Hello,

This is my first fanfiction attempt on the famous and much beloved, Hardy Boys series.

First of all, this is a Nancy-Drew-Free zone. Sorry, not sorry.

I'm mostly focused on the brothers and their relationship throughout the story. Unfortunately, I won't be using the other characters such as Callie, Iola, Chet, Biff, Vanessa or any of the others. Original characters will come and go as the story reaches its conclusion. The Hardys' parents and the basic back story (until Iola's death) are kept intact, but after that, I have diverted from canon to headcanon. The brothers are 29 and 30 in this story and have characteristics to portray their adult lives and careers, although their fundamental personalities and quirks remain unchanged.

The story is a sci-fi thriller and is set in the near future. The world-building in this story was inspired by a list of movies and TV series: "Intelligence (TV series -2014), Johnny Mnemonic (Movie 1995) and Electric Dreams (Movie 1984).

I will be adding banners and cast images in the 'Other Fandom Art Collection' work in my AO3 account, under the username ImaliFegen89. You can check it out if you like!

General Warnings: Violence, Gun Violence, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Swearing

I will add more warnings in the AN at the beginning of chapters where applicable.

Enjoy!

Prologue
Year 2036

Monday - 10:45
In Transit

"Frank Hardy?"

"Yes?"

"Son, this is Admiral Hawkins of USS Saratoga…"

For the life of him, Frank Hardy could not recall the rest of the conversation he had with his brother's commanding officer only three hours ago. There were bits and pieces of words and phrases tumbling around in his brain, refusing to fall into coherent thoughts that would refresh the stark terror he had felt listening to the grave voice of the Flag Officer.

Words and phrases such as, wounded in action, critical, transferred to the port for urgent medical care, brain surgery…would advise you to visit if at all possible, son.

The clusters of clouds passed at speed as he stared out of the small round window of the jet as it cruised at a sedate 800km/h to get him to a private airfield in Dresden, east Germany. It wasn't honestly his doing - how he ended up in a private jet flying to Germany. He closed his eyes and sighed, taking a moment to be grateful for Alexis, his beautiful, brilliant wife who had been there with him when he had received the news.

"Frank, give him a bit more workout, he can take it."

Lexi's voice drifted over from the hardware room she had just plugged in the supercomputer's latest overall system update. This was the final tweak before her people finally handed over the entire system and its rights to his people. Frank smiled and added a few more commands with curt gestures of his gloved hand, enjoying the way the computer responded to his complex demands.

"Okay," Riley Quinn - Ex Army Ranger Gunnery Sergeant turned agent - smirked from her perch on the table outside the holosphere. "I'm not going to comment on what that would sound like without the context. But Lexi, honestly, the things on this funny screen are already so fast it looks like the sphere's gonna take off to space anytime now," she said as Lexi walked out of the room to come stand near Frank's second in command. "You want your man to speed it up more?"

"How else would I know the latest upgrade is working, my dear?"

"You guys are crazy."

"If by that you mean, brilliant and sexy, You'd be right."

Frank listened to their banter as the system finished the final test runs and diagnostics on what he had just put it through. He felt another proud grin break over his face as he stared at the final set of statistics that stared placidly back at him from the screen.

"Huh," he said. "Would you look at that?"

Lexi joined him on the raised platform and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Did you doubt me?"

"Not even for a second." He dropped a kiss on her head that reached just under his chin.

His mobile ran then, cutting off Riley's fake coughing and Lexi's giggles. It was a withheld number, and he answered because calls like that were normal in his line of work.

"Hello?"

"Is this Frank Hardy?"

"Yes"

"Son, this is Admiral Hawkins of USS Saratoga…"

The next thing he knew, Lexi was shaking his shoulder gently while Riley peered at him, her gaze worried.

"Frank, who was it?" Lexi demanded, her brows furrowed in a frown and her voice full of concern.

Frank looked up and blinked. He still had the phone clenched in his fist. He blinked some more, trying to get the static in his mind cleared to answer her question. He knew he was in shock, in a state of suspended reality, to stay away from facing the facts that were going to terrorize him and hurt him to the core.

"It's, uh, it's Joe," he heard his voice through a haze. He sounded dull to his own ears. "I mean, that was his CO. He, um, he got hurt during a raiding operation–"

"Where is he stationed?" That was Quinn. The ex-soldier in her already knew where this was going.

"Saratoga," Frank mumbled.

That was apparently all Lexi needed from Frank. She entered a few rapid commands to the system as Frank watched, numb, detached and somehow seated on a chair next to the platform. Within a short moment, she had Joe's initial medical records, x-rays, blood work and test printed and scanned, along with a full explanation of what it all meant. It never even occurred to him to question the legalities of her searches and the data retrievals.

By the time she was done, Frank was aware enough to see the colour drain on her face as she understood his younger brother's exact condition.

"Lexi–"

She looked up and took a deep breath. Frank knew that she would never hide anything from him. She always chose honesty, despite how painful it was sometimes. "It's bad."

Frank felt whatever air that was left in his lungs leaving in a rush. He deflated, slumping in on himself. The admiral's sombre words echoed in his mind, creating horrifying images of his brother; hurt, bleeding, unconscious…dying.

And Frank wasn't there. Frank hadn't been by his side for seven goddamn years.

Now, his brother might just be lost to him, forever.

A painful sob tore out of him before he could stop it. He bit on his fist savagely and closed his eyes, refusing to let the tears out. If he did, he might not be able to stop it.

There was nothing he could do to stop the shivers that wracked his entire frame as he sat, lost, in that chair though.

"Frank, baby, listen," her hand on his shoulder was warm and her tone was gentle. "I know you want to get to him as soon as possible, but please, I think you should contact Aaron first."

It took him a long moment to understand what she was saying. Aaron Burkhardt was a mutual friend. They met him during their time at MIT. He was involved with them in three projects regarding supercomputer processors and software developments. Frank remembered how that veritable genius used to joke with them, saying that electronic brains fascinated him just as much as the real ones.

He was now one of the world's leading innovative neurosurgeons, based in Dresden.

Lexi's suggestion, however, confused him. What he needed was to get to his brother right now. "Why?"

"Because Joe's condition is critical," Lexi explained patiently. "And based on the injuries mentioned on these records, I think you - your brother - is going to need his help."

The copies of all the medical reports were there in the briefcase that rested on the seat next to him. He hadn't looked at any of them yet. Looking at Joe's condition depicted in an emotionless set of numbers, chemicals and harsh medical terms felt wrong somehow, before the chance to actually see him. It was an illogical thing to do, he was well aware, and Frank was nothing but logical and practical to the core.

Except, it all changed drastically when it came to the matters of his brother.

He still recalled the first serious argument they'd ever had, all those years ago, when Joe had announced his intentions for the first time.

"What do you mean you aren't going to college?" Frank repeated, bewildered, thinking he had heard it wrong.

"I'm enlisting," Joe said, stretching his tall frame across Frank's bed.

Things had been hard, messed up for some time now. After eight months since Iola's sudden, cruel and needless death, things were finally starting to fall back into their usual rhythm. They had just gotten back from their first case after the break they took from everything, only yesterday. It had been a resounding success too, and an entire ring of cyber criminals was now cooling their heels in a county prison in France. Not bad for two private detectives returning to their game after months of hiatus. Joe had been happy, and Frank had seen the pale, sickly complexion of his brother's face acquiring a healthy tan during the time they spent chasing those hackers. He had seen the haunted look in dull, blue eyes getting replaced by a gleam that didn't bode well for lawbreakers. He had finally seen his brother getting better.

Or so he had assumed.

What he was hearing now, told him that his assumptions should have been exactly the opposite.

"Have you lost your mind? Tell me this is a joke!" His question and the demand came out louder and sharper than he intended.

"It's really not," Joe's reply was quiet as he fixed his gaze on the ceiling, avoiding Frank's incredulous expression. "I've been thinking about it for a long time, and my application's already been accepted."

Joe's admission did nothing to calm the anger that started to boil in Frank. He rarely let his emotions get the best of him like that. But this was Joe - his brother, his best friend - who could effortlessly make Frank's carefully crafted logical mindset fly out of the window. And now, he was telling Frank that he was just…abandoning him like it was nothing.

"You already-" Frank had to cut himself off and unclench his teeth so he could speak properly. "Joe, what the hell? That's not the plan," he shook his head, still wondering whether this was a sick joke his brother was playing, despite his denial. "The plan was to go to college, and then Uni, to get our degrees in criminology and–"

"Frank," it was Joe's turn to cut him off. He sounded so calm and in control. It was as if they had switched personalities. The thought made him want to laugh hysterically. "Brother, that's always been your plan, not mine. I'm sorry you thought I was just going to follow you along–"

This was crazy. Why was he only hearing this now? "Joe I don't get it," he said, the project he was working on forgotten as he had his chair turned towards his bed fully to face his brother. "How come you never spoke about this before?"

"It never came up."

Frank took a few moments to breathe slowly and study his brother. Joe was still sprawled on his bed and avoiding eye contact. There was a certain weariness about him and that look of defeat, that sense of infinite grief was back, wrapped around his brother like a heavy cloak.

"Is this about Iola?" Frank asked softly, carefully. There were still a lot of landmines in that conversation realm that Frank did not want to trip, further upsetting his brother. As it happened, his good intentions were not enough to keep him from doing exactly that.

"What?" Joe was startled enough to turn fully towards Frank, finally looking at him. "No."

The instant denial sounded genuine enough. He would have accepted Joe's word for what it was at any other time. But, since Iola's death, there was a state of discord between them. That made him badly miscalculate his response.

"Are you sure?" Frank asked, his scepticism evident in his tone. "Or is this you using military service, of all things, as a way to run away from all the memories?" He saw the way Joe flinched at hearing that, the way his eyes flashed, hurt. But he couldn't stop. "That you aren't using that as a distraction from what happened? Is this your choice to find a way to feel better?"

Joe stared at him for a long moment, and except for that initial flash of hurt, there were no other emotions in his blank expression. It was too late for Frank to take back what came out of his mouth. He kind of didn't want to, because, damn it, he was hurt too.

"No, Frank," When he finally broke the silence, his voice was still quiet. But there was a hard edge to his tone that he had never aimed at Frank before. "I'm not joining the navy, signing up to put my life on the line, along with the lives of people around me, as my feel-good form of therapy, so fuck you."

Fair. Frank knew he deserved that. "Joe," he said, shaking his head. "No. I'm sorry. That's not what I meant–"

"Whatever," Joe said, getting up from his bed, clearly done talking about it. "How you feel about my choice is not going to change my mind. It's done. Just thought you might wanna know."

Admittedly, Frank had handled that wrong. He had known that the moment Joe had left his room without saying anything further. It had taken some time, but Frank had spoken to Joe after that a few times and had managed to apologize in earnest. Joe, in turn, had revealed that he hadn't wanted to make him upset by telling him his plans, which had happened anyway.

They never truly let any grudges grow between them, not for long. Sure, they fought and argued, but at the end of the day, they always managed to talk things out, forgive each other and move on.

They were brothers and they trusted each other. That always came first.

Frank went to college as he planned. He threw himself at any and all academic pursuits he could to fill the time. His bid for MIT was accepted readily and he spent the next four years earning his masters in the field that fascinated him the most: software engineering and supercomputing. After that, his projects and thesis regarding the practical uses of his fields with regard to global surveillance and data gathering caught the interest of a certain agency that specialised in exactly that.

At the age of 28, Frank was now one of the youngest agents in the Central Intelligence Agency who had the command and control of his own branch, Global Signal Intelligence. Which was a fancy way of saying he had permission to run electronic eyes and ears all over the world. Even better, he had the chance to bring his own precious tool he had helped to create for the job.

He even met the love of his love, Alexis Wayland during that time. She got a job at Hewlett Packard Enterprise soon after the concept of 'Spearhead' turned into reality. The programme was rechristened as HPE Cray XX351a/Spearhead by their sponsors at the final stage before it was procured by Frank's current employer.

While Frank found his way into the spying business, Joe went on to the service as he said he would, taking to the disciplined life of a sailor like a duck to water. Years went by as he finished his training specialising as an Engineer's mate, three tours in three ships followed by a bid at the Officer Candidate Training School and then the rigorous requirements and training of BUD/S.

This was his brother's seventh year in the navy, the last two as a Lieutenant of one of their finest special operators, a SEAL.

But, what happened to him only forty-eight hours ago might just be the end of all he worked so hard to achieve during all those years. He might lose his life.

Which was why Frank was on his way to Aaron Burkhardt. Lexi had made a quick call and the surgeon had promised to meet him at the airport. He would take a look at Joe's records and they would make their visit to the hospital together. Frank didn't know what he had done to deserve friends like that, the ones who would drop everything in their lives to come to his and his brother's aid. He is immensely grateful nevertheless for the fact that he did.

…..

They were kindly but firmly told that they weren't allowed to see the patient just yet, his condition was still unstable and was under constant supervision. Frank was sure they got as much information they could, including a copy of Joe's recent chart, only due to the charming, yet insisting the presence of the towering neurosurgeon.

"They just confirmed what I told you when I saw the records, Frank," Aaron said, dropping heavily onto the seat next to Frank in the waiting area. "He hasn't woken up yet, not even once. And the swelling shows no sign of going down. It doesn't look good."

Frank could only nod at his friend's words. He wasn't sure he could get any words out without dissolving into sobs. He kept breathing deeply and evenly, his gaze fixed on a spot on the tiled floor of the waiting area of the intensive care unit.

"They won't let anyone in to see him. Not yet."

"Is there anything we can do here, Aaron?" Frank asked after a long while. He couldn't just wait here to be told that his brother had passed without even having the chance to see him at least. He just couldn't.

"There is," Aaron said, slowly, carefully, making Frank turn his gaze towards his friend fully. "But, only if you have the right to make decisions as his power of attorney."

"I do," Frank said, curious as to why his friend sounded…reluctant.

"You do?" Aaron repeated, with a raised brow. "Not the navy? I thought the military usually took the lead in cases of injuries on duty."

"They do," Frank explained. "But they couldn't treat him in the cruiser and they couldn't arrange a transit home in his condition. The moment they transferred him to port, the authority regarding his medical decisions fell to me."

"That's a good call on his part," Aaron nodded. "To have it arranged to be you."

"It was one of my conditions," Frank admitted with a wry smile. "He agreed just to make me back off,"

"He's lucky to have a brother like you."

"It's mutual," Frank sighed. "Tell me what my options are here, Aaron."

Instead of answering, his friend stood up and gathered his jacket. "We are going to find a place to stay the night and then I'm taking you back to Dresden tomorrow first thing in the morning," he said, confusing Frank.

"Aaron–"

"I know you'd rather be near him," He cut Frank's protest off gently. "But, right now, you can't help him. What can potentially help him is in my office, and I can't talk about it here."

The enigmatic man didn't divulge anything further than that cryptic comment no matter how much Frank nagged and cajoled. As promised, he did find two suites for them at The Fontenay to spend the night in luxury. The next day, they left the hotel after an early breakfast in a rental and made it to the Gustav University Medical Centre where Aaron Burkhardt led the neurosurgery department.

…..

"I understand that the concept falls somewhere in the ethically grey area," Aaron sipped his coffee and broke the silence as Frank stared at the screen on his friend's laptop. "Not because there's any question whether it works, because it does. Just that it hasn't been approved for the next stage in clinical trials yet."

Frank blinked, looking up at his friend. He knew that the confidence he displayed wasn't arrogance. He was only stating a fact. Aaron Burkhardt was a bona fide genius in dual fields and this thing that stared back at him - this concept that went beyond anything he had ever even imagined - had the potential ability to save his brother's life. It boggled his mind that this invention was a branching ripple of the concept of the project that now resided back in the basement of the Central Intelligence Agency.

"Tell me more," Frank whispered, grabbing onto the silver of hope his friend presented with both his hands.

"The chip uses the same data storing concept of Spearhead," Aaron explained. "The programming meshes into biosynthetic hardware. Now, this new base can be used without an issue, it went through the final approvals just last year," he said excitedly, warming up to the subject. "The problem is with the bonding of organic matter and the synthetics with the programming itself. This design of mine actually lets the chip connect to the brain and even grow as far as becoming a part of it. I know it sounds fantastical but it works."

"Let me see if I got this," Frank muttered. "You want to implant a microchip in my brother's brain?"

"Exactly," the neurosurgeon beamed. "There's still so many hidden abilities of the human brain and chemicals. We learn something new every day just by studying it. It is actually capable of integrating with an external storage device such as this to save itself. Survival instinct at its finest."

"How is this going to help him survive losing a chuck of his brain?"

It was the first time he put words to the extent of Joe's injuries. He had to swallow hard to keep back the bile he could feel burning his throat. Now that the words were out, all his fears about Joe came rushing back to the surface, reminding him that he was on the verge of losing his brother for good.

"We can replace the parts he lost due to head trauma with the chip, Frank," his friend said gently. "Its organic parts are capable of adapting and expanding its mass. The injury left space inside his skull for it to grow and I can develop it into a point to speed up the process even. Within six months, his brain functions will be restored back to a guaranteed 98.9%. If it worked."

"If it worked," Frank repeated numbly. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around what his friend was telling him.

"There's always the chance that the body would reject the new addition."

"What else could go wrong here, Aaron?" Frank pressed. His friend was talking about a wholly new level of brain surgery. And, as was the case with any new invention, it was bound to have a plethora of bugs, mistakes and side effects. "Give me all of it."

"Well, he might experience some memory loss," Aaron said. "The chip can complete his brain but it can't retrieve lost data. He might have side effects such as headaches or seizures, which would become apparent within the first month of the implant. But those can be corrected with minor surgeries and adjusting the programming of the processors."

Frank waited for the rest of it. But Aaron kept drinking his coffee, staring at Frank expectantly.

"That's it?"

Frank's utter incredulity made him smirk. "I'm a genius, after all, Frank. You didn't think I would design something faulty, did you?"

Frank couldn't believe that that was all there was to it. It sounded almost too good to be true. At this point, the legalities didn't even make an appearance in his thought process. All he cared about was saving Joe's life.

"But what's the catch?" he demanded. "Because this all sounds too good to be true."

"Yes, the catch," his friend shrugged, still smiling. "There are several. For one, it's not approved yet, so it's illegal," he sounded remarkably calm about it as if it was a negligible concern. "The second, the board of directors of Gustav, HPE and GTN are still negotiating about the property rights, because my design involves all three of them coming together to make it work–"

"GTN?"

"Yeah, they own the biosynthetic base I have to use for the chip," he explained.

"How long is it going to take for you to make it?"

"Oh, it was already made about five months ago," Aaron said. "There's three of them in storage, I've been running tests, improving the overall efficiency of it all this time."

"But you just said–"

"The talks are about the shares and market prices and profits, Frank," said Aaron. "They know it works. It's the new revolution in the field of brain surgery. But they are not doctors. They are not concerned about the brilliance of the concept or the number of lives we could save. They are all about the money."

Frank could understand that. His own project would have had the same issues if it weren't for the extensive and largely undisclosed budget of his agency.

"So how are we going to make this happen in reality if we did decide to do it?"

"Well, I was thinking you could transfer your brother here. I could take over as his primary care physician and then do surgery for the implant. Then I'd keep him here on an extended stay to ensure everything works as it should."

He made it sound so simple. Frank still couldn't even begin to comprehend the process.

"I'm not… I can't even–" he tried to put words to his disbelief and failed.

"It's overwhelming, I know," Aaron nodded. "And the biggest catch would be the secrecy. If we go through with it, only you and I can ever know about it," he admitted. "Not even Joe can know. We can just let it be known that the genius saved the day again because I'm that good,"

"And humble about it too," Frank muttered, shaking his head.

Aaron chuckled. "I can even make it spin that I did some innovative grey matter grafting," he shrugged, closing his laptop back. "The chip will be integrated into his brain within the first twelve days and it won't be visible to any scans. So you don't have to worry about it being found. And the other thing is, I'll be able to keep everything under wraps until such time. That's about it."

"What's it to you?" It was a valid question. His friend's suggestion could very well end up costing him his medical license. Or worse, he could end up in prison. Their friendship went way back and Frank trusted him. But he just couldn't believe that Aaron would gamble his career and life away just to help Frank's dying brother out.

"Why, Frank," Aaron said with another proud smile. There was a predatory gleam in his green eyes that wasn't there a moment ago. "I want the very thing any inventor wants to witness. That's the moment their invention comes to life before their eyes."

Now that Frank could believe. That confidence and self-satisfaction he could clearly see in his friend's expression were genuine. He had seen it a few times during their shared time back in the university days.

"I know you're going to have to think it through," Aaron said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them while Frank contemplated the unbelievable offer.

"It's a big decision and it's harder because you're making it for your brother, not yourself. But right now, your brother's scale is leaning towards death, and this is a shot at the life we could give him."

Put like that, it seemed like the easiest decision he had ever made in his life. Except, did it really give him the right to play God - or let his friend play God - to potentially alter his brother's life like that? He truly did not know.

"Yeah," he murmured softly. "But at what cost, Aaron?"

"It's up to you to decide my friend," he replied just as quietly. "Because your brother can't speak for himself right now."

Wasn't that the crux of the matter? Joe wasn't in any position to do anything for himself. He was in a coma, lying on a bed in an intensive care unit with a number of machines hooked up to him to keep him alive.

Frank thought about the entire thing for the rest of the day, lying flat on his back on the bed in his hotel room, staring at a dusty ceiling. No matter how many reasons and justifications he mentally listed in pro and con columns, he couldn't make up his mind.

The thought of doing nothing and letting his brother succumb to his injuries paralyzed him with dread. He could not imagine living in a world without his other half. Even the slightest contemplation of the idea made his heartbeat pick up the speed in an uneven rhythm. What Aaron gave him was a chance. One last throw of dice. If it worked as advertised, not only would his brother live, but he would be able to continue as before, without any permanent debilitating after effects. If it didn't, it wasn't as if they could have made his condition worse. Joe was already teetering at the extreme edge of life anyway.

But, he was equally scared of the ramifications he would have to face down the line if this miracle worked. He wasn't even bothered about the legality of it. He would gladly take the blame and punishment for it if it meant that Joe got to walk out of this alive at the end of the day. What scared him was what Joe would say or feel if he ever found out. Would he be appalled? Would he demand the implant be taken off? Would it change him in some fundamental way or his personality? Would he be fine with it?

Then again, according to Aaron, this was going to have to be a secret that Frank took with him to his grave if they decided to go ahead. So the chances of Joe finding out about it were almost non-existent.

In the end, none of his reasoning, trepidations or fears didn't matter. The call he received from the General Hospital in Hamburg late that night, made the decision for him.