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?

38. One For All, and All For One

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The Broken Silence

Chapter 38

One For All, and All For One

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Dash wasn't exactly expecting a welcome back party, but the second he entered Countess Cleo's private wing, she glanced up at him from where she sat at her vanity table and rolled her eyes.

"You are late, Dash Haber."

"Apologies, Countess," he replied, keeping his tone nothing but respectful.

He could have explained that the plane had only just arrived, but he knew she didn't care about any of that. Cleo never accepted excuses no matter the circumstance.

"This is not a good start to your return," she commented, "Perhaps you've learned bad habits from hanging around all those dirty operatives?"

"I will do better," Dash assured her, knowing this was just a power play. "Nothing but perfection for you, Countess."

Cleo raised a delicate brow, but could not find fault with his response. She set down her lipstick and then waved a hand towards the young man that stood at her side.

"This is Sterling Silver," she introduced, "I will be choosing one of you to remain as my assistant."

Ah. This was definitely a power play. She wanted to pit him against her newest assistant in the hopes of making him feel indebted to her when she finally chose him. Dash had no doubt in his mind that she would choose him, but he had no choice but to play her game. Cleo wanted to make a point to him, and Dash would endure it, knowing things were going to get dirty.

Dash subtly looked Sterling Silver up and down, knowing this man had been his replacement for the last month or so. The man was built like Dash, tall, and thin with long limbs; the body of a model. Dash stared at the man's face, and he was handsome with perfect skin and perfect fluffy blond hair, and Dash was annoyed to note the man was slightly better looking than him. The man's pale grey eyes stared at Dash with disdain, obviously knowing that Dash was a threat to his position.

"Pleased to meet you, Dash Haber," Sterling said politely, his British accent as smooth as silk.

Dash said nothing to the other man, but he did mirror the look of disdain, knowing what was expected of him. He knew how much Cleo loved posh British accents, and wondered if the other man was actually a threat to him. Forcing his eyes away from Sterling, he turned his attention back to Cleo just as she began speaking.

"Tell me, Dash Haber, were you injured in any way while you were playing at being an operative?"

"No, Countess, other than my recent operation, I was not seriously injured in any way."

"Ah, yes, you had your appendix removed," she replied, rolling her eyes. "Such weakness is not permitted within my employ, is this understood? You will get no sick days if you work for me."

"Yes, I understand," Dash replied, feeling resigned. Leave it to Cleo to blame him for something beyond his control.

"I suppose your operation left you scarred?"

"The wound is almost completely healed," Dash assured her, "I've been told there will be no visible scar."

Cleo seemed skeptical. "Are you lying to me, Dash Haber? I expect nothing but perfection from my assistant, and I will not allow ugly scars anywhere near me!"

"I would never lie to you, Countess," Dash replied.

Cleo let out a scoff. "We shall see, Dash Haber. Strip."

Dash hesitated, seeing by her expression she was completely serious. She was testing him, and Dash knew he had to prove his loyalty and obedience. He ignored the smirk on Sterling's face, and Cleo narrowed her eyes at his hesitation.

"Dash Haber, I said to strip. Do not make me repeat myself again."

Dash steeled himself and made sure he kept his expression completely impassive. "Yes, Countess, my apologies."

Without a word, Dash removed his shoes, and then began carefully unbuttoning his designer coat. He folded the coat after removing it, and then began removing his shirt. He set his shirt and coat aside, and then removed his pants, still forcing his expression to remain stonily indifferent. He now stood in nothing but his underwear, and he glanced to Cleo, who once again rolled her eyes.

"Yes, that's good enough," she said to his relief.

Cleo got up from her seat to approach him, and Dash stood straight and tall, exuding a self-confidence he certainly didn't feel. He could feel Sterling's eyes on him, and when he glanced over, he saw the other man was staring, jealousy written all over his face. Dash scoffed. Although Sterling was better looking, Dash knew he was handsome and a clear threat to the other man.

Cleo began slowly circling him, looking him up and down as if appraising him, and she stared at the tiny wound which, true to his word, was almost completely healed. She touched a hand to the various bruises and scrapes caused from the fight with Neal, but none of the wounds were anything serious. None of his injuries would leave a scar.

Cleo was frowning in disapproval the entire time she circled him, and Dash was thoroughly humiliated. Nothing was ever good enough for Cleo, and he knew he was about to be criticized. He had to force himself not to cringe every time he felt her touch his skin, the unwanted contact seeming to linger long after she removed her hands. He kept his gaze straight ahead, remaining silent, and just waiting for her to be done.

Being appraised like some sort of show-pony made Dash feel ugly and worthless, but he didn't dare protest. Every negative comment she made only made him feel worse and worse, but he gave no indication he was bothered. To Cleo, he wasn't a person, and he knew he was only useful to her if he was the perfect accessory.

Cleo reached out and touched a hand to Dash's side and pressed a finger against his appendectomy stitches, and despite the agony this caused, he didn't move, keeping his eyes straight ahead. She ran her fingers along his stomach and then made a tsk noise in the back of her throat.

"You've put on weight, Dash Haber," she commented in disapproval.

Dash closed his eyes. Of course she would have noticed the six pounds he put on.

"How much did you gain?" she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

"Three pounds," he replied without hesitation.

Cleo reached over and grabbed him harshly by the chin, turning his face towards her.

"Do not take me for a fool," she said, her tone warning.

"Three pounds," Dash repeated, meeting her gaze directly.

Cleo let out a sigh. "Step on the scale," she ordered, pointing across the room where there was a scale resting against the wall.

Dash winced, and Cleo lightly ran her nails across the delicate skin of his throat, knowing she had caught him in a lie.

"Do you need to be weighed, Dash Haber?" she demanded, her nails pressing hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to cut.

Dash sucked in an alarmed breath, and then turned defeated eyes to her. "No, Countess, I don't need to be weighed."

"How much weight did you gain while you sneakily gorged yourself when you were out of my sight?"

Dash once again closed his eyes. "Six pounds," he admitted, feeling ashamed of his body. He knew he had been eating more than he normally did, and now it had come back to bite him.

It was true that he had been lax when it came to maintaining his looks while he was part of Team Crackle, and Dash was now thoroughly humiliated as Sterling flashed him a smug look.

Cleo gave a nod. "That's what I thought," she replied, her tone sounding falsely sad. "You know I will not have a fat assistant. I expect nothing but perfection, and right now you are not perfect."

"I'm sorry, Countess, I will improve."

"You have one month to prove to me that you're better than Sterling," she informed him coldly, "Frankly, Dash Haber, you disgust me. I suggest you go on a diet and get some of that fat off. "

Dash gave a nod, trying to push aside the familiar feelings of inadequacy and shame. He forced himself to stand straight and tall and Cleo again circled him, and finally she seemed satisfied.

"You may dress," she told him, turning away. "You have a lot of work ahead of you if you wish to have any chance of gaining my favour."

"Yes, Countess," Dash replied as he got dressed.

Once he was fully dressed, he turned his gaze to Sterling who was staring at him with narrowed eyes, and Dash had a feeling the other man was not going to make things easy. They stared at one another for a few moments, and then Sterling offered him an easy smile that did not reach his eyes. Dash was instantly suspicious and suspected the other man was plotting something. He would have to keep a close eye on him during the next month.

"You may go for now," Cleo told him, waving a hand towards the door. "Return to me tomorrow morning no later than five."

"Yes, Countess," Dash replied, obediently turning to leave.

He couldn't wait to be out of her sight for a few minutes so he could recover from this. His stomach was in knots and he didn't want to chance showing any sort of emotion in front of Cleo. That would be considered a sign of weakness, and she wouldn't tolerate it.

Just as he reached for the door, Cleo called after him.

"Oh, and Dash?"

He turned back around.

"Lie to me again and you will be severely punished. You will get no more warnings."

Dash simply nodded, and then left the room. Cleo wasn't always this horrible to work with, but she was clearly trying to punish him for leaving to join Team Crackle. He knew she would make him miserable for the next month, but she'd eventually choose him in the end. He just needed to be perfect, and his life would get better. He could do that.

Dash Haber would be perfect in every way.

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Crackle stared up at the tall grey building before him, and felt a deep sense of dread. The months he spent in Bellum's lab were like a distant nightmare, and he knew there was no escaping this. He was once again going to be faced with the crushing loneliness and pain of being experimented on. Bellum's lab was a prison, and Crackle knew it would be an incredibly long time before he ever saw daylight. He turned his gaze up at the seemingly endless blue sky, and had no idea when he'd ever see it again. Feeling a sense of loss he couldn't quite explain, he drank in the sight of the blue above him, memorizing what it looked like. The cold, and dark lab had no windows and he had a feeling he was going to be spending a very long time here. This might be the last time he saw the sky.

Dr. Bellum had blamed him personally for failing to kill Carmen Sandiego, and he was going to be punished. He had no doubt about that, and knew he probably deserved it. He had allowed his emotions to cloud his judgement, and he had chosen to save his teammates rather than kill Carmen when he had the chance.

Crackle thought of his teammates, and closed his eyes in shame as he realized he would still choose them over the mission any day. He felt responsible for them, and he hated the thought of any of them getting hurt or killed. He wasn't quite sure when it had happened, but his loyalty had shifted from Bellum to his team. He cared about his team, and that was something that was never supposed to happen.

Crackle sucked in a deep breath through his nose, the smell of the hot and salty air ingraining itself into his memory. Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze out towards the ocean, taking in the sight one last time before he was thrown back into darkness.

"Crackle," Vlad called over to him, "Come along."

Crackle stared at the ocean for a moment longer, and then turned away, following after the Cleaners without a word. They entered the building, and Crackle stared down at the floor as they walked along, not looking forward to what was to come.

The Cleaners very rarely spoke and Crackle had always gotten an off feeling about them. Something wasn't quite right with them, and the dead-eyed stare the two men had was unnerving and made Crackle think of sharks going in for the kill. The Cleaners never showed signs of emotion, and Bellum was always trying to get him to be more like them. They honestly made him incredibly uncomfortable, but he'd never voiced this of course. He was supposed to be a cold and emotionless killer, and to show weakness was unacceptable.

Crackle sighed and ran a hand through his hair as they walked through the long hallways leading to Bellum's lab. He knew he had changed since leaving New V.I.L.E Island, and he doubted Bellum was going to approve of it.

When they finally reached Bellum's lab, Crackle knocked on the door and then waited. Normally Bellum was too distracted to reply, but to his surprise she called out for him to enter. The three of them entered the lab, and Bellum was standing next to a work table fiddling with some sort of gun-like weapon. She glanced up at them and then set aside her invention.

"Welcome home, Crackle," Bellum said, her tone not sounding especially angry.

Crackle relaxed. "Thank you, Dr. Bellum," he responded.

Bellum turned her attention to the Cleaners, gave them a curt nod, and they turned and left without a single word.

"Come in, come in!" Bellum invited, beckoning him closer.

Crackle approached her, and she looked him up and down, expression thoughtful. "Any injuries I need to know about?" she demanded.

"Nothing serious," Crackle assured her.

"Good, good," she said, waving for him to follow her, "This way if you please."

Crackle followed her into the other room of the lab and his eyes immediately fell on the isolation chamber he'd been kept in when he displeased her. He stiffened up, but Bellum pretended not to notice as she handed him a medical gown.

"Put this on," she ordered, "I want to do a few tests on you."

Crackle didn't hesitate as he stripped down and put on the gown, this being a very familiar order. Bellum wasn't paying him any attention as she gathered a few supplies together, and when he was ready, he took a seat on the nearby exam table to wait.

Bellum muttered to herself as she searched for something in particular, and when he finally turned to approach, she was holding a medical bag.

"Hold out your arm so I can draw some blood," she ordered.

Crackle did as he was told and watched as she disinfected his arm with an alcohol wipe, and then tied a band around his arm. He winced as the needle went in and she wasn't exactly careful as she wriggled it around a bit until it was in a vein. She drew several vials of blood and then removed the syringe and placed a bandaid over the tiny wound. She then handed him a small plastic cup.

"Urinate in this up to the line," she ordered, turning away to carry the blood across the lab.

His face reddening a bit, Crackle waited until her back was turned and then peed in the cup as ordered, and then set it aside. He waited patiently as she ran a few tests, and she seemed satisfied with the results. She listened to his heart and then his breathing, and then looked him over for any injuries or signs of illness. He was in perfect health, and so then she took a seat and pulled out a notepad.

"I want you to tell me in as much detail as you can about your experiences in the outside world."

"Everything?" Crackle asked in surprise.

Dr. Bellum nodded. "I need to figure out how and why you failed at your mission. I have done something wrong and I intend on correcting it."

Crackle grimaced, knowing exactly what she meant by that. Having no choice, he began telling her about his several months as part of Team Crackle

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Within days, Dash was absolutely starving and completely exhausted, but he made sure to always keep up his appearance of complete perfection. His competitor Sterling was doing the same, the other man's makeup and hair always flawless. Dash quickly came to realize Sterling was very different from what he was expecting. Whereas Dash's beauty was cold and dignified, Sterling's was soft and boyish. He moved with a grace that Dash had no hope of matching, and his voice was soft and clear. Sterling's smile was bright and it made his grey eyes seemingly sparkle. Dash rarely smiled, and it when he did it was normally more of a disdainful sort of smile. Dash and Sterling were the yin yang of assistants, and Dash quickly felt threatened by the other man.

He and Sterling were given the absolute worst rooms on the entire island, and Dash knew this was done on purpose. Cleo wanted them to be miserable, and she wanted them to feel indebted to her for anything she eventually gave them. They had to go all the way up to the highest tower of the building to access their rooms, and it was inconvenient and tiring to climb the 200 steps to make it there. After working an 18 hour day, that trek up the tower stairs was brutal.

Dash hated the fact his room was directly across from Sterling's, and more often than not, they found themselves walking up and down the stairs beside each other. Dash was annoyed when he realized Sterling was in better shape than him and had an easier time with the stairs. Dash would huff and puff his way up the stairs while Sterling walked easily beside him, barely getting out of breath.

To Dash's surprise, Sterling was actually quite talented when it came to the job. He was fast and efficient as a courier and he had a definite talent for design. Sterling's problem however, was that his designs and taste did not align with Cleo's. Cleo liked elegance and flashiness, whereas his designs were more subtle and practical. Cleo was incredibly nasty to him as she critiqued his work, and Dash could see how much it bothered him.

Dash's own work was criticized as well, but it was clear Cleo preferred his designs over Sterling's. The jealousy was evident every time they were pitted against one another, and that's when Dash began noticing Sterling's attempts to sabotage him.

The first time it happened, Dash discovered a tear down the side of one of the dresses he'd finished just the night before. He almost hadn't caught it, but luckily he'd given it one last look-over as he'd gone out the door. The tear was small, and looked like sloppy work, but Dash never would have sewn something so badly. This was clearly an attempt to make him seem lazy and incompetent. He repaired the tear, and didn't mention it, knowing Cleo wouldn't have cared. He didn't say a word to Sterling, but he did elbow him hard in the gut when Cleo wasn't looking. They'd spent the rest of the day glaring at each other.

A feud was born between them from that point on, and Dash was determined to not only win, but to completely humiliate Sterling. He'd had years of experience when it came to pleasing Cleo, and so he began going above and beyond to anticipate her needs and wants before she even asked for it. Sterling had no way to do this, but Cleo still scolded him for not being more like Dash.

Sterling began attempting to make him look bad in several petty ways, but Dash was experienced enough not to fall for most of it. Sterling kept turning Dash's alarm off sometime during the night, trying to make him late, but Dash was naturally an early riser. He was used to waking up early to tend to Cleo when she woke, and he so he always woke up with plenty of time to spare.

Sterling also kept stealing his sewing supplies and fabric, and while it was annoying, it wasn't the end of the world, and Dash simply altered his designs if what he needed went missing. Even when his designs were cut or damaged in some way, Dash simply repaired them without a word. Dash got his revenge in little ways, such as shoving Sterling down the last five stairs when they were heading down from their rooms. Although relatively unharmed, Sterling then had to walk all the way back up to his room to change his clothes. It had made him late, and he'd had to endure a brutal fifteen minute lecture from Cleo.

Dash had stood prim and proper, his expression smug as Sterling was raked over the coals. Dash didn't especially care whether the other man hated him, because he only had to put up with this for a month, and then Sterling would be gone.

Cleo was doing everything in her power to make sure neither man had even the tiniest shred of happiness or accomplishment. If they did something right, she would tear them down about something different. Dash wished she would just let things go back to the way they were, and he was hating every second of this 'competition.' She was punishing him for daring to leave her, and he knew he would just have to endure it until she eventually forgave him.

After a while, Dash felt like he was just going through the motions, and he was honestly miserable. Everything he said and did was demeaned, and he was never good enough, never perfect enough. He went on a few missions as a courier, but most of his time was spent simply designing or shadowing Cleo around. As much as Dash loved fashion and designing, this left him feeling oddly unfulfilled as the days went on. He found himself thinking back to Team Crackle more and more often, wondering how they were doing. Were they being sent on new missions? Did they ever find out if Carmen Sandiego was alive? Was the team still together, or had it been dissolved?

The empty feeling followed him through the days, and Dash knew he should have been happy, but he wasn't. He had lost the six pounds within a few days of starvation, but Cleo then demanded he lose an additional six pounds in retribution. Dash was tired all the time, and he soon began to wonder if he was getting ill. When he looked at himself in the mirror, his cheeks seemed sharper, and his ribs were prominent against his sunken stomach. Cleo was starving them, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Dash was winning the 'competition' so far since Sterling was younger and more inexperienced. Sterling still made the occasional mistake without any interference from Dash, and it was costing him dearly. Cleo was keeping a tally of all mistakes, and Sterling had a good dozen more mistakes than he did.

Dash was the picture of perfection, and he knew the misery would be over soon enough. The stress was getting to the both of them, and Sterling was losing weight as well. The walls were thin between their bedrooms, and Dash could hear the other man crying at night, and a knot of pity twisted in his gut. Dash knew it was because of him that Sterling had to go through this, and it was all pointless. Sterling would not be chosen in the end, and he would be sent away or reassigned.

Sterling was determined to beat Dash at all costs, and he too was starving himself to compete with Dash. Dash had caught him several times throwing up in their shared bathroom, but he never commented on it. Sterling was trying so hard, and it was all for nothing. Dash was always just slightly better than him at everything. Dash had been Cleo's assistant for six years, and so he had everything down to a routine, whereas Sterling was still learning.

Cleo frequently made them stand side by side as she compared them, and she was brutal in her critiques. They were never thin enough, never pretty enough, and never good enough. Sterling was far more emotional than Dash, and several times she brought him to tears which only made her scold him even more. Cleo didn't like any signs of emotion, and this was where Sterling kept failing at. He was standing beside Dash sobbing into his hands miserably as Cleo gave him a brutal lecture, and Dash simply stood quietly by, waiting for his instructions.

When Cleo had finally said everything she was going to, she turned to Dash and narrowed her eyes.

"Since Sterling Silver has made a mess of his makeup with his atrocious display, I will be using you for an errand, Dash."

"Yes, countess," Dash replied without hesitation.

"You are to go see Dr. Bellum and get the device she has created for me," Cleo ordered, shooting Sterling another glare out of the corner of her eye. "Be fast and don't dawdle on the way back."

"Yes, countess," Dash said, turning towards the door.

As Dash left the room, he heard Cleo once again begin lecturing Sterling. As he walked towards Dr. Bellum's lab, it was nice to get a small break. Cleo had been in an especially bad mood all morning, and it had made the work-day unbearable. They were only two weeks into the 'competition' and he was already exhausted and more stressed than he's ever been in his life. The new academy class was due to arrive September 1st, and Cleo was going to make her decision a week prior to that.

Dash arrived at Dr. Bellum's lab and knocked on the door. There was no answer, and so he knocked again, much louder this time. There was still no response, and this wasn't uncommon, and so Dash cautiously opened the door.

"Dr. Bellum?" he called into the room.

Dash peeked into the room, and saw Dr. Bellum was sitting in front of a large screen speaking with Dr. Vesalius. Dr. Vess' gaze settled on Dash, and he narrowed his eyes.

"It looks like you have a visitor, Dr. Bellum," he stated.

Dr. Bellum turned around, and then gave Dash a look of confusion. "Yes?" she demanded, "What do you want? I'm very busy right now! Can't this wait?"

"Apologies, Dr. Bellum," Dash said respectfully as he stepped fully into the room, "But Countess Cleo has requested I collect the finished device you made for her as soon as possible."

Dr. Bellum seemed confused for a moment, but then realization crossed her face. "Ah, yes, right. I'll give it to you in just a few moments. Stand next to the wall and wait until my call is finished."

Dash did as he was told, and Vess stared at him for a long moment before he turned his attention back to Dr. Bellum.

[[I trust your Arabic is still good enough to continue this conversation?]] Vess asked, switching to his native tongue.

[[Yes, yes, I'm proficient in Arabic,]] Bellum responded, rolling her eyes.

[[Good, we don't want anyone hearing anything they shouldn't,]] Vess stated, his gaze sliding over to Dash once more.

[[Understandable,]] Bellum agreed, [[Now what was that you were saying about Siren?]]

[[The guard that was sent to us, Braxton, has been terminated.]]

Dr. Bellum frowned. [[You killed him?]]

[[What? No, I fired him,]] Vess responded, [[He nearly killed Siren, and I had to perform three separate operations to save his life. Siren is too valuable for us to lose, and I will not have another guard like that again. He destroyed my entire apartment, beat Siren into a bloody pulp, and you don't even want to know what he did to my bathroom!]]

[[Strange, he was the best prison guard we had access to,]] Bellum commented, scratching her chin, [[He should have been able to control Siren without any issue…]]

[[Well, clearly there was an issue!]] Vess shot back, [[If Siren dies, then he takes all of the Volkov knowledge with him! This can't be allowed to happen again!]]

[[We've had Siren for ten years and you've never been able to get anything out of him,]] Bellum pointed out, [[His death wouldn't be the end of the world.]]

Vess was furious, but he held his temper in check as he answered her. [[No, the knowledge is in his mind somewhere, and I've gotten bits and pieces over the years, and I've almost figured out the formula! If I can unlock the rest of Siren's memories, then we can begin mass trials.]]

[[Are you truly that close?]] Bellum asked eagerly, [[Should I come to the lab?]]

Vess shook his head. [[Not quite yet. Patient D.D. is still too young for me to perform many of the procedures, but she's showing promise. I need older children, maybe around ten to twelve years old.]]

Bellum waved a hand dismissively. [[That's easy enough. I'll have a few dozen brought to the lab within a couple months. What will you be doing about Siren? He can't be allowed to roam without a guard. We don't want any more 'incidents' involving him.]]

[[I have brought back Siren's previous guard Terrence. He's lasted the longest as Siren's guard, and he also knows how to handle Siren's...mood swings. Siren won't be causing us any problems for a while since he's going to be bed-bound for some time. Terrence should be able to handle him once he finally wakes up.]]

[[If he wakes up,]] Bellum corrected.

Vess grimaced knowing how difficult his work would become if Siren died. If Siren died, then the only thing he could do was get his hands on Mime Bomb. Mime Bomb wouldn't be able to help with formulas or vaccine creation, but he was one of the original test subjects, and he could be studied. If Vess was lucky, he'd be able to figure out the original formula by studying the eyes and brain of the mime. This was a last resort however, and he'd rather not kill the last of the Volkov experiments.

[[Siren will live,]] Vess said confidently, [[If Siren has anything, the little shit has a will to live.]]

[[Don't all operatives?]] Bellum responded in amusement, [[We only pick the best for our academy.]]

Vess looked skeptical. [[That's debatable,]] he responded, [[But I will keep you informed about Siren's condition.]]

Bellum nodded. [[Forward me your latest test results as well. I'd like to go over the data.]]

Vess nodded. [[You can expect the results within the hour.]]

"Very good, Dr. Vesalius," Bellum said, switching over to English, "I'll speak with you during our scheduled meeting next week."

Bellum disconnected the call, and then glanced over at Dash, who was leaning against the wall, doing his best to look bored.

"I'll be right back," she informed him, "I'll go get the device Cleo wants."

Bellum left through a side door and Dash was left behind in the lab. He took a deep breath and raised a hand to his head knowing neither Bellum nor Vess knew he was fluent in Arabic. What the hell was V.I.L.E up to? Kidnapped children? Child experimentation? Dead children? An operative named Siren who was refusing to help them? Why had he never heard of that operative? Why did that operative need a guard? Was this the same lab in Russia he was sent to several years ago? The lab he'd had to fight his way out of to survive?

Dash grimaced, and had no idea what to make of any of this. His eyes traveled around the lab, and they settled on a very familiar crackle rod resting on top of one of the tables. Was that Crackle's? He squinted at it, and felt certain it was. It was pretty banged up like Crackle's was, and he could faintly make out a bit of purple nail polish that Paper Star had accidentally spilled on it.

Dash gave another glance around. If the crackle rod was here, did that mean Crackle was as well? Were the rest of the team here as well?

Dash felt a feeling of loneliness come over him, and he suddenly wanted very much just to see the friendly faces of his teammates. Had they missed him at all? Otterman's words suddenly came back to him and he frowned. 'No one even likes you! You could just disappear and no one would even care.'

Dash clenched his fists, knowing he hadn't exactly been very nice to his teammates. Dash scowled down at the floor. Forget Team Crackle; he didn't need them. He was better off on his own.

"Here you go, Dash Haber!" Bellum announced, bursting back into the room, "One scar reducer for Cleo! Let her know to start off at level one otherwise it will be extremely painful."

Dash nodded, and accepted the pen-like device she held out. "I'll be sure to tell her," he promised, turning towards the door.

Dash left the lab, feeling troubled about what he had learned. V.I.L.E was up to some seriously messed up things, and he didn't like it.

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Darkness.

Darkness, pain, and complete silence.

Crackle was lying curled up on his side, shivering and in an unbelievable amount of pain. The metal floor was freezing cold against his naked skin, and he remained curled into the fetal position, just trying to find a little warmth. The isolation chamber made it impossible to know how much time had passed, but by his thirst and hunger he figured it was at least two days since she had fed him. He had been in the isolation chamber for a couple weeks in total, only being allowed out when Bellum was performing more tests or doling out more punishments on him.

Dr. Bellum had been furious after he told her about everything his team had done during the last couple months. He had missed several opportunities to kill Carmen Sandiego simply because he'd been more concerned with protecting his teammates. Dr. Bellum saw this as a severe flaw in his training, and she let him know exactly how disappointed in him she was.

Crackle had endured being shocked and beaten with his own crackle rod so many times that he eventually passed out from the pain. When he awoke, he was inside the isolation chamber, and when he'd started to panic, Bellum's voice had come across the speaker inside the chamber to scold him. She told him he was a disappointment and a failure, and that he should have known better. She explained that he should have sacrificed his own life or the lives of his teammates if it meant completing his mission. She'd lectured and scolded him for what felt like an eternity, and by the time she was done, he felt like a worthless failure.

She did this every single day he was in the chamber, and after a while he began to believe her words. He had failed at his mission, and it was all because he had failed as a leader. If he had been more diligent, more intelligent, and a bit stronger, then none of this would have happened. It was his own fault he was in this situation.

The silence and the darkness was terrifying to him, and he had curled up simply hoping she would eventually show him mercy. It was clear that she was really angry with him when she made no effort to feed him, and he realized there was nothing stopping her from leaving him to die in there. Several times the air seemed to burn his throat and he knew she was gassing the chamber with something. The gas made him feel sick and he felt the confusion and fog in his mind thicken in a familiar way.

Crackle never admitted to Bellum that he remembered things from his old life, and he carefully omitted any mention of these memories to her. The thought of once again living in constant fog was a fate worse than death, and he desperately clung to his memories, refusing to let them go. The fog felt like it was tearing his mind apart, but he fought it with everything he had.

He found himself lost in his memories, and they were the only thing making the isolation chamber bearable. He thought of his teammates and all their quirks, and he thought of the ocean and perfect blue sky. Bellum wanted him to say he didn't care about his teammates, and that he would be willing to kill them without question, but Crackle knew that wasn't who he was. He wasn't emotionless, and he wasn't the robot Bellum seemed to think he was. He cared about his team.

Crackle's mind felt like it was splintering the more he fought, and the hungrier and thirstier he became, the more his rational thoughts seemed to disappear. He was left reacting to his situation by instinct, and he felt angry, afraid, and oddly impatient. He felt like an animal that was pacing a cage, and it made him want to fight, to defend himself, but he was alone in the chamber. There was nothing to fight in here, and nothing he could do. He was helpless.

When the door to the chamber finally clicked open, he turned towards the door, and tensed, expecting more pain. For some reason the lights were off in the lab and when Crackle slowly crawled his way out of the chamber, there was no sign of Dr. Bellum. Crackle's eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and he gazed around with a frown, realizing there must have been a power outage. He glanced back towards the chamber, knowing he was probably supposed to still be in there. If there was a power outage, that explained why all the doors within the lab suddenly opened. This was done for safety purposes in case of an emergency.

Crackle's eyes fell on the nearby sink, and he scrambled across the lab, desperate for water. Turning the tap on, he put his face into the stream of water, drinking as fast as he could. The sudden intake of water upset his stomach and a few seconds later he was vomiting it back into the sink. Coughing and gagging for a few moments, he rinsed out his mouth and this time drank slowly, stopping when his stomach started to feel queasy.

Turning the water off, he wondered if Bellum was aware he was now out of the chamber. Although he was cold and naked, Crackle didn't care and headed for the door, just wanting to find something to eat. As he walked through the empty halls, Crackle could hear voices coming from the nearby faculty lounge. He was about to pass by the door when he heard Brunt say 'Paper Star.' Crackle paused, and then approached the door that was partially open. Peering inside the faculty lounge, he saw the faculty were seated at their meeting table, all holding flashlights.

To Crackle's surprise, Roundabout was there in person, sitting in the normally vacant seat. The fifth faculty member very rarely visited the island, and Crackle was curious over why he was there. Was it in some way connected with Paper Star, or was he perhaps here for Cleo's upcoming gala? Crackle had lost track of time while in the isolation chamber, and he wasn't even sure if the gala had already happened.

Knowing he shouldn't be eavesdropping like this, Crackle bit his lower lip, and then shifted on his feet, debating on what he should do. All thoughts of leaving were gone in an instant when he heard Cleos next words.

"Why do they think we would ever pay ransom for one of our operatives?" Cleo demanded, her tone insulted, "We have hundreds of others, and Paper Star is nothing special."

"Well, perhaps we would consider it if they were one of our top operatives, but Paper Star has been nothing but a problem since the day she joined our ranks," Roundabout commented. "She has cost V.I.L.E a lot of money since she graduated. When I went through the paperwork associated with her, there have been over a dozen instances where her crimes had to be covered up by the Cleaners. She is a clear liability."

"I've been saying that for a year now!" Brunt cut in angrily, "I told you that girl wasn't right, but none of you would listen to me!"

"Paper Star is a fascinating individual," Maelstrom commented, "Not many operatives are so willing to kill for us. She has been useful in eliminating difficult enemies."

Cleo rolled her eyes. "How much are they demanding?" she asked.

"Twenty million," Roundabout answered, glancing down at his phone's screen. "They've given us a deadline that has already passed. They're now threatening to sell her to the highest bidder."

"Just let her die," Bellum commented impatiently, "She killed another operative, and she can't be trusted. She's not worth the twenty million."

"Normally I would agree," Maelstrom commented, his expression looking strained, "but this situation is a bit different. If she's sold to V.I.L.E's enemies, she could reveal any number of secrets. It would be best to either pay the ransom or have her killed."

"Do we know where she's being held?" Bellum asked, "Could we send the Cleaners to take her out?"

"We haven't yet found out where she's being held, but Lady Dokuso is doing her best to track her down," Roundabout replied, "Should I arrange the Cleaners to head to Tokyo?"

"Let's wait on that," Maelstrom suggested, "If Lady Dokuso can rescue her, then we'll get Paper Star back, but if not, then she can take her out using one of her poison darts. Only if Dokuso fails should we send the Cleaners."

"That makes sense," Brunt agreed, "But we should prepare a plane just in case they need to leave."

"Agreed," Cleo commented, "It never hurts to be prepared."

"I'll arrange our fastest plane to be on stand-by just in case," Roundabout said, adjusting his glasses thoughtfully. "I'll inform the Cleaners that they may be needed."

"So, Cleo, how are you liking having your pretty little hench-model back?" Brunt demanded.

"Ugh," Cleo complained, "Dash developed a weird sense of confidence while he was away and I don't like it. He takes all abuse thrown at him like it doesn't even bother him, and it's irritating. I've been chipping away at his self-esteem, but it's such a bother."

"So, you're going to keep that pretty blond instead?" Brunt asked, raising a brow.

Cleo rolled her eyes. "I'm planning on keeping them both, they just don't know that yet. They think they're competing for the job position."

Maelstrom let out a short, amused snort. "That is so deliciously evil," he commented, "I suspect they've been at each other's throats this whole time?"

Cleo sighed. "Not as much as I'd anticipated. Dash mostly just ignores Sterling unless he gets pushed too far. He has a nasty habit of lashing out physically when he gets angry, and I blame those uncouth operatives he was hanging around. I'm going to have to retrain him since he's gone completely feral."

Brunt laughed. "Feral? That skinny little boy is hardly feral. I overheard him scolding one of the guards the other day for accidentally brushing up against him and wrinkling his jacket. I think you're overreacting."

Cleo sniffed indignantly, and crossed her arms. "He's not as dependent on me as he used to be, and I don't like it," she replied, "Once I tear him completely down, I can get Dash Haber back to the way he once was."

"I really love how you've pitted them against each other," Maelstrom commented, "But may I make a suggestion?"

Cleo cocked her head. "Go ahead."

"Make it seem like you've decided to choose Sterling as your assistant. Pretend Dash is going to be demoted to make him squirm. Leave him to stew for a couple days, and when you suddenly change your mind, he'll be incredibly grateful and desperate to meet your approval."

Cleo gave a nod. "That sounds like a good idea," she admitted, "This should ensure Dash is securely under my thumb for a good long while."

"When is this power outage going to be over?" Brunt complained, "I thought it was only supposed to be five minutes!"

Bellum gave a shrug. "They're rewiring to a new power grid and so they must have run into a problem. It shouldn't be that much longer."

"How's your favourite little pet doing?" Maelstrom asked, "Has he been giving you any trouble?"

"Oh, not at all," Bellum replied, "Crackle is as submissive as always, but this mission has revealed some flaws in his programming. I didn't count on the fact that after prolonged exposure, he'd grow attached to his teammates. This is something I'm experimenting with now to hopefully destroy so it doesn't happen again."

"Can you do that?" Roundabout asked in surprise, "This goes way beyond the normal mind erases!"

Bellum glanced over at him and then shrugged. "I've just been playing around with Crackle's mind to see what I can accomplish. He's almost the perfect soldier, but no matter how hard I try to squash his emotions, they just keep coming back."

"How much can you tamper with his mind?" Maelstrom asked curiously, "He's been modified so many times already that it must be causing damage."

"It is," Bellum confirmed, "At this point I'm just using him for research purposes for the next operative I enhance. I have a few more experiments planned, and then I'm going to likely put him down. It would be kinder than keeping him alive with severe brain damage."

Roundabout's eyes widened. "Isn't he your favourite operative?!"

Bellum nodded. "He is, but his usefulness has been diminished to the point he's getting to be a waste of space. He can't be trusted to be sent on another mission, and once my experiments conclude, I won't have a use for him."

"How are you going to do it?" Brunt asked with a frown.

"I have him in the isolation chamber right now being starved. Once I've done all needed experiments and gotten all relevant data, I will give him one last meal that will put him into a sleep he'll never wake from. It will be a painless death, and he won't even realize what is happening."

"Who will be the next operative you experiment on?" Roundabout asked curiously.

Bellum gave a shrug. "Someone dumb and disposable," she replied, "Moose Boy perhaps."

Brunt gave a nod and crossed her arms. "There's no operative dumber or more disposable than that nitwit," she commented, "But what about his equally useless partner?"

"I have no use for him," Bellum responded with a shrug, "He has an excellent mind however, and so I might send him up north to work in Vess' lab. He's practically blind, but he could help with research or something."

"Research for what?" Roundabout asked.

Bellum gave him a dismissive shrug. "Probably the new flu vaccine," she replied, "Vess will assign him to something."

"Those two have been partners for like 15 years," Brunt pointed out, "And if rumours are to be believed, they probably won't like being separated."

"They'll have no choice," Belum replied, "We'll tell Otterman that Moose Boy was killed off by A.C.M.E or something. I doubt he'll give us much trouble after that."

Crackle stood frozen at the door, unable to believe what he'd just overheard. His entire team including himself were in jeopardy! He felt completely betrayed knowing Bellum was going to kill him and toss him aside like he was nothing to her. He'd been nothing but loyal to V.I.L.E and they were repaying it with betrayal. He had to find a way to warn his team, and find a way to rescue Paper Star.

Turning away from the door, Crackle took off running back to the lab. The first thing he had to do was make sure he could get out of the isolation chamber if he needed to. Hurrying across the lab, he approached the chamber and just the sight of it was enough to send shivers down his spine. Inspecting the latch on the chamber, he realized it would be easy to jam it so the chamber never actually locked.

Not knowing how much time he had left, he crossed the lab to grab some tools. Putting on goggles, and a welder's apron, Crackle turned on a welding torch and got to work destroying the latch and locking mechanism. Several of the sparks burned his neck and face, and he grimaced from the pain, but persisted until the metal of the latch was melted. He used several tools to smooth the liquid metal, and knew the door would never lock again. Making sure his work was neat so it wouldn't be noticed, he finished just as the lights turned on. Letting out a curse, he ran to put his tools back where he'd found them. He then ran for Dr. Bellum's desk and reached for the drawer. It was locked and so he grabbed a few tiny screwdrivers and quickly picked the lock as fast as he could. The desk drawer popped open, and Crackle grabbed his com, and closed the drawer, not sure when Bellum would return.

Grabbing one last drink from the sink, he then went back into the isolation chamber and closed the door. Using the light from the com, he found an exposed pipe inside the chamber and hid the com behind it. Breathing heavily from both fear and exertion, Crackle sat down on the cold metal floor and simply waited. The chamber had two way speakers and he couldn't chance making a call until he was sure Dr. Bellum wouldn't overhear him.

Bellum must not have realized the chamber had opened, because Crackle remained in the chamber for the rest of the night before she finally spoke to him over the com.

"Crackle, I am going to allow you to come out now," she told him, "I think you've been properly punished."

"Yes, Dr. Bellum," he said reflexively.

When the door opened, the light seemed to stab into his eyes, and Crackle raised his hands until he adjusted.

"Come, come!" Bellum scolded, "Hurry up!"

Crackle got up from where he sat and left the chamber, trying his best to keep his expression completely neutral. He felt extreme hatred for the doctor, and he wished he could leave her to rot in the isolation chamber. Knowing it would be suicide to attack any of the faculty, Crackle simply kept his face blank as he stood before her.

"I have another test, but I need to wait a week for the supplies to come in," Bellum explained to him, "I figured I might as well get some use out of you while we're waiting."

"Of course, doctor," Crackle replied, "What can I do to help you?"

"The men who were switching the facility to the new powergrid have not done it properly and the lights keep flickering. I want you to personally repair their shoddy work, and get the building back in working order."

Crackle nodded, knowing the basement would be a place he could potentially escape her ever-watchful gaze.

"Get dressed," Bellum ordered, pointing to a new stealthsuit waiting for him, "Once you are dressed, you have permission to go to the cafeteria."

Crackle gave her another nod and reached for his clothes. "I won't disappoint you, Dr. Bellum."

Bellum frowned at him, getting an odd feeling about him. He hadn't said anything unusual, but there was something lurking deep in his eyes that she didn't like. This would require a bit of investigation, and she would keep a close eye on him.

"You are still on probation," she informed him, "I will be watching you on the cameras, and so don't make any mistakes. Failure will be dealt with severely."

"Yes, Dr. Bellum," Crackle replied, knowing he had to be careful.

Once he was dressed, Crackle headed for the door, knowing he had to come up with a plan to save his team. He had no way of knowing when Bellum planned on killing him, and so if he dragged out the repairs on the powergrid, it would buy him a bit of time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The scar reducer hadn't been for Cleo, it had been for Dash. Cleo was tired of waiting for his surgery scar to heal, and she made him stand there as she lasered the wound. She of course didn't start at level one as directed and instead started at the highest setting wanting him healed as quickly as possible. The laser felt like it was tearing his wound open all over again, but Dash remained perfectly still, simply gritting his teeth against the pain. By the time she was done, he was visibly shaking from the pain, but he didn't dare make any complaints.

Dash glanced down at his side once she was done, and saw the skin was red and sore-looking, but the scar was completely gone. Cleo frowned at her work critically, but then gave a nod, seemingly satisfied.

"There, that hideous scar is finally gone," Cleo commented, "Make certain nothing like this happens again, Dash."

"I believe you can only get your appendix removed once, countess," Dash replied.

Cleo narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't get lippy with me, Dash, or I will assign you to work with Coach Brunt for the rest of the day."

Dash grimaced at the thought. Brunt had a habit of making him hold her sweaty workout towel and go for runs with her, and it was horrible. Dash hated the smell of sweat, and Brunt's gym reeked of it. The only positive thing about being assigned to Brunt for the day was that she fed him. Brunt didn't care what he ate, and actually encouraged him to snack throughout the day. Just the thought of food was torturous, and Dash wished this month would end.

Dash found his every thought was about food, and he even dreamed about it at night. He'd never been more hungry in his entire life, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could last. Cleo was probably hoping he'd give in and gorge so she could scold him for it, but Dash was stubborn and he refused. He was now thin enough that his every movement hurt, and finally Cleo stopped making comments about his weight. It was during the third week that Dash fainted while working on his newest design. When he awoke, he found Sterling had dragged him onto the nearby couch, the other man clearly concerned. Dash wasn't expecting this, and when Sterling had tried offering him food, he had refused. Certain it was a trick of some sort, he had snapped at the other man that he was fine and returned to work without so much as a thank you. For the rest of that day, he could feel Sterling's eyes on him, but Dash made no mention of it.

The sabotage stopped after that, and Dash wondered if perhaps Sterling did it out of pity, or whether he had finally given up on beating him. When Dash had finished his dress design, he headed for the stairs to deliver it to Cleo, feeling tired and somewhat dizzy. Worried he was going to fall, he gripped the railing tightly and took the stairs slowly, and he had to stop several times to rest, his legs feeling weak underneath him. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he took a seat on the bottom step to rest for a few moments, and he looked up as Roundabout passed him by.

Roundabout then paused and glanced back at him.

"Good evening, Dash Haber," he greeted, "That's a lovely dress you have there."

Dash glanced at the emerald green gown in his arms, not even able to feel any pride for his work. "Thank you, Sir," he replied politely, "What brings you to the island? You don't normally visit us in person."

Roundabout gave him an easy shrug. "I came to look through a bit of physical paperwork from before I was head faculty. Most paperwork is uploaded digitally, but there's still much that I haven't gone through yet."

Dash gave him a nod, too exhausted to put much thought into that. Roundabout stared at him for a few moments, and then gave him a thoughtful look.

"I've been meaning to have a chat with you, but I just haven't found the time. Is it alright if we speak for a few minutes right now?"

Dash didn't think he could get up even if he wanted to, and so he nodded.

"Very good," Roundabout replied.

To Dash's complete surprise, Roundabout took a seat on the step next to him. Roundabout adjusted his glasses, and then let out a sigh like he was glad to sit down for a moment.

"Do you remember how I asked you to keep me informed of anything that happened with Team Crackle?" he asked.

Dash gave a nod.

"I just wanted to have a follow-up conversation about that," Roundabout explained, "Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?"

Dash shook his head. "No, not really."

"I'm new to the faculty, and so I don't know everything the others have been getting up to," Roundabout admitted, "I want to make sure V.I.L.E is as great as it could be. I want you to know that you can trust me if you've noticed anything unusual about your mission or your former teammates."

"I'm still skeptical whether or not Neal is human, but other than that, there hasn't been anything strange I've noticed."

Roundabout nodded, and adjusted his grip on his cane. "Have you heard anything mentioned about Dr. Vess or Russia?"

Dash's eyes widened and he stiffened up. Roundabout turned to look at him fully.

"You know something," he stated confidently.

Dash averted his eyes, and mutely shook his head. Roundabout could see the fear on Dash's face, and he knew he must know something he shouldn't.

"What is it?" Roundabout asked eagerly.

"Nothing," Dash replied, his shoulders tensing.

Roundabout gave a glance around to make sure they were alone, and then leaned in a bit closer to him. "Remember that I defended you once, and lied for you," he told him, "I will give you complete immunity for whatever it is you know. I will not tell the other faculty. I was an operative for most of my life and I understand how the faculty can sometimes be. It's not your fault if you learned something you shouldn't, and I won't hold it against you."

Dash glanced at Roundabout out of the corner of his eye, and considered the other man carefully. He didn't know much about Roundabout, but he did know that he'd lied to Crackle for him, and probably covered for him to the faculty. Roundabout seemed genuine, and that worried Dash more than anything. They were villains and they weren't supposed to show their true emotions like that. Was he being tricked?

Dash then let out a deep sigh. He was way too exhausted to deal with this shit. He found he just didn't care anymore, and he turned weary eyes to Roundabout.

"I overheard Bellum and Vess talking about the child experimentation they've been doing in Russia."

This was definitely not what Roundabout was expecting to hear. "What? Child experimentation?!"

Dash nodded. "Vess needed more children since all the others had died. Bellum is going to send him some. There was also something about an operative named Siren who they're keeping guarded 24/7. He apparently knows how to do the experiments but is refusing to help them."

"There's no operative by the name of Siren," Roundabout said with a frown.

Dash gave a shrug and Roundabout's frown deepened. Were the entire faculty aware of this, or was it just Bellum, Maelstrom and Vess? This was definitely something that required further research.

"What else did you hear?" Roundabout asked.

"Vess is getting close to a breakthrough with his experiments which is why he needs more test subjects. His current test subject is too young and he needed older kids around ten years old."

Roundabout gave a slow nod. "Did he mention what the experiments were for?"

Dash shook his head. "He mentioned something about Volkov, and that was it. They didn't talk for very long."

Roundabout gave another nod, wanting to investigate this immediately. "Thank you, Dash Haber. You have my word that I won't repeat any of this to the faculty. If you overhear anything else, come tell me as soon as possible."

Dash didn't answer and Roundabout got back to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. "I'll be in touch," he promised, walking away as fast as he could.

Dash watched him go and then struggled back up to his feet. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he still had to deliver this dress before he could retire for the night. As he walked through the halls in the direction of Cleo's chambers, his steps were slow and he felt like his legs were too heavy to move properly. When he finally arrived, he straightened his clothes, took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Enter," Cleo called, her tone sounding annoyed.

Dash pushed open the large double doors and then approached her, gown in hand.

"You're late as usual, Dash," she scolded with a roll of her eyes, "The gala is tomorrow and you only now finished the dress. For your sake, it had better be perfect."

"My apologies, countess," Dash replied, holding the dress out towards her.

As Cleo inspected the dress, Dash saw the way her eyes lit up, and he knew she loved it. She looked it all over, and ran a hand along the soft silk, green being her favourite colour. Dash had worked incredibly hard on it, and despite the short deadline, he had finished it in time.

Cleo then turned away, nose in the air. "It is...acceptable," she commented, "You may place it over there next to my mirrors."

Dash did as he was told, and carefully hung the dress on one of the hooks near Cleo's biggest mirror. He then turned back to Cleo hoping he could now finally go to bed.

"Is that all, countess?" he asked.

Cleo seemed to think for a moment and then waved him off. "Yes, yes, you may retire now," she told him, "Do not be late tomorrow."

Dash gave her a nod, and he eagerly headed for the door. Just as he was turning the doorknob, Cleo called after him.

"You will be judged heavily at the gala, and so I suggest you be careful."

Cleo was planning a breakfast gala for the next day, and both Sterling and Dash were to stand by her side the entire time. They were going to be made to wear matching suits in colours that would compliment Cleo's dress, and she had already informed them multiple times they would be judged harshly during the gala.

This was nothing new to Dash, but it had been obvious to him that Sterling was nervous, this being his first gala. Cleo had given no direction on what they were supposed to do beyond stand there and look pretty, and this was clearly worrying Sterling. He'd been fretting about it for the past two days, and Dash almost felt sorry for him. Cleo was testing them, and Dash had the unfair advantage.

It took Dash a long time to make it back to the stairs of the tower and when he stared up at the seemingly endless stairs above him, he let out a miserable groan. As he began trudging his way up the 200 stairs, he had to keep stopping every few steps, just wanting to sit down and never move again. He made it about halfway up and couldn't walk any more, sinking down to sit in pure exhaustion. Leaning against the cold wall of the tower, he felt his eyes slip closed and he didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

When Dash awoke, it was pitch black and he was still tired and cold. Stretching with a wince, his back gave an audible crack, and he pulled himself back to his feet. Feeling a little better, he began heading up the stairs, just wanting to crawl in his bed and sleep until morning.

As Dash got closer to the top of the stairs, he heard something quite unexpected. There was the most beautiful music coming from the tower, and he felt his curiosity piqued. When he made it to the top of the stairs, he could see a light under Sterling's door, and the music seemed to be coming from within. Wanting to see what the other man was up to, he opened the door a crack and peered in.

Sterling was standing in front of the open window playing a violin. The violent wind that came from over the ocean ripped through his hair dramatically, and Dash stared in awe. Sterling's eyes were closed, and he was playing with a talent and passion so deep that it truly stunned Dash. The music soared around them hypnotically, and Sterling was completely oblivious to his presence.

The air in the room was cold, and Dash shivered, but he never once took his eyes from Sterling.

Dash felt like he recognized the tune Sterling was playing, but he couldn't quite place it. The notes were soft and sweet, and Dash felt drawn in by the music, and for just a moment it made him forget about his terrible month.

Tears were running down Sterling's cheeks as he played, and the despair he felt came out through his music. Sterling was clearly not doing well emotionally, and once again Dash felt a tiny amount of pity for the other man.

Dash quietly stepped into the room, and simply stood there listening in silence. Sterling rocked back and forth as he played, clearly lost in his own little world. As Sterling played the same song over and over, Dash suddenly recognized where he'd heard the music from.

"Is that a song from Fullmetal Alchemist? Bratja?"

There was a horrible screech from the violin as Sterling nearly jumped a mile, and he spun around completely startled. They stared at one another in silence for a moment, and then Sterling hurriedly wiped at his eyes, not wanting Dash to see him cry. He then turned to put the violin back in its case, his whole body tense.

"What are you doing in my room?" he demanded angrily.

"I heard you playing," Dash explained.

"Get out of my room, Dash Haber!" Sterling snapped, once again wiping at his eyes.

Dash hesitated, his gaze on the violin. "You play beautifully," he commented, "You sound like a professional."

Sterling was obviously not used to compliments, and he seemed suspicious and a bit taken aback. He wiped at his eyes once again, and then glared at Dash.

"I just like to play," Sterling responded, his tone a bit spiky, "I've played as long as I can remember."

Dash looked Sterling up and down, and now that the other man was out of makeup and dressed for bed, he could see how terrible he looked. It was obvious the month was taking its toll on Sterling, and he looked tired and sick.

"Are you feeling alright?" Dash questioned with a frown.

"Why would you care?" Sterling snapped, clenching his hands into fists. "Why would always perfect, always favoured Dash give a shite what happens to me? You can sod right off."

Dash rolled his eyes at the aggression, and then he sighed. Letting his mask slip for a moment, he gave Sterling a weary look. Sterling eyed him for a moment and then sat down on his bed, clutching his head, and not saying a word. Dash debated for a moment and then took a seat beside him.

"I really hate you, Dash Haber," Sterling said quietly, "Why did you have to come back? Why did you have to ruin everything?"

"The countess asked for me to return," Dash replied, "I had no choice in the matter."

Sterling glanced over at him with a frown. "You were really an operative for a while?" he asked.

Dash nodded.

"What was it like?"

Dash had no idea how to answer that. What was it like being an operative? He considered his reply carefully.

"It was dirty, painful, and a lot of hard work," Dash answered after a few seconds, "My teammates all annoyed me, we had to share a room, and the enemy was always after us."

"That sounds terrible," Sterling stated with a frown, "No wonder you wanted to return."

"No," Dash corrected, "I loved being an operative, and I would have stayed one if I had the choice."

Sterling simply stared at him in disbelief. "What? Why?"

Dash hadn't really thought about it, but the moment he left Cleo's employ, he had felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No one was judging how well his makeup was applied, no one was criticizing his appearance, and no one was putting constant, smothering pressure on him. His teammates had certainly annoyed him, but they accepted him for who he was and didn't try to change that.

Dash felt a sense of loss as he thought of his team and to his surprise, he realized he missed them. He missed the bickering, he missed the adventure, and he missed being depended on. He trusted his team with his life, and they in turn trusted him with theirs. Dash had never felt more alone since returning to Cleo, and there was a sense of loss within him. For a brief time he had felt important, and now that was gone. He was now nothing but an accessory.

Dash sat in silence for so long that Sterling gave him a light nudge, and Dash looked up.

"I could be myself," Dash finally replied.

Sterling's eyes widened, and he glanced towards the door as if scared someone would overhear them. "You're trying to trick me into something!" he accused, lowering his voice into a hiss, "You're not going to trip me up, I'm going to be perfect for Countess Cleo!"

Dash simply let out a sigh. "Let it go, Sterling, you and I both know she's not going to choose you. She's only doing this to make me miserable."

Sterling lashed out to angrily slap him, but Dash batted his hand away impatiently. Sterling didn't try a second time and simply sagged in defeat. Dash stared at him, and saw himself in the other man. He'd always been so desperate to meet Cleo's approval that any failure was completely devastating. Sterling was a few years younger than him, perhaps twenty-two or so, and Dash had his suspicions that he'd never gone through V.I.L.E training.

"Did you graduate from the academy?" Dash asked.

Sterling shook his head, and got up to stare out the window, his expression exhausted. "I was scouted by Cleo a month ago. I was a model working in London. She offered me ten times the salary I was earning as a model, and I was in a really bad spot and so I accepted."

"You'll be fine when you return to London," Dash assured him, "Working for Cleo isn't for everyone."

Sterling slammed his hands down on the mattress. "No!" he snapped, "It is for me! This is everything I dreamed of, and I refuse to fail!"

Dash raised a brow. "What are you going to do, kill me?"

Sterling gave him the side-eye for a moment, and then heaved a sigh. "No. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't even know what to do at this stupid gala tomorrow."

Dash rolled his eyes. "Look, we both know she's already chosen me, and so I'll offer you a little bit of advice. Always stay at least two steps behind her at the gala, and don't speak to anyone unless they speak to you first. If someone approaches the Countess to hand her something, you accept the item on her behalf. She will then decide if she wants it or not. Appearance is everything at these galas, and so stand properly, and keep your expression pleasant. Never ever leave her side without permission."

Sterling was genuinely surprised. "Why are you telling me this?"

Dash shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted, "I suppose I like the competition?"

"No you don't."

"You're right," Dash agreed, "I don't, but I don't think it's fair what she's doing to you."

Sterling ran a hand through his blond hair, and he gave him a nod. "Thank you," he said, sounding like he meant it.

Both men fell into a miserable sort of silence, both too tired and too worn down to fight anymore. Dash felt the emptiness within him more than ever, and he slowly got to his feet. The emptiness seemed to fill him at this moment, and Dash realized he had missed basic human companionship. He'd been lonely this last month, and he missed his team even more now that he acknowledged it.

"You never tattled on me for trying to ruin your designs," Sterling said a bit hesitantly.

Dash snorted, his expression morphing into a snotty look. "Like any of that childish nonsense is enough to deter me."

"You're not going to tell the Countess about my violin are you?" Sterling asked worriedly, "She told me to burn it the first day I arrived…"

Dash's eyes widened.

"I...I couldn't do it," Sterling admitted, "This violin was my grandfather's, and it means everything to me. Please don't tell her."

Dash glanced to the violin and had a feeling that was Sterling's only source of happiness right now. It would be so easy to crush the man if he reported it, and normally he would have, but for some reason Dash just didn't care anymore.

"I won't say anything," Dash promised, glancing towards the door.

Sterling seemed relieved, and he then offered Dash a smile. "I'm going to wipe the floor with you at this gala," he promised.

Dash scoffed. "For that you'd have to inherit some talent."

It was incredibly late and they had to get up in five hours, and so Dash headed for the door.

"Dash Haber?"

Dash paused with his hand on the doorknob, and glanced back. "What?"

"You can stay if you want…?" Sterling offered, his eyes turning to the nearby bed.

Dash blinked at him, the invitation taking him off-guard. There was a desperation in Sterling's eyes that Dash understood well, the need for some sort of companionship. The cold and empty feeling of loneliness within Dash was almost unbearable, and he found himself nodding, and his hand released the doorknob. Maybe just for one night he wouldn't be alone. He could forget everything just for one night.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Crackle was purposely taking his time repairing the power grid, and he hadn't seen a single opportunity to recover his com. Bellum's cameras tracked his every move, and it was obvious she was suspicious. Knowing he didn't have much time before Paper Star was killed, he tried to think of what he could do.

He had overheard Cleo speaking with Maelstrom about Paper Star, and it seemed that Dokuso wasn't successful in getting anywhere near her. Paper Star had been sold to one of V.I.L.E's enemies, but the name of the organization was never mentioned. These new people tried to ransom Paper Star off, but V.I.L.E had refused. In three days, this group were going to kill Paper Star, and V.I.L.E were going to allow it. The Cleaner's were scheduled to be dispatched in two days, and Crackle knew Paper Star wouldn't stand a chance.

Knowing the plan was questionable at best, he decided he would have to knock out the power in the facility to knock out Bellum's cameras for a while.

He told Bellum that the previous electricians had caused a lot of damage when they had wired the grid wrong and that he would need to disconnect the power for twenty minutes to repair it. Bellum had been annoyed over this since she was in the middle of researching something, but she had given her permission as long as he did it at night when it wouldn't affect too many people. Cleo was planning an extravagant gala for all her rich and powerful friends, and the power needed to be repaired before then.

Crackle assured her this wouldn't be an issue, and Bellum had allowed it. She had still punished him however for the inconvenience, and now Crackle was even more bruised and sore than he was before. He didn't complain however, and simply apologized as was expected and then waited for his opportunity.

That night at two, he disconnected the power to the facility, and then ran for the lab as fast as he could, knowing he couldn't take too long. Luckily Bellum wasn't in the lab, and Crackle opened the isolation chamber and grabbed his com out of its hiding spot. Stuffing it into his pocket, he turned and ran back for the basement, hoping no one noticed he was gone. The basement was quiet and still, and Crackle stepped into the furnace room, knowing the room was pretty much soundproof.

Powering it on, he saw the battery was only at 12% and let out a curse. Calling Neal's number first, and shifted impatiently as it rang and rang. Finally it was answered, but it wasn't Neal who stared back at him. An older man with greying hair stared at the screen with a disapproving frown.

"Neal is asleep," the man informed him, "It's the middle of the night."

"Who are you?" Crackle demanded, "What are you doing with Neal's com?"

"Oh, you're Australian," the man commented, "I'm Neal's brother Adam."

Crackle realized that when Neal had been sent back to New Zealand he must have moved in with his brother.

"I need to speak with Neal," Crackle ordered, "Put him on the phone."

"Call back in the morning," Adam replied impatiently, "It's the middle of the night!"

Crackle cursed when he saw the battery was down to 10%. "It's an emergency! Put him on the bloody phone!"

Adam stared at him for a moment. "Do you work with Neal?"

"Yes, I'm his...boss," Crackle replied, "There's been an emergency and I need to speak with him now!"

"An emergency at the zebra reserve?" Adam asked skeptically.

"Yes! Put him on the phone!"

"My brother has worked for your company for over 14 years, and you clearly depend on him a lot, and so when is he getting a promotion? It's ridiculous that someone as young as you is his boss when he's worked his ass off for over a decade!"

Crackle scowled. "I promise I will look into that, now put him on the phone."

Adam let out a sigh and started walking up a flight of stairs. Crackle caught glimpses of a very nice house, and a moment later, Adam knocked loudly on a bedroom door.

"Hrm?" Neal questioned sleepily from inside.

"Neal, someone is on the phone for you. They say there's an emergency at the zebra reserve!"

Neal was to the door within seconds, a panicked look in his eyes. "You answered my com?!"

"It woke me up," Adam replied, holding the com out, "Tell him to give you a promotion or at least a raise."

Neal snatched the com, a look of fear in his eyes, but when he saw it was Crackle, he visibly relaxed. "Oh, hi Graham," he greeted, "What's up?"

"There's an emergency," Crackle replied, "Go somewhere private now."

Hearing the urgency in the other man's voice, Neal nodded and then headed down the stairs past his brother. He stepped outside onto the porch and closed the door after him.

"Okay, I'm alone," Neal told him, "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I don't have a long time," Crackle said, "My com's battery is about to die. I'm going to need you to contact the others once I've explained everything. I don't have enough battery to make that many calls."

Neal nodded, now even more concerned. "Calm down, wombat. I'm listening, tell me everything."

Crackle hurriedly explained everything he had learned and Neal listened in silence, completely horrified. When Crackle was done, Neal swallowed heavily, for once speechless.

"I know it's a lot to ask of you, Neal, but we need to rescue Paper Star. If we do this, we'll be defecting from V.I.L.E. There will be no coming back from this, and they will likely be coming after our heads. I know you're loyal to V.I.L.E, Neal, and I'll understand if you-"

"I'm booking the flight now to Tokyo," Neal responded, "I can get there in 12 hours. Let's go get our girl!"

Crackle let out a breath of relief. "My battery is about to die. Will you contact Double Trouble, and the Moose Boy and Otterman to let them know what's happening?"

Neal nodded, already heading back into the house.

"I'm going to reach out to Dash when I have the chance," Crackle told him, "Text me after you contact the others."

"Will do, wombat," Neal responded, worry evident in his tone, "Everything will be right as. I'll be in contact."

Neal disconnected the call and looked up to see his brother watching him from the stairs.

"So, what was the emergency?" Adam asked.

"I need to leave immediately," Neal responded, hurrying up the stairs, "There was a huge emergency at work and I may be out of contact for a few days."

"What happened?" Adam asked.

"No time to explain right now, I have a flight to catch," Neal answered, hurrying into his room to toss his belongings into a dufflebag.

"Bye, Adam," Neal said, pretty much running for the door. "I'm borrowing your car!"

"Well, I can drive you-"

Neal was already out the door. Neal began dialing Theodore's number before he'd even gotten into the car, and as he pulled out of the driveway, the call was answered.

Crackle waited impatiently, knowing he had to turn the power back on within just a few minutes. He stared down at his com as the battery sat at 2%, hoping Neal got back to him before it died. The battery went down to 1% and Crackle began fretting, having no idea what he was going to do. He'd have to try to charge the com somehow and that would likely get him caught. Bellum would have him killed, and then likely the rest of his team as well.

The battery icon began to blink as the com began losing power, but suddenly a text appeared on the screen.

'We're all coming. See you in Tokyo.'

The com then went dead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The gala was absolute perfection, and Dash expected no less. The colours of the room were a rich and elegant emerald with silver accents, and he and Sterling were dressed accordingly in silver and emerald suits to match. They stood behind Cleo as she sat at the front of the room, doing her best to look as elegant and as mysterious as she could.

They were standing next to the banquet table, and the smell was driving Dash absolutely crazy. He was beyond starving at this point, and he was eyeing the food as subtly as he could, everything looking good to him. Dash knew this was not something he was going to be able to resist and he found his attention on the bread and pastries.

As Cleo took a few steps forward to speak with someone, Dash reached for a sesame seed bagel only for Cleo to turn on him in an instant, and slap his hand away.

"Do you have any idea how many calories are in a bagel?!" she hissed, "There's over three-hundred calories in just one!"

Dash stared intently at the bagel still wanting it, and Cleo let out an over-exaggerated sigh. "If you must eat something, stick with the vegetable tray."

Sterling didn't hesitate to reach for a handful of vegetables, but Dash still had his eye on that bagel. He wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything before, and he fidgeted, his hand just itching to reach out and take it. Cleo narrowed her eyes at him in warning, but all Dash cared about was that bagel.

"Three-hundred calories is an hour long jog with Coach Brunt, so make up your mind carefully," Cleo informed him.

Dash gulped, and then stepped back to her side away from the table. Cleo gave him a nod of approval, and then turned her attention back to who she was talking to. Dash continued staring at the bagel out of the corner of his eye, a hunger so deeply gnawing at him that it was painful.

Dash's ribs were now sickeningly prominent when he looked in the mirror at night, but it still wasn't enough for her. Nothing was ever enough for her, and Dash closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself. No, it wouldn't do him any good to think like this.

Suddenly he heard an incredibly familiar Australian accent.

"Pardon me, Countess Cleo, but would it be possible to have a few words with Dash?"

Dash looked up and saw Crackle standing in front of Cleo, looking a bit agitated about something. Cleo gave a hard look to Crackle and then rolled her eyes with a sigh.

"If you must," she said, "Don't keep him for long."

Crackle turned his eyes to Dash, and Dash felt glad to finally see a familiar face. Even an upset Crackle was better than Cleo on her best days. Dash offered him a slight smile, and then followed Crackle to the nearby cloakroom, confused but still glad to see him.

Crackle had been locked in the chamber without food or water again, and he knew Bellum was getting ready to execute him. He'd waited until he knew she would be busy and then pushed open the chamber door and escaped. He knew she would notice eventually, but figured he had at least a few hours. There was no turning back now, and he needed to tell Dash everything that was happening.

"Dash, you're looking terrible," Crackle whispered once they were alone, "Are you alright?"

"Everything is fine," Dash assured him.

Crackle looked him up and down slowly, a frown causing his eyes to crinkle in worry. "You've lost so much weight. You really look sick...Are you being starved?"

"Of course not!" Dash defended, "Countess Cleo has standards, and I'm just following my orders."

Worried brown eyes looked up at him. "Dash…"

Dash looked at Crackle carefully, and could see signs of bruises and even burns on his face and neck. It seemed Dr. Bellum was holding Crackle personally responsible for their failure to kill Carmen Sandiego.

"What is she doing to you, Graham?" Dash asked softly, his defensive tone slipping into concern.

Crackle hugged his arms to his chest and averted his eyes. "I was being re-trained," he explained, "Dr. Bellum believes I wasn't punished often enough the first time, and that was the cause of our failure."

Dash glared towards the door, hating Dr. Bellum in that instant. "Graham, it wasn't your fault."

Crackle tensed at those words and mutely shook his head, Bellum's constant lectures still echoing in his mind. Dash reached out and placed his hands on Crackle's shoulders.

"It wasn't your fault," he repeated, "You did everything you could."

Crackle looked up and quickly changed the subject. "I came to ask for your help."

Dash frowned. "Help? Help with what?"

"They're going to execute Paper Star."

Dash's eyes widened in shock. "What?!"

"They sent her on a mission to Tokyo, knowing full-well that there's a hit out on her in Japan."

"When?" Dash asked in surprise.

"She arrived in Tokyo weeks ago, and was captured the second she stepped off the plane." Crackle explained. "The people responsible tried to ransom her to V.I.L.E, but the faculty never even bothered responding."

"What?! I thought the faculty liked Paper Star!"

" V.I.L.E refused to pay the ransom because they're angry she killed Maelstrom's assistant. Her captors then auctioned her off to some other group that are enemies to V.I.L.E. They contacted V.I.L.E and gave them a several day deadline to negotiate before they kill her. V.I.L.E are not going to help her."

"Oh my god!" Dash exclaimed, having no idea what to say to any of that.

"There's more," Crackle said, clenching his fists, "You're being tricked."

Dash frowned and crossed his arms. "What are you talking about?"

"Cleo has been pitting you against her newest assistant, but I heard her say she's planning to keep both of you. She's doing this to make you feel indebted to her. She's planning on announcing she chose Sterling just to mess with you. She'll then tell you a few days later that she'll permit you to return if you work to improve yourself. It's all a trick to control you, and make you submissive to her abuse."

Dash clenched his teeth, feeling a white hot fury fill him. He trusted Crackle completely and knew the other man wasn't lying to him. Cleo was manipulating him, and he was livid. He'd been working his ass off all month, and poor Sterling nearly had a nervous breakdown over the abuse. and it was all for nothing. She'd played them, and they'd fallen for it.

"Bellum is planning on killing me," Crackle informed him.

Dash looked up in alarm. "What?!"

"I overheard her tell the other faculty that she was going to euthanize me because I was no longer useful to her. She discovered the brain damage her experiments had caused, and she's going to replace me."

"Are you serious?!" Dash cried out, glancing towards the door. "You've been nothing but loyal to her!"

"She wants something with lower intelligence, and she's going to take Henrik. She's going to experiment on him in the same way she did with me, and everyone will be told he's dead. She's going to banish Sven to Russia so that he never finds out what happened to his partner."

"Have...have you told them?" Dash asked, "What are they going to do?"

"They know," Crackle replied, "I'm going to help them."

Dash nodded. "But what about you, Graham? When is she planning on killing you?"

"Right now," Crackle answered, "She has begun starving me and she's going to feed me poison once I'm hungry enough. I escaped out of the isolation chamber she was keeping me in."

Dash stared at him in horror. An isolation chamber?! Starvation? Poison?

"What are you going to do?" he asked in worry.

"I'm defecting," Crackle told him, meeting his gaze directly.

Dash swallowed heavily and averted his eyes. "I understand," he told him, "What can I do to help?"

"I need your help with Paper Star, Dash," Crackle said plaintively, "I've contacted the others and we're going to get her back. We're leaving V.I.L.E and we're going to rescue her. Paper Star is one of our team, and we can't leave her to die. We'll all fight for her. I want you to join us."

Dash sucked in a sharp breath. Crackle was asking him to abandon his position. He was asking him to defect with the rest of them.

"Graham…"

"The others are going to meet me in Tokyo as soon as possible." Graham then met his eyes directly. "We need you, Dash Haber. Help us save Paper Star."

"Graham, I can't!" Dash protested, "You're seriously asking me to defect from V.I.L.E! They'll kill us all for this!"

"She was one of us, Dash. We can't let her die. Join us, and help us get her back. Come back to our team."

Dash shook his head. "Our team doesn't exist anymore, Graham! I'm just a courier, there's nothing I can do!"

Crackle's gaze was firm. "You are not just a courier. You are Dash Haber, the man with perfect aim, the man who can build the most amazing gadgets, the man who is smart and loyal to his team. You are so much more than V.I.L.E realizes, and your talents are being wasted here. No matter what V.I.L.E says, we are all connected, and we are a team."

Dash gulped heavily, a tight feeling in his chest making him uncomfortable. Just those few words of encouragement and praise were enough to make tears come to Dash's eyes, and he turned away before Crackle could see them.

"This is where I belong, Graham," he said sadly. "I'm sorry, but I'm remaining here. I'm not abandoning V.I.L.E. I've worked hard to get where I am."

"She'll die, Dash."

Dash thought of Paper Star, and although she'd never really warmed up to them, she was still part of their team. He then thought of Cleo and everything he had worked for. He had been happy as Cleo's courier, and he was sure he would be again. He just had to work harder and he'd someday become happy.

"I'm sorry, Graham," Dash said again, opening the door to leave. "I'm really sorry."

"If you reconsider, we'll be meeting at the Red Sun motel in Tokyo," Graham called after him.

"I won't be changing my mind," Dash said firmly.

Dash squared his shoulders and then walked stiffly back to Cleo, trying to push all thoughts of Paper Star, and the others out of his mind. He resumed his spot behind Cleo, and pointedly ignored the sight of Graham leaving the gala. He saw the sad and almost heartbroken look on the other man's face, but he pretended not to notice.

The more he tried to push everything out of his mind, the more he thought about it. He thought of the twins and their goofy smiles, he thought of Neal's constant teasing, he thought of Graham's awkward but friendly demeanor, he thought of the oddly sweet Otterman and Moose Boy, and lastly he thought of Paper Star. He thought of the sometimes sad look that entered her eyes, and he thought of all the times they had chatted or played cards together. There was more to her than she let on, and he knew she wasn't the monster everyone believed her to be. She was just broken like the rest of them.

Dash clenched his fists. He wanted to be Cleo's assistant again, didn't he? Cleo had been torturing Sterling and himself for a month, and it was all for nothing. She'd been playing mind games with them both, and he'd nearly killed himself to meet her approval. He'd ruined his health for her, and his anxiety had never been worse. Did he truly want to keep living like this? Dash wasn't so certain now, and he glanced over at the buffet table at the bagels. His stomach clenched at the sight of the food, and he felt conflicted.

Is this how he wanted to live? He loved fashion, and he loved high society, but was it actually worth it? Was it worth the pain, starvation and abuse? Dash frowned and subtly shifted his gaze to Cleo. She was a beautiful and extremely talented woman, and dozens of men had fought to be one of the select few she allowed to be her couriers. Dash had always admired her, but being part of Team Crackle showed him an entirely new world. It showed him a world of freedom he could never dream of. Again he glanced towards the bagel. No one in Team Crackle would have cared if he ate a bagel, and they had never once judged his appearance. Team Crackle provided him with a freedom he desperately craved.

Dash glanced again to Cleo and felt nothing but disgust and hatred for the woman in front of him. He'd given her 7 years of his life, and she treated him like he was nothing. The betrayal stung, and he glanced beside him at Sterling. Sterling caught his gaze and offered a smile, clearly incredibly bored with just standing around. Sterling didn't deserve to be treated this way either. The man had tried his best, but it simply wasn't good enough for Cleo. Nothing would ever be good enough. Sterling would end up destroying himself in an attempt to beat him all for the putrid prize of spending more time with Cleo.

Dash could feel his composure beginning to slip, and so he turned to walk away before Cleo noticed the fury on his face.

"Where do you think you're going, Mr. Haber?" Cleo demanded, as he walked away.

"Bathroom," he answered without so much as glancing back at her.

"Dash Haber!" she called after him angrily.

"Bathroom," he called back again.

Dash ignored the scolding words she shot his way and kept walking. Entering the men's bathroom, he gripped one of the sinks and stared into the mirror. His face was thinner, and even his makeup couldn't hide the dark bags under his eyes. Cleo was ruining him. She wouldn't care if he starved to death, and knew this was true. The faculty didn't care about any of the operatives. They were just pawns to be used and disposed of whenever they pleased.

Dash took another breath, and knew there was no escape. He couldn't just quit working for Cleo; she would just refuse to let him go. She wanted him here, and V.I.L.E would never let him return to being an operative. He had no choice in anything, and he was trapped in Cleo's clutches. He couldn't just leave...could he? He hated this, he hated Cleo, and he hated being trapped in this hell.

Dash considered these thoughts carefully. Did he truly mean it? Did he hate his job that much? Dash stared into his own eyes in the mirror and could see the hate reflected back at him. Cleo truly was ruining him.

What could he do though? There was no way to leave Cleo's employ. Even if he did things to displease her, she would just move him to a lesser rank, instead of getting rid of him. She enjoyed having plenty of pretty models around her, and Dash would just be another pretty face in the crowd to her. He meant nothing to her, and she would destroy him completely without an ounce of remorse.

Before he even realized he'd done it, Dash drove his fist into the mirror as hard as he could. Broken glass fell around him in a shower, and Dash stared down at his bleeding fist, still angry enough to lash out again. Even if he wanted to help Crackle, Dash saw no way to escape this hell. All Cleo saw was his beauty, and not the person behind it.

Dash's gaze went down to the glass in the sink, and then he slowly picked up a long, sharp shard of glass. His pretty face was the reason he was trapped here. All Cleo cared about was surrounding herself with as many beautiful things as she could.

Dash stared into the broken mirror, his hand clutching the broken piece of glass tightly. Raising it to his face he touched it to one of his cheeks, knowing that if he was no longer perfect, Cleo would toss him aside without a second glance. One single swipe and he'd be free of her forever. One single swipe and he would never be handsome again. Dash stared at his perfect face, and his hand began to shake. One quick motion is all it would take. He would need to lose his beauty before anyone would ever see his true worth.

He just needed to take a deep breath, close his eyes and it would all be over.

Dash's appearance had always meant everything to him. His whole life, his looks had set him apart from everyone else, and he was used to standing out. Dash stared at his flawless skin and perfectly shaped eyes, and hesitated. Could he really do this to himself? Could he ruin the only thing people seemed to care about? Dash frowned. No. Only Cleo cared what he looked like. Team Crackle saw him for who he was, and they valued and listened to him. They didn't care if his hair or makeup were perfect; they only cared about him as a person.

He missed them; he missed his team. He missed the chaos, the fighting, and the excitement of a mission. He missed Steve. He wanted to be free of Cleo's control so he could finally show the world what he was capable of.

Dash pressed the piece of glass a bit harder against his cheek, not hard enough to cut just yet, still trying to get the nerve. One fast slice, and all of his problems would end. He would have to make the cut uneven and as messy as possible so that it would leave a definite scar. Dash stared at his unblemished face, knowing this was the last time he was going to see himself like this. Never again would someone call him handsome.

Closing his eyes he took a deep breath, knowing that he needed to do this. His team was depending on him, and they needed him. Paper Star would die if he didn't get to them as soon as possible.

Dash took another deep breath, and his hands began to shake even worse, and then the glass fell to the floor and shattered. Dash fell to his knees and clutched at his head, tears coming to his eyes. He was a coward, and he couldn't do it. He couldn't maim himself. He was a vain, and useless coward. He slammed his hand to the floor, not even noticing that he left a smear of blood behind.

It was then that the door opened and Sterling walked in. He stared at the scene that met him and his eyes widened.

"The Countess sent me to see why you were taking so long…" he said hesitantly.

Dash stared down at the shard of glass and said nothing. Sterling slowly approached and knelt down in front of him.

"You're not doing anything stupid in here, are you?" he demanded, kicking the glass away from Dash.

"That remains to be seen," Dash responded, still not moving.

"You need to pull yourself together," Sterling said, glancing towards the door. "Cleo will blame the both of us for this!"

Dash clenched his hands and felt the tears escape him. Sterling set a gentle hand on his arm, his grey eyes showing genuine concern.

"Hey come on, it's going to be okay. Just take a few deep breaths and let's get back out there, okay? Don't let her get to you. You're stronger than this, Dash Haber, and I know you'll be fine."

"I can't do this anymore," Dash admitted.

Sterling shook his head, and sat down on the floor beside him. "You're wrong," he told him softly, "I've seen how strong you are, Dash, and I know you can pull through this."

"I don't want to pull through this," Dash responded, wiping at his eyes.

"Suicide isn't the answer," Sterling said firmly, "Things will get better, I promise."

"I'm not going to commit suicide!" Dash snapped out at him.

Sterling hesitated. "You...you're not? Then what are you talking about?"

Dash took a deep breath and looked at the man in front of him. Sterling was handsome and talented, and Dash knew he would do the job of executive assistant well. "How would you like to win this little competition of Cleo's?" he asked.

Sterling blinked, his expression instantly puzzled. "What? What are you talking about?"

Dash met his eyes fiercely. "Do you want to be Cleo's executive courier? I'm stepping down, and going back to being an operative."

Sterling cocked his head, but he was clearly intrigued. "I'm willing to help you if that's what you want. I'm listening."

Dash gave him a soft smile. "This is what I need you to do-"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Bellum still had no idea he was wandering around the facility right now, and Crackle knew this was the moment he needed to leave. With all of Cleo's guests for the gala, planes and helicopters were landing and taking off constantly, and Crackle knew he'd be able to escape. He had his Crackle Rod tucked into his belt, and he ran along the hallways, ignoring everyone he passed.

Exiting the compound, he squinted against the bright sun, and he took a deep breath of the fresh air as he ran. The airstrip was located just off the beach, and he headed for it, seeing dozens of planes parked and ready to be stolen.

He could see the Cleaners directing guests on where to go, and he kept them in his sights as he snuck along. He saw a large private jet on the runway and a very fancy lady was getting on board. Giving a quick glance to the Cleaners, Crackle ran for the jet, and climbed on board after the woman.

"Excuse me!" the woman said, looking Crackle up and down in disgust, "What are you doing on my plane?"

"Just doing one last maintenance check, ma'am," Crackle replied, pulling the airstairs up and closing the door.

"Why are you closing the door?" the woman demanded, "You are disgustingly filthy and I don't want you on my plane!"

"Just checking to make sure the door's seal is tight," Crackle answered, ignoring her rude comments.

Crackle glanced out the windows and it appeared that no one had noticed what he had done.

"Is the pilot on board yet?" Crackle demanded.

"Yes, of course he is, you moron!" the woman answered, "I am going to put in a complaint about you and have you fired! I'm royalty, and you did not have my permission to board!"

Crackle glanced at the woman and noted the expensive clothes and fancy jewelry and knew the woman probably wasn't lying. Due to the secret nature of V.I.L.E, only certain people were allowed to know its location, and so the woman had been brought alone for the gala.

"Why did you leave the gala early?" Crackle asked, hoping their departure wouldn't attract attention.

"The Countess Cleo dared ignore me when I approached her! She spoke with her assistant in the middle of our conversation, and then had the nerve to continue speaking to me as if nothing happened. I will not tolerate this disrespect! I am leaving and I will not be coming to another one of these tacky little galas!"

Crackle nodded, knowing that no one would be missing this woman anytime soon. Pulling out his crackle rod, he shocked her as she let out a scream of surprise. He watched the woman drop to the floor unconscious and then he headed for the pilot.

"What was that?" the pilot asked when he entered the cockpit. "Are you part of the maintenance staff?"

Crackle placed the crackle rod against the man's head. "You are going to take off and pretend there's nothing wrong or I will electrocute you. Say nothing to V.I.L.E's air traffic control, and pretend everything is fine."

The Pilot stared up at him in surprise, and then mutely nodded. Ducking behind the pilot's seat, Crackle kept the crackle rod pressed to the man's ribs as the ignition was turned on. The pilot spoke normally with air traffic control, and then they waited for permission to take off. The pilot was sweating bullets, and Crackle hoped the Cleaners wouldn't decide to search the plane. Crackle waited in silence for nearly ten minutes until they were given the okay to take off. As the plane began to move, Crackle remained tense until they were in the air. When they were finally clear of V.I.L.E's airspace, he relaxed and let out a breath of relief. He'd actually managed to escape. He was a free man.

"Are you going to kill me?" the pilot asked worriedly, glancing over his shoulder at him.

"Not if you do everything I say." Crackle promised, "I don't want to hurt anyone."

The Pilot gave a slow nod. "Wh-where do you want to go?"

"Tokyo."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Countess!" Sterling bellowed, drawing everyone's attention to him as he burst out of the bathroom.

The crowds began murmuring as Sterling ran across the ballroom, his hair mussed, and blood on his sleeves.

Cleo's cheeks coloured at the way he was acting in front of her guests. "You will lower your voice and speak in a civilized manner!" she scolded angrily, "How dare you behave in this manner!"

"But Countess!"

"Hush!" she snapped, "Where is Dash Haber?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you!" Sterling exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "Someone attacked him in the bathroom! There's blood everywhere!"

Cleo let out a sigh. "Oh?" she questioned.

Sterling nodded. "He's hurt really badly, and I think he needs a hospital!"

Cleo rolled her eyes. "Leave it to Dash Haber to get beaten up the second he's out of my sight. Honestly, why I tolerate him is beyond me."

"Countess, someone sliced his face up! He looks like a monster!"

This caused Cleo to stop short and look up in alarm. "What?!"

"Someone gouged his face with a knife! His entire face is messed up!"

Cleo glanced to the bathroom in alarm just as Dash came out. Blood covered his suit and he had a hand clapped to his face as he staggered across the ballroom. The entire ballroom went dead silent at the sight of him, and Cleo's eyes widened in absolute horror at the spectacle he was making. Once Dash stood in front of her, he removed his hand from his face, and Cleo gasped in absolute disgust. A horrific gash covered most of Dash's face, and several guests screamed at the sight of him.

Dash said nothing, and simply stood there for a few seconds staring straight at Cleo, expression unreadable.

"Dash Haber!" Cleo exclaimed in horror, "Look at your face! You're hideous!"

Dash raised a hand to his face, and still seemed a little off. "Apologies, Countess," he replied.

Then, without another word, he turned towards the buffet table, grabbed a sesame seed bagel, carefully sliced it in half, and then slathered it in a thick layer of cream cheese. Blood was dripping everywhere as he did so, and the once perfect buffet table now looked like it was out of a horror show. Dash then turned, and while maintaining direct eye contact with Cleo, he took a large bite out of the bagel.

Cleo gaped at him, unable to react right away, and Dash then turned to leave the room, taking the bagel with him.

Cleo stared after him in disgust and horror, and finally found her voice.

"You are fired, Dash Haber! Get your disgusting face out of my sight! Leave and don't you dare ever return! Out! Out!"

Dash said nothing and simply pushed through the doors to leave. Munching on the bagel as he walked, he felt a deep sense of accomplishment, and was proud of himself. He owed Sterling big time for being willing to help him, and Dash knew he'd someday repay the favour. Heading up the tower stairs to his private quarters, he entered the bathroom, and then turned on the sink. Splashing water on his face, he peeled the wax, makeup and fake blood off his face and began cleaning himself up.

Sterling was truly talented at makeup, and he knew everyone had been fooled. No one had even noticed when Sterling had run to get the supplies to help him, and he doubted they'd look into this any closer. Cleo would not be asking for Dash's return ever again. He really owed Sterling, and hoped the other man survived being Cleo's assistant.

Dash smiled at his flawless reflection, and then turned to go pack his belongings. He had a plane to catch to Tokyo.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

TBC

The next chapter is also going to be ALL Team Crackle.

I'm going to do my best to get the new chapter out in two weeks by the May 30th at the absolute latest.