Two days later...
Tuesday, May 29th, 2017
16:10 GMT-6 (22:10 GMT May 29th)
The Battle Bunker
Chicago, USA
Marty, Mindy, Kelly, and Dave stared up at the giant screen before them.
"Okay," Marty briefed. "Thanks to Vengeance, actually Lara and Lily, we have some more pieces to our very vague puzzle. Not to mention some intel picked up by Dave and Mindy in Gotham, just last night."
"Vague," Mindy scowled. "As in fucking impossible to complete!"
"Yeah," Marty muttered as he continued. "As we can see, Dieter Mannheim arrived in his BBJ-3..."
"At least my jet's bigger," Mindy scoffed.
"Do I need to use this?" Marty asked, as he held up a roll of Duct Tape labelled: 'For Mindy and Megan only'.
Mindy glared at the roll of Duct Tape before she bit her bottom lip. Marty nodded – not many people were able to tease Hit Girl with impunity, but Marty was one of them – as he continued the briefing. Dieter's photo appeared on the screen and Mindy glared up at the man.
"Dieter then welcomed aboard Susan Cummings." Another photo went up – it too received a glare from Mindy. "Next, we have Gabriel Agreste..."
"Adrien's father?" Mindy burst out. "Sorry, you know I can't help myself."
"Yes, Adrien's billionaire father. They do not see eye to eye and Adrien has not spoken with his father in almost four years," Marty replied. "It is believed that the French yacht which attacked Vengeance, last year, was Guerrier, a yacht we believe to be owned by Gabriel's organisation – at least a shell corporation by the name of Gémeaux."
"Gémeaux?" Kelly asked.
"A seedy organisation which is involved in everything bad – human trafficking, the sex trade, drugs, weapon smuggling – you name it," Marty replied. "Okay, next to arrive was another bastard from the past: William Fraser."
Mindy struggled to control her anger as the man's photo appeared on the screen – that bastard had tried to kill Shannon and Jamie. Electra had stabbed the man, but somehow, the bastard had survived. Mindy wanted the man to suffer at the hands of Jamie and Shannon – one day.
"According to flight records, two others landed with Dieter – Rosa, his lieutenant, and a Noah Tremblay," Marty continued.
"That's a new name," Dave pointed out.
"Yes, it is," Marty stated. "The man is Canadian, and he operates a massive global organisation – I see him as a kingpin, if you like. He is much wealthier than the others and there is no way that the man defers to any one of them. His organisation is well known around the world to take part in shady operations; however, nothing ever sticks – the man pays off politicians like Mindy takes down drug dealers."
Mindy grinned at the comment.
"Vengeance dealt Scorpio a major blow when Keira blew up Radford – that helped give us an edge. Our three friends have known links with a name from Mindy's past," Marty said, somewhat uneasily.
"Vito . . . Genovese," Mindy hissed in a barely audible tone that dropped the temperature in the room by several degrees.
Everyone, even Kelly, knew what that man and his family meant to Mindy – and to Dave. They had been the power behind Frank D'Amico and for that, they were Mindy's sworn enemy. However, for the death of his daughter, Vito Genovese blamed Hit Girl. Hit Girl had caused the death of his son-in-law (even though it had actually been Kick-Ass and his Bazooka) and the madness which had possessed his grandson, Chris D'Amico. Vito had also seen the death of Ralph D'Amico as a personal insult to his family – therefore, he had declared war on Hit Girl soon after but ultimately, he had failed in his assault on Fusion.
"So," Mindy said coolly. "We have five or six very influential people who are determined to make the world a place which they control – am I right?"
"Unfortunately," Dave replied unhappily.
..._...
The four of them went through all the intelligence, piece by piece.
Somehow, five men and one woman had decided to inflict pain on the world, but instead of simply using explosives and firearms, they had escalated . . . to nuclear weapons – why?
To sane people, in the current day and age, it was impossible to consider the use of nuclear weapons as a first strike. Even to Mindy, who did not exactly meet the medical definition of 'sane', nuclear weapons were abhorrent in every way. However, somehow, she and her organisation were smack in the middle of whatever abhorrent plan those five people had cooked up. Was there more to it? Were they seeking financial gain by the use of nuclear extortion? Or were they ready to actually execute a plan for nuclear holocaust? Could they be stopped by Fusion and their allies? Frustratingly, as usual, there were many questions, but very few answers.
"Together, their forces are formidable," Marty pointed out, a little downcast, and he was not the only one, looking at Kelly. "They have access to cutting edge weaponry..."
"So, do we," Dave said before Mindy could. "In total, we number around a hundred. We are formidable – let's not allow morale to be beaten down by the fact we are outnumbered. We always fight against the odds – and we usually prevail. Hell, a small group of us fought many times our number, just a few weeks back – AND WE WON! They may be better funded. They may have access to better weapons. They may have backup from nation states. Who gives a shit! We are Fusion, Vengeance, Concord, Honneur – we NEVER back down! We are not simple vigilantes who chase down lost kittens like I was when I started this shit; we are so much more."
Dave grinned as he finished his pep talk.
"And we have Hit Girl," Kelly added.
Everybody laughed.
"I do what I can," Mindy grinned.
..._...
After a short pause to get coffee, Mindy waded in next.
"We need intel," Mindy stated. "All we have so far are suppositions but nothing concrete. Yes, we know these bastards are up to their fucking necks in dodgy shit, but we have no evidence, which is why no government will act against any of them. We need to dig into their organisations and find out what the fuck they are doing and catch them red fucking handed."
Dave noticed that Mindy was getting annoyed. He also knew that she was tired – physically tired – and needed rest. However, he may as well just shit on the floor for what good it would do to tell Mindy she needed to rest.
"What did you find out in Gotham?" Kelly asked.
"We got a brown envelope which contained a single piece of paper," Mindy replied. "We have a name: James Morrow, a location: Luxembourg, and a way to communicate with the guy."
"Nothing else?"
"That's it," Mindy groused. "Just like all the other worthless intel we've got – it asks more questions than it answers!"
"Where are their main bases?" Kelly enquired.
"Dieter has San Francisco and we have that fully wired, only nothing about any of this shit is coming through," Marty briefed. "That means Dieter is being very careful and keeping Panther well apart from his Tomahawk Group. We know that Vito is in Sicily and that's where he stays – the man never leaves. He sends out his sons and grandsons to do the dirty work at his behest."
"We take them down," Mindy stated coldly. "That is our way into this group. We take down the entire Genovese family and seize any intel we find. They must be supplying something to this venture of theirs – I think it would be Vito's distribution network. Vito has access around the world for drugs and weapons."
"It would cut off one of the organisation's legs," Dave agreed. "Marty?"
"It would take some major planning – a few weeks to plan and get the equipment in place for an assault in the Mediterranean," Marty said after a few moment's careful thought.
"But we can do it?" Mindy pushed.
"It's no Buck Island . . . we would need to make use of some major assets, Mindy," Marty replied. "You would need the Ocean Vigilante and the Phoenix."
"Can the Phoenix be ready in time?" Dave asked.
"What's the Phoenix?" Kelly ventured.
"Above your paygrade, honey!" Mindy said pointedly. "Yes, I think she can be ready in time – I'll notify Reg to prepare his crew and speak with Seattle."
"What about the boat?" Dave asked Marty.
"She's moored at Gibraltar," Marty advised. "Fully armed and fuelled in a ready state. An advance party would need to get her ready for sea and fill the fridges with beer – no more than a week's work."
"Funny!" Mindy chuckled. "I'll check who we have available to send. We may need to borrow some members of Vengeance for the assault – there are some skills I would like access to."
"You want to go in from the sea?" Marty queried, quickly figuring out Mindy's cryptic thoughts.
"Yes – that means we need combat swimmers."
"I'll speak with Eric and see what can be arranged," Marty agreed before he paused. "Remember that Vengeance took a beating at the weekend, despite their success."
"I know," Mindy growled. "That's something else we need to worry about – you and Q got that in the bag?"
"Yes," Marty replied. "The interrogation has been unsuccessful so far, I understand."
"Tell them to push – we need that intel," Mindy responded darkly. "Once Vito is dead, we need to plan the next operation – hopefully, we will find something on Sicily which will help us. How about a reconnaissance?"
"A reconnaissance," Marty echoed. "I might have some ideas there . . . yes . . . how about the Calico Quest – we would need to get permission from the young Miss Radford."
"Is the Calico Quest in the Mediterranean?" Mindy asked.
"Yes, she is coming off a survey job in three days and putting into Valetta, Malta for refuelling – I like to keep an eye on any potential assets," Marty replied.
"Speak with Lara and Scarlett, please, Marty."
Marty turned back to his console and Mindy stood pensively for a few minutes.
"Mindy, I think now is the time to push the button," Dave said.
Mindy said nothing for two full minutes but when she did, her expression was one of pure venom.
"Fusion and her sister organisations are at war – and there is the opposition," she stated.
"Good versus Evil – a classic," Dave said before his expression darkened. "They know that we are onto them, so that means that they are going to be targeting us. To be honest, this game of theirs has been underway for a while. It has been at the back of my mind, but it makes sense, especially now. The attacks at New Year – that was this group. Naomi was hurt by these fuckers and there could have been more hurt. I want all Fusion systems and safehouses on alert. I want Vengeance, Concord, and Honneur notified and advised to consider their own security. With nuclear weapons on the board, that means nothing is off the board."
"We have new weapon systems and capabilities of our own which they know nothing about – there is our ace card," Mindy followed on, grinning demonically. "We will show them what we can do when we're pushed."
There was general agreement.
"You never mentioned the name of the organisation which Tremblay operates," Kelly pointed out to Marty.
"Oh," Marty said as he updated the display screen by adding a fifth name to the list of organisations surrounded by photos.
And there it was, displayed on the giant screen, clear as day; five criminal organisations:
Sicilian Mafia
Panther Organisation
Scorpio Group
Gémeaux
Eidolon
The Axis of Evil.
Elsewhere, the following morning...
07:43 GMT+2 (05:43 GMT May 30th)
Avenue de Maine
Paris, France
"Yvette!"
"Quoi!"
"Get up!"
"Donne moi de la force!"
Ten-year-old Yvette Dubois yelled out in despair as eleven-year-old Owen Sterling pulled back her duvet.
"Veux-tu vraiment mourir?"
"Come get me, you French tart," Owen challenged.
Yvette rolled onto her back and the girl opened her eyes, glaring up at the boy. Since he had been living with them, Yvette had gone from hating his guts to almost tolerating the boy. She would never admit it in public, or to Marinette, but the boy was growing on her – she just hoped that Stephanie never found out.
"Okay, I'm up, you annoying cunt!"
"Yvette, less of that language, please," Marinette called.
Owen's eyes went wide at the mutterings he was hearing as Yvette stormed off to the bathroom.
"Better wash your foul mouth out with soap while you're there," Owen offered unhelpfully.
"Salaud!" came the shouted response from the bathroom.
"Yvette!" Marinette called out.
"Stop teasing her," Adrien suggested to Owen as the boy headed downstairs.
"One day, she's going to get angry with you," Marinette added.
"I can take her," Owen grinned as he sat down at the table for breakfast.
"Read this while you're pondering the next way to annoy Yvette," Adrien said as he passed over a cardboard folder.
Owen turned all business as he saw that it was a classified Fusion file. Adrien laughed; he knew that Predators went all business when it was time to work and he unashamedly used it as an off switch for their antics.
"Va te fair foutre!" Owen muttered as he read the first page.
"Accurate, I suppose," Marinette muttered as she placed a bowl of hot chocolate on the table before the boy.
"You let him swear, but not me?" Yvette growled indignantly as she entered the kitchen.
"Get a look at this," Owen suggested.
Yvette clocked the boy's no-nonsense comment and she looked over his shoulder at the page he was reading. She focussed on two words in particular which did not belong in the same sentence: 'nuclear' and 'weapon'.
"Merde!"
Bastille
Once the two monsters had departed for school, Marinette and Adrien headed down to Bastille.
"Bonjour mes amis!" Alya Césaire announced as Marinette entered the safehouse at speed and slid her deep red Honda VFR800F motorcycle to a halt as she always did.
Adrien was a little more controlled as he pulled up gently on his black Harley Davidson Sportster 1200 Custom motorcycle.
"Le démon de vitesse arrive," Adrien quipped as Marinette stowed her helmet on the rack.
"Speed is in my blood," Marinette replied.
"Your blood'll be all over the road if you keep riding like that," Alya despaired.
Adrien rolled his eyes; it was the same every morning. The pair were the very best of friends, yet they loved to wind each other up.
"So, what has Fusion graced Honneur with today?" Marinette AKA La Coccinelle asked.
"Did you even read the file?" Alya AKA Akuma demanded.
"Some of it," Marinette admitted with a grin – she had read it cover to cover but she just wanted to wind up her Akuma.
"She read it," Adrien AKA Le Chat Noir reassured Alya.
..._...
Once they had gone through the information together, Alya brought up the location of where the suspect package appeared to have been shipped from.
"From the details supplied by Concord, it appears that the package originated from Aubervilliers – north Paris..."
"I know where Aubervilliers is!" Marinette growled.
Alya grinned as she continued, pointing at a satellite image of north Paris on a large wall-mounted screen.
"This apartment block, just here. The fourth floor belongs to a Pierre Boucher – got a casier judiciaire with the Police Nationale longer than the Bayeux Tapestry. We should be able to gain access via the roof . . . here. One team can enter via the stairs while the other can swing down onto the balcony, here."
"Thanks, Alya," Adrien said.
"We can leave the swinging over the balcony to the little shits," Marinette commented dryly. "I'll quite happily kick them both off the rooftop."
Alya laughed.
"With or without ropes?"
"Don't tempt me!"
Alya knew that Marinette loved Les Enfants, as she liked to refer to them, and she also knew that Marinette would never hurt either one of them – even though they both deserved it at times.
The following evening
Wednesday, May 31st
21:50 GMT+2 (19:50 GMT May 31st)
Rue de la Commune de Paris
Termino and La Terreaur were lying flat on an adjacent rooftop while La Coccinelle and Le Chat Noir were checking out the target building.
It was only the third outing for Termino and he was slightly nervous. He was still getting used to being encased in a full-body combat suit. He was, however, thoroughly impressed by the deep blue suit which covered him from head to toe. Sections of his chest armour, grieves, and shoulder armour were a duck egg blue. The colours allowed the boy to blend into darkness like he was never there. At his waist, he wore a deep blue utility belt which supported his SIG SAUER P320 Tacops Carry pistol, communications, and his combat knife. His pride and joy, his Ninjatō, was on his back, the hilt angled over his left shoulder.
Next to him, clad in a deep red combat suit which otherwise matched his own, La Terreaur was equipped with an identical set of weapons. For the girl, it was nothing special and she was used to wearing the combat suit. For the night's operation, the added extras on the combat suits would come in useful. The embedded harness would make it easy for them to abseil over the edge of the building and then make entry from the balcony directly below the roof overhang.
"Okay," La Coccinelle radioed. "We are good to go. The hard point for your harnesses is secure, kids."
"Move in, slowly," Le Chat Noir directed.
"Moving in!" La Terreaur responded.
"What she said," Termino added.
The two youngsters jumped up and they ran across the rooftops to where La Coccinelle and Le Chat Noir were waiting.
22:05 GMT+2 (20:05 GMT May 31st)
Bastille
Akuma was monitoring the mission from the safehouse.
As well as the audio, she had access to numerous surveillance cameras located around the neighbourhood. She was principally watching for any police interference. While the police of Chicago, Vancouver, and the United Kingdom had seemingly accepted their vigilante colleagues, the French National Police were not so accepting – much like in Los Angeles where there were active arrest warrants for the vigilantes at large. La Coccinelle and Le Chat Noir were wanted criminals in Paris. For the moment, they had no idea of who La Terreaur or Termino were, so no arrest warrants had yet been issued for them. The National Police were concerned that open vigilantism could set a precedent and thus potentially cause an open revolt – something which the French people had previous for as their often-turbulent history showed.
"Honneur, this is Akuma – you are good to make your entry . . . all alarms bypassed."
"Thanks, Akuma," La Coccinelle replied.
"This harness is a little tight on my balls," Termino commented.
"What?" La Terreaur chuckled. "Those tiny things that hang with your tiny dick?"
"Says the bitch with no tits," Termino shot back.
"How would you know?" La Terreaur demanded.
"You leave the door open when you shower," Termino pointed out.
"Oh."
"Have you two finished?" La Coccinelle asked. "Or do you both want to faire des galipettes?"
"Ooh!" Akuma laughed.
"What does that even mean?" Termino asked – his French was good but sometimes the slang passed over his head.
"I'm not translating," La Terreaur replied as she felt her face getting very hot under her mask.
22:08 GMT+2 (20:08 GMT May 31st)
Rue de la Commune de Paris
As the two youngsters reached the point on the roof where their ropes were laid out, they began to attach the rope to their harnesses.
"Can I help?" Termino offered as he reached for La Terreaur's crotch where her carabiner hung just below her utility belt.
"Enule!"
"Just askin' . . . no need to go off on one."
Termino simply shook his head as he clipped on the prepared rope and moved to the edge of the roof area where there was a four-foot wall and then a six-foot overhang above the balcony. They all trod lightly, considering that their target was dozing just a few foot or so beneath their feet. Over by the hatch which led below the roof, Le Chat Noir stood with his SIG SAUER P226 Legion pistol in his right hand, a suppressor attached to the barrel. Beside him, La Coccinelle held one of her twelve-inch Tanto knives in her right hand.
"You ready?" La Coccinelle asked the two youngsters who were already over the wall and standing on the glass overhang.
"Prêt!" La Terreaur announced as she stood with her feet on the very edge of the glass, ready to swing down.
"Prêt!" Termino added as he stood beside the girl.
"Aller!" La Coccinelle hissed as Le Chat Noir pulled open the glazed hatch which revealed a flight of stairs which led into the apartment.
Simultaneously, La Terreaur and Termino pushed off from the overhang before they dropped directly downwards.
22:15 GMT+2 (20:15 GMT May 31st)
Apartment 4015
Rue de la Commune de Paris
All was dark inside the apartment as La Coccinelle took the lead, softly taking each step slowly and stealthily.
The steps were concrete which made stealth a lot easier. La Coccinelle and Le Chat Noir listened for any sign of unexpected noise or movement, but their ears detected nothing. The front door had been child's play to bypass as the locks were well worn, making them a lot easier to pick. Earlier, they had placed a microphone against the glass of the roof hatch and detected no sound within the apartment apart from a steady snoring coming from one of the bedrooms. However, just as they set foot into the apartment proper, a light clicked on, flooding them both in light and a man suddenly appeared out of the master bedroom. The man was startled, just as the two vigilantes were, as they cringed in the bright light. The large man recovered remarkably quickly as he bulldozed his way through the female vigilante, and he ran towards the main door of the apartment to make his escape.
"Arrêtez!" came an electronically disguised voice before he had gone two paces.
La Coccinelle turned to find the man with his hands out to his sides and Termino pointing his SIG SAUER P320 pistol at the man's head. Behind him, La Terreaur was providing cover for her partner from a few feet away, her own pistol raised. Despite Les Enfants squabbling each and every waking minute, they were one hundred per cent professional when they were in vigilante (Predator) mode. In this case, the pair had executed a perfect entry through the glass patio doors into the apartment without making a single sound and their very presence had stopped their target dead.
"Viens avec moi, bâtard!" La Coccinelle growled as she kicked the man in the back of the knees and once the man had fallen to the ground, he was dragged into the kitchen.
"Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici?" the man demanded angrily.
"Toi, petit branleur, tu as envoyé des trucs coquins en Amérique," La Coccinelle explained.
"Non!" Boucher responded unconvincingly.
"Rechercher cet endroit!" La Coccinelle snapped as she backhanded the man across the face.
With Le Chat Noir covering La Coccinelle, Les Enfants began to search each and every room in the apartment, beginning with the three bedrooms at the back of the apartment. They were swift and decisive as they pulled out drawers, dug through cupboards, and flipped over mattresses. Trashing the apartment was great fun as far as Les Enfants were concerned and they performed the task with relish and gusto. Once the first bedroom was checked (trashed), they moved onto the next, and then the next.
That was when they found something...
22:32 GMT+2 (20:32 GMT May 31st)
"Akuma, La Terreaur, you getting any readings?"
La Terreaur was waving an electronic sensor across a large cardboard box filled with packing peanuts which they had found in a cupboard. The device had sensors which could detect radiation.
"We've got a slightly elevated reading – above normal background radiation," Akuma replied.
It was immediately obvious that they had struck pay dirt. The packaging had been used to contain nuclear material. Why the idiot had not disposed of the incriminating evidence was unknown, however, in his defence, without a device to detect the radiation, the otherwise innocuous packaging was just that, innocuous packaging.
"Any sign of where the package came from?" Akuma asked.
"The labels have been torn off," Termino advised. "However, we do have a slightly damaged barcode."
"Scan it!" Akuma directed.
Termino took a snapshot of the barcode with his mobile phone which instantly sent the image to Akuma back at Bastille. Akuma's computer software swiftly decoded the damaged barcode and produced an address which the self-professed geek sent back to the display screens built into each combat suit. Termino looked at the screen built into the left wrist of his combat suit as the data came in and the boy studied the address along with the map of Paris which showed the exact location of their next target.
"We have an address – south-side," Termino advised.
"Sécurisez Le Chatte et allons-y!" La Coccinelle directed.
Le Chat Noir secured Boucher, gagging him for good measure. The man would be left for the National Police to scoop up as there were several open warrants for the man. After a brief sweep of the apartment, Les Enfants headed to the roof to retrieve their ropes while Les Adultes headed down to ground level to retrieve their vehicle. It took just minutes for Les Enfants to retrieve the ropes and remove all evidence of their visit. Akuma would make an anonymous call to notify the relevant authorities later that night.
Just as Les Enfants reached the back street, they heard the powerful rumble of a supercharged three-litre V6 engine as FÉROCE rumbled into view.
..._...
The armoured Range Rover Sentinel known as FÉROCE barely slowed as the two youngsters clambered inside and they strapped themselves into five-point quick-release harnesses.
Le Chat Noir was driving, and he put his foot down, accelerating the three-tonne behemoth onto the Boulevard Périphérique, heading south. The typical traffic which usually clogged the highway had eased earlier that evening making their fourteen kilometre drive a quick one, despite the seventy KPH speed limit. Very few paid much attention to the matte black Range Rover as it kept to the speed limit and to the inside lane, only overtaking traffic where required. The tinted windows helped give the vehicle suitable anonymity in the French capital city where many similar vehicles cruised the same roads after dark protecting many dignitaries and famous people from potential danger.
After crossing the River Seine in the south of the city, they left the Boulevard Périphérique and headed a short distance into the side streets before stopping in a darkened alleyway.
23:05 GMT+2 (21:05 GMT May 31st)
Rue du Général Leclerc
The apartment was spartan – too spartan. Everything was in its place and there was none of the usual clutter a home generated on a daily basis.
Entry into the third-floor apartment had been suspiciously easy. The locks were basic, and the alarm had not been set. After a brief search, the apartment had been declared clear. No one was home, leaving them free to search the apartment. Termino stopped dead after a brief scan of the main living area and the open plan kitchen.
"This place is either a safehouse or the home of a very careful spy," he declared. "Nobody is this tidy."
"I hate to agree with le morveux," La Terreaur admitted, "but l'enfoiré is correct."
La Coccinelle chuckled, knowing how much it cost the young girl to admit that the boy was right. She also agreed with hem them both, having almost missed it herself.
"I've been checking the utilities and very little electricity has been consumed in the past five days," Akuma advised. "The phone line has no outbound calls and there is no broadband connection to that address."
"So, we have nothing?" Le Chat Noir demanded angrily.
"It looks like whomever was here has fucking scarpered," Termino growled more to himself than the others. "However, maybe..."
The boy began to run around the apartment, digging into hidden places. Les Adultes appeared confused, especially when La Terreaur joined in the search having caught on very quickly. They followed Les Enfants around and watched as Termino pulled apart the cistern on the toilet before moving onto the doors, scanning the doors and door frames. As for the girl, she was burrowing in the kitchen cabinets. Finally, after twenty minutes of searching and general trashing of the apartment, Termino finally stood up happily.
"Hiding something is not easy," he lectured Les Adultes. "Most hiding places are a trade-off between security and access. You can hide something under a floor – maybe in a sewer pipe – but if you need to get it in a hurry . . . no way! However, you hide something in a cupboard, for instance, then it's easy to get at, but any idiot could find it – even La Terreaur over there."
"Fucking get to it," La Terreaur growled as she climbed out of the last kitchen cupboard – she was getting bored, having heard the very same lecture.
"The best hiding places have to be easy to access, but difficult to identify. Dodgy people, like us Predators, call 'em slips. Easy in and easy out – bit like a girl."
"So not funny," La Terreaur growled.
"You see this door frame?" the boy lectured. "Somebody has tampered with the screws on the centre hinge. See where the screws on the top and bottom hinges are perfectly aligned? Whoever hid something here was careful enough to use a slick, but he left a tell-tail."
"They wanted us to find it?" Le Chat Noir asked.
"Only someone with similar skills could find it – at least that would be their hope," La Terreaur responded as Termino began to unscrew the hinge from the door frame with a screwdriver from his belt.
La Coccinelle and Le Chat Noir were both intrigued by the discovery.
..._...
Once the four wood screws had been removed, Termino pulled back the hinge to reveal a thin slot, about four inches in height – just less than the five-inch height of the hinge – and about a half inch in width.
Everyone looked on curiously at the slot as Termino indicated a small piece of string which hung from the slot. Gently pulling on the piece of string, a small package emerged from the slick. The boy took the package over to the kitchen table where he unpacked and separated the various items. There were the badly damaged remains of an identity card, four tightly folded €100 notes, a scrap of paper bearing a number, and a neatly folded piece of paper bearing several numbers and characters. La Coccinelle examined the identity card sections. The largest bore a very recognisable symbol – that of the Central Intelligence Agency. The only other aspects visible were the remains of a photo embedded in what had been the top right corner of the card, and another section which bore the final characters and bars of a barcode: 03-500.
"The guy was CIA, it seems," La Coccinelle explained.
"Kind of," Termino responded cryptically. "This slip held the person's real life. That ID was partially destroyed to prevent identification but important enough to be retained should it be needed again. There's cash to make an escape, and presumably the phone number of a contact. As for the numbers and characters – maybe a code page for a one-time pad."
La Terreaur scowled as La Coccinelle looked in her direction. Then the younger girl reluctantly nodded her agreement. Termino then pointed out a few points on the singed left edge of the card. He indicated the markings: '2-PRE', 'TOR' and '3 P'. There were quizzical looks from La Coccinelle and Le Chat Noir.
"This was left by a Predator," Termino stated, indicating the items on the kitchen side. "I have an idea which one, too."
Early the following morning...
Thursday, June 1st
Bastille
00:28 GMT+2 (22:28 GMT May 31st)
Alya Césaire felt relief flood over her as the balance of Honneur returned.
She dreaded the day when they never returned. While Akuma had had reservations when Yvette had been let in on their special secret, the months had passed, and Alya had become quite taken by the young girl. Then, Owen had appeared on the scene, just two months previously. The boy was a good balance for Yvette and Alya enjoyed listening to the pair bicker.
"Dieu! Vous êtes tellement ennuyeux!" Yvette exclaimed as she pulled off her mask after jumping down from FÉROCE.
"You know what it says alongside 'la femelle' in the dictionary?" Owen responded as he followed Yvette, pulling off his own mask. "It says: 'Yvette'!"
Yvette span around and she drove her armoured knee into Owen's armoured crotch. That did not, however, have the desired effect as Owen simply grinned.
"Enfants!" Marinette growled and both kids smiled innocently.
"Go get changed," Adrien chuckled.
"Ces deux-là ont vraiment besoin d'un bon baiser," Alya laughed at the two youngsters who continued to bicker even as they made for the changing rooms.
..._...
Owen whistled happily as he soaked under the stream of hot water.
It had been a good evening and he had enjoyed himself; his current situation sure beat living on the street. Ever since tripping over Yvette in her alter ego of La Terreaur, his life had turned around in the most amazing manner. While he had not exactly enjoyed the visit from the famed Stephanie Walker – sorry, Lizewski – he had taken in what she had said. Owen was happy to live with Marinette and Adrien – along with the crazy Yvette. Talking of whom...
"Oi!"
Owen turned to see a naked Yvette standing a foot away. She was smiling. Owen grinned back, but only for a moment as Yvette repeated the manoeuvre from earlier and Owen crumpled to the base of the shower, grimacing and struggling to catch his breath while his hands gripped his groin. Yvette smiled broadly as she made for her own shower, muttering under her breath.
"Branleur anglais!"
..._...
Marinette smiled as she saw Owen hobbling slightly.
Once the boy was seated at the table in the small kitchen, Marinette looked over at Yvette who had not spared the boy a second glance as she ate a late slice of reheated pizza.
"Yvette, please don't knee Owen between the legs."
Yvette looked up innocently.
"Me?" she responded. "Would I do a thing like that?"
"Yes, you would," Marinette suggested.
Yvette groaned before she turned to Owen.
"Sorry, Owen."
"Not the first time I've been kneed there," Owen admitted. "I apologise for calling you a bitch."
"She is a bitch," Alya commented.
"True," Yvette admitted with a grin.
"Hurry up and eat," Marinette directed. "Then you can both get to your beds."
"Your own beds," Alya quipped, receiving very nasty glares from the two youngsters.
"Off with you!" Adrien chuckled.
"You know," Alya commented, "They squabble and argue just like you two did – now you . . . how shall I put it . . . faire crac crac boum boum!"
Alya rolled her eyes as her friends headed off to their bedroom to do exactly what she had just crudely described.
..._...
Owen and Yvette lay in their beds.
They both shared the same bedroom at Bastille, and for the most part they were generally amicable to one another. Neither spoke as they lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling of the bedroom. They were both very different youngsters, one born French, the other born British. The one thing linking them, apart from their upset childhood, was their love of the French language. Yvette was constantly annoyed by Owen's grasp of her own mother tongue. However, she conceded, she could also speak his own mother tongue almost as well as he could.
"Do you think we should call that number?" Owen asked. "You know, just to see if it is even functional?"
Yvette considered the comment.
"Wouldn't do any harm, I suppose?" Yvette considered.
"We'll dump the call the moment it's answered."
Together, they dialled the number on Owens' Fusion mobile using a special system which would mask the outbound call and route it well away from their actual location.
Three thousand miles away, a seventeen-year-old young woman reached out to grab hold of her shrilling cell phone.