"Er...yes, thank you," Player awkwardly replied.

"I will bring you something to eat in a bit," Viktor informed him, "Behave yourself, and do as you are told, and I won't have to use those."

Player followed where Viktor was pointing and saw there were chains attached to the bedposts. His eyes widened. The chains were thick and looked incredibly heavy, and Player knew he'd never be able to break them.

"Don't look so frightened," Viktor quickly assured him, "As long as you behave, we will not use them."

"Oh...okay," Player said nervously.

Viktor ruffled his hair and then handed him a tv remote.

"I will be back soon, don't try to leave this room."

Player nodded, having absolutely no intention of obeying. He was definitely escaping the first chance he got. Viktor left the room and closed the door after him, and to Player's dismay, he heard the distinctive sound of a lock. He remained where he was for a minute or so, and then quietly and cautiously approached the door. There was a tiny crack between the door and the woodwork, and Player could just make out the bolt that was locking him in. The bolt looked heavy, and it would be difficult to open. Laying on his belly on the floor, he peeked under the door and could see out into the hallway. It looked like they were in a house of some sort.

Heading back for the bed, he took a seat and looked around the room for any way to escape. There were no windows, and no vents, and nothing he could use to help him. Feeling like he might not get out of this situation alive, Player took a deep breath, and then picked up the tv remote. Turning on the tv, his eyes widened as he saw it was a news channel. He stared for a few seconds at the flag behind the reporter and now knew exactly where he was.

He was in India.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I'm not leaving him."

"You're leaving with us on patrol and that's final," Crackle replied, his tone firm.

Moose Boy shook his head. "He's sick and he needs me."

"Neal and Dash are perfectly capable of looking after him for the day," Crackle replied, quickly losing his patience.

" Nej ," Moose said, "I will stay here."

Crackle removed his crackle rod from his belt and extended it, the tip sparking threateningly. "You will do as you're told, or I will have no choice but to punish you."

Moose Boy was unmoving, and he narrowed his eyes. "You can shock me all you want, but I'm not leaving Sven behind."

Otterman who was standing beside him, rested a gentle hand on his arm. "Henrik, I'll be fine," he assured him.

Moose Boy looked him up and down, and then frowned skeptically. Otterman had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, was shaking uncontrollably, and he looked absolutely terrible. He was pale and sweating, and he'd been up all night vomiting from the pain. The withdrawal symptoms only seemed to be getting worse, and Henrik was worried about leaving him for so long.

"No, you're too sick," Henrik said with worry.

Otterman shook his head and then gave him a light push towards the door. "I'm feeling a bit better," he lied, "I just want to sleep, and I'll be fine here with Neal and Dash."

[[Are you sure?]] Moose Boy demanded, switching over to Swedish.

[[Yes, Henrik, I'm sure. Go with the others patrolling, and I'll take things easy for today.]]

"Well, okay, if you're sure," Moose Boy responded hesitantly, "I'll bring you back some chocolate to cheer you up."

Otterman had absolutely no desire to eat anything, but he nodded just to appease him. This seemed to satisfy Moose Boy, and he gave him a happy smile.

"Okay, I will go," Moose Boy informed Crackle.

"This was never a choice to begin with," Crackle responded, still debating on giving him a shock.

He glared at the larger man for a moment and then sighed, knowing it probably wasn't worth it. Turning to the three men being left behind, he gave them a warning look.

"Do not leave the motel room for any reason," he ordered, "All three of you are to rest, and stay here for the day. I'll be keeping an eye on your trackers and so I wouldn't recommend disobeying. I've left cash on the desk for you to order lunch. We'll be back around suppertime."

He received a bit of unenthusiastic acknowledgement, but no one tried to argue, and so Crackle nodded in satisfaction. Moose Boy gave a quick kiss to Otterman's forehead, and then followed the others out of the room. Once they were alone, Otterman didn't say a word and simply crawled onto the empty bed and curled up into a ball of misery.

"You okay, love?" Neal called over.

"Never been better," Otterman snapped, burying himself in blankets.

"Henrik left you a puke bucket next to the bed if you need it."

Dash let out a noise of disgust. "I don't see why you have to be here anyway," he commented, "Do they really think you're going to suddenly drop dead or something?"

"Have a heart, fancy, he's really sick."

"And why can't he be sick in his own room instead of ours?"

"He shouldn't be by himself until his withdrawal isn't as bad," Neal pointed out, "Don't be mean, he needs company."

Dash flashed Neal a glare. "Then why don't you go over and stay with him? I'd be much happier here by myself."

Neal raised a brow. "But then we'd miss out on your lovely company."

Suddenly there was the sound of retching, and both Neal and Dash glanced over at Otterman as he threw up in the bucket. Dash's expression was one of complete disgust and he sat up decidedly.

"I am not sitting here listening to that for the next several hours."

"You're not allowed to leave the motel, fancy," Neal pointed out.

Dash crossed the room to where several bags were sitting next to his bed. He dug through the bags and Neal saw what looked like a few bottles of shampoo and a brush.

"Are you using store-bought shampoo?!" Neal asked in shock, "Has our little Dashie gone native?"

Dash shot him a withering look. "Of course not," he snapped, "These are products for Steve. He has to endure store bought things for a while until I can find a better source."

Neal glanced to Steve who was curled up next to Dash's pillow.

"You've really gotten attached to that cat," he observed.

"I hate that stupid cat," Dash shot back, "Just because I'm taking care of him doesn't mean I like him."

"I dunno, fancy, you feed him and give him somewhere to sleep. I think he's yours now."

"We do the same for you, and no one even likes you!" Dash retorted.

Neal snickered. "You're not as cold as you'd like everyone to believe. Maybe you'd be a little happier if you just admitted that you like us."

Dash let out a snort as he picked up Steve. "I don't care about any of you idiots," he responded, "I'm only here because I was forced to be part of this team. I'd leave in a heartbeat if given the choice."

"Whatever you say, Dashie."

Dash stared at Neal with an odd look and seemed like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated, expression a bit uncertain. He then let out a sigh, and averted his gaze.

"Okay, look, about what you did the other-"

Otterman suddenly made a less than pleasant retch and Dash winced and then fell silent, shooting him a disgusted look. He then turned and carried Steve with him towards the bathroom without another word. Neal watched him go, and wondered what Dash had been about to say.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and to Neal's amusement he could hear Dash speaking softly to Steve in a tone much friendlier than he used for people. Neal simply shook his head with a smile, and then reached for the remote.

"You mind if I watch rugby, Sven?"

Otterman let out a groan of misery.

"Ok, good," Neal responded, turning the television on.

Neal's com dinged and he picked it up and glanced at the screen. He then let out a laugh and glanced towards Otterman.

"It's your guard moose checking in already!"

"Tell him I'm fine and watching tv," Otterman responded, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Will do."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Moose Boy frowned worriedly at his com as he read Neal's reply. Otterman was watching rugby?! Otterman had never willingly watched sports in the entire fourteen years they'd been together. Something had to be wrong, he had to have a fever or something. He never should have left him.

Biting his lower lip, Moose Boy glanced over at Crackle who was explaining to Double Trouble what route they would take. Crackle had shown him where he was supposed to go, but Moose Boy was terrible at reading maps. He'd simply nodded along with everything Crackle said, not wanting to cause any trouble.

Moose Boy gave another nervous glance to his com, before reluctantly putting it back in his pocket. Neal assured him everything was fine, and he trusted Neal. Although Otterman and Neal rarely got along, he knew Neal would never put Otterman in any danger. Moose Boy had almost lost Otterman, and the fear of that weighed heavily in the pit of his stomach. Otterman was small, skinny, and practically blind. Moose Boy felt like he had to protect him at all times, and every time they were apart, he worried. If an enemy broke into the motel room, Otterman would never stand a chance. Neal and Dash were both injured, and he doubted they could defend themselves if there was a serious threat.

Moose Boy shifted nervously, and then pulled his com back out of his pocket. He texted for an update, and Neal's reply was a bit sarcastic, but it eased his worry a bit. They were still watching tv; everything was fine.

"Moose Boy!" Crackle called over.

He looked up and saw Crackle glaring at him.

"Did you hear a word I said?" Crackle demanded.

"Er…"

Crackle's expression turned impatient. "I said we're to meet back here at six. Send me hourly updates on where you are, and whether you've noticed anything out of the ordinary. We're looking for signs of Team Red, A.C.M.E or increased law enforcement."

Moose Boy nodded. "Okay."

Moose Boy was looking completely confused, and Crackle frowned. "You remember the route you're supposed to patrol?"

Moose Boy gave another nod.

Crackle felt a bit skeptical, and hoped trusting Moose Boy wouldn't prove to be a mistake. "Keep a low profile and don't commit any crimes."

"Okay."

Crackle stared at him long and hard, and then let out a sigh and turned away. "Okay everyone, spread out and begin patrolling."

Moose Boy watched everyone walk off, and then chose a random direction and began walking. He wandered aimlessly for about fifteen minutes and then once again pulled out his com. Once Neal confirmed everything was still fine, Moose Boy took a seat on a nearby bench and stared at the crowds of people that walked past. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, and figured he'd just stay here for a while before moving to a new bench. He texted Neal every fifteen minutes, and after two hours, he was startled when someone stopped in front of him.

Glancing up from his com, he saw Double Trouble standing over him.

"Aren't you supposed to be on the East side?" Theodore asked.

"Uhhhh," Moose Boy replied hesitantly, "I'm lost."

The twins exchanged a long look between themselves, and Roosevelt rolled his eyes. Theodore mirrored him, and then turned back to Moose Boy.

"You can patrol with us if you like?"

Moose Boy felt relieved because he'd honestly been incredibly bored sitting there. Getting up, he pocketed his com, and then fell in step beside the twins.

"Thanks," he said a bit sheepishly.

"We're headed to the park right now," Theodore informed him, "The park patrol takes a couple hours or so, and then from there, we'll head down Juan Street."

This meant nothing to Moose Boy, but he nodded all the same. As they walked along, the twins began a conversation with each other about weight training, and Moose Boy listened, not especially interested. As they approached the park, Theodore and Roosevelt began arguing about something Moose Boy didn't care about, and he tuned them out as he pulled out his com again. After getting another update from Neal, he realized the arguing had become more heated.

Suddenly Roosevelt took a swing at Theodore, and within seconds both men were rolling on the ground in a violent fight. Fists, elbows and knees were lashing out in all directions, and Moose Boy took a step back out of danger.

Moose Boy watched with wide eyes, and wasn't quite sure what to do. Should he intervene? It looked dangerous to intervene in this, and people were scattering at the sight of the fight. Grass was being torn up as the twins became more and more violent, and Moose Boy began worrying they were going to kill each other.

"Um…" he said as Double Trouble rolled on the grass in a flurry of fists. "Guys? I don't think you should be doing that…"

The twins ignored him, and a few minutes later, Roosevelt had Theodore pinned with his arms behind his back. Roosevelt was breathing hard, but he grinned wide.

"See? TOLD you!" he crowed out.

He released his brother and Theodore rolled over with a scowl. "I almost had you," he defended.

"In your dreams," Roosevelt responded with a snort.

"I'm getting better!" Theodore shot back.

Roosevelt reached a hand down and helped his brother back to his feet. "You'll never beat me."

Theodore shot him a smirk. "We'll see."

Moose Boy scratched his head, completely confused. "Er...what?"

"I'm going to train harder than you, and I'll beat you next time," Theodore vowed.

Roosevelt clapped a hand on his back. "It'll never happen, little brother!"

Theodore gave him another scowl.

"You...you weren't really fighting?" Moose Boy asked in confusion.

The twins both seemed surprised.

"What? No. We do that all the time. We're almost evenly matched and so it's good training to fight each other," Roosevelt explained.

Theodore dusted himself off and then looked Moose Boy up and down. "How much can you lift, Henrik?"

"How much what?"

"How much weight can you lift?"

Moose Boy gave a shrug. "Dunno, never tried."

The twins seemed shocked at this.

"Never?!" Roosevelt cried out in horror.

Moose Boy shook his head. "Sometimes I carry Sven, but I don't lift weights or anything like that."

The twins once again looked him up and down, noting his large muscles and couldn't believe it.

"Fight me!" Roosevelt cried out excitedly. "I want to see how strong you are!"

Moose Boy blinked, and then frowned. "I don't know…" he said hesitantly.

"Come on!" Theodore encouraged, "It's good practice."

"I've only ever had to fight on missions…"

"Your partner is weak, and so you should train extra hard to protect him," Roosevelt pointed out, "I doubt Gwen can even lift just the barbell by itself."

Moose Boy thought about Otterman attempting to weight-lift and honestly couldn't picture it. That would be a disaster waiting to happen that would probably end with Moose Boy having to rescue him. Moose Boy was responsible for protecting him, and it was a job he took extremely seriously. Maybe he should start training with the twins?

Roosevelt gave a stretch and then held up his fists, falling into a boxer's stance. "You in?" he asked. "After this we can show you the gym we've been going to!"

Moose boy nodded, and then raised his own fists. "Teach me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey, fancypants, I'm ordering food! What do you want?" Neal bellowed towards the bathroom.

Dash had been in there for over three hours, and if it wasn't for the fact he could hear him talking to Steve, Neal might have been concerned. Neal waited a few seconds, and when there wasn't a reply, he bellowed even louder.

"OY! DASH! FOOD! YES OR NO?"

The bathroom door opened and Dash exited, carrying Steve with him. "I heard you the first time!" Dash snapped, setting the cat down on his bed.

Neal glanced at Steve and saw the cat looked like a completely different cat. Dash had clearly given it a bath, and then trimmed the mangled hair short. Steve was purring up a storm and was rubbing against Dash's arm, clearly enjoying the attention.

"I don't want anything," Dash responded, taking a seat on the bed.

"Crackle's going to be pissed at you," Neal pointed out, "He wants you to put on weight."

"I've put on six pounds since joining this damn team," Dash snapped, "SIX pounds. I am not putting on any more weight than that. You guys eat nothing but garbage."

Neal rolled his eyes. "I'll order you a salad then. What kind of protein do you want in it?"

Dash sighed, and took a seat on his bed. "Chicken."

Neal glanced over at Otterman who had fallen asleep about an hour before. He'd been absolutely miserable, and Neal was hesitant to disturb him. Deciding against waking him, he reached for his com.

"I'll get Sven some soup or something. What do you want to drink?"

"Perrier."

Neal rolled his eyes, but didn't comment. Neal spent a few minutes putting in an order through an app, and then went back to watching sports. The door then opened and an absolutely filthy Moose Boy wandered in.

"What are you doing back so soon?" Dash demanded, "Did something happen?"

Moose Boy's gaze immediately went to Otterman, and without a word, he headed over to him. He gently laid a dirty hand on his forehead, and then relaxed when there was no signs of fever. He pulled the blankets up over Otterman's shoulders, and then removed his glasses, setting them on the nightstand.

"I told you he was fine," Neal stated, "He fell asleep about an hour ago."

"Good," Moose Boy said quietly, "Sven didn't sleep much last night."

"So what are you doing here?" Dash demanded, "Does Crackle know you're here?"

"I'm just checking in, and then finishing my patrol," Moose Boy responded, "Has Sven eaten anything?"

"No, but I just ordered us lunch," Neal replied, "I got Sven some sort of chicken noodle soup, and a bottle of water."

Moose Boy nodded approvingly. "Good, he needs to eat. I have to go now, but keep me updated."

Neal let out a resigned sigh. "Will do."

Moose Boy ran a hand through Otterman's hair affectionately, and then turned to leave. He waved goodbye to Neal and Dash, and then left without another word. Neal exchanged a look with Dash who simply rolled his eyes.

"Why are these idiots part of our team again?"

Neal honestly wasn't sure. Moose Boy and Otterman were the worst operatives V.I.L.E had ever seen and so it seemed like a really bad idea to make them part of this team.

"Unlike them, at least you're sometimes useful," Dash commented.

"That almost sounded like a compliment."

Dash scoffed, and took a seat on his bed. He reached for his sketchbook and ipod, clearly planning on ignoring him. Neal was bored and a bit lonely, and he wanted someone to talk to.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something?" he asked hopefully.

"No," Dash replied, putting on his headphones.

Neal watched him for a few minutes, but Dash was pointedly not looking in his direction, and so he reluctantly went back to watching sports. After half an hour, he glanced back at Dash who was still sketching quietly.

"Hey, Dash?"

There was no answer.

"Dash?" Neal called a bit louder.

Dash had his eyes trained on his sketchpad, a thoughtful expression on his face. He was chewing on the end of his pencil, and seemed lost in thought. Neal frowned and then opened the bag of candy he'd been snacking on. He tossed a skittle at Dash and struck him in the shoulder, startling him. Dash looked around in confusion and then he glanced down at the skittle. He then narrowed his eyes and glared over at Neal. Without a word, he lobbed the skittle at Neal's head.

"Ow, shit!" Neal protested, rubbing his forehead where the skittle struck.

Dash then went back sketching. Neal stared at him a moment and then threw another skittle at him. This time Dash only glared at him briefly before going back to ignoring him. Knowing a challenge when he saw one, Neal began tossing skittle after skittle at Dash as the other man struggled to ignore him. Soon, Dash's entire bed was covered in a rainbow of candy, and his expression was getting angrier and angrier. Finally Dash slammed his sketchbook down, grabbed an entire handful of candy and whipped them as hard as he could at Neal.

"WHAT?" Dash snarled, "What do you want?!"

"What are you drawing?"

Dash threw another handful of skittles at him. "You've been throwing candy at me for the last ten minutes just for THAT?!"

"Well, no, I just want someone to talk to."

"No one wants to talk to you, Neal. You're disgusting and weird, and people only interact with you because they have to."

Neal let out a snort. "You're always so charming, Princess."

Dash narrowed his eyes, and yanked off his headphones. They stared at one another in silence for a few moments, and then Neal tossed another skittle at him. It bounced off the tip of Dash's nose, and he turned red in fury.

"THROW ANYTHING AT ME AGAIN AND I'LL BREAK YOUR OTHER LEG!"

Otterman jerked awake, and stared over in Dash's direction, clearly confused.

"Now look what you did, fancy," Neal said, tsking teasingly. "You woke Dash 2.0."

Dash's eyes widened. "Excuse me?!"

Neal scratched at his chin as he glanced between the two men. "Well, Sven is grouchy like you are, but he's not as fancy. I guess he could be Off-brand Dash."

Both Otterman and Dash glared over at him angrily.

Neal then got a thoughtful look on his face. "Or maybe Dollarstore-Dash."

"Why am I all of a sudden being shat on?" Otterman demanded, reaching for his glasses. "I haven't even done anything! I'm nothing like Dash Haber!"

Dash turned fierce eyes on him. "What's that supposed to mean?! Are you saying there's something wrong with me?"

Otterman blinked. "Yeah, lots."

"Hmm, maybe Budget-Dash," Neal commented to himself.

Dash flushed angrily. "Oh, that's rich coming from the operative who fails at everything he does. You couldn't even take your medication correctly!"

It was now Otterman's turn to flush. "Well, at least I have friends! No one even likes you! You could just disappear and no one would even care."

Dash's eyes widened and he looked genuinely stunned. Dash glanced over a Neal, and then back at Otterman, not saying a word. Otterman immediately felt bad over saying that and he tried to back-track.

"I'm sorry, that was really mean..."

Dash's eyes narrowed to angry slits, and he whipped a handful of skittles at Otterman's head. Otterman couldn't see them coming, and they hit him directly in the face. Yelping in pain, he covered his face as a second handful was thrown his way.

"Like I'm going to allow someone like you to judge me!" Dash snarled.

"I got it!" Neal crowed out triumphantly.

Both men paused their fight to glance over at him.

"Discount-Dash!" Neal announced proudly with a laugh.

Dash and Otterman both responded by pelting him with the candies as hard as they could.

"Ow, ow, shit! Okay, sorry!" Neal cried out, unable to stop laughing. "I surrender!"

Dash let out a snort, and just for a brief moment, Neal saw a look of amusement cross his face. Neal grinned at him, and Dash tossed another skittle at him.

"I'm not cleaning these up," Dash informed him.

"Neither am I," Otterman said, still looking rather grouchy. "Have fun with that, Neal."

Neal glanced around and saw there were skittles scattered throughout the entire room. It was going to be a pain to find them all.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and everyone looked up in surprise.

"Oh, it's probably our food," Neal commented, sitting up.

Neal got to his feet and then hobbled his way across the room to answer the door. There was a delivery girl standing there holding a bag of food and a large case of beer.

"Order for Mr. Eel?"

"That would be me, love," Neal responded with a grin.

"$47.89 please!"

Neal handed her two fifties and her eyes widened.

"Thanks, love!" he said, taking the beer and food, and then closing the door.

"Thank you!" the girl shouted through the door.

Dash's eyes fell on the beer and he gave him a disgusted look. "You ordered beer over a food app?"

"America's great, eh?" Neal responded, ripping into the box.

He cracked open a beer, took a swig, and then reached into the bag of food. "Here's your rabbit food, Dash," he stated, holding out the salad.

Dash snatched it from him, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the beer. "You do know Crackle forbade us to drink except for pre-approved days off, right?"

"Yep."

Neal then pulled a styrofoam bowl out of the bag and he limped his way across the room and held it out to Otterman.

"We ordered you some soup," he said, "It should be easy on your stomach."

Otterman was still mad at him over the Discount-Dash comment and he glared up at him, expression thunderous. "I don't want it," he snapped, "Why don't you go drown yourself in it?"

Neal snickered. "You must be feeling a bit better, because now you're sounding like your old self again," he commented.

Otterman wasn't feeling as nauseous as before, but he was still in a lot of pain, and was still freezing cold. He scowled irritably, and then rolled away from Neal so he was facing the wall.

"Just let me sleep."

"Your wish is my command," Neal responded, rolling his eyes.

He set the soup aside and then limped his way back to his bed. Taking a seat, he let out a breath of relief to get off his leg, and then reached into the bag for his own lunch. Pulling out a container of nachos slathered in cheese sauce and sour cream, Dash shot him a look of disgust. He didn't comment however, instead poking at his salad half-heartedly.

Neal cracked open a second beer and then started on his nachos, the smell of cheese and grease filling the room.

"Whatever you're eating smells fucking disgusting, Neal." Otterman grumbled.

"Nachos and beer," Neal answered, "It's a Mr. Eel favourite."

"I can't believe you gave your name as Eel to the restaurant," Dash commented.

Neal simply flashed him a grin, and downed his second beer.

"Crackle is going to be mad at you," Dash pointed out.

Neal simply shrugged and reached for a third can.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Crackle glanced down at his watch and frowned when he saw his entire team was late. Furrowing his brow, he leaned against a nearby phone booth, hoping nothing was amiss. None of his teammates had reported anything unusual when they checked in, so there should have been no excuse to be late. After a few minutes, Paper Star appeared at his elbow, and he glanced at her but didn't comment. Ten minutes later Double Trouble and Moose Boy could be seen lumbering down the sidewalk towards them. The three men were all smiles and joking as they walked along, and Crackle narrowed his eyes.

"You're late," Crackle snapped the second they neared.

Theodore glanced at his watch. "Oh, only by a little bit," he commented, "We just stopped at the corner store on the way back."

"When I say six o'clock, I mean six and not six-ten or whenever the bloody hell you feel like it!"

"Sorry, Graham," Theodore apologized, holding a bag of doritos towards him. "Chip?"

Crackle lips thinned in disapproval and he was about to respond when suddenly there was a voice right behind him.

"Graham?"

Crackle turned around and saw a civilian standing just behind him. She was middle-aged, portly, and she had her brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He frowned at the woman, having no idea what she wanted.

"I don't have any change," he said dismissively, turning back around to his crew.

"GRAHAM!"

Crackle turned back around, only to be pulled into a bone crushing hug. He wheezed in surprise, and then immediately struggled to get away from her. She held on, tightening her grip.

"Graham!" she cried out desperately. "It's really you!"

"What…?" Crackle sputtered in confusion.

"Where have you been?! That phone call the other day terrified us! We've been looking for you since yesterday!" She had a thick Australian accent, and her voice was eerily familiar to him.

Crackle finally broke away from the woman and he backed up several steps, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, "Get away from me!"

He turned to walk away but the woman caught him by the elbow.

"Graham!" the woman said in a loud scolding tone that made Crackle stop dead in his tracks.

He slowly turned back around to stare at her, a strange feeling of familiarity at her voice. The woman reached up and placed a gentle hand on Crackle's cheek, staring into his eyes searchingly. Brown met brown, and Crackle felt the same frequent pain begin within his mind. Everything about her seemed glaringly familiar, but he couldn't remember no matter how hard he tried.

"Graham, where have you been?" she asked, her tone softening. "Whatever you've done, we can deal with it, but you need to talk to me. What have you been taking? Heroin? Meth?"

Crackle stared at her, feeling confused and suspicious. "Look lady, I don't know who you are but whatever this scam is, it isn't going to work!"

She didn't allow him to pull away, and there was shock in her eyes as she stared at him. "You don't recognize me?" she asked.

"I have no idea who you are, now get away from me!"

"Erm, Graham?" Theodore said hesitantly.

Anyone looking could see the resemblance between Crackle and the woman, but Theodore was hesitant to say anything.

The woman's eyes fell on the four people Crackle was with, and her expression became alarmed.

"What are you doing with Graham?!" she demanded, attempting to step between Crackle and the others. "Are you his dealers?!"

Crackle shoved the woman aside and she stumbled, but managed to catch herself. She turned back towards him and once again yanked him into a tight hug.

"Sweetheart, stop this!" she begged, "Come home, please just come home! I don't care what you've done. We'll deal with it as a family. Please Graham, please just come home."

Family… The pain was getting worse and Crackle felt frustrated and confused.

"I don't know who you are!" he yelled, "Get your fucking hands off of me!"

The woman audibly gasped, and then she narrowed her eyes.

"Graham Elliot Benjamin Dawson! How dare you use that language in front of your mother!"

Once again the tone shut him right up, and he stared at her with wide eyes.

"Mother?!" he repeated, "You're my mother?"

The anger disappeared from the woman's face, and her expression became pained. "Oh, sweetheart…"

Tears welled in her eyes, and this made him extremely uncomfortable. He struggled to get away from her, but this time her grip was like iron.

"We need to get you to a hospital," she said gently, "Come on, we're going home where we can get you some help."

"Let go of me now !" Crackle ordered, "I'm not going anywhere with you! Get away from me and leave us alone!"

"Just listen to me for a few minutes!" she begged, "Let's sit down and have a coffee at one of these shops, and we can talk. Please just give me a few minutes!"

Crackle could feel the fog in his mind becoming agitated, and he was worried he was going to take another seizure. He had to get away.

"Let me go, or you'll be forced to leave by my teammates," Crackle ordered, "We don't want to hurt you, but we will if you leave us with no choice."

"Oh, Graham, you don't know what you're saying!" she insisted, "You're a sweet and kind person, and you'd never hurt anyone!"

"Last warning," Crackle said firmly, "Step back or you will be removed."

"Graham…" there was such anguish in her voice that Crackle grit his teeth against the pain in his mind.

The fog was clawing at the inside of his mind, and he could feel memories trying to fight their way through. He shook his head and then turned his head to look at Roosevelt.

"Yank her off," he ordered.

Roosevelt hesitated. "But...Crackle, that's your mom…"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Roose," Crackle snapped.

Roosevelt bit his lower lip, and then hesitantly shuffled over to them.

"Don't you dare touch me, you big brute!" she snarled, "You stay away from my boy!"

Roosevelt grimaced. "Sorry, ma'am," he said, reaching down and gently pulling her away from Crackle by the back of her shirt.

She turned and smacked Roosevelt's hand away from her, and then went to take a step towards her son.

"Stop," Crackle ordered harshly, "I don't know you, and even if I did I wouldn't go with you. I have a new life now, and I don't need you. Stay away from me, and don't ever talk to me again."

She stared at him, and now the tears broke free and ran down her cheeks as she stared at Crackle with a heartbroken expression. Crackle quickly turned away, not wanting to look at her face any more.

"Your son is dead," Crackle called back to her, "Go home and don't return here again."

He began walking away, and he heard quick footsteps behind him.

"Graham!"

Suddenly he saw Paper Star pull her arm back and take aim.

It was like the world was suddenly in slow motion and in that moment, Crackle remembered his mother. He remembered her gentle smile, her warm hugs, and the sweet understanding she had always shown him. He also remembered his family, and the terrible way he had left them all behind.

Without even having to think about it, Crackle spun around and stepped in the star's path. He let out a sharp cry as the blades cut deeply into his arm, and then he spun to face Paper Star in fury.

"What in bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" he snarled, taking a step towards her.

"She was attacking you from behind," Paper Star responded, cocking her head in mild confusion. "I was defending you…"

"SHE'S MY MOTHER!" Crackle roared in outrage, "SHE WASN'T GOING TO HURT ME!"

Paper Star frowned at him skeptically. "How do you know? She could've stabbed you in the back."

Crackle ripped the star out of his arm, and then clapped a hand over the wound, gritting his teeth against the pain.

"Why would you think my own mother would try to kill me?" he demanded a little more calmly than before.

Paper Star still seemed a bit confused and she shrugged. "No one can't be trusted, especially parents."

Crackle furrowed his brow, having a feeling there was a very traumatizing story attached to that statement, but he brushed it aside, too angry to think about it right now.

"Oh, Graham!"

Crackle's mother reached for his injured arm, but he pulled away. He stared at her, and it hurt to look at her. Heavy guilt weighed on him for everything he'd put his family through, but this was the way it had to be. Closing his eyes as he struggled to get his emotions under control, he clenched his hands into fists.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "I'm really sorry, mum,"

"Don't do this, Graham," she begged, "Don't do this to us again. Don't cut us out!"

Crackle shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry," he said again, "I have a new life here, and I won't be returning to Australia. Forget you ever had a son, because after today you won't be hearing from me again."

"Why?" she demanded, "Why are you doing this?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me!" she shot back, "Just talk to me, Graham! Make me understand! Who are these people? Why did that girl try to kill me? What have you gotten yourself involved in?"

Graham stared down at the ground for a few moments and then stepped towards her. To everyone's surprise, he threw his arms around her in a tight hug. He planted a kiss on her cheek, and then pulled away.

"Goodbye, mum," he said gently, turning to walk away.

"Graham!"

Crackle kept walking. "Come on," he ordered his team.

"Graham!"

Crackle squared his shoulders and kept walking.

"Please, Graham!"

Crackle felt like his heart was ripping in two, but he forced himself to keep walking. The whole team walked in complete silence the entire way back to the motel. Crackle felt absolutely awful, and he completely forgot about his bleeding arm. His chest was aching, and his head was in agony, but he ignored it, trying not to think about the heartbroken look on his mother's face. His stomach was twisting painfully, and he wished he could just forget this whole day.

When he unlocked the motel room door, he was met with the sight of Dash watching tv, and both Neal and Otterman sleeping.

Moose Boy pushed past him to check on his partner, and Crackle stared at Neal, finding it unusual for him to be napping this late in the day.

"Neal sneakily ordered a 24-pack with lunch and then drank until he passed out," Dash immediately tattled.

"Neal ordered beer?!" Crackle asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Huh, I didn't know they did that," Roosevelt commented.

"Beer delivery whenever we want…" Theodore said, his gaze going thoughtful.

"Where's the beer?" Crackle demanded glancing around the room with a frown.

He saw a lot of empty cans, but no sign of any left.

Dash looked completely smug as he pointed towards the mini-fridge. "He took out all the water to fit it in."

Crackle crossed the room and opened the fridge. Sure enough there were over a dozen beers left.

"I told him it was against the rules you gave us, but he was an idiot and ignored me," Dash stated.

Crackle reached out and picked up one of the beers. Without a word he cracked it open and downed it in one shot. Dash abruptly stopped talking and simply stared at him in disbelief as he cracked a second can. He downed it just as fast as the first one. Not saying a word to anyone, he grabbed as many beers as he could hold and then carried them over to his bed.

"Erm…" Dash said a bit hesitantly, "Graham? Everything okay?"

Crackle flinched at his name and then cracked a third beer. Taking a seat beside Neal, he simply sat there drinking in complete silence. The twins stared for a long moment and then reached into the fridge and pulled out a few cans for themselves.

"Am I missing something?" Dash demanded.

The twins glanced over at Crackle, and then hesitated uncertainly.

"Crackle needs those beers," Roosevelt replied, "Just let him be."

Dash could see a somewhat haunted look in Crackle's eyes, and was smart enough to leave it alone. He had no doubt he'd find out what was wrong later, but right now it was clear, Crackle needed to calm his nerves.

"Sven, I brought you back a chocolate bar!" Moose Boy said, gently shaking Otterman's shoulder.

"Hrnnn," Otterman complained, "Leave me alone."

"Come on, you've napped long enough," Moose Boy told him, "Time to get up."

Otterman swatted at him irritably, but Moose Boy wasn't bothered. "Crackle, is it alright if we go back to our own room now?"

Crackle nodded mutely, taking another sip of beer.

Moose Boy scooped Otterman into his arms, who immediately began shivering the second the blankets were removed.

"Come on, Sven," Moose Boy said as he headed towards the door. "Maybe a bath will make you feel better?"

Otterman muttered something in Swedish that sounded suspiciously like a curse word, and Moose Boy just rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so grumpy," he scolded as he left the room, "I want to tell you about how I'm going to start training!"

Once they were gone, the twins reclaimed their bed and cracked open their own beers. Dash looked around at his teammates, and began absentmindedly petting Steve as he thought. Something was seriously wrong, and he hoped it wasn't anything to do with Team Red.

Crackle sat stiffly facing the door, simply drinking beer after beer. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and it didn't take long for the alcohol to start taking effect. He kept drinking robotically and he didn't stop until he finally passed out.

Once they were sure he was unconscious, the twins approached him and then gently stripped Crackle out of his stealth suit so they could inspect his wound. They washed and disinfected the wound and then carefully stitched it up. Crackle didn't so much as stir, and once they were done, they wrapped his arm in bandages, and then tucked both Crackle and Neal in bed.

Paper Star watched everything carefully, not really certain what to think of this. Crackle's reaction to seeing his mother was unusual, and she didn't really understand. He'd made it clear he wanted nothing to do with his past life, but he also didn't hesitate to throw himself in harm's way for his mother. Paper Star would have never done that for her father, and even the thought of such a thing was bizarre to her.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she continued staring at Crackle, trying to figure this out. The raw pain she'd seen in his eyes was unexpected, and Paper Star felt a bit odd about it. She couldn't quite place her finger on what she was feeling, but she didn't like it.

Letting out a soft sigh, she got up from her bed and then headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Perhaps it was best she just put all of this out of her mind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Julia stared at the computer screen with a frown.

"Aren't you done yet?" Chase demanded impatiently.

Julia glanced up at him disapprovingly, and then turned her attention back to what she was doing. She stared at the wall of encrypted text, and studied it thoughtfully. She typed for a few moments, but nothing happened. She frowned, adjusted her glasses and then tried again. Chase hovered over her shoulder, and she did her best to ignore him as she concentrated. She failed time and time again, and Chase was getting agitated as he watched.

"I thought you understood this stuff!" Chase accused.

Julia let out a sigh. "I took a basic information technology course in university, but I'm not a programmer! This is far beyond my scope, but I'm doing the best I can."

Chase made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, but didn't comment. As Julia continued working, he began pacing inside the plane, feeling like he should be doing something. Chase knew absolutely nothing about computers, and so he was forced to stand by while Julia took care of it.

After hooking up the hard drives to her laptop, Julia discovered that Player had encrypted everything. The more Julia poked at the defenses, the more layers of encryption she discovered. Player was truly a genius when it came to computers, and it was hard to believe he was only thirteen.

They had let Team Red know they had the hard drives on the way back to the airport, and Julia promised to do her best to unlock the drives by the time they made it back to Kazakhstan. She hadn't counted on the fact Player had multiple encryptions and she was struggling to even break through one.

Julia had always been good at figuring out mysteries, and she was honestly enjoying the challenge. Chase however, was not. He was angry and impatient and kept distracting her every few minutes with his complaints and suggestions. She'd snapped at him a couple times, but he was on edge, and she knew he couldn't help it.

Julia had been taught to work hard and try her best right from the time she was a young child. She was born in rural France to Chinese immigrant parents, and had lived on a farm until the day she left for university. For most of her life she had to work long hours on the farm, all while trying to maintain her 'A' average in school. Her parents couldn't afford to pay for her education, and so she worked incredibly hard to get as many scholarships as she could.

The day she was accepted into the top university in France, her parents had never been so proud. They wanted her to be a doctor, and she never told them that she instead focused on law enforcement. She had a deep sense of justice, and working for Interpol had always been her dream. When her parents found out she never enrolled into medical school, they had been furious, and insisted she had thrown away her life. They had cut off contact with her for three months, before finally her father called her to apologize.

Julia had always been pretty close with her parents, and so the apology came with relief. After having a very long conversation about Interpol and her education, they accepted her decision, only wanting her to be happy.

Julia graduated top of her class, and then became an intern at Interpol After working there for two years, she was finally promoted to be a field agent. This was when she was assigned to be Chase's new partner.

Julia frowned sadly at that memory, and let out a sigh. The internship was supposed to be four years, and she had assumed her hard work had gotten her promoted sooner, but the truth was actually horrifying.

She knew Chase's wife had been killed while on a case, but she didn't know any details about this. All she knew was that Chase Devineaux was one of Interpol's top field agents and she was lucky to be his partner. She'd been very happy and optimistic about their partnership, but that was quickly shattered when she was introduced to him. Chase was unusually cold, and downright rude to her, and she was miserable for the first month of their partnership. It was like he did everything in his power to demean her and make her miserable, and she began to wonder if she was cut out for Interpol. She began to hate him, and resent having to go to work with him every day.

Everything changed the moment she saw a photo of Yu Yan. Chase left the photo on the dashboard of his car, and when she picked it up, she felt her breath catch in her throat. Chase's wife looked so similar to her, they could have passed for sisters. A cold sense of dread then made its way up her spine, and Julia instantly understood. She had been the only French Chinese intern in Poitiers...

Their superiors were always booking a single room for them to share, they made little comments about how they looked good together, and they even went so far as to book meal reservations for them. Julia had dismissed all of this at the time, not putting too much thought into it, but now that she saw the photo, it couldn't be denied. Interpol was trying to set her up with her partner. They were trying to replace Chase's dead wife.

Interpol wanted their top agent back, and they didn't care if they hurt him to do it. Julia felt awful for Chase, and completely understood why he'd treated her so poorly. None of this was his fault, and it wasn't fair.

When Julia gave Chase his photo back, he'd blown up at her angrily, but she simply listened calmly, knowing the pain this caused for him. The way he looked at her showed how raw his grief was, and Julia wanted to help. She told him she figured out what Interpol was doing and assured him she had nothing to do with it.

He had been angry and defensive, but she persisted, and eventually they just got to talking. He told her about Yu Yan, about his daughter, and about the pressure Interpol had been putting on him to return to full work duties. They told him to just put his heart into his work, and when he responded that his heart died with his wife and daughter, they hadn't been too happy with him. He acknowledged that he'd been treating her terribly, but he'd been so angry at everybody, that he hadn't cared.

Julia told him she would resign from Interpol first thing in the morning, but to her surprise, Chase told her to stay. He promised he would be better towards her, and now that he knew she wasn't involved in the ploy, he didn't hate her. Julia remained his partner, and over the last two years of working together, they became good friends.

The sound of shattering glass made Julia look up, and she sighed when she saw Chase had dropped a wine glass on the floor. They were friends, but she still found him exasperating at times.

"Chase, it's three in the afternoon," she pointed out.

"I'm just calming my nerves," Chase assured her, as he knelt down to pick up the glass.

Julia looked at the half-empty wine bottle and raised a brow.

"Right," she replied skeptically.

Julia continued working on the encryption and when she finally got through it, she let out a quiet 'aha!' of accomplishment. Chase was by her side in an instant, his breath stinking of the cheap wine.

"Did you do it?" he demanded.

Julia nodded proudly. Her smile quickly disappeared however, when a pop-up appeared on her screen demanding a password. She frowned for a moment and then investigated it. It looked like there was no way to get past it. Player must have set this up as one final protection for the drives.

"A password?" Chase guessed, "Do you know what it is?"

Julia mutely shook her head.

"Can you get past?"

"No, and from what I can tell, the password is 8 characters long, and we only get one try. If we're wrong, the drives will delete themselves. The protection surrounding this password is stronger than everything I've ever seen before. Breaking through this is way beyond my capabilities."

Chase stared at the screen thoughtfully. "Player is just a child. His password is probably just the word 'password'."

"I doubt that very much," Julia responded.

"Do you have any better ideas?"

Julia thought for a moment. "It could be 'sandiego', or perhaps 'Poitiers' or maybe 'killvile'. It could be anything."

Chase sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Then we can do nothing?"

"If we could get a machine to codebreak the hard drives, we'd be able to gain access that way."

Chase nodded. "Then we'll get one."

"The only problem with that idea, is that this type of technology is military grade. Without Player to guide us, we could never break into any sort of military compound to steal it."

"Why does a machine have to do it?" Chase demanded, "Could we not just find a tech nerd to code break?"

Julia shook her head. "A normal human would take years to decipher all of this. The code changes every thirty minutes, and someone would need to be able to solve equations as fast as they can read them. This would require a mathematical genius to force their way through, and I don't know about you, but I can't think of any off the top of my head."

"Then all of this was for nothing," Chase said with a deep sigh.

"Perhaps not," Julia said reassuringly, "We'll bring the drives to Carmen. She's been friends with Player for years, she might know him well enough to guess the password."

"But if she's wrong…"

Julia grimaced. "Let's hope she's not."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Siren remained curled into the fetal position for over two hours. Someone had brought him a tray of breakfast which he'd ignored, and when his mind finally stopped spinning, he sat up and felt disgusted with himself. How could he have allowed this to happen? When he'd erased his memories, he'd done so with the assumption V.I.L.E would kill him, but instead they'd kept him prisoner in the lab like some sort of pet. He'd lost ten years of his life, and he didn't even know what to think about this. Any mental growth and development he would have had during those years had been stagnated, and he felt robbed. They'd stolen a decade from him.

His mind turned to his brothers, and he realized he didn't even know if they were still alive. Ten years was a long time, and he had no idea where they were or what they were doing. He thought of his enormous and dim older brothers, knowing they would have been lost without him. They'd never made a decision for themselves in their entire life, and Siren worried for them. Theodore and Roosevelt would be 32 by now, and there was no saying what V.I.L.E did to them.

Siren clenched his hands into fists, a gut-wrenching sense of loss hitting him like a slap in the face. V.I.L.E had ruined his life, had ruined his brothers lives, and they had made a murderer of him. Taking a deep breath, he knew he had to begin his plans. It would take time, and he would have to be extremely careful. Vess wasn't an idiot like the original scientists, and he was perceptive enough to notice if he suddenly started acting differently.

Siren considered how he'd acted around Vess and knew he'd been moody enough to get away with a lot of questionable behaviour. As long as he made sure to act exactly like he had been for the last decade, Vess shouldn't pick up on it.

Siren stared at the scattered paperwork and then kicked at it irritably. He had no desire to do any of it, and glanced towards the door. Was the gorilla still out there? He hadn't heard a single sound come from the hallway, and so he slowly got up and approached the door. Opening it a crack, he was immediately met with the scowling face of Braxton sitting directly in front of the door.

"This isn't at all creepy," Siren commented dryly.

"You were permitted a sick day and so you have to remain in your room and rest." Braxton stated.

"I just want to grab a Pepsi from the cafeteria," Siren lied.

"Are you going to make me repeat myself?" Braxton demanded, his hand hovering over his baton like he was itching to use it.

Siren heaved a sigh. "Well can you go get me a Pepsi then?"

Braxton narrowed his eyes. "No, I cannot," he replied, his tone sharp. "I will not leave my post for any reason."

"Where's Kevin?"

"I don't know who that is," Braxton replied with a frown.

"The Kevin who has been my guard for the past six months," Sire replied.

"I'm your guard now," Braxton said firmly.

"Yes, but where's Kevin?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," Braxton snapped.

Siren rolled his eyes, realizing he wasn't going to be getting any information out of him. "Look, gorilla, I'm thirsty and I'm going to the cafeteria. I'm not a prisoner here, and I'm not going to be treated like one. Let me by."

Siren went to step around Braxton and before he'd so much as taken a step into the hallway, Braxton seized him by the front of the shirt and lifted the baton over his head. Siren immediately covered his head with his arms and let out a strangled cry of fear.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he cried out, all signs of bravado long gone. "I'll stay in my room!"

Braxton stared down at him through narrowed eyes for an uncomfortably long time, and then reluctantly lowered the baton.

"This is the only warning you get," he stated, releasing Siren's shirt. "Try that again and I won't hesitate to beat you."

Siren still had his arms over his head, and he nodded silently.

"Back in your room where you're supposed to be."

Without a single word, Siren took a step back into the safety of his room and closed the door. Siren then released a breath of relief. Okay, that confirmed his theory about Braxton. He would not be able to escape the guard any time soon. This would make things extremely difficult if he was being watched 24/7. He would need to find a way to lose the guard and then hopefully get him fired somehow.

Siren crossed the room to his desk and opened the drawer to assess what he had. Setting his ipod on the desk, he began searching his room for any and all electronics. When he was finished, all he had to show for his efforts were a digital watch, his ipod, a few charge cords, a broken alarm clock, and a 90's Tamagotchi. He could dismantle the ipod, but the rest wasn't of much use to him. He needed to focus on finding a way to communicate with the outside world and to do that he needed the parts to build with. Scratching at his chin as he thought about it, he knew he had to find electronics that wouldn't be missed.

Siren took a seat on his desk and his eyes fell on a little red toy car. Cocking his head curiously, he reached for it, remembering the car from several days ago. He grimaced as he realized V.I.L.E had a child held captive somewhere in the compound. He thought of the dozens of children from the original experiments, and knew horrible things were probably being done in an attempt to replicate what was going on.

Siren honestly had no idea how close Vess was to figuring out the experiments and knew by looking at the child, he'd be able to figure it out. He spun the wheel of the car in his hand, and for just a moment he felt a moment of confused fog cloud his mind before it cleared again. Shaking his head, he had a feeling his mind had been damaged from Vess' constant experimenting on him, and he was horrified to think about what that would mean for his future.

He stared at the little car, and then closed his hand over it. He needed to get out of this room so he could start planning. Remembering his time with Terry in the lower basement, Siren's gaze went to the small air vent in his room. Approaching, he peered inside it, and saw it was almost identical to the vents in the basement. Using his fingernails to pry it, he popped the vent cover off and then shot a hesitant look towards the door. If Braxton discovered he left the room, he'd likely be struck again, but Siren didn't see what choice he had.

Still spinning the wheel of the car as he thought, Siren could feel the fog beginning to press in on his mind. He shook his head, but the fog just kept creeping, making him feel confused as it filled his mind.

Siren closed his eyes for a moment, and the fog suddenly hit him like a freight train. He blinked and was quite startled when he saw he was no longer in his room. He glanced around and saw he was laying in a bed that was not his own, in an unfamiliar room.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed, sitting up fast.

A little girl glanced up from where she was playing on the floor, and she cocked her head at him thoughtfully. Siren stared at the girl, and she stared back, clearly unconcerned with a strange man being in her room.

Siren glanced around the room, and saw it was a tiny room which only had a bed and toilet in it. The walls were soundproofed, and everything was white. He was in one of the patient's rooms.

"Are you done your nap now?" the girl asked him in a soft whisper, her dark eyes piercing into him.

"How...how did I get here?" Siren asked in confusion.

The girl swept her long dark hair out of her face and gave him a shrug. "You returned my car," she replied, holding it up for him to see.

Siren stared at the little red car, and then raised a hand to rub at his head. He had no memory of any of this and had no idea how long he'd been there. The fog seemed to have receded for now, and Siren grimaced as he realized the fog must have made him temporarily confused. Was it brain damage from Vess' experiments on him, or was it a reaction to the medication? If he kept losing control of himself like this, this would be incredibly dangerous for his plans.

"What's your name?" the girl asked him, her voice barely louder than a breath.

Siren pushed aside the blankets and got to his feet, wondering if anyone noticed he was gone yet. He glanced up at the security camera and saw it had been rewired. Standing below it, he stared at the wires and realized this would cause a video-loop so no one could see what they were saying or doing in the room.

"Did I do this?" he asked in surprise.

The girl nodded silently.

"Did I say anything?"

She shook her head, her sharp eyes feeling like they were staring into his very soul. Her eyes did not suit such a small child, and Siren averted his gaze away from her, suddenly uncomfortable. What had happened to this girl to make her turn out like this?

"What's your name?" she repeated, setting her car aside.

"I'm Siren," he replied, still staring at the camera.

"My name is Patient DD," she informed him, offering a shy smile.

"Don't care," Siren replied, glancing around the tiny room.

"You're not like the other doctors," she observed, "You're different."

"I'm not a doctor," Siren answered, turning to glance at the door.

How did he even get in here? Was he authorized to open these doors? Weren't the doors set to some sort of alarm?

"Creepy little girl?" Siren called over to her, "How did I get in here?"

If she was bothered by being called creepy, she didn't show it, and she simply pointed to the air vent in the corner of the room. Siren stared in disbelief, realizing he must have crawled through the entire compound to make it there.

"A stranger crawled out of your air vent and you didn't scream?" Siren asked in surprise.

The girl gave him a shrug. "You're not scary," she whispered, "You're tiny, like me."

Siren scowled at that. Sometimes he really hated being only 5'2. "Yeah, well at least I'm still taller than you." he defended.

"For now," she acknowledged.

"Damn brat," Siren muttered, debating on what he should do. "How long have I been here?"

The girl stared at him for a long moment and then gave a shrug. "You came before lunch, and you woke up just after they took my tray away."

Siren frowned, realizing he had slept for about an hour. Someone was bound to notice he was gone soon if he didn't get back to his room. Suddenly his sleeve was grabbed and Siren nearly jumped a mile, not hearing the girl approach.

"Play cars with me?" she asked, holding out a small truck towards him.

Without even thinking about it, Siren slapped her hand away from his coat, the girl letting out a surprised gasp of pain. Realizing what he'd just done, Siren frowned.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I'm not used to being touched."

The girl rubbed at her hand, but to his surprise, she didn't cry. Instead she gave him a slow nod. "Do the doctors hurt you too?" she asked him. "Is that why you don't like being touched?"

Siren stared at her with wide eyes, and then scowled. "Mind your own business, brat." he snapped, turning towards the air vent.

He opened the vent and as he began to crawl inside, the girl called after him desperately. "Will you come back, Siren? Will you come talk to me again?"

"No." Siren snapped, crawling into the vent without another word.

"Bye, Siren," she said, her voice sounding rather sad and disappointed.

Siren ignored her, having a feeling he was going to be in very big trouble when he got back to his room. He crawled as fast and as silently as he could through the vents, unable to believe he did this the first time without getting caught. His mind obviously hadn't been thinking rationally, because returning a toy car was hardly at the top of his list of priorities right now. Hoping he hadn't messed everything up for himself, he headed for his bedroom.

When he finally made it there, he peered into the room, and when the coast was clear, he slipped out of the vent, landing awkwardly on the floor as he fell. He noticed his breakfast tray was gone and knew he was discovered missing. Letting out a curse, he approached the door and opened it a crack. Sure enough, Braxton was gone, obviously searching for him.

Siren closed the door again, and knew he had to come up with a plan, otherwise he was likely to get bashed over the head with a baton. Kneeling down, he gathered up all the paperwork into a messy pile, and wondered if he could pretend he was just working this whole time. Doubting Braxton was quite that stupid, he decided to flee for the lab in the hopes Vess wouldn't allow him to be beaten in there.

Opening the door, he once again peered out, and when the coast was clear, he slipped out of his room and then hurried in the direction of the lab. He saw no signs of Braxton, and when he burst into the lab, Vess and Michael glanced up at him in surprise. Michael immediately narrowed his eyes at him, but Vess simply seemed perplexed.

"I thought you were taking a sick day?" he questioned.

Siren slapped the pile of paperwork down on his desk and then took a seat. "I feel better now," he replied, searching for a pen. "Thought I would get a bit of work done."

"Where's your guard?"

Siren gave a shrug. "No idea. He said something about grabbing a quick beer with friends an hour ago and never returned."

Michael looked up sharply. "There's a bar here?!"

"No, Michael, there's not," Vess replied. "The nearest bar is in the village 10 Kilometers away."

Michael slumped in disappointment. "Take me after work?"

"No, I'm too busy right now. I'm going to be working late tonight." Vess replied distractedly, as he typed on his laptop. "Why don't you go find something to do and stop distracting me?"

Michael's expression turned foul. "There's nothing to do in this shithole."

"Not my problem, Michael. Perhaps if you hadn't been such a dumbass, you'd still be in Kazakhstan right now."

Michael flushed and went quiet. Siren frowned when he couldn't find anything to write with and suddenly remembered he'd thrown his pen across the room.

"Numa, toss me a pen?" he asked, glancing up.

Without looking up from what he was doing, Vess reached over, removed a pen from his desk and then threw it in the general direction of Siren. Siren picked it up off the floor where it landed by his feet, and then turned his attention to his paperwork.

Siren began the paperwork, using this time to think about possible things he could do to take down V.I.L.E. The translations were easy and he went through page after page without really reading what he was translating. He knew none of it was of any importance, and so he instead concentrated on devising a plan of action. The first thing he needed to do was map out the compound but this would be difficult to do if he was constantly being followed by the gorilla.

Siren had never really explored the entire compound and so right now his mental map was incomplete. All he needed to do was walk through the building once and he'd be able to remember everything later.

His first order of business had to be getting rid of the gorilla. Obviously Vess didn't care the man was abusive, and so Siren knew he had to make the guard look bad. If he could in some way make it clear the gorilla was not suited to the job, Vess would get rid of him immediately. Vess did not put up with incompetence, and so Siren would need to focus on that. Perhaps he could make him seem like a drunk? Siren had already sewn the seeds for that, and it would probably be easy enough to fake. Would that be enough to get rid of him though?

Vess was tuning out Michael's complaining as he focused on his work, but he couldn't help but feel like something was wrong. He couldn't quite place his finger on what it was, but something was definitely not right. He ignored it for an hour or so, but he couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling, and so he finally looked up.

"And then I hit her right in the face!" Michael exclaimed, finishing whatever story he'd just been telling. "Bitch was knocked out cold!"

"Fascinating," Vess deadpanned, glancing around the room, trying to figure out what was wrong.

"Nuuuuma!" Michael complained, "It's so boring here! Do you have a PS4?"

Vess hated that whiny tone of voice and shot the boy a glare. Michael was leaning against his desk, and he simply smiled when he saw Vess' attention was finally on him. Vess sighed, and then rolled his eyes.

"No, I don't have a PS4," he replied, "It's a waste of time."

"No, it's not!" Michael defended, "It's fun, and you should yank the stick out of your ass and try it sometime!"

Vess frowned with another sigh. "If you want one so badly, order one for yourself online. We get daily deliveries from Moscow, and so just use our Moscow address and it will be forwarded to you."

Michael immediately perked up. "Really?!"

"I'll give you the address later, if you go away and let me get back to work."

Michael nodded in agreement. "Deal!"

Instead of leaving, Michael just went quiet instead, and it was this silence that made Vess realize what was wrong. There shouldn't have been silence. It was eerily quiet, and he glanced over at Siren who was working quietly. Siren was never quiet, and Vess simply stared at him in disbelief. There was no humming, no singing, and no whistling. The lab was dead silent, and now that Vess noticed it, it was unnerving.

"Are you feeling alright, Siren?" he called over.

"I'm fine," Siren replied without looking up from his paperwork.

Vess frowned. Something was definitely not right here.

"Are you done work now?" Michael demanded, trying to bring Vess' attention back to him.

"No, I told you I'm going to be working late."

"Well, you could take an afternoon off…" Michael suggested.

Vess didn't even bother answering, his attention going back to Siren. He stared long and hard at the other man, who stayed completely silent. Something was wrong with Siren, and he began to worry it was a reaction to one of the new medications. Standing up from his desk, he approached Siren who didn't even glance up at him. Siren didn't even seem to notice him, clearly too focused on his work. Vess stood over him for five minutes or so, simply waiting to be noticed, but Siren never once glanced up. Finally Vess reached out and placed a hand against Siren's forehead, checking for signs of fever.

Siren jerked back in surprise and looked up at him with wide eyes, and Vess immediately noticed the dilated pupils.

"You're high," he stated, narrowing his eyes angrily.

He grabbed Siren's chin and leaned in to take a closer look, and Siren grimaced at the way he was being manhandled. Vess was getting angrier by the second, and he gave a sniff to Siren, immediately recognizing the smell of marijuana.

"You smoked weed, you moron?" he snarled, unable to believe it.

"Michael gave it to me!" Siren responded, pointing at Michael who gaped at him like a fish.

Vess spun on his heel to glare fiercely at Michael, who shook his head.

"He's lying!" he protested. "I never shared shit with that little asshole!"

"Michael, do you really think Siren needs drugs fucking up his brain any more than it already is?" Vess snarled.

"I didn't do it!" Michael roared out angrily. "Look, I still have my weed!"

He reached his hand into his pocket and then a look of confusion crossed his face. He checked his other pocket and then checked the first pocket again just in case.

"WHERE'S MY WEED?!" he bellowed out.

Michael then turned to stare at Siren with a look of realization on his face. "YOU STOLE MY WEED!"

"I don't have your weed," Siren replied.

Michae surged across the lab, and he grabbed a hold of Siren and yanked him out of his seat before anyone could react.

"Give it back!" he snarled.

Siren kicked and struggled against him. "I don't have it!" he yelled back.

"You're a liar!" Michael accused, his hands reaching for Siren's throat.

Vess looked like he was done dealing with either of them, and without a single word, he slapped Michael hard across the face who dropped Siren in surprise. Vess then turned and gave Siren an equally hard slap.

"Enough." he stated, his tone sounding dangerous.

"But Numa-"

Michael was silenced when Vess turned a withering glare on him.

"Give me the baggy of weed, Siren," Vess ordered, holding out his hand. "We have no idea what reactions that could have on you, and it's too dangerous to take."

"I don't have it," Siren replied, still clutching at his face in pain.

Vess narrowed his eyes, and Siren immediately took a step back not wanting to get slapped again.

"Do I need to search you?" Vess demanded.

"I don't have it!" Siren insisted, taking another step back.

"Liar!" Michael accused, "You better give me my weed before I throat-punch you!"

Siren crossed his arms and scowled. "What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? I said I don't have it!"

"This has nothing to do with Spanish cushions!" Michael snarled back, "Stop trying to confuse me!"

Siren stared for a moment, and then he sent a smirk towards Vess who looked suitably embarrassed. Vess heaved a sigh, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then turned a glare towards his boyfriend.

"Michael, leave this to me," Vess ordered, "Go stand over there before you embarrass yourself further."

Siren let out a snort of amusement, and Vess turned the glare on him. Just then the lab doors opened and Braxton entered, looking furious.

"Dr. Vess, Siren is mis-" he cut off at the sight of Siren, and then scowled angrily.

"Good afternoon, Gorilla," Siren greeted, "All done drinking now?"

Braxton didn't say a word, but it was clear he was debating on what to do. His hand hovered over the baton attached to his belt, and Siren had a feeling he was going to be getting a smack the second the other man got his hands on him.

"You're supposed to keep Siren in your sights at all times," Vess scolded, "This isn't a very good start to your career with V.I.L.E."

Braxton straightened his spine, and gave Vess a stiff nod. "My apologies, Dr. Vess, I'll do better."

Vess simply rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention back to Siren.

"If you won't willingly turn over the drugs, I'll have no choice but to have you searched," he warned.

"I never took anything," Siren insisted.

Vess sighed angrily. "Fine, have it your way. Braxton, search Siren for a bag of marijuana."

"Wait, what?" Siren demanded as Braxton crossed the room towards them. "I don't want that Gorilla touching me!"

Siren didn't have time to further protest before Braxton grabbed a hold of him and began patting Siren down and searching pockets. Siren kicked and squirmed, but Braxton simply shoved him against the desk to hold him down as he continued his search. Siren swore, and yelled to no avail, and to his surprise, Braxton came up empty handed. He distinctly remembered placing the weed into his lab coat pocket, but he must have moved it during his confused state earlier.

"Nothing," Braxton announced.

Vess frowned at Siren, knowing he couldn't allow him to keep anything that could potentially harm him.

"Where did you put it?"

"I don't have it," Siren insisted for the fifth time, "I flushed it down the toilet."

Michael let out a strangled gasp. "You did what?!"

Siren gave a shrug. "I didn't like it so I flushed it."

Michael began turning red with fury, but Vess held out a hand to stop him from approaching Siren.

"Braxton, search Siren's room to see if he's lying."

Siren took a deep and angry breath, not liking the idea of anyone digging through his personal belongings. Knowing there was nothing he could do about it, he simply shot Vess a look of death.

"Report back to me with your findings."

Braxton gave a nod, and without a word, he seized Siren by the back of the shirt and then forced him to walk ahead of him.

"Let go of me!" Siren ordered, struggling against him uselessly. "Get your gorilla mitts off!"

To everyone's surprise, Braxton said nothing, and simply pushed Siren along like he wasn't bothered by the tantrum. To Siren's annoyance, Michael quickly followed after them.

"I'm getting my weed back, you little thief!" he announced.

Siren was dragged the whole way back to his quarters where Braxton finally released him. Braxton then tore his room apart, upending every drawer onto the floor, flipping his mattress, and even dumping the entire contents of his closet onto the floor of his room. Once again Braxton came up empty-handed, and Siren was actually a bit surprised over this. What did he do with everything? Did he leave it in the room with the little girl?

Michael was absolutely furious when Braxton found nothing, and he began searching himself, tossing things carelessly as he did so.

"Michael, get the hell out of my room!" Siren ordered, fed up with the loss of privacy. "Everyone get out for that matter! There's nothing here!"

Michael threw a book to the floor hard and then turned around fast, lashing out with a fist as he did so. Siren was caught by surprise and the hit landed solidly in his stomach, and there was an explosion of pain as his stitches ripped. Letting out a howl of pain as he doubled over, Michael had him pinned to the floor in an instant and began hitting him over and over in absolute fury.

Suddenly Michael let out a strangled cry of pain, and Siren looked up to see Braxton standing over them brandishing the baton. He brought it down over and over again on Michael, who quickly released Siren in an attempt to escape. Braxton struck Michael repeatedly as the boy scrambled out the door, only stopping once Michael fled down the hall.

"You fucking psycho!" Michael screamed from where he was safely out of reach. "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!"

Siren let out a breath of relief as the assault came to an end, but his relief was short-lived when Braxton slowly turned a stony glare at him. Without a single word, Braxton lifted the baton over his head. Before the baton could make contact, Siren scrambled underneath his bed, huddling as small as he could get away from the other man.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried out, hoping to appease him.

Braxton slammed the baton on the floor and Siren shrank further under the bed.

"Leave this room again and I will beat you until you finally begin to learn!" he threatened. "You will not make me look bad!"

"I won't leave, I promise!" Siren insisted.

"Last chance, and then you're getting a few new bruises!"

"I'll stay here!" Siren swore, hoping this would be enough to satisfy the other man.

Braxton said a few not so polite things under his breath and then left the room, slamming the door closed after him. Siren remained where he was for several minutes and then cautiously crawled out. That was a close one. He definitely had to get rid of Braxton.

Siren glanced at his destroyed room and had no desire whatsoever of cleaning it up. Deciding to just leave it for the maid to take care of, he turned his attention to the vent. He had no memory of stashing Michael's weed and was a bit worried he'd left it with the little girl. What if she tried to eat it or something? Was that something small children did? They were like puppies weren't they? Siren had never interacted with small children in his life, and he honestly wasn't sure.

Grimacing in worry, he glanced towards the door and then back at the vent. Could someone die from a weed overdose? He racked his mind for everything he knew about it, but his knowledge on the subject was sorely lacking. Would the little girl die if he just left it there? Biting his lower lip indecisively, he let out a curse, and crossed the room for the vent.

Hoping he could make it back before Braxton returned, Siren crawled into the vent and then began hurriedly crawling through the compound in the direction of the girl's room. When he made it to her room, she was exactly in the same spot, playing with her cars. She glanced up when he pushed open the vent, and she then offered him a hesitant smile.

"Hi, Siren!" she whispered.

"Did I leave anything here?" he demanded, looking around the almost bare room.

The girl cocked her head, her eyes calculating before she responded. "You don't remember?"

Siren scowled. "If I remembered, I wouldn't have asked!" he snapped.

She raised a brow at him. "You're being sassy." she commented. "I get in trouble if I'm sassy."

"Just answer the damn question!" Siren ordered impatiently, pulling himself out of the vent.

"Apologize for being rude first," she ordered.

"What?" Siren asked in surprise.

"Friends aren't mean to each other," she explained. "Apologize."

"I'm not friends with you!" Siren responded in outrage. "Why would I want to be friends with a baby?!"

"I'm not a baby, I'm four," she replied haughtily. "I'm going to give you the silent treatment until you apologize."

"What?" Siren repeated, completely confused.

She stared at him long and hard, and then went back to playing without a single word.

Siren gaped at her for a few seconds and then he approached her. "Just answer the question!" he ordered, "That...medicine I had is dangerous, and you can't touch it. Did I leave anything here?"

The girl shrugged and didn't look up from what she was doing. Siren knelt down beside her, but she still continued to ignore him.

"Little girl?"

No response.

"Deedee?"

She didn't so much as spare him a glance.

"Answer me or I'll break one of your toys!" he threatened.

She finally looked up at him, but it was with a scolding look. She still said nothing, and Siren felt himself quickly losing his temper. Reaching out, he snatched one of the cars out of her hand, and before really thinking about it, he whipped it at the wall as hard as he could.

The girl let out a cry of despair and she scrambled for the car, tears already welling in her eyes. Siren's anger was gone in an instant, and he realized what he'd just done. Suddenly he felt like a complete monster, and as the girl clutched the broken car to her chest, he shifted uncomfortably. When she turned tear-filled eyes towards him, Siren averted his gaze away from her.

"You broke it!" she accused.

"I'm...I didn't mean to...I'm sorry," Siren said awkwardly, "I lost my temper."

The girl frowned at him severely and then held out the broken toy towards him. "Fix it!" she ordered.

Siren took the car from her and looked at the damage, quickly seeing the plastic had been shattered. There was no way to fix it.

"...I can't," he admitted.

The girl looked crushed for a moment and then a righteous anger entered her eyes. "You owe me a toy!"

"...okay."

She narrowed her dark eyes at him, clearly not believing him. "I'm not telling you where you hid your things until you bring me a new toy."

Siren narrowed his eyes. "I'm not being blackmailed by a four year old."

The girl crossed her arms, clearly having no intention of telling him anything. Siren rolled his eyes.

"I'll find it myself," he responded in annoyance. "It's not like there are very many places to hide something in this room."

The girl calmly watched him as he searched the room, and to Siren's immense fury, he found nothing.

"Where is it?" he demanded.

"Where's my new toy?" the girl shot back.

Siren scowled at her. "This is why I hate people." he stated. "Everybody is horrible."

"I'm not the one who broke a toy," the girl pointed out.

Siren let out an aggravated groan. "Fine. I'll bring you a fucking toy."

Siren muttered angrily to himself and then headed back for the vent. "I might be a while," he snapped. "Don't touch any of the stuff I left here."

"I won't," the girl promised.

"Little brat," he snapped, crawling into the vent.

"Bigger brat," she responded.

Siren didn't dignify that with a response and simply crawled away, having no idea where he was going to find a new toy car. She was the only child that he knew of at the compound, and it wasn't like there was a nearby toy store he could go to. Sighing in frustration, he was tempted just to let her keep the marijuana.

When Siren got back to his room, he pulled himself out of the vent, only to realize too late someone was waiting for him. Braxton stood up from where he was seated on the bed and before Siren even had time to say a word, he was seized by the front of the shirt and thrown hard towards the bed. Siren hit the mattress awkwardly, and as he tried to scramble away, Braxton grabbed a hold of him and pinned him down, removing the baton from his belt. Braxton began bringing the baton down hard on Siren's back, who immediately started screaming and begging for him to stop. Braxton was clearly furious with him and he kept bringing the baton down over and over hard.

By the time he had calmed down enough to stop, Siren was a sobbing mess, his entire back a mass of bruises. Siren didn't move even when Braxton released him, and simply laid there in agony.

"That vent is being bolted shut," Braxton promised him. "Leave your room again and I'll double the amount of hits. You will learn to obey whether I have beat you every single day until you do."

Braxton then left the room without waiting for any form of acknowledgement. Siren laid there for a long time, and when he finally sat up, his fists were clenched in absolute fury. He was going to destroy that guard if it was the last thing he did. Braxton was going down.

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TBC