Revelations and Interrogations
Disclaimer: Same as before…I also don't own Where On Earth is Carmen Sandiego.
"Talk about a long day." Flint groaned, as he sat down in the easy chair in the living room after he'd put Claudius and Barney to sleep.
Lady Jaye said, "I finally got Klondike wound down."
She pointed at the sleeping Siberian Husky, in his trademark Siberian swirl, sleeping on the floor with his bushy tail covering his nose.
"This has been a long day." Flint replied, "Remind me to fillet Shipwreck and Mountaineer when they're finally finished with this operation."
"It hasn't been that bad." Lady Jaye commented.
"Yes it has." Flint replied, "First we've got two growing and hyperactive mutant toddlers on our hands going through their terrible twos."
"Hey, you're complaining about the babies. It's a cakewalk compared to a hyperactive Siberian Husky. He just about tore the laundry room to shreds…" Lady Jaye snapped.
"You shouldn't have locked him in there." Flint observed.
"OK, who are you now, the Dog Whisperer?" Lady Jaye snapped.
"Look, we have other problems other than hyperactive mutant toddlers and a fuel injected Siberian Husky…" Flint replied.
"Such as?" Lady Jaye replied.
"Yo ho! Yo ho! A pirate's life for me!" The song of the Pirates echoed up and down the Pit.
"Drunken pirates…" Lady Jaye sighed.
"RUN AWAY!" Cross Country screamed.
"AUGH! THEY'VE GOT A TANK! THEY'VE GOT A TANK!" Clutch shouted.
"CALL THE ARMY!" Cross Country yelped.
"WE ARE THE ARMY NINCOMPOOP!" Dusty shouted, "RUN! RUN! RUN!"
"Drunken pirates with a tank." Flint countermanded.
"Do you think we should go out there and help?" Lady Jaye asked.
"Allie, they're probably far away. We've got the kids to sleep, we've got Klondike to sleep, finally, and we can just try and enjoy a nice peaceful evening at home." Flint replied.
"We pillage and plunder, and rifle and loot. Drink up me hearties yo ho! We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot. Drink up me hearties yo ho!" The Pirates all sang as they drove the tank while severely tanked.
"AWWOOOO!" Klondike sat up and howled loudly at the ceiling.
"Now do you want to get involved?" Lady Jaye asked.
"Klondike! Down boy! Stay! Shut up!" Flint shouted.
"AAAAWWWOOOO!" Klondike howled again.
BOOM!
"There goes another Jeep, Flint." Lady Jaye said, throwing on her combat boots, making a very humorous contrast with her pink silk pajamas and robe, "Are you sure you don't want to go out there?"
"Look, as long as they don't go anywhere near our property I'll be fine!" Flint replied, "Right now we need to calm Klondike down before…"
"WAAAAGGGHHHH!" Claudius and Barney wailed.
"They wake the babies." Lady Jaye replied, "Too late. Something tells me that we ought to stop that tank before those lunatic pirates cause any more damage…"
BOOM!
"DIE PIRATES! DIE!" Beach Head shouted, as he ran down the street in his pajamas with fuzzy brown bear slippers and carrying a rocket launcher.
"Yo ho! Yo ho! A Pirate's life for me!" The Pirates sang as one of them accidentally activated the main gun, launching a high explosive round downrange that exploded just short of Hawk's office.
"Flint, I think we should get out there!" Lady Jaye replied.
"Soldier, we are not going anywhere near that chaos!" Flint replied.
"Don't try the pulling rank on me, it never works." Lady Jaye replied.
RRUMBLE. CRASH!
"There goes another jeep!" Clutch groaned, "Cover Girl's gonna kill us when she gets back!"
"We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho! Maraud and embezzle and even hijack. Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!" The Pirates all sang.
Flint's back was to the window as he spoke, "Allison, we are going nowhere near the rabble outside."
"Dash…" Jaye replied.
"Yo ho! Yo ho! A Pirate's Life for me!" The Pirates all sang out as the tank neared the window.
"Allison, as I was saying…" Flint continued.
"We kindle and char and in flame and ignite. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho. We burn up the city, we're really a fright. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho." The Pirates all sang as the tank neared the area. Jack Sparrow stood in the turret waving a bottle of rum in one hand.
A severely sloshed looking Mr. Gibbs was lying atop the front end of the tank, while Mr. Cotton, with his ever present parrot onto his right shoulder was in the driver's seat and the bald midget was clinging to the main gun for dear life. The tank was now rolling over their front lawn.
"Dash…" Lady Jaye said just a bit more urgently.
"Allison, unless the tank is going to crash into our house, we're going nowhere near it!" Flint replied.
"DASH! THE TANK IS ROLLING ACROSS THE LAWN!" Lady Jaye shouted.
"Wha…" Flint replied, turning around just as the tank crushed the mailbox.
"That's what I was trying to tell you!" Jaye replied.
"Yo ho! Yo ho! A Pirate's life for me!" The Pirates all sang out, waving rum bottles and cutlasses and discharging the occasional pistol into the air as the tank crashed through the front of the house, narrowly missing Lady Jaye and Flint as Klondike began wooing wildly with the occasional wolf-like howl interspersed in.
"We're rascals and scoundrels, we're villians and knaves. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho. We're devils and black sheep, we're really bad eggs. Drink up me 'earties, yo ho." The Pirates sang as the tank treads crushed carpet, bookshelf, and everything else that got underneath.
"Yo ho! Yo ho! A Pirate's life for me!" The Pirates sang as they fired off an occasional round from the tank.
Meanwhile Klondike was spreading the contents of Lady Jaye's personal drawer all over the front lawn.
"What the - ?" Lady Jaye began, "Get back here you crazy mutt! Come back here with my bra!"
Klondike ran down the street carrying a very sexy black bra in his mouth with a very mischievous look on his face. This was the most fun he'd had all day, the keep away game, after the Crazy Humans and their big green growling machine smashed through the house.
"DIE! PIRATES! DIE!" Flint shouted as he chased the tank with a rocket launcher.
"NOT IF I KILL THEM FIRST!" Beach Head screamed, "DIE! DIE!"
"COME BACK HERE YOU LINGERE STEALING MONGREL!" Lady Jaye shouted as she chased the running Siberian Husky.
"We're beggars and blighters and ne'er do-well cads, Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.
Aye, but we're loved by our mommies and dads, Drink up me 'earties, yo ho." The Pirates sang.
"BUT YOU'RE NOT LOVED BY US! DIE! DIE! DIE!" Beach Head and Flint shouted, firing rockets occasionally at the tank.
"Yo ho! Yo ho! A Pirate's life for me!" Jack sang as a rocket exploded by his head.
CRACK! The sound of the bat hitting the ball filled the air together with the cheers of thousands of San Francisco Giants fans. Aron Munro watched as the ball flew through the air, almost to the fence, a perfect double. Start of the ninth inning, San Francisco tied with San Diego five to five.
"Marcus," Jana Riley said, "I can't imagine why you chose to wear a rugby shirt of all things to this game."
"Well, sweetheart, there's no possible way I could offend anyone." Aron replied. Nice going, wanker. You were planning on telling her that you're real name is Aron Munro a month ago. Now telling her you're an ACME Clandestine Services Officer is something else entirely.
"By wearing a green rugby jersey." The tall, slender redhead replied.
"First of all, darling," the South African replied, "this isn't any 'green rugby jersey' this is the color of the finest team in the world of rugby union, the South African Springboks."
Jana laughed loudly, "I thought you were South African, not Swiss. And besides," she replied, kissing his neck, "You are dating a confirmed Giants fan. And that jersey looks very green to me."
"But the little twenty-dollar Springbok and the embroidered 'South Africa' are what distinguish it as the garb of the Gods of Rugby." Aron quipped.
"And you claim neutrality?" Jana replied.
"With regards to baseball, yes." Aron replied.
"Well consider yourself no longer neutral!" Jana replied, excitedly. San Francisco had a runner on first and third, two outs as Jana took her San Francisco Giants baseball cap from her head and slapped it atop Aron's.
CRACK! Another hit, this one deep into left field, one run batted in for the rookie on home plate. The crowd went wild and Jana gave a loud whoop.
Aron smiled, wanly, as he watched her give in to the ecstasy that her favorite team was winning. "Beats cricket any day, huh?" Jana asked.
"I never was a cricket fan." Aron replied, just as a vibration in the pocket of his jeans could be felt. He reached inside and looked at his mobile phone. Damn.
"I'll be right back, honey." Aron said, "I've got to go use the bog."
As soon as Aron was in the concourse he flicked his phone open, "Truscott, this had better be fucking good…" he growled.
"Let's say compromised doesn't begin to cover it." The Australian operative on the other side of the phone replied, "Phones all over ACME have been ringing over this. Meet at the safe house ASAP."
"Right, I'll be there." Aron replied and hanged up his phone.
A cheer went up from the stands. San Francisco just got a second runner home, now leading the Padres by two runs with a runner on second and two outs as Aron took his seat next to Jana.
The game ended with San Francisco scoring seven runs and the Padres five. Jana leaped into Aron's arms, her own arms around his neck as they kissed.
"I'm seeing a whole new side of you tonight." Aron thought, "And I'm liking what I see…"
"Hmm," Jana sighed, "But there's a catch…"
"Yeah, Bluey just called. He got a flat on the highway earlier and he doesn't have a spare." Aron replied.
"Why is that surveying work keeps entering your life after working hours?" Jana asked.
"Maybe it's a symptom of 21st Century society, where the work day never ends. It sounds like a human interest story." Aron replied.
"I'm a photographer, not a reporter." Jana replied, "And you're a surveyor, not a towing service."
"I'm a man of many talents." Aron replied. Namely the assembly, disassembly, and operation of several kinds of firearms to be found on the modern battlefield; dry and wet demolition; covert intelligence gathering…
As soon as they stopped outside Jana's apartment, Aron exchanged a quick kiss with Jana and said, "I'll be back soon."
I gotta tell her soon, I'm running out of excuses and things may just have gone to hell right now. Aron thought. Perfect. Procrastinate and pay the price…
"Paige? What are you doing here?" Ted asked.
Paige had a very sad look on her face, "Why? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you, tell you what, honey…" Ted replied, very concerned, reaching a hand to her face to wipe away a tear.
"Don't touch me!" Paige said, "How could I have let you into my life?"
"Paige, I don't understand." Ted replied.
"Maybe this will refresh your memory!" Paige replied, in a mix of anger and shock, waving a hand in front of her.
Beit Lehem, April 2002: Ted checked the CAR-15's chamber as the unmarked and battered Fiat sedan cruised down the highway towards the town of Beit Lehem. The target was in a vehicle, moving. Over 200 Palestinian gunmen had barricaded themselves into the Church of the Nativity in the town. Hasan Al-Nasari, a known agitator whose village was near Beit Lehem.
The Fiat pulled alongside the vehicle on the narrow roadside, coming up along the driver's side. Ted checked the safety on the shortened CAR-15 as they pulled alongside the vehicle and turned to face the car as Avi lowered the passenger side windows and opened the sun roof. Ted flicked the safety off the CAR-15 as he aimed it at the driver of the vehicle and squeezed the trigger, sending a three round burst of ammunition into the driver's side window. Almost simultaneously two other YAMAS operatives fired CAR-15s and Uzis into the vehicle. The Palestinian automobile fishtailed and veered wildly into the nearest ditch, the hood smashing against a short stone wall.
Avi stopped the car, sitting at the driver's seat with the engine running as Ted and his group jumped from the vehicle with weapons at the ready. A severely dazed Palestinian staggered from the smoking wreck. Samad blazed away with most of the magazine of his IMI 9mm Micro-Uzi, and the terrorist fell dead with over seventeen bullets having punctured his body.
The Shin Bet had been clear with orders. No prisoners were to be taken from this operation. Grimly the YAMAS team set at its work, firing bursts of automatic fire through the windows of the car, into the occupants to determine that they were dead.
Ted opened the driver's side door and the body of Nasari's driver fell out, with Samad covering him, Ted searched the corpse for documents, stuffing them down the waistband of his jeans. A moan issued from the passenger seat, as Al-Nasari breathed feebly. Ted shouldered his weapon, took aim and squeezed the trigger.
Samad threw a hand grenade underneath the vehicle, an incendiary grenade intended to set the vehicle alight by igniting the fuel tank. The odor of burned meat melted into the early evening in the Holy Land. As soon as the mission had been accomplished, the YAMAS team jumped back into their vehicle and left the scene.
Ted sat up violently, breathing heavily in the darkness of the San Francisco safe house that the Counter-FOH detachment had been billeted in. No chance in hell that he was sleeping right now. He took his cell phone from his pocket, fumbling with the buttons as he dialed in a number he knew by heart.
Paige groaned as she heard her cell phone buzzing on her bedside table. Who could be calling at this hour? Work? No, couldn't be. And Elders typically 'jingle' me when it has something to do with the Magic School…
She could see the screen of the phone in the darkness in the room, and she recognized the contact was Ted. Maybe it was some answers as to why he'd been acting kind of strange for the past week or so.
"Hi, you've reached Paige Matthews, leave your name and number…" the cheery sound of her voicemail picking up could be heard.
"Hello, Ted? Are you still there?" Paige asked.
"Yeah," Ted's reply could be heard. He sounded tired as though he just woke up about five minutes ago, "I'm still there."
"What's up?" Paige asked, concern creeping into her voice.
"Nothing." Ted replied.
Uh-huh? The classic 'Nothing's wrong, but there is something wrong, and that's why you called me at one o'clock in he morning' thought. Paige thought.
"Uh-huh? Listen, Ted, as much as I love you calling, one in the morning is pushing it…" Paige began.
"I just wanted to talk to someone." Ted replied, "I really miss you."
"Ted," Paige replied, "I seriously doubt you called me early in the morning because you miss the mellifluous sound of my voice."
"How well do you think you know me?" Ted asked.
"Let's see." Paige replied, she thought. This sounds like the script we use to tell unsuspecting mortal boyfriends about our powers, yet why is Ted using it. He's not a demon…I mean G.I. Joe doesn't work with demons…
"Well," Paige continued, "I know you graduated from a university in Great Britain. You grew up in British Colombia, Canada, but spent summers in Israel since you were nine years old, however you spent your high school years in San Francisco. You also like rock climbing, have a soft spot for dogs, especially Siberian Huskies, your favorite beer is Molson Golden and you really like Mountain Dew, and your favorite band is Genesis…"
"That seems just about accurate." Ted replied.
"Is there a shapeshifter roaming around that I don't know about?" Paige asked.
"Not really." Ted replied, "And you know me very well, but there's something else, something I want to tell you about."
"Just what is it? Ted, this had better not be something like you're married, and you have a wife, kids and two more Sibes somewhere in Israel…" Paige replied.
"Paige, it's nothing of the sort." Ted replied, "It's just something else, nothing to do with fidelity or anything to do with me loving you. It's just something from the past, something I really need to get off my chest. Something from the past."
"Ted, are you talking to me as a social worker, or as a girlfriend?" Paige asked.
"Paige, I'm talking to you as a girlfriend who has a knack for being really understanding towards me." Ted replied, "It's something to do with my time in Israel."
"Ted, why can't you be specific?" Paige replied.
"I would rather do this in person, but I'm on assignment right now and can't say where." Ted replied.
"OK, Ted, I just want to say, I'm not judging you in any way and I still love you." Paige replied.
"Paige, I'll talk to you soon. I love you." Ted replied, as he hung up.
Lance remembered the night all to well. The soft feeling of the silks of her dress, the softness of the skin on her pale hand, what it felt like to move one of those two strands of hair that always framed her narrow face. He remembered that kiss they stole behind the wrecked gym after the Sadie Hawkins dance and the demons that trashed the place.
He remembered pressing his lips to hers, feeling their tongues tie together, the soft feeling of her skin, the warmth of her touch. He remembered that night, the night where for one moment things such as their teams' rivalry, the ominous future weren't hanging over them. He remembered that it was in the now that he lived.
He remembered her saying, "You're not going to forget this night, are you?" Kitty asked.
"I won't forget this if I live to be two hundred." Lance replied, again gently moving the lock away as Kitty tilted her face towards his and they neared each other. He closed his eyes as he gently kissed her tenderly…
"I'll remember this moment forever." Lance said as they parted for want of air.
"Yes Lance, remember this moment forever. For there won't be anymore like it…" a dark voice said.
Lance saw Kitty, suspended in midair, held there by invisible forces. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, melding with the tears and sweat leaking down her face. Her uniform was torn in several places, exposing skin and wounds, blood mixing with the fabric. She wasn't dead. She wasn't unconscious either. She was alive. Her face was bruised as well. One eye was swollen shut; the other contained enough pain for a dozen.
"Lance…" Kitty said, weakly.
Surrounding Kitty were three men with full length black robes, their hands outstretched before them, strange energy pulsing into Kitty…
"Lance…Help me…" Kitty groaned.
"You can't save her Lance." Said the voice, "You're nothing but a hood…"
"No!" Lance screamed, as he clutched a mysterious looking key-sword in his hands, charging towards the men, just as they launched a burst of killing energy into Kitty.
"BASTARDS!" Lance screamed, swinging the Keyblade, decapitating the first robed man, then the second, and the third.
Gasping from the effort and the grief, Lance raced over to Kitty, holding her limp body in his arms, feeling acid dread well up inside him. "No, please, don't leave me…I'm lost without you…Kitty…please hold on…"
As the wind shifted, the hood on one of the beheaded corpses shifted aside. Lance gasped in horror as he saw the face of the dead man was none other than his own…
Lance sat up violently in bed. No way in hell was he going to try and go back to sleep. Who were those people? What was with that voice? Who was that voice? Lance thought.
He wanted to talk to someone, but he didn't want to wake Spirit or anyone else. He headed outside of the safe house, on a hill in a development that overlooked the Golden Gate Bridge. Ted sat outside, staring out at the Bay at night, the lights of the San Francisco skyline.
"Mountaineer," Lance began, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Shoot kid." Ted replied.
"What's it like to kill another person?" Lance asked.
"Kid, with luck your first kill will happen in a hurry. You don't have time to think up there. You see a man with a weapon, you shoulder the rifle, you pull the pin on the grenade and you waste him. It's afterward where you remember all that." Ted replied, "It's all tuned into you by training. By the time you realized you've wasted the guy, the action is over and you're alive and well at your encampment."
"What's the other way?" Lance asked.
"Your superiors could order you to walk up to a man in the street, he may be responsible for God knows what, and your orders are simple. Walk straight up to the guy and pepper him full of holes." Ted replied.
"Is that why you're up early?" Lance asked.
"You could say that." Ted replied, "Is that why you're up?"
"I don't know. It's these dreams I have. I keep getting these dreams about Kitty and they start out good, but then I see her being hurt, being tortured, dying…" Lance began.
"Dreams are just that, dreams." Ted replied, "You're afraid Kitty's gonna get hurt and something bad is going to happen. I understand, believe me."
The man stood over the dead body, one blasted with holes. He was a tall man by the standards of his country, 5'9" to 5'10", no record but bigger than most Mexicans. His black hair extended down to his neck. A short double barreled shotgun was clutched in his right hand, a MAC-10 sub machinegun slung around his shoulder.
"I know remnants of the Barillo Cartel want me dead, but demons sent my way are another matter." El Mariachi said.
"Who cares," Lorenzo, a man with shorter hair and a goatee and a slightly lighter complexion than Mariachi, replied, "We wasted his ass anyway."
Lorenzo blew out the barrel of his Colt .45 caliber pistol with a telescopic sight.
"We also used a shitload of ammo." Fideo replied. He was about as tanned as Lorenzo, with curly long hair about as long as the Mariachi's. A Colt Python revolver was clutched in right hand.
The corpse was a man, or at least it once had been. Sticking prominently out of the forehead were two black antennae. One of the eyes was brown, the other was a pale yellow orb and half his face was covered with ebony black skin. Claws, black and twisted, were now where hands had once been. Clothing was tattered, exposing more black skin, mixed in with the man's normal flesh.
"What is that thing?" Fideo asked.
"Who cares? We can kill it…" Lorenzo replied.
"With four shotgun rounds, a dozen magnum rounds, at least fourteen .45 caliber bullets and who knows how many 9mm rounds." Fideo protested.
"We had better discover where the hell these things come from, as well as what they are." El Mariachi replied, "Preferably before our supply of bullets run out."
"Or our supply of tequila." Fideo replied, taking a hit and handing it to the other two, who refused.
"Barillo is dead, El." Lorenzo replied, "He couldn't have sent that creature."
"It is a creature, Lorenzo?" El Mariachi replied, "Don't forget it was once a man."
"Whatever, it's a dead bag of shit right now." Lorenzo replied.
"I'll drink to that." Fideo replied, taking another slug of tequila.
"There's been a rumor going around about a drug called 'the Serum' that the Cartels are peddling these days. It's supposed to make you as strong as Superman…" Lorenzo replied.
"Think that's what this pendejo was on?" Fideo asked.
"I don't know. Yet." Mariachi replied, "But we're going to find out."
"So let me get this straight, Mr. Parr," the Beast began, "You people are from another world?"
"Yes." Elastigirl replied.
"And your world was attacked by a coalition of the Heartless controlled by your chief bad guy, Syndrome, and his forces." The Beast continued.
Mr. Incredible nodded.
"And your world is apparently a dimension where the Soviet Union still exists. And shortly after Syndrome took over, he got into a pissing contest with the Russians," Logan replied, "And they promptly invaded Metroville and are currently rampaging through it."
"Got it in one, dwarf." Mr. Incredible replied.
"Bob…" Helen chastised.
"And you guys are members of an organization called ACME that uses C-5 technology to travel between dimensions and anywhere on the planet." The Beast continued, as he indicated a Scottish woman with long brown hair and clear blue eyes, a swarthy Australian, a stocky bald man, a Japanese guy with a crew cut and a mustache, and a slender, pasty guy with glasses, with a border collie curled up at his feet.
"Yes." Marian, the Scot, replied, "We were relocating the Incredibles to this world, hoping that there wasn't going to be a Heartless problem."
"However it appears you've got at least a First Stage Infestation." Bluey Truscott, the Australian, replied.
"A what?" Storm asked.
"A First Stage Infestation, meaning the Heartless have only recently discovered your world. More will start coming." Jan Shimoda, the Japanese man, replied.
"ACME, that sounds familiar, I'm sure I've heard of it somewhere before…" Jean Grey began.
"Guys…" Mutiple began.
"Yeah, from Warner Brothers cartoons." Bobby countered.
"Hey, I resent that, squirt." Larry Purvis, the bespectacled K-9 handler, replied.
"Guys…" Multiple began again, a bit more forcefully.
"The Soviet Union still exists in your dimension?" Pitor asked Truscott.
The Australian replied, "In the Metroville dimension, yes.. I wouldn't be surprised if some GRU or KGB operatives followed the Parrs onto this world."
"GRU?" Scott asked, frowning.
"The Glavnoe Razvedyvatel'noe Upravlenie or 'Main Intelligence Directorate' of the Soviet Union." Bluey Truscott replied, "We've had our share of run-ins with them."
"So we've got problems, with the Heartless, the FOH, COBRA, and now the Soviets and Syndrome, whoever he is?" Scott replied.
"Syndrome and the Soviets aren't friendly with each other. For reasons yet unknown, Syndrome provoked the Soviets into invading Metroville." Elastigirl interjected.
"GUYS!" Multiple shouted, with an uncharacteristic bossy tone.
"What is it, Jamie?" Jean asked.
"ACME, I recognize it from old cartoon videos lying around the mansion. They were the people that chase Carmen Sandiego…" Jamie replied.
"Right you are, lad." Marian replied, smiling.
"However the chase for Carmen Sandiego is only one-tenth of our actual activities. It has the most publicity. A full nine-tenths of our activities are often of the interdimensional variety." Papa Louie, the bald man, replied.
"And our most recent project was relocating Metroville escapees to other worlds, including the Parrs." Marian added.
"We should share all this information with the Misfits." Xavier concluded.
"Misfits?" Marian asked, "You mean those insane pirate wannabes?"
"Among other things. The Misfits were former enemies of the X-men, called the Brotherhood of Mutants. When the leader of the Brotherhood, Magneto, cast them out, the Army unit called G.I. Joe found them and rehabilitated them. The Misfits are the former Brotherhood members with G.I. Joe leaders." Xavier replied.
"You might wanna reconsider the former part, Chuck." Xavier replied, "Especially considering the Tin Grin and Avalanche fights."
"Obviously," Xavier groaned, "There's been a few adjustments."
"You mean that insane bearded sailor that trashed our dinner date last month is one of the Misfits?" Bob asked, "Figures."
"Charles, this is going to work out real well…" Logan said, sarcastically.
"I'll take us to the liquor store." Warren groaned.
"You're buying, Wings." Logan replied.
"I ain't saying nothing without my lawyer." Kyle Hamilton said, as he sat in the Interrogation Room of the Pit.
"It's your prerogative." Emily Arlington, the British Secret Service agent, asked, "Can I get you anything?"
"Well, I think I'll have a tequila with lime." Sands quipped.
"Not you, Sands. I'm talking about Mr. Hamilton." Emily asked.
"Sands! I knew you were a damn Fed!" Hamilton replied, "Forget it! I'm not telling you and Ms. Brit there anything."
"Hey! I resemble that remark!" Sands replied.
"Suit yourself." Emily said, "It's been eight hours already."
"I say drastic measures are necessary." Sands yawned.
"Hey! I know my rights! This is illegal…" Hamilton replied.
"We're not using this for any criminal trial." Emily replied, "Trinity, you can come in now."
"OK…" The three girls entered the interrogation room.
"Hah! If I didn't say a word to an ex-CIA agent and…" Hamilton continued, and impersonated Emily's British accent, "a member of Her Majesty's Secret Service, what makes you think I'll say something to three teeny boppers…"
"Trust me, ass clown," Sands replied, "You're gonna sorely regret not talking."
"Hah." Hamilton replied.
"Well, it's been a long night, and I'd best get some rest." Emily replied as she walked out of the room. Sands followed after her.
"Hi Mr. Hamilton," Daria said, bearing a remote control in her hands, "We heard you're a member of that mean and nasty Friends of Humanity crew…"
"Well duh!" Hamilton replied.
"Well, I was wondering if you'd tell us who's your boss?" Brittany asked.
"What are you gonna do, cute me to death…?" Hamilton replied.
Quinn had a pouty expression on her face, "No, but we'll do more drastic things…"
"Hey, Emily said no torturing prisoners!" Brittany said.
"But she didn't say anything about serenades…" Daria replied, tapping the remote control.
"What the hell?" Hamilton asked, when he saw a robotic Richard Simmons in a gaudily colored leotard walk into the room.
"Sweat to the oldies!" The Richard Simmons robot said, running in place.
Several hours later: Emily headed to the Interrogation Room and opened the door.
"Thank God you're here! OK! I did it! I did it! I ran several FOH beatings in San Francisco!" Hamilton shouted.
"What did you girls do?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We didn't do anything." Trinity replied, "Our robotic Richard Simmons did all the work…"
"Uh-huh, is that why there are components missing from my hair dryer?" Emily asked.
"I'll tell you everything! Please don't make me listen to Smells like Teen Spirit and watch that robot exercise again!" Hamilton pleaded hysterically.
Emily turned to Sands and said, "I admit, I was skeptical at first, but your idea of using Trinity to interrogate the more recalcitrant suspects was sheer genius…if a little disturbing…"
"I have my moments." Sands replied.
"Sands, you're talking to the wall…" Emily replied, rolling her eyes.
"You know, it's tough conducting these things without eyes!" Sands snapped.
"Hello. Hello. Hello Hello…." The robot sang as it did several calisthenics in the room.
"I'll call Roadblock in San Francisco with all the information that Trinity found." Emily replied.
"Why am I cleaning up the dirty work?" Sands replied.
"It was your idea." Emily shrugged.
TBC