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?

42. Not All Things Can Be Fixed

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The Broken Silence

Chapter 42

Not all things can be fixed

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Vess was lightly dozing to the sound of Michael's voice, not really caring about the movie that was playing. Michael was telling him everything he knew about dinosaurs, almost all of which was incorrect, but Vess didn't bother correcting him. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine starting, and knew he was probably over-tired. Vess barely slept due to the nature of his recent work, and it had been over a week since he had slept more than a couple hours at a time. Although he was furious over the work he had lost, he knew there was nothing he could do about it now, and decided to just catch up on some sleep, and worry about his work later.

"Are you sleeping?" Michael suddenly demanded in an offended tone of voice.

"No," Vess replied without opening his eyes, "I'm listening."

Vess felt Michael shift beside him and a moment later a weight settled on one of his legs. Cracking open an eye, he looked down at Michael who had laid his head on his lap, and Vess winced at the pain in his head. Closing his eyes again, he reached down and absentmindedly ran his fingers through Michael's hair like one would a pet.

Michael continued talking about various dinosaur-related things as Vess went back to dozing, and when he actually fell asleep, he began to snore loudly from the odd position he was laying in. Michael glanced up at him, rolled his eyes and decided to just let him sleep. Slowly and quietly getting up, he turned off the movie, and then left the apartment, hungry and intending on visiting the cafeteria.

It was the pain that woke Vess a couple hours later, and he grimaced as he raised a hand to his head. When he opened his eyes, the light was absolute agony, and he let out a curse. Vess was no stranger to migraines, and so he closed his eyes and then slowly sat up, his whole body stiff from laying in an awkward way. Getting to his feet, he felt every step inside his skull as he made his way to the kitchen to look for some painkillers. Grabbing a couple Aspirin, he chewed them so they'd work faster, and then leaned against the counter, hoping they would help quickly.

"Oh, you're awake!"

Vess winced, and cupped a hand to his head once again. "Shh!" he scolded.

"Headache?" Michael guessed, approaching from his left.

"Shh!" Vess scolded again, every sound seeming to pierce his skull like a pickaxe.

Michael picked up the bottle of Aspirin to see what it was, and even that small sound was enough to make Vess feel like he was going to vomit from the pain. Without a word, he reached out and snatched the rattly bottle away from Michael and set it aside.

"Weed would work better, you know," Michael commented, "If you want I can go-"

"No," Vess responded firmly, "What I need you to do is just be quiet until these painkillers start to work."

Michael paused. "Want me to help you to bed?"

"No," Vess answered impatiently, "I'll be fine in a few minutes. Go away."

"I'm gonna go get you a joint just in case," Michael announced, leaving the kitchen.

Vess could feel the Aspirin taking the edge off his migraine and he slowly opened his eyes, knowing he would likely take it easy for the rest of the night. Vess then remembered that he still had to change Siren's bandages and let out a curse. Why was Siren always, at all times, such an inconvenience?! It's like the man was placed on Earth simply to annoy him. Rubbing his throbbing head, he knew the faster he got this over with, the faster he could just go to bed and turn off his com for the night.

Walking slowly and carefully towards the door, Vess left the apartment and began the walk to the medical wing, hoping he wouldn't encounter anything too loud on the way. Holding his arm to his face as he sneezed, he winced at the painful pressure this caused, and wondered if the smoke from earlier had given him a sinus infection. If he ended up with a painful sinus infection, he was going to blame Michael entirely for it.

When Vess made it to the infirmary, he was relieved when he saw Siren was asleep, and hoped he'd stay that way so he wouldn't have to talk to him. He gave a curt nod to Terry, and then approached a nearby cabinet to get new bandages and antiseptic cream. Being as quiet as he could, he carefully pulled the blankets off of Siren and lifted his shirt so he could remove his bandages. Siren was an incredibly heavy sleeper, and Vess was able to remove the old bandages without waking him. When he put on the antiseptic cream however, it stung and Siren shifted in his sleep, making a small groan of complaint.

Vess ignored it and continued what he was doing and Siren squirmed away from his touch.

"Stop that," Vess scolded, "Stay still."

Siren didn't reply and Vess glanced over to Terry. "Did he give the nurse a hard time about the feeding tube?" he demanded.

Terry gave Vess a flat look. "He's Siren, of course he gave her a hard time," he replied, "He didn't kick her though if that's what you were asking."

Vess made a noise of disapproval in the back of his throat but knew that was likely as cooperative as Siren was willing to be.

"Has he complained of any pain?"

Terry set aside his book. "Not from his injuries, but I think suddenly being forced to eat is upsetting his stomach. He's been whining about belly pains all afternoon."

Vess wasn't concerned. "He'll soon adjust to that."

Vess removed another bandage, but when he began cleaning the wound underneath, Siren finally woke.

"Stop," he complained, not opening his eyes.

"I'm almost done," Vess replied, impatiently, "Don't move."

Vess suddenly sneezed, and then again, and then for a third time, feeling his eyes begin to water as his sinuses burned. He was now certain this was a sinus issue.

Siren cracked open an eye and looked up at him and then his eyes widened and he stared at Vess with an alarmed expression on his face.

"What?" Vess demanded in confusion, "Did I hurt you?"

"Um…" Siren replied, staring at Vess in an incredibly odd way.

"What?" Vess demanded again, getting impatient, "What's your problem?"

"Er...Numa?"

"What?"

"Your eyes are bleeding."

Vess hurriedly straightened up and crossed the room towards the nearby mirror on the wall. When he stared at his reflection, Vess' eyes widened. He was bleeding from his tear ducts painlessly, the blood dripping down his cheeks. Vess froze in place and as he stared, his nose began to bleed as well.

"Numa?" Siren called over, "What happened?"

Vess didn't answer, his migraine coming back full force like a sledgehammer. His vision suddenly blurred and then doubled, and Vess raised a hand to his head. He felt a brief moment of agonizing pain in his skull, and then he fell unconscious, hitting the floor hard. Terry immediately rushed over to check on him and rolled him over onto his back.

"Dr. Vess?" Terry said loudly, "Can you hear me?"

Vess didn't react.

Siren pushed himself up to his elbows and stared down at Vess with wide eyes.

"Oh, shit…did Vess just die?!"

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Mikhael leaned heavily on his cane and tightly clutched a gun in his other hand. He yelled something in Russian towards Viktor who nodded and ran for Mime Bomb and Annika. Holding out a hand towards Annika first, Viktor helped her stand, and then he turned to Mime Bomb.

"Come, Yuri," he ordered, "I'm taking you to the safe room."

Mime Bomb shook and head and started to sign, but the other man simply reached out and took by the wrist and then ran for the door at the back of the room. Mime Bomb struggled and fought to pull away but Viktor's response to that was to toss Mime Bomb over his shoulder without even slowing down. Annika looked surprisingly calm during all this and Mime Bomb stared at her, wondering how many times something like this had happened to her.

Viktor ran down flight after flight of stairs until they were met with the sight of a thick metal door with a fingerprint reader beside it. Annika stepped forward, laid her hand against the pad and the door popped open. The three of them entered the room and only after the door was closed, was Mime Bomb finally set down. The safe room was fully furnished and comfortable looking, and Annika took a seat on one of the sofas to catch her breath.

Mime Bomb pushed Viktor's hands away from him, gave a furious stomp and then pointed to the door, clearly wanting to leave. Viktor immediately shook his head.

"You will remain here where it's safe, Yuri," Viktor responded, "You're the future of Volkov, and you must live above everyone else here."

Mime Bomb shook his head and then signed, explaining the intruders were his team. Viktor frowned at him and seemed uncertain.

"Impossible, how could they have found you?"

When Mime Bomb told him about the ear-com, Viktor actually looked embarrassed and shot a look towards Annika as if he thought he was going to get the blame for this. Viktor began speaking in Russian to Annika, and Mime Bomb glanced towards the door. Whereas the outside of the door had a fingerprint reader, the inside was a simple handle and looked like it could be easily opened.

While Viktor's attention was away from him, Mime Bomb opened the door and ran for it, ignoring the yells from behind him. Every person he ran past was armed and obviously assigned to protect the corridors leading to the safe room. When the guards saw Mime Bomb run past, they stared in surprise and called after him, but he ignored them.

Suddenly there were the sounds of gunfire from outside, and Mime Bomb hoped he wasn't too late. Holding a hand to his transplant scar, he forced himself to run faster, not noticing as his breathing became strained, the exertion too much. He reached a door leading outside and he threw it open, seeing dozens of armed men taking aim at Team Red. His team were fighting back and there were already several unconscious guards on the ground.

Le Chevre, El Topo and Tigress were holding their own, but Mime Bomb's gaze immediately went to Zack who was simply running and dodging the gunfire. When Mime Bomb ran out into the middle of the fight, the Volkov men immediately ceased fire in fear they would accidentally hit him. Mime Bomb ran past them all, heading straight for Team Red.

"YURA!" Mikhael bellowed out in a panic.

Mikhael yelled something in Russian and several men rushed forward to seize Mime Bomb who dodged their hands and kept running. He ran straight for Zack who looked up at him in shock, not expecting to see him.

"Mime Bomb! Watch out!" Zack cried, certain he was about to see the other boy shot.

Mime Bomb reached Zack and threw his arms around him in a hug, putting his own body between Zack and Volkov.

"Yuri?" Mikhael questioned in shock, "Do you know these people?"

Mime Bomb nodded, and made sure he was still fully shielding Zack.

Mikhael frowned at Team Red, and then yelled out an order in Russian. The men all lowered their weapons, and Team Red glanced around uncertainly.

"Yuri, who are these people?" Mikhael demanded, stepping out from his cover to approach his grandson. He still kept his gun at the ready, and clearly didn't trust them.

Mime Bomb released Zack and turned to face Mikhael, still keeping himself in front of Zack just in case. He signed one word and Mikhael frowned, not understanding.

"Family," Zack translated, "We're his family."

Mikhael glanced around at the very mismatched group of people, and he seemed skeptical. "You're Yuri's adoptive family?" he questioned.

Zack nodded without hesitation. "I'm his brother," he confirmed, "We came to rescue him."

Mikhael narrowed his eyes, clearly not believing it, and he looked from Zack to his grandson as if trying to come to a decision.

"Did you contact them, Yura?" he demanded.

Mime Bomb hesitated and then nodded. Mikhael leaned heavily on his cane, and then turned away. "All of you are to come inside," he ordered, "We will settle this matter civilly."

Chase approached Mime Bomb, gave him a quick lookover, and then leaned in beside his ear.

"Are you in danger?" he asked.

Mime Bomb didn't believe the Volkovs meant him any harm, but the same couldn't be said for Team Red. He responded with a shrug, and Chase gave him a nod of understanding.

"We'll be vigilant," he promised, "Is Player still with you?"

Mime Bomb pointed towards the house as the others gathered in a circle around him. Julia reached out and placed an ear-com into his hand and Mime Bomb immediately put it in, now able to hear Carmen and Ivy.

"What's happening?" Carmen demanded, "Are you guys alright?"

"Zack, I heard gunfire!" Ivy cried out, "Are you okay?!"

"We have Mime Bomb," Zack confirmed, "He's okay, and I think these guys aren't going to hurt us. They want us to come inside to talk."

"What?!" Ivy yelped, "No way!"

"This seems like a trap…" Chase agreed, "Who even are these people? Did you find out what they wanted with you?"

Mime Bomb grimaced.

"What?" Zack demanded, "What is it?"

Mime Bomb glanced around at his team and knew this wasn't the time nor the place to explain everything. His gaze shifted over to Chase, knowing this was going to get incredibly ugly once the other man found out.

"Mime Bomb?" Zack questioned.

Mime Bomb reached over and took Zack by the elbow and then motioned towards the house. He knew it would be best to explain once everyone was a little more calm and comfortable.

"You sure we'll be safe?" Zack whispered.

Mime Bomb turned to Mikhael who was watching them with a frown on his face. Mime Bomb honestly didn't trust him, but he didn't think the other man would hurt his friends if he was truly trying to win his loyalty.

Mime Bomb gave Zack a nod, who exchanged a look with the others. Le Chevre hung back as if he were trying to avoid Mime Bomb, but El Topo was nudging him along, a somewhat impatient look on his face.

"Please follow me," Mikhael requested, "You have my word that as long as you behave, you are in no danger here.

"Be very careful," Shadowsan cautioned them, "Always keep at least two ways to escape in mind. Don't trust anyone."

The small group headed inside, escorted by dozens of armed and angry looking guards. They were led through the manor and a few minutes later, Mikhael opened the door, revealing Player. Player was holding a cupcake in one hand, but he froze when the door opened. When he saw Team Red he let out an excited 'whoop' of delight and jumped to his feet, running and throwing himself at Zack.

"Oh, heya there little buddy!" Zack greeted in surprise as he returned the hug, "How have you been?"

"I'm okay," Player assured him, "No one hurt me."

Zack hugged him even tighter. "You're so tiny!" he exclaimed, "Our tiny, itty bitty computer nerd!"

"Oh get off!" Player laughed, pulling away, "I'm not that small! I'm going to get a growth spurt any day now!"

"We have kept our promise and your little friend was not harmed," Mikhael stated, taking a seat on one of the couches. "Please take a seat so we may discuss everything."

Everyone looked to Mime Bomb who gave them a nod, and so the others all awkwardly and hesitantly took a seat on the several couches in the room.

"I am sorry that I had to put your team through so much distress," Mikhael began, "I just wanted to meet my grandson."

"Grandson?!" Tigress yelped.

Mikhael nodded. "Yes, Yuri is my grandson."

Chase stiffened in his seat. "Then you are a Volkov."

Mikhael nodded again. "Yes, I am Mikhael Volkov, head of the Volkov empire."

Chase's eyes hardened, and the rage that crossed his face was startling. "Then you are the one responsible for the murder of my family."

Mikhael looked confused, but before he could say anything, Chase lunged towards the older man and wrapped his hands around his throat.

"You murdered my wife and daughter!"

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Crackle pulled a notepad out of his front pocket and then flipped it open.

"Okay, team, we need to get everything on this list for today," Crackle announced as the van pulled up in front of the store. "We need to concentrate on cleaning up the property and repairing the bathroom. We'll all need work clothes and masks for the dust, and probably gloves and work boots as well."

Dash made a derisive sound in the back of his throat and Crackle turned to look at him.

"Unless you want a broken foot from possible accidents, I suggest you buy the boots."

"How limited is our budget?" Otterman demanded, leaning over in an attempt to see the notebook.

Crackle handed it to him, and Otterman squinted at the pages and then his eyes widened. "Are you serious?! How are we supposed to work with such a small budget?!"

"We'll have to make it work," Crackle responded with a shrug.

"Buying new is out of the question," Otterman said with a frown, "We'll have to get second hand work clothes from a thrift store."

"This just keeps getting better and better…" Dash muttered.

"Tools can be rented," Neal pointed out, "and a lot of flooring and fixtures can be purchased through a demolition store."

"We are not buying a second hand toilet," Dash said firmly, "That's where I draw the line."

"Don't worry, Dashie, I don't think they're allowed to sell second hand toilets."

"This is already hell," Dash commented with a deep sigh.

"No complaining, I'm doing the best I can," Crackle responded, getting out of the van.

Everyone except for Dash got out of the van, who shot Crackle a glare and then held out his hand for the car keys. Crackle frowned at him and then leaned back into the van.

"Aren't you coming?" he questioned.

Dash shook his head. "Did you forget about Steve's vet appointment? I need to be there in less than half an hour. He's getting his needles and neutered today."

Crackle had indeed forgotten. "Oh, right, we're probably going to be quite a long time, so I'll text you when we're done. What size boot do you wear?"

Dash grimaced. "Ten."

"If you finish early, come find us," Crackle instructed, handing over the keys.

"Alright," Dash agreed, intending on taking as long as possible.

Dash switched to the driver's seat and watched as the others headed into the mall. Starting the van, he pulled out and headed back to the hotel to collect Steve. He'd extensively researched the best veterinarian in San Diego and felt confident he'd made the best decision.

When he entered the hotel room, Steve immediately bounded over to him, meowing pitifully, confused over the empty food dish.

"Sorry, Steve, you can't eat until after your operation," Dash said, reaching down to pet the cat on the head, "I'll feed you something extra special this afternoon, I promise."

Steve purred and rubbed against his legs and Dash scooped the cat into his arms and headed for the cat carrier. Steve didn't give him a hard time, but instead began to meow miserably the moment Dash latched the carrier. Steve mournfully yowled the whole walk through the hotel and to the van without pause.

"I'll let you out soon," Dash assured the distressed cat.

Reaching a finger through the bars of the carrier, he petted Steve's chin, and then turned on the ignition. Steve yowled the whole way to the vet, and when Dash lugged the heavy carrier into the office, everyone turned to stare at him.

Setting the carrier down for a moment, he waited in line, not noticing the dog that began sniffing at the carrier curiously. All of a sudden there was a loud hiss, a strangled yelp and the dog leapt away from the carrier in terror, nearly knocking its owner over. The dog whined and pawed at the scratch on its nose, but Dash wasn't sympathetic.

"Keep your dog away from my cat!" Dash snarled, "Serves it right!"

"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked, trying to stop any drama from starting.

"Appointment for Dash at ten?" he said, approaching the counter.

The receptionist nodded and glanced at her screen. "You're looking to have him needled and neutered?" she asked.

Dash nodded.

"And how old is Dash?" she asked him.

Dash raised a brow. "Twenty-six, but I'm assuming you're referring to Steve in which case I have no idea. I adopted him a couple months ago."

"Oh…" the receptionist said with an embarrassed laugh, "I thought you were Steve! I apologize for the mix-up! The operation should only be about forty minutes to an hour. Will you be waiting here?"

Dash shook his head. "No, I'll go get a coffee while I wait. Just give my cell a call once he's done."

The receptionist nodded, and circled the desk to pick up the carrier. Steve was immediately hissing and snarling at the strange lady, but she didn't seem bothered.

"We'll take good care of him!" she assured Dash, "We have your number on file and I'll call you once you can pick him up."

As the receptionist carried Steve to a back room, Dash watched feeling a little uneasy. What if something went wrong during the operation? Was it really necessary to neuter a cat? Was he taking an unnecessary risk? Dash knew that male cats tended to spray once they reached sexual maturity, but so far Steve didn't display any dirty tendencies. Dash thought of all his expensive clothing, and knew everything would have to be thrown away if Steve began spraying.

Dash turned and left, now certain he was making the right choice. Steve would be fine, and all his expensive clothes would be fine.

It was a beautiful day outside and instead of taking the van, Dash decided to just take a walk to find a nearby cafe. Only two blocks away he found a fancy looking cafe and he claimed one of the tables in the front so he could enjoy the day.

A barista spotted him from inside and then came out, orderpad in hand.

"Good morning, Sir! Would you like to see a menu, or do you know what you want?"

Dash looked the barista up and down slowly, determined she looked acceptable, and then glanced down at his com.

"Iced coffee with soy and a croissant."

"Any sweetener?" the girl asked, writing the order on the pad.

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

Once the barista was gone, Dash pulled his ipod out of his pocket and put in his earbuds. Feeling relaxed and content for once, he pulled out his pocket sketchbook and began jotting down ideas for the new base. He couldn't make any real designs until he knew the layout, but he could begin thinking of themes. His coffee and croissant were set down on his table, but he didn't bother acknowledging the barista, too focused on his work.

Dash was rather enjoying his relaxed coffee morning, and when his com began ringing after only twenty minutes, he frowned. When he saw it was the vet, he yanked out his earbuds and hurriedly answered, knowing something had to be wrong.

"Hello?"

"Is this Dash, the owner of Steve?"

"Yes, what's wrong? Is Steve alright?"

The vet hesitated. "I've encountered a problem…"

Dash's heart sank. "What happened?"

"Are you far? Can I get you to come back to the office?"

"I'm on my way," Dash said, hanging up and getting to his feet.

Without even thinking about it, he took off at a run, forgetting that he hadn't paid his bill. He made it back to the vet's within a few minutes, and when he burst into the door out of breath, the secretary simply stared at him.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Vet said there's a problem with Steve and asked me to come back." Dash informed her.

"Ah, yes, head on into exam room two."

Dash walked down the hall and when he opened the door to the exam room, he saw Steve laid out the steel exam table not moving. Dash stared for a long moment, and then hesitantly approached the table. Reaching out and laying his hands on Steve's side, he was relieved when he felt soft and shallow breaths. He barely had time to calm his panic attack, when the door opened and the vet came in.

"What happened?" Dash immediately demanded, "Is Steve going to be alright?"

"I just needed to clarify something…" the vet said, glancing down at the chart he held.

"What?" Dash demanded again.

"You brought this cat in to be neutered?"

Dash nodded. "Yes, was there a problem?"

The vet nodded, and then approached the exam table. "The problem is that Steve is a month pregnant."

Dash's mind froze for a moment as he slowly realized what the vet had just told him. "Pregnant?! Steve is a girl?!"

The vet nodded. "She's about a year old and other than the missing eye and ear, she seems to be in very good condition. I'm assuming she was a stray you took in?"

Dash gave a slow nod.

"The injuries are very old and likely happened when she was a young kitten. Her fur seems to be growing in nicely, and you obviously take very good care of her. Before I proceed with spaying her, I just needed to make sure you were aware of her condition."

Dash hesitated. "If you spay her, then the kittens…"

"Won't be born," the vet confirmed, "Do you want me to proceed?"

Dash felt out of his depth, and wasn't sure what the right choice should be. It seemed like a betrayal to take Steve's kittens away from her, and he hesitated. "How many kittens are there?"

"From the ultrasound it looks like there are two, but it's still a bit early to tell for sure."

Two kittens weren't too many, and he was sure he could find homes for them if there were only two. He had no idea what Crackle would have to say about this, but Dash was ready to fight with him about it. Steve was his cat and he would deal with it. Dash reached out and gently ran a hand over Steve's bulging stomach. It seemed she wasn't as overweight as he'd thought...

"You'll need to bring her back in two weeks for another checkup," the vet told him, already knowing what Dash had decided on, "I've given her all necessary shots and she's been dewormed and flea-treated."

"What do I do? I've never had a cat before, let alone a pregnant cat!"

"Just offer her plenty of food and water, and make sure she remains as stress-free as possible."

Dash thought of his chaotic team and winced. "Well, I can try…"

The vet nodded. "She'll wake up in about twenty minutes, and should be fine. There shouldn't be any complications from the anesthetic."

Dash picked up the nearby carrier and very very carefully maneuvered Steve into it.

"Good luck with Steve," the vet told him, heading back for the door, "Make an appointment at the front desk for the check-up. Call if you have any concerns."

Dash nodded and a moment later he was alone in the room. "I can't believe you're a girl," Dash mused out loud.

Dash had never confirmed Steve's gender after Crackle had named her, just assuming the other man knew what he was talking about. Apparently you couldn't depend on Crackle when he was having on 'off' moment.

"A month pregnant…" Dash said, his eyes widening in realization. Steve had gotten pregnant while Otterman and Moose Boy were caring for her.

"...I'm going to kill them!" he vowed angrily.

Dash scowled and picked up the carrier and stormed out of the room, realizing this meant Otterman and Moose Boy had allowed Steve to free-roam outside despite knowing he wanted her to be an indoor cat. He paid and made the follow-up appointment with barely a word and then headed for the van. As he headed for the mall, he got angrier and angrier the more he thought about it. Steve could have gotten hit by a car, or eaten by a coyote, or captured by a local kill shelter, or kidnapped by a small child. It was a pure miracle those idiots didn't end up losing or killing his cat.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he stopped in front of one of the entrances, and then took out his com.

"Where are you?" he texted.

"Still at Walmart, why?" came Crackle's response, "Are you back already?"

"I'm at entrance F, and I need to speak with OtterMoose. Right. Now."

"Okay, we'll be out in just a few minutes, we're at the check-out."

Dash waited impatiently all while keeping a close eye on Steve. When he saw his team exit the store, he got out of the car and then stormed over, his eyes falling on Otterman first. Without a single word, he hauled off and gave Otterman a hard shove in the chest sending the smaller man sprawling to the ground, gasping in both pain and surprise.

There was an instant roar of rage from Moose Boy and he lashed out with a fist towards Dash, clearly intending on beating him to a pulp. Neither were expecting Neal to suddenly step between them, taking the full force of the punch to the gut, and he doubled over, falling to his knees to the pavement.

Moose Boy hesitated, hand still in the air.

"Dash, what is your problem?" Crackle snarled, stepping between Moose Boy in case the other man took another swing.

"You hit Sven!" Moose Boy yelled, "He's hurt and you hit him!"

"I didn't hit him, I pushed him and he deserved it!"

"I didn't do anything!" Otterman protested, still sitting on the pavement.

"I trusted you to take care of Steve!"

"We took good care of him!" Otterman protested, "We may have accidentally overfed him, but he'll slim down after a while."

"Yeah, in 55-60 days!" Dash snapped.

"What happened?" Neal asked, rubbing at his sore stomach, "Did something happen to Steve? What did the vet say?"

"She's a month pregnant," Dash snapped, glaring at Moose Boy and Otterman.

"Pregnant?!" Roosevelt exclaimed, "How can a boy be pregnant?!"

"They can't," Dash snapped, "Steve is a girl and these two morons let her outside when they were trusted to watch her. They allowed some dirty alleycat to violate Steve, and now she's pregnant!"

"Wait…" Crackle said with an amused smile, "We're going to have kittens?!"

"I'm not letting any of you idiots near my cat or those kittens!" Dash vowed.

"Gee, I'm sorry, Dash," Moose Boy said as he knelt down beside Otterman, "I didn't know she was a girl-cat. She meowed at the door and so I let her out a few times."

Dash crossed his arms and then stormed back towards the van. "I'm taking Steve back to the hotel."

"Wait, I'll put our bags in the back of the van," Crackle told him, opening the hatch, "Come back once you're done because we still have a lot of stuff we need to get."

"You're all idiots," Dash snapped, getting into the van while glaring at everyone.

As he peeled out of the parking lot, the rest of the team watched him go and Neal got back to his feet, still rubbing his aching stomach.

"Whelp, Dashie's going to be fun to work with today…"

"Sorry I hit ya, Neal, you sorta got in the way," Moose Boy said, looking a bit sheepish, "I was trying to hit Dash."

"I know," Neal responded with a frown.

"Alright team, let's get back to shopping!"

Crackle received some less than enthusiastic mutters in return but everyone followed him back into the mall.

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Mime Bomb stared at Chase in shock as he grabbed Mikhael by the throat, and he as well as the rest of Team Red surged forward to pull him off. Chase's grip could not be broken and they fought to pull him off, but it was like a demon had overtaken him. Chase's expression was downright scary and merciless, and Mikhael clawed and fought against him uselessly, already turning blue. Mikhael had left the guards out in the hall, and he was at Chase's mercy.

Chase felt nothing as rage and despair consumed him, his mind clouded by his anguish. He saw and heard nothing around him as he stared straight into Mikhael's startled eyes, waiting to see the light fade from them. Suddenly Julia was in front of his face, her brown eyes filled with terror and pain. She spoke to him in a soft but stern tone of voice, but he didn't hear her words, too focussed on getting his revenge. He flinched when she laid a hand on his cheek and he met her gaze, his mind finally acknowledging her.

"Please," Julia pleaded, "Chase, don't do this. You're not a murderer. I know you, and I know you'll regret it if you kill him."

Chase said nothing.

"You're my best friend, and I know this will destroy you. Don't kill him. Prove you're better than this. Please, Chase, don't do this."

Chase didn't answer, but his hands loosened just enough to allow Mikhael to take a breath. Julia stared straight into his eyes, and didn't remove her hand, her fingers resting directly on the disfiguring scar on his cheek. Her wide and gentle eyes were silently imploring him not to go through with it, and Chase felt his pain crash in on him like a tidal wave.

"You don't know for sure this man had anything to do with your wife's murder," she said softly, "If you kill him, you'll never get the answers you need. Let him go, please just let him go."

Chase felt his breath catch in his throat and he looked down at the old man he had at his mercy. Raw pain made his chest feel tight, and he finally let him go, clapping both hands over his face and falling to his knees in utter defeat. Julia threw her arms around him tightly, and the others helped Mikhael back onto the couch and made sure he was breathing alright. Mikhael coughed and wheezed as he got his breathing under control, and he angrily shoved everyone away except for Mime Bomb. He gave Mime Bomb a reassuring pat on the arm, and then turned his gaze to Chase.

Mikhael's gaze was absolutely furious and he drew his gun, and Mime Bomb quickly stepped between them and shook his head. He placed his hands together in a pleading gesture and mouthed the words 'I'm sorry'.

"Step aside, Yuri," Mikhael ordered, "You've brought enemies of Volkov into my house! He nearly killed me! I cannot let this disrespect go. He's a threat to my family."

When Chase heard that, he let out an odd strangled sound. He was a danger to a family?!

"Was Volkov responsible for the murder of Chase's family?" Julia demanded, tightening her embrace on Chase.

Mikhael stared long and hard at Chase, and recognition crossed his face.

"You do know something!" Julia accused, "Did you kill Yu Yan and Diana?"

A brief look of regret crossed Mikhael's face, but he slowly shook his head. "No. What happened to his wife and daughter was unfortunate but it was not my doing."

"But you know who did it," Julia said with certainty.

"Yuri, step aside," Mikhael ordered.

Mime Bomb didn't budge and he glanced over his shoulder at Chase who still hadn't moved a muscle either. Mime Bomb wanted to learn more about his family, more about Volkov, and more about everything, but he knew he had to make a choice. To him, it was an easy choice. Mime Bomb squared his shoulders and then turned towards Chase and knelt down in front of him. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around him and shot a glare towards Mikhael. While supporting Chase, Mime Bomb helped him back to his feet, making sure to shield him the entire time.

"We leaving?" Zack asked him, shooting a furtive look to Mikhael.

Mime Bomb nodded.

Keeping his body blocking Chase the best he could, he began walking them towards the door. The rest of Team Red followed suit and they backed away from Mikhael, keeping Chase and Player in the center of their group.

Mikhael stared in surprise. "Yuri?" he questioned.

Mime Bomb turned his head to look at him, but he didn't stop backing away towards the door. He gave a shake of his head to Mikhael, and a moment later, they were fleeing through the manor. They were expecting to be shot at any second, but surprisingly enough, no one tried to stop them. The guards watched them pass without a word, and Mime Bomb had a feeling Mikhael had radioed the guards with orders to allow them to leave.

Chase allowed himself to be pulled along, but it was obvious he wasn't doing well. Julia had her arm around him and he simply stared ahead as if in a daze. When they reached the foyer, Sebastian was waiting for them, a disapproving frown on his face. Adjusting his glasses as they approached, he held out a slip of paper towards Mime Bomb who paused to give Sebastian a suspicious look.

"Your grandfather's contact information," Sebastian explained, "He wants you to keep in contact regardless of what you decide to do. You are a Volkov, and you will always have a place here."

Mime Bomb accepted the piece of paper and glanced down at it, seeing a phone number and an email address.

"Please call your grandfather at your earliest convenience, because he has a few things to say to your team," Sebastian stated, stepping back to allow them to pass.

Mime Bomb didn't like the sound of that, and glanced over towards the door and saw Viktor and Annika waiting there.

"Your grandmother insisted on seeing you before you left," Viktor informed him, giving him a disapproving look.

Annika yanked Mime Bomb into a hug, and before he could react, she looped a necklace over his head. Mime Bomb glanced down at it and saw it was a simple gold chain with a small, round medallion attached to it. There was the face of a wolf engraved onto it, and he ran a finger over it curiously. Annika spoke softly to him, and Viktor translated for her.

"This is the mark of Volkov. Wear it and it should afford you with certain protections if you get in a tough spot. No one from Volkov or our allies will harm you or your team. This necklace belonged to your father, and now it's yours."

Mime Bomb stared at the medallion for a long moment and then gave Annika a nod. She pulled him back down and kissed his forehead, and then let him go, looking a bit upset that he was leaving. Mime Bomb continued with his team and as they passed by Viktor, the man reached down and ruffled Player's hair.

"Goodbye little Matteo," he said, "Go home to your parents."

Player nodded, and a few moments later they were out of the manor. There were guards absolutely everywhere outside, but no one tried to stop them, and they knew how easy it would have been for the men to just shoot them dead. Everyone knew very well that it was only because of Mime Bomb that they were even allowed to leave, and they had a feeling Mikhael would have shot them without hesitation. Mikhael's eyes had displayed a callousness and anger that felt downright dangerous, and despite being an old man, it was clear he was still a threat.

The tension was crippling as they made their way past the guards towards the gate. The team made sure to keep Chase and Player protected at all times, and once they made it to where they'd parked their van, they finally relaxed. Zack stepped on the gas, and sped away from the manor, worried they were going to be followed. Le Chevre kept an eye out the back window, but no one seemed to be following them. They drove in complete silence for ten minutes and when nothing out of the ordinary happened, they began relaxing.

Chase sat in silence and ignored anything said to him. Chase fought for the good, he always did what he thought was best, but he had almost murdered an old man. He had no idea if the man was even involved in his family's murder, but he had been fully prepared to kill him anyway. He thought of his beautiful wife, and then of his equally beautiful daughter. It had been four years since the murder, but it still felt like it had happened just days ago. His child was lost forever, but they had managed to rescue Player.

Chase looked up at the young boy, and without a word reached out and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. They had saved Player, and now the boy would get to grow up and live his life. He could live for Diana, and this gave Chase a little bit of hope. One child had died, but another had been saved.

Player was a bit startled, but when he looked up and saw the tears in Chase's eyes, he returned the hug, hoping it would help. Julia had her arm around Chase's shoulders, and she was terrified for her friend. Chase was clearly not okay, and she'd never seen him so erratic before. He needed help, and she would do everything in her power to help him.

Tigress exchanged a look with El Topo and she clearly had a few things to say. She didn't voice them however, and instead remained silent as they headed for the airport. Mime Bomb didn't miss the fact Le Chevre was sitting as far away from him as possible, and had a feeling something had happened. Ivy was holding Mime Bomb's hand, his adoptive sister unbelievably relieved he was safe, but she hadn't yet said anything.

Carmen and Shadowsan had gone silent, and Mime Bomb assumed they didn't want to distract them from their escape. When they finally reached the highway, Ivy reached a hand up to her ear.

"Carm, are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here," Carmen confirmed, "What happened?!"

"Mime Bomb's kidnappers were the Volkovs," Ivy replied, "Chase...didn't react well to that."

"I'm sorry," Chase said lowly, "I've ruined everything."

"Your reaction was understandable," Julia assured him, "You weren't prepared for it, and you lost control for a moment."

"I could have killed an old man," Chase responded.

"But you didn't," Julia said firmly, "You're the strongest person I know, and you always do what you think is right."

"I would have killed him if you hadn't stopped me," Chase admitted, "I don't even know if he was involved in the murder."

"Friends are there to help you when you need it, and today you need us, Chase," Julia told him, "We're going to find out the truth and we're going to help you get justice for your family."

Julia then looked up at Mime Bomb. "Where do you stand on this?" she asked, "What if your grandfather or someone else in your family were responsible for the murders?"

Mime Bomb honestly didn't know, and hadn't thought of this. He hesitated before responding.

"If anyone in my family is responsible, they should be in jail," Player translated, "I'm part of Team Red and nothing will change that."

Julia offered him a smile and reached out and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

"Tell us everything you learned," Chase ordered, suddenly sitting up straight.

Mime Bomb grimaced and again hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Zack demanded, "Did something happen?"

Mime Bomb paused for a long moment as he decided what to say, and then raised his hands to explain a very important piece of information.

"Michael Finnegan Jr.?" Player questioned, "What about him?"

Mime Bomb explained, and Player's eyes widened dramatically.

"Sorry, could you repeat that, I think I misunderstood..."

Mime Bomb repeated his signs and Player shook his head.

"No, this can't be right…"

Zack frowned and studied the signs as Mime Bomb repeated himself for the third time. "Are you saying Michael Finnegan Jr. is your cousin?" Zack asked.

Mime Bomb nodded, and the reactions inside the van were instantaneous.

"What?!" Tigress shrieked in horror.

"How is that possible?!" El Topo demanded, "He's Irish, not Russian!"

"You're joking, right?!" Ivy cried out in horror, "There's no way you're related to that creep!"

Mime Bomb frowned and signed once again.

"He is the illegitimate child of my uncle Dmitry. Dmitry had an affair with MJ's mother many years ago. I have three cousins, one from each aunt and uncle. I don't know who the other two are," Player translated.

"Ugh, I can't believe you share blood with that creep!" Tigress commented, "He's a pathetic little weasel."

"My grandfather is looking for an heir to the Volkov Empire. He wants to retire and has been searching for a suitable replacement."

"That's why he kidnapped you?" Carmen asked.

Mime Bomb nodded and Player responded with a 'yes'.

"He wants me to attend university, train under him and learn about taking over Volkov. He extended the invitation to Zack and Ivy as well. He wants me to be part of the family."

Mime Bomb's expression was conflicted, and Chase stared at him in alarm. "You're not going to join those people, are you?"

"...no," Player translated, "But I would like to learn more about Volkov and find out what it is they do. I want to know what type of people my family are."

"I think we already know if MJ is anything to go by," Tigress commented.

Mime Bomb grimaced, hoping all the Volkovs weren't like him. His uncle Dmitry had been a soft-spoken and gentle man, and he'd liked him a lot when he'd travelled with him. Perhaps Dmitry was still out there somewhere? He had no idea what his aunt was like, but maybe she was someone worth knowing?

Mime Bomb then began signing again.

"There's another thing about Michael Jr…" Player translated.

"What is it?" Carmen demanded, "Do you know where he is? Was he at the manor with your grandparents?"

"He's in Russia with Dr. Vess," Player said, watching Mime Bomb's hands closely, "but that's not what I was going to tell you…"

Everyone could see the uneasiness in the mime's eyes, and they paid close attention, knowing it must be important.

"Michael Finnegan Jr. and Dr. Vess are…" Player trailed off, his eyes going impossibly wide.

"What is it?" Zack demanded, "What did he say?"

Player sputtered in shock and stared at Mime Bomb, hoping he was joking. When Mime Bomb gave him a nod, Player let out a groan.

"What?" Carmen demanded, "Player, what's happening?"

"Michael Finnegan Jr. and Dr. Vess are...in a relationship," Player replied, changing the wording of what Mime Bomb said to be slightly less crass, "They've been dating for years."

There was complete silence in the van for a few beats, and then came Carmen's voice.

"WHAT?!"

---

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

---

Paper Star stared down at the floor as the rest of her team bickered around her. She'd been thinking a lot about what happened in Tokyo, and she honestly wasn't sure what to feel. She felt a slight fondness for her team, a feeling that was threatening to grow into something stronger, and she didn't know how to feel about that. She glanced up as Neal laughed loudly, his large and goofy smile making Crackle roll his eyes.

Reaching up to her short hair, she closed her eyes, trying to push aside the wave of fear she suddenly felt. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stood there silently, willing herself to calm down and get a grip on her emotions. For the first time in a very long time, she didn't want to feel nothing, and now she struggled with the emotions that filled her. It was confusing and frightening, and she had no idea how to handle them.

She felt no motivation to do anything at all, and she still hadn't bought clothes of her own. She was wearing one of Neal's zebra shirts, and she had simply tied it off to fit her. None of the others had commented about this, but she could see the worry that lurked in their eyes. They were clearly trying to give her space, and she appreciated it, but as the days went on, she felt worse and worse.

Paper Star jumped when she suddenly felt a gentle hand on her arm. Looking up, she saw Otterman standing beside her with a concerned expression on his face.

"Are you alright?" he whispered quietly so the others wouldn't hear.

"I'm fine," she responded without conviction.

Otterman frowned at her and then gave a quick glance towards the rest of the team. They were distracted as they fought over tool brands, and so he gently took Paper Star by the arm and stepped an aisle away. Normally Paper Star would have smacked anyone away who dared touch her, but with Otterman it was different. He had almost died trying to save her, and he never once seemed to regret it. Otterman failed in everything he did, but he never gave up, and never stopped trying. She honestly didn't know how he hadn't given up long ago.

"What's wrong?" Otterman asked her quietly, "You've been really depressed since Tokyo. Is it because of what happened to you?"

Paper Star shook her head. "No...yes...maybe."

Otterman nodded in understanding. "You were hurt badly and you thought you were going to die," he stated, "You felt both helpless and hopeless as the pain and terror just got worse and worse."

Paper Star's eyes widened. "How…?"

Otterman gave her a sad smile. "I lived through that every day of my childhood. I never knew what new pains or miseries would find me, and I always felt like I just wanted to die."

Paper Star frowned at him, but said nothing.

"I didn't give in, and I will never give in," he said firmly, "It's hard, and it sometimes feels pointless, but eventually you can push through it."

"Why would you want to?" Paper Star demanded, looking away, "Your life has always sucked."

Otterman couldn't really deny that. "I suppose it's because I'm a stubborn asshole," he responded with a smile, "The harder life gets, the harder I fight back. To me, the good always outweighs the bad."

"How do you figure?" Paper Star retorted, "Did you forget that you just got disembowelled? How many times have you almost died in your lifetime?"

"Countless," Otterman admitted, "Life has always been hard for me, and it's just a fact I've accepted."

Paper Star stared at him long and hard. Someone as weak and pathetic as Otterman should have been miserable, but he still smiled and he still showed compassion for his teammates. Paper Star once again averted her gaze and took a deep breath.

"I am no longer the heiress of the Hinode Empire, and I'm no longer part of V.I.L.E," she stated slowly, "My whole life I've had a purpose, I've had something to work towards, but now I have nothing."

"You first did everything your father wanted and then you did what V.I.L.E wanted," Otterman said with a concerned frown, "But now it's your turn to make the life you want."

"I've done nothing for my own life," Paper Star admitted, "Everything is...overwhelming."

Otterman knew Paper Star had likely never opened up to anyone like this before, and felt like this was a lot of progress.

"Is there anything you've ever wanted to do?" Otterman asked.

"I don't know."

Otterman pushed up his glasses as he thought, and then he glanced towards the rest of the team. "I have an idea," he told her, "I'll be right back."

Paper Star gave him a questioning look.

"Crackle, I'm going a couple aisles over!" Otterman called over to the others.

"I'll come!" Moose Boy immediately said.

"No, you stay here, I'll just be a minute."

Before Moose Boy or anyone else had a chance to respond, Otterman disappeared down another aisle. Paper Star stood where she was, simply listening to the rest of her team without interest, and just five minutes later Otterman was back with a bag.

"This is for you," he told her, holding out the bag.

Frowning a bit suspiciously, Paper Star reached out and took the bag from his hands. Reaching inside, she pulled out a hardcovered book.

"A book?" she questioned in confusion.

Otterman shook his head. "It's a Life Book," he told her, "Every time you do something for the first time, you write it down inside this book. Anytime you're feeling down, or feel like you've done nothing with your life, you can flip through this book to see all the amazing things you've done."

"This sounds stupid," Paper Star commented.

"It doesn't matter what you did or didn't do in the past, because once you open this book, you're starting on the first page. Fill the book with all your new experiences as a free woman, and never stop fighting."

Paper Star looked down at the book. It was black and leatherbound, and she stared at the one word on its cover. Imagine. The letters were written in a rainbow of colours, and she felt an odd emotion rise within her that she didn't recognize. She opened the cover and stared down at the rainbow paper within, the empty pages almost seeming welcoming.

"I've never heard of a Life Book," she admitted, glancing up at him.

Otterman offered her a sad sort of smile. "Someone I loved a long time ago gave me one and told me the same thing. I was just a kid at the time, but it really helped me dream of a better future. Anytime you're feeling overwhelmed, angry, or even lonely, think of something new you can try. It can be something little like trying a new food or something big like learning to fly a plane. All new experiences get added to the book."

Paper Star said nothing for a long moment and then dropped the book back into the bag. "I'll think about it," she told him.

Otterman nodded, and then glanced over just as Moose Boy knocked over a display stand, sending the contents crashing to the floor. Otterman let out a heavy sigh.

"Ready to go rejoin our idiotic family?" he asked in amusement.

Paper Star felt a bit better and she offered him the smallest of smiles. "Yes."

---

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

---

Siren stared at Vess who laid in the next bed over from him. Doctor after doctor had been in to look Vess over, but none could figure out what the problem was. Michael was frantic and upset, and he never once left Vess' bedside. Every test done came back negative, and it seemed like Vess was simply dying for no reason. He was bleeding from his eyes, ears, and nose, but the reason for the bleed was unknown.

Siren simply watched silently as every doctor in the complex examined and tested Vess. At one point, Vess woke briefly and screamed in agony, his silver eyes reflecting the light eerily, and it was obvious he was blind and not in his right mind. He lost consciousness again a few seconds later, and hadn't opened his eyes since.

Terry had sat with Siren during all the chaos, but eventually he said he was going home for an hour and would return to the lab to work a double until Vess recovered. Siren was too busy being nosy to really pay him much attention, and he barely noticed when Terry left.

The last doctor who came to examine Vess finally said there was nothing they could do to save him, and that he wouldn't last much longer. Michael hit the doctor hard enough to break his nose, and then screamed incoherently for a few minutes before sinking down into his chair, going oddly silent. He sat that way for a long time, and eventually they were alone together. The doctors and nurses had left the room to give Michael some privacy, and Siren simply watched the boy as he stared down at Vess with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I think I did this," Michael finally said, not looking up.

"Oh?" Siren responded without any real interest.

"Numa left a sign on the door saying not to be disturbed during his experiment, but I ignored it. He spilled whatever he was working on, and it caused an explosion. He breathed in some of that gross black smoke, and now this happened! I think I did this."

Siren abruptly sat up, wincing at the agony this caused in his stitches. "What was Numa doing?" he demanded, "Was he working on the Volkov experiment?"

"...I don't know," Michael admitted, "He was pouring something into some other chemicals and he must have added too much."

"...huh," Siren responded thoughtfully, "Was it Volranium he spilled?"

"Dunno…"

"What colour was it? Did you notice?"

Michael thought back to the moment he burst into the lab and when he saw the liquid slop into the beaker in front of Vess.

"It was silver," he responded, "Kind of like liquid metal."

"Huh," Siren said again.

He laid back down and rubbed at his sore chest as Michael glanced over at him.

"Wait a second…" Michael said, jumping to his feet, "You know what did this!"

Siren shrugged indifferently.

"You can help him!"

Siren let out a snort.

"Help him or I'll kill you!" Michael snarled, brandishing a fist at Siren's face.

"I'm not a doctor, you nitwit," Siren snapped, "What exactly do you expect me to do?"

Michael flushed red, and clenched his hands into fists. "I don't know, something! Anything!"

Siren rolled his eyes.

"You...you're a genius!" Michael said, taking a step forward, "Numa told me that you're smarter than anyone he'd ever met before, and I know you can cure him!"

Siren raised a brow. "That doesn't sound very much like Numa," he said skeptically, "He's never once given me a compliment in the ten years we've worked together."

"You know the formula that Numa has been working on, and so you know what caused this! You know more than you let on, and you can save him!"

"I don't remember anything about the Volkov experiments." Siren informed him, "There's nothing I can do."

"LIAR!" Michael snarled, grabbing him by the front of the shirt, "Numa knows that you're faking your memory loss, or at least to some degree, and so I know you can help him! You know what he did, I know you do!"

Siren did indeed know exactly what had happened to Vess. When Vess had accidentally added too much Volranium to the base vaccine, it caused an intense temperature increase to the chemicals, causing the Volranium to burn up on contact. The smoke would have exploded into Vess' face and then inhaled into Vess' lungs and sinuses, overdosing him on the dangerous chemical. The Volranium was likely pooled somewhere in his lungs or in his nasal passages.

"I can't help you," Siren repeated, "I'm not a doctor, and I'm too injured to even get up."

"You're a liar, you fucking eunuch!" Michael screamed, shaking him hard, "Help him or I'm going to rip your head off with my bare hands!"

Siren glanced over at Vess who was wheezing in an odd fashion and frowned. With Vess dead, the world would be a better place. Vess had done countless unspeakable evils in the lab, and Siren hated him more than anything. He was responsible for every misery in his life, and Siren wanted nothing more than to watch him die.

Siren stared at Vess' face that was twisted in pain, and he suddenly felt guilty for feeling that way. He knew the cause of Vess' illness, and by doing nothing, he would be committing murder. Siren had never killed anyone while in his right mind, and his stomach twisted at the thought of letting someone die, even if they were an evil wretch.

"You do know what's wrong with him!" Michael cried out when he saw Siren's expression.

Siren heaved a deep sigh. Vess needed to die, but was it really going to be by his hand? Without Vess, Siren had no idea what V.l.L.E would do. The only reason he was even still alive was because of Vess' protection. Vess insisted he was important to the experiment when Dr. Bellum disagreed. Siren had committed treason when he helped Volkov ten years ago, and he knew V.I.L.E would never forgive that. He'd likely be executed and Vess would be replaced with someone new. The new doctor would eventually figure out Volkov's formula, and the world would be in serious trouble. It didn't matter if Vess lived or died. Eventually V.I.L.E would succeed.

Siren let out an angry curse. His best chances of survival would be to save Vess. He wasn't ready or able to flee just yet, and needed more time to figure something out. He needed Vess' protection for just a bit longer, and then he could get himself and DD out of the lab.

Michael then released him and his face turned to one of complete desperation.

"Please!" Michael said, his tone changing to something a lot more plaintive, "Please help him! I'll do anything you want! I was going to tattle on you that you were giving Patient DD toys and shit, but I won't say anything. I'll keep your secrets."

Siren stared at Michael thoughtfully. Now this could be interesting… He knew very well that Michael could never be trusted with anything important, but perhaps he could use him without the boy knowing what he was planning.

"Take me to town," Siren said.

Michael furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Take me to town, and I'll help Numa."

Michael frowned. "Right now?"

"No, you moron, I can barely move right now. Once I'm better, show me around town."

"...why?"

Siren frowned at him. "Does it matter?"

"Fine, whatever you want, just save him! Please!"

"You will never tell anyone that I left the lab," Siren said firmly.

"Deal, now save him!"

Siren knew he didn't have long before Terry returned, and so he glanced over at his IV stand. "Push that over to where I can reach it," he ordered.

"Why?" Michael demanded.

"Because I'm in a lot of pain and can't move. I need to numb myself enough so I can get up and walk without falling over."

Michael pushed the IV stand over, and Siren turned on the morphine. He waited a few seconds and then put it up to level 2. When he was pain-free, he carefully sat up and felt absolutely nothing. Sliding his legs out of the bed, he slowly stood up, and felt a deep pain in his stomach. He moved the morphine up another level and the pain disappeared. He walked the few steps over to Vess' bed and under Michael's scrutiny, he lifted Vess' eyelids so he could take a look. Vess' irises were a very familiar silver, and Siren was now completely certain of what the problem was.

"Get me a long needle out of the cabinet over there," Siren ordered, "Disinfectant, and saline as well."

Michael ran to do as he was told and Siren turned Vess' head to the side, trying to decide what to do about this situation. He had read multiple medical books over the years and remembered every bit of them, but he wasn't a doctor and had never done anything like this before.

"I didn't know which needle so I brought them all," Michael said, setting down a massive pile on the bedside table, "What are you going to do?"

Siren looked through the pile and picked out a long and extremely thin needle. "I need to extract the Volranium," he replied.

"Okay," Michael replied, standing nearby helplessly.

As Siren disinfected his hands, he began to hum to himself. He began opening the sterile package the needle was in, when Michael gave him a hard nudge in the back.

"Stop that!" Michael ordered angrily.

"Hmm? Stop what?" Siren responded in confusion.

"You're humming your murder song. Stop it."

Siren raised an eyebrow. "My murder song?"

Michael scowled at him. "Yeah, everytime you go crazy, you sing the same damn song. It's really fucking creepy."

Siren went silent. The song he was humming had always been extremely special to him, and he tended to hum it to calm himself down. It was an Italian lullaby that his grandmother used to sing to him when he was little and he'd always loved the tune. Did he really sing it when he was having one of his frequent memory lapses? The song was comforting to him, so did that mean his 'episodes' were some sort of defense mechanism? Was his mind trying to protect itself from further trauma?

Siren didn't have any more time to think about this, because suddenly Vess began to seize and his heart monitor began to go crazy.

"What's happening?!" Michael cried out.

"I need to get the Volranium out of him right now," Siren said, crawling up onto the bed to hold Vess down. "Help me hold him still!"

Michael pinned Vess down the best he could, and as Siren held Vess' head to the side, suddenly he went limp and his heart monitor flatlined.

"SIREN!" Michael wailed out in a panic.

Siren let out a curse but knew he had to focus on the Volranium extraction first. Without a word, Siren did a few mental calculations and then inserted the needle into the corner of one of Vess' eyes. He then drew the couple drops of silver out of the tear ducts, and did the same to the other one.

"DO SOMETHING!" Michael bellowed out, his voice cracking on the last syllable.

"I am," Siren said calmly, as he lifted Vess' eyelids to check the colour.

The eyes were still a bright silver.

"He's not breathing!" Michael yelled out in desperation. "I think his heart stopped!"

"I know," Siren snapped, "I need you to hold his head up, I'm going to drain his sinuses. I think there's a buildup all through him."

Michael wiped at his eyes, and then held Vess' head up as Siren grabbed a new syringe. Siren stabbed the needle up Vess' nose, once on either side and then tilted his head as his sinuses began to drain out his nose in a mixture of blood and silver.

"Okay, now grab me an epinephrine shot and the defibrillator out of the right side cabinet!"

Michael practically leapt across the room and Siren crawled down off the bed and began opening Vess' shirt. Michael was back within seconds and Siren held out his hand for the adrenaline shot. He then yanked the cap off, stabbed it directly into Vess' chest without hesitation. He began doing chest compressions with the heels of his hands, and counted out loud as he did so.

"Zap him!" Michael ordered, "That isn't working!"

"Just a minute," Siren responded, "He might not need it."

Siren counted through the chest compressions, and then felt for a pulse. Feeling nothing, he began another set of compressions as Michael hovered over his shoulder worriedly. A minute passed, and then another with no change.

"Use the fucking deliberator!" Michael snarled, "He's dying!"

"I said 'wait'," Siren snapped, "The defibrillator could cause more damage. It's only used as a last resort."

"He's dead!" Michael yelled, "You let him die!"

Siren stopped compressions, and pressed his fingers to Vess' wrist. He was relieved to feel a pulse and he saw Vess was now lightly breathing on his own.

"No, he's back," Siren stated, "Looks like he gets to do evil science another day…"

Michael stared at him in disbelief. "He's alive?!"

Siren nodded, and then turned Vess' head to the side so his sinuses could continue to drain. "Okay, now I need to go to Vess' lab so I can create the reversal otherwise he's just going to die again. I've bought him some time, but not much."

Siren gave himself one last pump of morphine and then yanked the I.V out of his arm. "I might need your help walking, we need to hurry."

"But what about Numa?"

"There's nothing you can do if you stay. You'll do more good for him if you help me."

Michael wiped again at his eyes and then nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

"Help me," Siren ordered, holding out an arm, "I don't think I can walk that far even with the morphine."

Michael nodded again and then approached to help him. Siren was expecting Michael to help support his weight so he could walk, but instead Michael scooped him up bridal style and then ran for the door.

"Well...that works," Siren admitted.

As they left the infirmary, they passed by Terry who stopped dead in his tracks at the unexpected sight. "What the hell?! Siren?!"

Neither said a word to him, and Michael ran down the hall, like the building was on fire.

Terry stared after them, wondering what the hell happened while he was gone. Letting out a curse, he ran after them, having no idea if Siren was in any danger. He caught up to them just as they reached the lab, and Siren gave him a disinterested glance.

"Oh good, I could use your help," Siren commented, "I need someone who can actually read."

"I can read!" Michael snarled.

Siren let out a snort. "Yeah, barely."

Michael scowled at him and then promptly dropped him. Siren let out a loud curse as he hit the floor, feeling like he'd just ripped a few stitches. Terry was quick to help Siren up who clutched at his stomach in agony, and turned a glare at Michael.

"Do not touch Siren again!" Terry warned, "What the hell are you two up to anyway?!"

"We don't have time for this, Kevin!" Siren snapped, "Just help me into the lab!"

Terry let out a deep sigh and did as he was told, helping Siren into the lab as Michael followed behind him.

"Bring me over there!" Siren ordered, pointing to Vess' workstation.

"What are you doing?" Terry demanded, "You're supposed to be in bed!"

"Saving that asshole's life, that's what I'm doing!" Siren snapped.

"You know what's wrong with Vess?!" Terry exclaimed in shock.

"Yeah."

"If you knew what was wrong with him, why didn't you say anything sooner?!" Terry demanded incredulously.

Siren shrugged.

Terry let out a deep sigh. "What do you want me to do?"

"Fetch me a notepad and a pen. I need to make some quick calculations."

Michael grabbed a pad and pen off Vess' desk and thrust it at him hurriedly. Siren scribbled something down, ripped out the page then held it out towards Terry.

"Get me everything on that list out of Vess' supply closet. I'm going to figure out the measurements."

Terry and Michael both ran to the supply closet only to discover it had a keypad on the lock.

"It needs a password!" Terry called over.

"19283746," Siren replied distractedly, "If that doesn't work, try 06241998."

"Hey, that's my birthday!" Michael exclaimed in surprise.

"Okay, I'm in," Terry announced a moment later.

Siren worked fast as he figured out the amounts of each chemical he needed and by the time Terry and Michael returned with everything on the list, he was ready to get started. Removing the caps on every bottle, he worked fast and added chemical after chemical to the mixture.

"You aren't even measuring anything!" Michael accused, as Siren poured something directly into the beaker.

"I am," Siren replied distractedly, "I'm measuring with my mind. It's correct, don't worry. My math is never wrong."

Only minutes later, Siren was done and picked up the beaker of black liquid.

"Okay, it's done, now I need to get this to Vess as soon as possible."

Terry scooped Siren into his arms and then ran for the door, the smaller man clutching the beaker tightly. When they got back to the medical bay, Vess was seizing up again and Siren squirmed out of Terry's arms and hurried for the bed. Grabbing a nearby syringe, he filled it with barely a drop of the black liquid and then injected into one of Vess' eyes. Terry visibly flinched, but he said nothing, simply watching and trusting Siren.

Vess stopped seizing, and Siren yanked the needle out of the eye. He then did the same thing to the other eye, and then the nose. Silver continued to drip out of Vess' eyes and nose, and Siren wiped it away with a cloth as he waited to see of there was a reaction.

"Did it work?" Michael demanded after a few seconds.

Siren shrugged. "I've done everything I can. He stopped having seizures which is good, but there's no telling when he'll wake up."

Siren had barely stopped speaking when Vess let out a low groan. Michael was instantly leaning over him.

"Numa?!"

Vess shifted a bit and his brow furrowed.

"Numa?" Michael repeated a bit louder, "Can you hear me?"

Vess took a deep breath, and seemed to be fighting to wake up.

"Numa?"

Vess' eyes cracked open to mere slits and the first thing he saw was Michael's face just inches from his own. Vess immediately placed a hand on Michael's face to push him back a bit, but Michael couldn't be deterred.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried out in complete despair, "I'm so sorry, Numa! I'm sorry!"

Vess was confused, and didn't remember what had happened. He glanced around and his eyes fell on Siren who stood over him, still holding the syringe. Vess flinched back, and then opened his eyes fully.

Unnatural silver eyes surveyed the room, and he glanced down at himself, observing the hospital gown and blood.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"I'm sorry!" Michael cried, tears in his eyes, "I nearly killed you!"

Vess stared at him in confusion, before his mind finally caught up. "The chemical explosion…"

Michael nodded. "I almost lost you! I'll never do anything stupid ever again, I swear!"

Vess was in a fair amount of pain, but the sight of Michael so distraught made him feel a fierce protective urge towards him, and he felt pity for the boy, anger not even occurring to him.

"How long was I unconscious?" he demanded.

"Roughly three years," Siren replied, "It's January 15th 2025, and you've missed a lot. The United States has now elected Mr. T as president, and V.I.L.E now focuses primarily on pyramid schemes. You've been demoted to a school nurse at the academy."

Terry rolled his eyes. "You were out for about six hours," he answered.

"Everyone said you were going to die, but Siren saved you!" Michael exclaimed.

Vess' eyes widened. "Siren saved my life?!"

Siren held up the needle. "I put this in your eye."

Vess stared at the very long needle and his eyes widened further. That's when he realized Siren's pupils were completely dilated.

"Are you high?!" he demanded in complete horror.

Siren shrugged. "Maybe? I used a lot of morphine in order to be standing right now…"

"Oh my god…" Vess moaned, reaching up a hand to his head, "What did you do to me?!"

"I removed the excess Volranium that had pooled in your sinuses and then created a reversal drug."

That explained why Vess' nose and eyes hurt so badly, and he winced as he touched his nose.

"You're welcome," Siren stated.

"I'm sorry…" Michael said again, "I nearly lost you, and I swear I'll do everything in my power to protect you for the rest of my life."

Michael said this with such conviction that Vess offered him a tired smile. Without a word, he pulled Michael down to him and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. Michael hugged him back just as tightly, but when Vess kissed Michael, Siren let out a disgusted sound.

"I'm not staying here while you two exchange mouth herpes, I'm going back to my room."

"No, you're not!" Terry said firmly, "You're staying in your hospital bed like you're supposed to."

"Just let him go," Vess said with a roll of the eyes, "He'll be whining pretty fast once that morphine wears off. Who knows what damage he did to himself."

Terry frowned in disapproval. "Well, I'm still going with him just in case."

Vess nodded, and Siren turned towards the door but hesitated when he realized how far he'd have to walk.

"Kevin, you need to earn your paycheque," he commented, "Help me to my room!"

Terry heaved a sigh, but scooped Siren up without protest. "Siren, you are a spoiled brat," he muttered to himself as he walked towards the door.

"Wait a second," Vess called after them.

Terry paused and they both glanced over.

"What?" Siren demanded, instantly bristling defensively.

"Good job," Vess said in a light tone, "I'm incredibly impressed."

Vess' voice was completely genuine, and Siren's eyes widened in shock. He was completely speechless for once, and he simply stared at Vess, not sure he'd heard correctly. As Terry carried him from the room, he said absolutely nothing.

Once they were alone, Michael hugged Vess even tighter. "Don't ever leave me," he begged, "I couldn't handle it if you died."

Vess smiled at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Vess considered what life would be like without Michael, and he felt nothing but emptiness at the thought. Michael was the only thing that grounded him to humanity, the only person who could make him feel anything, and he knew he would delve into severe darkness if Michael was no longer by his side. Michael was his empathy, he was his joy, he was his love, and he didn't want to think about losing him.

Vess tightened his grip on Michael possessively. "You're mine, and only mine. This won't happen again."

---

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---

Crackle adjusted his hardhat, and critically surveyed the work that was being done. Double Trouble each had a rented mower and were working on getting the grass and weeds cut to a manageable height. The rest of the team were unloading supplies from the back of the van, and Crackle had a really good feeling about this base. He knew it needed a lot of work, but it was in an ideal location, and V.I.L.E would have no idea where they were.

Dash had blocked the coms from being traced, and so far they had ignored every call that came from the head faculty. Crackle would probably eventually answer one of the calls, but for right now he was content to ignore them.

"What are these things in the bags, wombat?" Neal asked, "I didn't see you buy them."

Crackle approached and picked one of the bags up, displaying the picture on the side. Neal's brow furrowed in confusion.

"A tent?"

Crackle nodded. "We're going to save so much money this way! We can work longer hours, and just be steps away from where we sleep!"

Dash, who had been standing off to one side while pretending to help, was in front of Crackle almost instantly.

"I'm sorry, but did I mishear you? Did you just say we're going to be sleeping in tents?!"

Crackle nodded and pointed to the five bagged tents. "Once the grass has been mowed and raked, we can set the tents up in the backyard. I got us everything we'll need, and we should have electricity set up sometime tomorrow by the power company. This will save us thousands of dollars which we can then use for the renovations."

Dash crossed his arms. "Do you honestly think you can ever get me to live in a dirty tent? It's not going to happen."

Crackle rolled his eyes. "The tents are new, Dash, and it's no different than a motel. We have air mattresses and blankets and everything we need."

"I'm not sleeping out in the wilderness!" Dash snapped.

Crackle had to laugh at that. "Wilderness? We're in the middle of San Diego! We have like 6 trees on the property!"

"...well, it's still outside, and there are bugs and animals outside." Dash said, crossing his arms, "And what am I supposed to do with Steve? She can't be roughing it in her condition!"

"Camping is fun," Moose Boy commented, "Sven and I used to go camping all the time when we lived in Sweden!"

"Shut up, Henrik!" Dash snapped, "Nobody asked you!"

"...you're still mad at me, aren't you?" Moose Boy asked with a frown.

Dash narrowed his eyes. "What do you think?"

Moose Boy stared at him for a long moment. "...I'm going to go check on Sven…"

Dash watched as Moose Boy lumbered off to where Otterman was sitting in the shade, and then rolled his eyes.

"We're really going to be living in tents?" Neal asked, looking a bit thoughtful.

"We don't have much to live on and we can't risk withdrawing funds from our personal accounts. We have to live in the tents until the base is livable."

"Smores!" Roosevelt called out, pausing what he was doing.

"And campfire hotdogs!" Theodore added.

"Well, the twins are on board!" Crackle pointed out to Dash.

Dash crossed his arms. "No."

Paper Star was watching everything silently, and then she pulled a book out of her pocket and opened it. "Camping," she stated, writing it down inside the book, "My first entry."

"The tents will be fine, I promise," Crackle assured Dash, "I spent most of my childhood camping in the wilderness, and I can help you get set up."

"We don't even have a bathroom here!" Dash snapped.

Without a word, Neal pointed to the Porta Potty.

"Hell no," Dash responded.

"Until we get the bathroom working, that's all we have for right now," Crackle informed him, "You don't have a choice."

"I'll make other arrangements," Dash said angrily.

"What are you going to do, pee in a bush?" Neal asked with a laugh.

"Don't be disgusting," Dash responded, glancing around.

Dash's gaze fell on the very nice house next door, and he got an idea. "I'll make friends with the neighbours."

Crackle raised a brow skeptically. "You're going to just walk over to our neighbours and ask to use their bathroom?"

Dash rolled his eyes. "I'd never be so crass," he replied, "I would chat with them first and make friends, and then just casually mention that we have no bathroom right now."

"That might work if you weren't a complete bitch," Neal pointed out, "Are you even capable of being nice?"

Dash rolled his eyes a second time. "Oh, shut up, Neal. I can be nice when I want to be."

"Oh?" Neal said skeptically, "Let's see it then! Go sweet-talk the neighbours!"

Dash gave him a dirty look and then let out a huff. "Fine, I will!"

Dash then stormed away from them, and everyone watched as he approached the house next door.

"Neal, you shouldn't have goaded him," Crackle scolded, watching as Dash rang the bell, "We need to start getting along better. No more bickering."

"It got him to stop complaining about the tents, didn't it?" Neal retorted.

Crackle sighed, and didn't comment further. They watched as the door was answered, but they couldn't see who it was that came to the door. Dash spoke with them for a few moments, and to their surprise, he disappeared into the house a few seconds later.

"Huh," Neal commented, "I guess he can be friendly when he wants to be."

"Apparently so," Crackle agreed.

"Should one of us go over there to make sure he wasn't dragged off into a murder basement?"

Crackle frowned. "Give him ten minutes, and then one of us can go check on him." he said, turning towards the van. "Let's finish unloading and then get to work on that bathroom."

---

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

---

Dash rang the doorbell and shot a glare back at his team who were all gawking in his direction. Straightening his tie as he waited, he couldn't believe that he was going to be forced to live in a tent. He'd gotten used to being spoiled in splendor, and now he was thrown back into the poverty he'd lived through during childhood. Dash hated it, but there was no way he would ever return to V.I.L.E. Things would eventually get better once they began pulling jobs, and he could tolerate being poor for just a while.

The inside door opened and a middle aged woman with blonde hair peered out at him. Dash gave her his most charming smile and she slowly looked him up and down. She took note of the expensive clothes, and nice haircut, and then opened the screen door.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Hello," Dash greeted her, holding out a gloved hand to shake, "My name is Dash Haber, and I just purchased the house next door."

The woman's nose crinkled in disgust. "The one that's been condemned for ages? I've been petitioning to have it torn down for years."

Dash gave her a sympathetic nod. "Yes, it's in terrible shape, isn't it? It's going to be fully renovated and will hopefully look as beautiful as the house you have here."

The woman seemed surprised by this and incredibly pleased. "It's about time! That terrible house has been depreciating the value of my own home just by existing! When are the renovations supposed to start?"

"Today," Dash replied, "We're hoping to fix up the yard and get the bathroom in working order before we do anything else."

"So you're overseeing the work being done?"

Dash nodded. "Absolutely. I don't trust those morons to stay within the perimeters of my designs unless I'm watching their every move."

"I know exactly what you mean! Last year we hired someone to repair our front step and he used dark grey paint instead of charcoal! It looked terrible and I fired him immediately!"

Dash tsked sympathetically.

"Oh, I apologize for my rudeness!" the woman suddenly said, "I haven't introduced myself. My name is Karen Robinson and I am head of the neighbourhood H.O.A."

Dash cocked his head. "H.O.A?"

Karen smiled at him widely. "Why don't you come in for some tea, and I can tell you all about it?"

Dash glanced back at his team who were still shamelessly watching his every move. "Thank you, tea sounds very nice."

Karen led him inside the house, and Dash was impressed at how immaculate everything was. Every picture frame was perfectly aligned on the walls, and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere.

"Cherry wood?" Dash questioned, looking at the red bannisters leading upstairs.

"Good eye," Karen said proudly, "I had these imported all the way from Japan. The artist only makes five of these a year and hand-carves every one."

"Nice."

Dash was led into a living room, and Karen motioned towards the name-brand couch for him to take a seat. Dash did so, and she headed for a doorway to his left.

"Herbal, green, black, or white?" she asked.

"Green is fine," Dash replied, "Thank you."

"I'll be back in just a minute," she told him, disappearing out of the room.

Dash glanced all around, highly impressed by all the expensive items in her house. His gaze settled on a photograph on the coffee table and saw it was of the woman's family standing side by side on a large yacht.

The entire family were blond-haired and blue-eyed, and she and her husband had three children. The twin boys looked to be about twelve years old, and the older sister looked to be around fifteen or so. The girl very obviously had down-syndrome and she was smiling widely at the camera, her arms wrapped around her siblings. The picture seemed to scream 'rich, white, and bored' but Dash wholeheartedly approved. Perhaps he'd actually have someone to chat with that had taste?

"Those are my kids," Karen said as she approached, carrying a tray of tea, "The boys are Preston and Skylar, and my beautiful daughter is Heather."

"You have a lovely family," Dash responded, accepting the cup of tea that was held out to him.

"So, Dash, do you know what an H.O.A is?" Karen asked innocently.

"Not really," Dash admitted.

"The Home Owner's Association is a neighbourhood membership that helps keep our streets clean and nice to look at. We don't want anyone painting their house garish colours, or leaving piles of trash in their front yard and the H.O.A prevents that."

"Oh?"

"We, in this upscale neighbourhood, want everyone to meet the high standards we've come to expect. Everyone in this community is part of my H.O.A except for your house. The previous owner refused to sign the contract, and it's been a blemish ever since."

"Hmm, interesting," Dash commented, "So everyone is made to keep their properties neat, tidy, and stylish?"

Karen smiled at him widely. "Exactly! We don't want the 'wrong' sort of people moving in here, if you know what I mean. The H.O.A board, aka me, has to approve anyone who moves here, and we can keep our neighbourhood the way it should be. Since your property is not yet part of the H.O.A, we couldn't screen the buyer, but it looks like we lucked out and got the right sort of person as a neighbour."

Dash suddenly got a very bad feeling about what she meant by that. "And who are the wrong sort of people'?" he asked, setting his tea down.

Karen gave him a conspiratorial wink. "Oh you know, the type of people who would lower the neighbourhood's value."

"No, I don't know," Dash stated with a frown.

"Well, I'm sure you understand that this is a good Christian neighbourhood, and we can't have illegals, or those living in sin here."

Dash's gaze then fell on the confederate flag that was framed on the wall. He let out a deep sigh. Well, so much for making friends with the neighbours. When he didn't say anything, Karen then frowned at him and again looked him up and down.

"So...is there a special woman in your life, Dash?" she asked, sounding a bit suspicious.

"No."

"Do you live alone?" she pried, her brow furrowing.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, and Karen glanced to the door in confusion.

"Now, who would that be?" she wondered out loud.

Karen walked the few feet over to the front door and opened it, revealing Crackle standing there. Karen looked Crackle up and down and when she saw his messy hair and dirty work clothes, she grimaced in disgust.

"May I help you?" she demanded.

Crackle tried to peek over her shoulder. "Is Dash over here?" he asked.

Karen didn't move, continuing to block his way. "And who are you?" she demanded.

"He's my husband," Dash replied from behind her.

As Karen spun to face him, Dash stepped past her and approached Crackle. Without a word, he grabbed him by the front of the jumpsuit and then kissed him passionately. Crackle's eyes went impossibly wide and then he sputtered in shock as Dash pulled away.

"Goodbye, Karen, it was nice meeting you," Dash said, leaving the house.

Crackle stood there dumbfounded for a moment, and then quickly turned to follow him as Karen watched them go with a disgusted expression on her face.

"Heathens," she muttered angrily, "Disgusting heathens!"

As Dash and Crackle headed back towards their base, Crackle gave Dash a confused and concerned look.

"Um...Dash? What was that?"

"I needed to prove a point," Dash replied, "Sorry."

"You...you know I'm not-"

"Yes, I know," Dash replied with a roll of his eyes, "That woman is disgusting and I won't be going back there."

Crackle glanced back towards Karen's house and saw she was still glaring after them. When she saw him looking, she slammed her door closed.

"I don't know what just happened, but we really need to get back to work. We picked you up some work clothes at the charity shop, and you need to try them on."

Dash rolled his eyes. "I swear I'm not sleeping in a tent."

Crackle didn't respond, knowing that eventually Dash would give in. Once they reached the backyard, Dash gave a thoughtful look towards the house.

"Graham, how do you feel about putting a pride flag in our front window?"

---

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---

Matryoshka leaned over Plague Doctor's shoulder as he typed at his computer, and when her breath steamed up the goggles on his mask, he turned to look at her. Although his expression couldn't be seen, his annoyance was obvious, and Matryoshka rolled her eyes at him.

[[If you took that mask off once in a while, you wouldn't have that issue,]] she responded, [[How you even see in that thing is beyond me.]]

Plague Doctor impatiently pushed her away, and Matryoshka shoved him back before taking a seat on the edge of his desk.

[[It's been days,]] she commented, [[He couldn't have just disappeared into thin air! Someone knows where he is!]]

Plague Doctor shrugged and went back to typing. Matryoshka watched him silently for a while, reading everything he was doing.

[[You're searching hospitals? I thought you already did that?]]

Plague Doctor impatiently pointed to part of his screen.

[[Oh! You're looking through all major abdominal operations!]]

He gave a silent nod.

Matryoshka noticed a few of the records stated the patients were now deceased and she tensed up. [[Do you think he died?]] she asked.

Plague Doctor shrugged.

[[I saw you swing, but I didn't see how deeply you sliced him… It looked pretty bad on the video."

Plague Doctor gave another shrug without looking away from his screen.

[[There have been whispers from Volkov again, and it's beginning to concern me. I think they're planning something. We need to be alert, and watch ourselves carefully.]]

Plague Doctor didn't seem to care. Matryosha frowned at him, and then let out a curse in Russian.

[[Oh, this is ridiculous!]] she snapped, reaching out to snatch the mask off her brother. [[I can't even tell if you're looking at me!]]

Plague Doctor flinched as the mask was yanked off, and then immediately turned to glare at her.

Matryoshka rolled her eyes at him in response.

[[Deal with it,]] she told him, tossing the mask aside, [[I can't talk to you if I can't see you!]]

Plague Doctor's icy blue eyes narrowed, but then he let out a deep sigh and went back to typing.

[[You've been wearing the mask more often,]] Matryoshka pointed out, [[Have you been thinking about that day again?]]

Plague Doctor stopped typing, but didn't look at her, staring straight at his monitor silently.

[[I know the anniversary of that day is approaching, but you can't hide behind that mask forever. You need to face this issue and speak to me. You haven't said a single word to me in ages.]]

Plague Doctor went back to typing, but his shoulders were tense, showing he was still listening.

[[You're my little brother, and you know that you're important to me. I will always support you in your endeavors, but lately you've been taking risks. That V.I.L.E woman's team lost us a lot of good foot-soldiers and a lot of money. We must put The Void's needs above our own, and not do anything like that again.]]

Plague Doctor didn't so much as look at her, and Matryoshka sighed. She watched him work for a while, and when he suddenly sat up straight in his seat, she leaned over to see his screen.

[[You found him?]] she asked.

Plague Doctor nodded.

[[Ah, I see. They claimed he was in a car accident, and the doctors accepted it,]] she commented, [[Were the hospital cameras active?]]]

Plague Doctor nodded again.

Matryoshka smiled triumphantly at this. If there was anything that Tokyo had, it was surveillance cameras. They'd now be able to follow Team Crackle's every move through the city and find out where they went. She eagerly watched as Plague Doctor went through video feed after video feed, following Team Crackle after Otterman and Paper Star were discharged from the hospital.

[[He looks so frail,]] she observed, [[That big ugly man carries him everywhere. I hope the damage wasn't too severe.]]

Plague Doctor digitally followed Team Crackle's van all the way to the airport and then began checking the flight information of all planes. He quickly found the one he was looking for, and then turned triumphant eyes to his sister.

[[San Diego, California!]] she read out loud, [[We finally know where he is! Did the plane land safely?]]

Plague Doctor typed for a minute and then nodded.

[[I'll assemble a team right away. We fly in an hour!]]

Matryoshka hurried for the door and then paused, glancing back at Plague Doctor with a pleased smile. [[Good work, Dmitry.]]

Without another word, she disappeared out the door. Plague Doctor watched her leave and then slowly got up and crossed the room to pick up his mask. He pulled it back on, adjusted it slightly, and then went back to work.

---

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---

TBC

Don't forget that if you want to see the artwork for this story, check me out on Archive Of Our Own. It's really amazing! I believe the first pic starts in chapter 7 of Broken and then as the chapters go on, more and more artists add artwork. Some chapters have as much as 8 pictures! Check it out if you're curious. My username is also MangoKat over there.