–In the year 2176–

Bang! Bang-Bang! Bang!

The loud banging on the door startled Brick awake. He glared at the direction of the sound before rolling over to try and go back to sleep.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

"I would suggest opening the door, Brick." His TICC told him dryly.

"I'm sorry, but what day is it?"

"Sunday."

"And what time is it?"

"Seven in the morning?"

Bang! Bang! Bang-Bang! Bang!

"So, would it really be too much to ask to try and get some sleep on my day off?" Brick asked sardonically.

"Considering the rather detailed dream you had about Vinnie Dakota and how it kept you up last night, I would normally say yes." The TICC told him. "However, we have a lot of work to do so—" A rather painful jolt of electricity traveling down Brick's spine sent him flying out of his bed, yelping in pain as he landed on the floor with a sad thud.

Bangbangbangbangbang!

Grumbling to himself, Brick frowned. "I'm not getting anymore sleep today, am I?" Brick asked his TICC, ignoring the loud, banging noises on his front door.

"No, no you're not." The TICC told him. "Now go get the door, unless you want some more shock therapy?"

"Wish I had been told about that particular feature…" Brick grumbled, stomping over to his front door. After unlocking it, he threw the door open to find Chip glancing tiredly at the door, a small box of donuts in hand.

"What took you so long?" He asked.

"What the hell are you doing here so early?" Brick asked. "And how soon can you leave?"

"Good morning to you, too, sleeping beauty." Chip drawled, handing Brick the box, and letting himself in, much to Brick's chagrin. The curly-haired man whistled in appreciation. "Swanky digs you got here, Brick. Definitely more spacious than mine."

"What'd you got?"

"I got a micro-apartment near downtown. It's not half bad and it definitely allows for some creative movement when I have company." Chip smirked.

Brick gave the man a look. "So, I'm assuming you have stock in the condom company?"

Chip glared slightly. "I could take the donuts back, y'know?"

"If it means you leave and I can go back to sleep, I'm all for it."

"Ha-ha, very funny." Chip rolled his eyes, propping his feet on Brick's coffee table. "I'm sure by now you've heard that we have work to do?"

Finally accepting he wasn't going to get back to bed anytime soon, Brick sat at the opposite end of the couch, picking a jelly donut out of the box before offering it back to Chip, who took out a plain chocolate. "Ok, I'll bite, what work do we have to do?"

"Well, you have a lot of work to do." Chip smiled, taking a bite of his donut. "And we have to finish what we started yesterday."

Swallowing a bit of his donut, Brick frowned. "What we started yesterday?"

"We still have a long way to go to make you more… approachable, Brick." The TICC explained. "Your personality needs a major overall, your interest need a severe changing—"

"Plus, you still need a new look and we only bought you, like, one outfit…" Chip pointed out.

"Oh yeah, we were supposed to do that yesterday, weren't we?"

"Well, in our defense, there were a few unexpected bumps in the road."

"Also, a musical number… for some reason." Brick deadpanned. "Could we maybe avoid that today?"

"I don't know, I liked the musical number."

"If you start singing, I don't care how many times my TICC shocks me for it, I'm tossing you out that window." Brick warned Chip, pointing to the window in his kitchen, which had a lovely view of the city, from one-hundred-and-four stories above the street.

"Yeesh, tough crowd…" Chip scowled slightly into his donut.

Brick ignored his companion's attitude. "What exactly is the plan for today?"

"Well, after you finish eating and get ready for the day, I will direct you in various activities that will enhance your likability and approachableness by forty-seven percent." The TICC explained.

"Just forty-seven percent?"

"To be fair, you're at twenty percent approachableness and ten percent likability. So, really, forty-seven percent is a huge improvement."

"Oh, like you're one to talk." Brick mumbled.

"Actually, he is." Surprised by this information, the top agent turned and raised a brow at Chip, who nodded sadly.

"I… I was nowhere near as bad as you were before I got my TICC. I was a clumsy, self-centered, insecure, egotistical jerk… Now look at me!" Chip gestured to himself, forcing a bright smile. "I'm a new and improved man! And I only regret getting a TICC slightly—" A sharp cry of pain was drawn from Chip as his body suddenly twitched violently, startling Brick. "I mean, I don't regret it at all! Totally worth it… Totally!"

Before Brick could question anything, his TICC told him, "Just correcting some behavior. See Brick, you're not the only one getting shocked around here."

As Chip calmed down, Brick shook his head dumbly, a minute buzzing in his head telling him to choose his next words carefully. "So that's what it looks like from the other side…"

The buzzing sensation stopped, and Brick let out a small sigh of relief as Chip rolled his eyes. "Very funny… We going out now or what?"

"Hey," Brick sent the curly-haired man a look, "let a man eat his donut."

–Meanwhile, with Dakota–

Considering that Sundays were the one day of the week that most of the Bureau had off, many felt entitled to spend it the way they wanted too. An entitlement most of them earned.

Vinnie Dakota, he spent his Sundays wearing as little as possible and doing just as much. If he felt ambitious, he would put on some spare clothes and go down to the grocery store, but that was a rare event. Most of the time, he would sleep in until noon, eat an incredibly unhealthy breakfast, do laundry, watch some TV, and then go back to sleep.

It was his day off and he was going to spend it the way he wanted, and nothing was going to stop him from doing it.

Knock-knock-knock.

Dakota blinked his eyes open, not sure if he was awake or just dreaming. He rolled over and glanced at his clock on the nightstand. 7:37 AM.

He was dreaming.

Dakota closed his eyes, prepared to drift back off to sleep, but then the tentative knock-knock-knocking gave him the wake-up call (pun intended) that he wasn't dreaming and there was someone at the door.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dakota stumbled out of bed and over to his closet. More specifically, the floor before his closet, where all his clothes seemed to end up. He picked out a pair of, moderately, clean sweat pants and pulled them on before trudging over to the door.

Tactfully hiding his eyes behind his hand under the guise that he was still rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, Dakota opened the door after one final round of knock-knock-knocking. Cavendish huffed. "Well it took you long eno—" the rest of his sentence got stuck in his throat upon seeing Dakota's lack of attire.

Despite not getting as much sleep as he'd usually like on a Sunday, Dakota was still able to crack a small, humored smile at the situation. "Good mornin' to you, too, pal." The younger man noticed the blush starting to spread on his partner's face, but he assumed it was because of the cold.

After all, it was the end of January.

As Cavendish spluttered out an indignant response, Dakota stepped aside and gestured for the older man to enter, which he did, mumbling something like "It's too cold to not be wearing a shirt" but Dakota could've sworn he saw the older man's eyes linger just a bit longer.

Eh, it was sort of hard to see when his eyes were still a little blurry from sleep.

"So, what brings you here, partner?" Dakota yawned.

If at all possible, Cavendish looked more flustered than he already was. Dakota was starting to wonder if he should count this as an achievement, as it usually took an entire conversation for him to do this normally, and yet today he barely spoke fifteen words to him.

"W-well, you see… I've been thinking about yesterday and—"

"Uh, hang-on. I mean, keep talkin', I'm still listening and all, I just need my glasses." Dakota explained, slowly retreating to his bedroom where he kept his sunglasses on the nightstand.

"Oh, I didn't realize you had another pair of glasses." Cavendish said.

"Nah, same ones I always wear."

"So, their prescription?" Cavendish asked from the living room. Dakota's apartment was quite small. Yet, it wasn't small enough to be considered a micro-apartment. A modest living room consisting of an end table that held a console for Future-Siri and a small TV, a chair that served as his coat rack, and a dingy couch he found in a second-hand shop tucked against the counter that served as the divider between the living room and kitchen. A hallway kiddy-cornered to the front door led to the only bedroom (Dakota's bedroom) and across from that was a bathroom with a small window near the roof.

"Kind of." Dakota shrugged as he slipped the familiar and comforting pair of shades onto his face.

"Why not just wear regular glasses?"

"I… I can't afford to get a new pair at the moment?" Dakota blurted out before he could stop himself. The man shook his head slightly. Technically, it wasn't a lie. If this pair of glasses broke, he'd be up a tiny creek in terms of replacement. However, he was not going to be getting a regular pair of glasses anytime soon.

Sunglasses were tinted, and tinted glasses offered protection. Dakota would rather punch a rabid panther in the face with a meat-scented boxing glove than be without his own little "security blanket" at this point.

Luckily for him, Cavendish bought the excuse. "Understandable."

As Dakota reentered the living room, he took the time to study Cavendish. Sensible, warm-looking, and slightly worn boots, peach colored pants, a moss green coat, and a dark gray papakha that has definitely seen better years.

In short, Cavendish looked incredible. He always did, yet Dakota was always caught off by it. He secretly hoped he would never stop being surprised. But, it was Cavendish. What was he gonna do?

Cavendish cleared his throat, a light dusting of pink across his cheeks, snapping Dakota out of his ogling and back to the current situation. "Right. So… what's up?"

"Well, like I was saying, I was thinking about yesterday…"

"What about yesterday, specially? Cause a lot of stuff happened—"

"Remember how you said that we don't know much about each other?"

"Um, yeah. Why?"

Cavendish turned a quite fetching shade of red as he stumbled over his next sentence. "W-well, the thing was I—I mean if you're interested—we could perhaps, i-if you wanted…"

"If I wanted to what?" A small, strange feeling akin to hope started to blossom in Dakota's stomach. But he wasn't about to let himself jump to conclusions. There were a few hims on an island somewhere for that very reason.

The older man took a steadying breath before continuing. "Would you like to spend the day together? Just the two of us, I mean. We could get to know each other better…"

That small feeling had now blossomed to full blown joy and was now consuming his entire being. Despite the fact that Dakota wanted nothing more than to shout his jubilance from the rooftops, that tiny, annoying voice in his head told him to not get his hopes up.

Still, with his own cheeks reddening bashfully, Dakota let loose a small smile. "You… you really want to spend the day with me?"

"It's not as if we haven't done that before." Cavendish pointed out defensively. It was true, being partners meant that they were obligated to spend a lot of time together, and there was the matter of the ditch-day they had a few months ago. Yet, even that was initiated by Dakota and was done in spite of work.

This was Cavendish asking to spend alone time with him.

Dakota was over the moon yet was still able to play it cool. "I'd love too!" Cavendish looked pleasantly surprised, sending his partner a soft, hopeful smile. "Lemme just go put on some clothes and then we can get breakfast. Sound good?"

There was something lighter, happier in Cavendish as he nodded, smiling brightly. "Sounds wonderful."

"Alright, just gimme a few minutes—"

"Take your time, we do have an entire day at our disposal, after all."

"Guess you're right." Dakota giggled as he shut the door to his bedroom, for privacy. When he did, the younger man let out a dreamy sigh crossed with a panic exhale as it finally dawned on him that, holy shit on a shingle, Cavendish just (basically) asked him out on a (technical) date!

With a bit more pep in his step than was expected on a Sunday, Dakota quickly dug through his laundry pile for something acceptable to wear.

–Meanwhile, at a grocery store–

Savannah glanced at the label on the shelf, "Buy one, get one free" on a can of mushrooms. She mulled it over, before giving a bored shrug and tossing two small cans of mushrooms into her shopping cart.

Sundays were spent as lazily as Savannah's personal drive allowed. Mostly, she did small errands around her apartment. Laundry, dishes, and then go to the grocery store. Then she'd fix herself dinner, watch some TV, shower and then she'd be off to bed.

Considering her line of work, many would consider this type of routine rather dull. And that was the way Savannah liked it; a nice, quiet day to help recharge her batteries before a stressful week at work.

And with the hectic week she just had, Savannah felt more than entitled. Between Brick acting like more of a douchebag than usual, Block nitpicking every little thing she did, and everyone (once again) gossiping about her behind her back. Honestly, what were they, middle schoolers?

Savannah was more than capable of handling a few people gossiping about her behind her back, as it was just that, gossip. But, if she was being honest with herself, it was getting annoying. All the whispers behind her back, the unmentioned slanders, it was ridiculous!

As she was mulling, the top agent unconsciously made her way towards the produce section of the grocery store. Unintentionally bumping into a familiar girl with a shock of green hair.

"Oh, sorry I didn't realize—oh, hey, you're Savannah, right?" She asked.

Blinking in surprise at bumping into her here, Savannah nodded. "Uh yeah. And you're… Lotte?"

Lotte chuckled, "That's my name, don't wear I out."

Savannah gave a weak little chuckle. "So, you shop here to?"

"Sometimes. Other times I go to the one by Page Avenue. It all depends on what store has the better coupons for the week," Lotte said, gesturing to a couple coupons in her hands, before giving Savannah a quick once over. "I'm glad to see your taking things well."

"Oh, yeah!" Savannah's lips formed a line. "Taking what well?"

Lotte raised a brow. "Um… you and Brick?"

"Me and Brick?"

"Yeah. You and Brick, I heard through the grapevine what happened." Savannah thought it was a little strange for Lotte to be bringing this up now, seeing as how she was there when Cavendish and Dakota gave her a ride back to the future after Brick ditched her.

"I mean, yeah it was a dick-move on his part, but I guess if it was—"

"Yeah, I mean, I guess you have a point." Lotte interrupted, shaking her head slightly. "Still, that breakup must've been hard."

Savannah paused. "What breakup?"

Lotte gave her an odd look. "Didn't Brick just break up with you recently?"

She wanted to scream. There was no other logical reaction that Savannah could think of other than screaming at this point. Just open her mouth and let the hot, boiling rage that was beginning to bubble up inside her take over. However, Savannah was a mature and rational woman. So instead, she closed her eyes and took a few deep, relaxing breaths.

Exhaling, Savannah curtly told Lotte, "Brick didn't break up with me."

"Oh, so you broke up with him?" Savannah took a few more stabilizing breaths.

"I didn't break up with him. We were never dating in the first place."

Lotte crossed her arms, pondering something for a moment. "Well, that just doesn't make any logical sense. Brick and Chip have been telling everyone that he dumped you because, and I quote, 'she's a fan of rumpy-pumpy' and I see no real logical reason behind any of this if not to increase their own personal—oh" Lotte glanced pitifully back at Savannah as the situation finally dawned on her.

Savannah, who had just found out it was her own partner who spread those rumors about her in some twisted way to achieve personal gain, looked rather close to exploding. Instead, she merely took ten deep breaths before turning back to Lotte. An overly sweet smile on her face.

"Please, tell me more of what I've been doing lately…"

–Meanwhile, with Chip and Brick–

They had gone back to the 21st century. After Chip's TICC calculated that there was only 0.023% chance of anyone from B.O.T.T. showing up there within a generous timeframe. While Brick had been hesitant at first, a small pep talk from Chip and a quick zap to the spine from his TICC was enough to convince him to go along with it.

Besides, the outfit they picked out yesterday (and others like that the TICC insisted were important) were in this time period, so why not?

As Brick stepped out of the changing room, with an expression that read, "End me now", Chip and his TICC analyzed him. Chip hummed thoughtfully. "How many more outfits do we need?"

"We have four possible combinations now, three more would suffice." The TICC explained, much to Brick's displeasure.

"We've been here for three hours! Could we at least get something to eat?" Brick pleaded.

A slight grumble from Chip's stomach caused the TICC in his head to buzz slightly. "Sensors indicate your stamina is lower than recommended. Nourishment is required." Chip resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The buzzing in his head grew louder and Chip's TICC spoke. "There is a pretzel stand by a shoe store exactly 25.23 feet from your current location."

Chip rose gracefully from his seat. "I'll go grab us some pretzel's."

"What am I supposed to—ouch!" Brick yelped in pain before deadpanning. "Right, stupid question, I know. Just hurry back. I don't know how much more of this hell I can suffer through alone…"

"You get used to it." Chip remarked dryly before leaving Brick to his own devices.

As he walked towards the pretzel, Chip felt a strange tingling sensation behind his eyes. Before he could react, Chip's legs suddenly turned in a perfect 90-degree angle and began walking towards the shoe store he took Brick to yesterday. Chip, while still unnerved by the whole ordeal, simply let his TICC lead him where it wanted him to go. He'd was used to it at this point.

Instead of walking into the store, like Chip thought it was having him do for some inane reason, it leads him to an exit just to the left of it. Shoving himself through the entrance as quickly as he humanly could, the TICC led him to a dumpster. As he crouched down behind it, he heard what sounded like shouting. Muffled, accented shouting. But shouting nonetheless.

"I keep telling you, I am selling them as fast as I can!" A pause "What I'm doing is a lot less legal than my previous profession—stop laughing! I am Professor—" An offended gasp and another pause "Well, what do you suggest I do then?!" Another pause. A long one, and from behind the dumpster, Chip notices a skinny many with a large, round, balding head angrily walking towards a beat up red hummer. With a frustrated groan, the man who Chip recognized as the TICC dealer shoved a large shoe box into the car. "I'll see what I can do, ok!" The man angrily shoved the phone, mumbling something along the lines "Bitch" to himself before walking back into the shoe store.

"Break into the car." His TICC told him.

Chip blinked a little bit in surprise. "So, we're just skipping pleasantries this time around?"

A small shock in the back of his head caused him to wince. "Just break into the damn car."

Of his own, thankfully, free will, Chip headed towards the car. Jiggling the handle confirmed that the dealer had locked it, but Chip merely rolled his eyes and yanked as hard as he could on the car door until it opened (his own inert strength combining nicely with the extra strength his TICC gave him). "Ok, now what?"

"That shoe box. Grab it." After scanning the front seat of the car, Chip spotted the aforementioned shoe box and scooped it up in his arms before roughly slamming the car door shut.

"Dare I ask why I'm going through such trouble to get a measly pair of—oh, those are not shoes…" Inside the shoe box were more TICC pills than Chip had ever seen. Enough for a small army it seemed. "What am I doing exactly?"

"The exact details are not important right now. However, statistically speaking, it is imperative you take this box now."

A feeling akin to dread flickered momentarily in the pit of his stomach, one that Chip couldn't ignore. "Look, lady, I don't know why but this feels sort of like overkill—" A brief, yet crippling sensation of pain traveled up his spine. However, a prominent tingling in his legs indicated that Chip was no longer in control of his body.

"How many times must I go over this with you, Agent Wolowitz?" The TICC asked. "I don't care how you think or feel about a current situation, you do as you are instructed. Are we clear?"

Chip swallowed, nervous at not being in control. "Crystal…"

"Excellent. Now, I will lead you to a safe place to stash it for the night, then we will proceed back to the Pretzel Stand. Does this sound reasonable?" Chip merely nodded, not trusting his own voice. Or was that just the TICC's influence? It wouldn't be the first time the TICC's made him doubt himself…

As the TICC robotically maneuvered Chip's leg towards the "safe place", Chip got the sudden craving for a drink. A hard one.

–In the 21st Century, at Play Rehearsal–

Until the play ended, Sundays were spent in rehearsals. Not that Milo, Melissa, Zack, or anyone minded. It was actually a fun way to spend an otherwise dull, boring weekend day. The students would work on choreography, get the sets up, try and get costumes together, and they would run scenes with one another. However, after a Murphy's Law incident involving a swarm of house flies, strawberry jam, and honey flavored cereal, the stage was put out of commission for the rest of the day. While the stage was being fumigated, Mr. Draco suggested that they should all head down to the music room to work on their songs. Seeing as how the only other options directly involved using the stage, no one objected.

"~I have mad, gigantic feelings, red and frantic feelings about most everything. Like gun control, like spring... Like if I'm living up to all I'm meant to be. I also have a touch of ADD~" Amanda paused in her singing, looking up from her music book in faux contemplation. "Where was I? Oh, right!" This time, as Amanda sang, he tried her best not to look at her music book as Mr. Draco played the tune on the keyboard. "~I love play rehearsal! Cause' you are equipped with direction and text~"

Amanda had wanted to work on the entirety of her first solo, citing that she couldn't quite figure out the melody for it. Mr. Draco happily obliged, even if he wasn't as good on a piano as he was the organ from the 1700's he had in his house.

"~Life is easy in rehearsal, you follow a script, so you know what comes next~"

Milo, Melissa, and Zack were sitting fairly close to Amanda, smiling encouragingly at their friend as she sang. However, Amanda kept sending them annoyed looks from the loud buzzing noise that was coming from their general direction, which confused them.

"~Any who the point that I'm getting to is sometimes life can't work out in the way... It works out in the play. Like the only time I get to be the center of attention is when I'm Juliet or Blanche DuBois~"

Before Amanda could continue, the nearby shelving unit fell on top of the rusty, old piano, crushing it. Thankfully, it completely missed Drako, who smiled, "Maybe the school can finally get that new piano we've been eyeing!"

"If you can find the money in the budget after the yacht repair prices…" Bradley drawled sarcastically.

"Fair point, Bradley. Fair point." Mr. Drako carefully stood up, avoiding the rubble of the piano. "While I go search for another instrument to use, why don't you children take a break? We'll start again in fifteen minutes… Or whenever I make it back to the room." The children agreed with this plan and began to stand up and stretch as Mr. Drako left.

Amanda turned and gave her three friends a harsh look. "That was really rude of you guys to leave your phones on while I was singing."

Zack frowned. "But my phone's off, see!" Zack held up his V-Phone, proving that it was, indeed, off.

Milo shrugged. "I forgot my phone at home today, so it couldn't have been me."

"Well, I'm sure it wasn't… Huh, I guess my phone turned on in my pocket again. Sorry, Amanda." Melissa smiled apologetically.

The magenta-clad girl rolled her eyes fondly. "It's fine, Melissa. Maybe you should invest in a new phone, considering the trouble it's been giving you lately."

Zack and Milo chuckled, remembering the trouble Melisa had gone through to get all her friends to delete the video she took of Brick's freak-out. In trying to do so, she had to explain what had happened, leading to a healthy amount of embarrassment when she explained how the video was uploaded in the first place.

Everyone had agreed to delete their shared video, but the damage was done.

"Hmm, I got a text." Melissa stated, unlocking her phone.

"Who's it from?" Zack asked, shuffling closer to look at her phone.

"Someone named… Monty M.G.…" Melissa raised a brow in confusion.

"Who's Monty M.G.?" Amanda asked.

"I have no idea."

"Wait, so how did he get your number?" Zack wondered aloud.

"I don't know, but it's kind of weird…"

"What did he say?" Milo asked, prompting Melissa to open up the text messages, despite Amanda and Zack's warnings that it could be some type of hacker-attack.

The redhead's eyes widened in surprise. "Apparently, this Monty guys saw my video and thought that guy's reaction is similar to something he's investigating. He also asked if I know anything about a guy named Aloyse Everheart Elizabeth Otto Wolfgang Hypatia Günther Galen Gary Cooper von Roddenstein." Amanda, Milo, and Zack merely starred at the girl in mild surprise. "I don't even think I could remember that name…" Amanda muttered.

Melissa's phone buzzed again, indicating she got a new message from Monty M.G. Glancing over it quickly, Melissa read the text aloud to her friends, "'If it helps, a lot of people call him Rodney. He's the one who tried to concur the world last summer by moving Earth out of its original orbit.'"

"Wait, what?!" Zack asked

"Oh yeah, I think I remember that guy. Wasn't he arrested?" Amanda asked Milo for clarification.

"The only thing I remember was his accent and how his forehead kind of resembled an egg." Milo said.

"I'm sorry, are we not going to acknowledge that this guy tried to get rid of summer in hopes of taking over the world?!"

As Melissa typed out a reply, Amanda and Milo shrugged. "Yeah, he did to that. But it's nothing Danville isn't used to at this point."

"What?"

"Oh yeah. Between Murphy's Law incidents and random rays from the sky zapping people, evil scientists trying to take over the world isn't that big of a deal in Danville." Milo explained

As Zack continued his tirade of how scientists (of any moral alignment) trying to take over the world in any city is bad, Melissa sent her reply. 'I vaguely remember that. Why do you ask?'

Within minutes, Monty M.G. responded, 'I can't go over details, but Rodney was recently bailed out of jail by an unknown party. My sources found him working at a nearby shoe store in disguise…'

Ignoring her friend's mini-argument, Melissa continued texting. 'I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about'

'Rodney was caught on camera acting suspicious around the man you recorded in the video.' Before Melissa could process this startling revelation, another message from Monty M.G. arrived. 'His bail was paid by a private party, and while my sources can't confirm anything, it's seems the money can be traced back to a higher-up in the Gush Co. business."

'You're kidding, right?'

'I wish I was.'

'Ok, so maybe Valentine Verliezer bailed out a guy who tried to take over the world and got him a job at a shoe store, I still don't get what this has to do with the video I took…'

'I understand you and your friends have been in contact with Valentine's brother, Victor. Is that right?'

"Um, yeah. What's that have to do with anything?'

'And we both know that he's a terrible scientist and inventor…'

'Oh, the worst.'

'Well Rodney, though evil, was a pretty good scientist. It seems like, apart from his new-found job as a shoe salesman, he's been consulting Verliezer and his brother on a secret project.'

'Ok…?'

'I haven't been able to get much information, but I can say that a few of the test subjects on this "project" have been showing symptoms that are very similar to the one the man in your video is exhibiting.'

Melissa froze. Similar symptoms? Test subjects? It was all a bit too much for her to take in. As if on auto-pilot, she typed out the simple response of, 'How do I know I can trust you?'

It took one minute and twenty-seven seconds (she counted) for Monty M.G. to respond. Not with any words of promise or oaths of sincerity, but with a link. The practical side of her told her to tell the guy off for texting her and delete the conversation. The curious and reckless side of her, however, kept chanting "Click it! Click it! Click it!" so she did.

Instead of taking her too a video or website, like she originally thought, it only brought her up to a tab in her browser with a single image on the page. It was hard to make out at first, as the picture was a grainy, black-and-white photo, but when Melissa squinted her eyes, she made out the distinct silhouette of the Verliezer brothers and a man with a large bald head standing over a woman with long, dark hair who seemed to be writhing in pain, not unlike Brick had done yesterday.

More than freaked out at this point, Melissa interrupted her friends talk about ethics and Danville's odd, non-Murphy's Law occurrences and showed them the conversation. Amanda handled the phone while Zack and Milo read over her shoulders. When they reached the end of the conversation, Milo and Zack could only stare at her in shock while Amanda stared dumbly at the photo, not entirely sure what to make of all of this.

"So, wait, why are the Verliezer brothers working with some crazy former scientist?" Zack asked, almost afraid of the answer. Melissa's phone dinger and Amanda glanced over it.

"If you want to know more, I suggest not deleting this conversation. I'll keep you updated on anything I can find…" Amanda glanced at her friend with a worried expression. "Are you in trouble or something?"

As Milo gently grabbed Melissa's phone, the redhead face contorted in an unsure frown. "I… I have no idea. Things have been weird, lately."

"And not the just regular Milo-kind of-weird…" Zack added.

Milo narrowed his eyes at Melissa's phone critically. "Hey, Melisa, Zack, does that girl in the picture look kind of familiar to you?"

He turned the phone, so his two friends could see the screen, which showed that Milo had zoomed in on said girl in question as much as he could. Amanda raised a brow, "All I can see are gray, blurry blobs."

"I know, but I just… I don't know, something about her looks familiar." Milo added the last part sheepishly.

Now that he mentioned it, Melissa and Zack did notice a few things about this girl that they didn't before. Namely, her oval shaped head behind her long, dark hair. Her clothing looked familiar, too. A dark jacket, that looked a lot like a leather jacket, and dark boots.

"Now that I look at her, she kind of looks like—"

Oompah! Oompah! OOMPAH!

Startled by the sudden noise, Milo dropped Melissa's phone as he and his friends jumped. While Melissa picked her phone off the floor to inspect the damage while Milo attempted to apologize, Amanda and Zack sent a slightly annoyed glare towards Mr. Draco, who had walked in playing a dusty looking tuba.

With one last OOMPAH, Mr. Draco smiled. "I found a tuba, children!" Not seeing his students faces perk up the slightest, Mr. Draco continued. "I say we try and make this work."

Amanda was the first to turn back to Melissa to see her reassembling her phone, whose only damage was the case popping off and slightly cracked phone. "What were you saying earlier? Something about the woman in the picture looking familiar?"

Ignoring Mr. Draco, who was currently tuning the tuba, Melissa frowned. "Eh, it's not important right now."

–In the year 2176, with Cavendish and Dakota–

When Cavendish had come to Dakota's door that morning, he had been expecting a blunt refusal at best and outright mockery at worst. However, he was beyond pleasantly surprised when Dakota not only agreed to spend a day outside of work with him but seemed very enthusiastic about it as well.

Cavendish refused to read to much into the situation, but he felt positively giddy nonetheless.

The two men had started out with a simple walk, conversation flowing stiffly yet easily between them until Dakota, the loveably doltish-snack hound that he was, spotted a café. After ordering some warm beverages, the two men decided to play an impromptu game of twenty questions in hopes of getting to know the other better.

The questions had started out simple enough. What's your favorite movie? Where did you grow up? Any siblings? Did you have any pets growing up? However, the past hour and a half had been more personal questions. Have you ever lost someone close to you? What are you most thankful for? What parent were you closest too growing up?

Cavendish was loving every second of it. It meant more time spent with the man he loved, and more fun little details learned as well.

Dakota took a tentative sip of his hot chocolate and winced slightly when it burned his tongue. Still to hot, he thought. "Ok, my turn. What is the best advice you've ever gotten?"

Cavendish pondered, holding his cup of tea in his hands. "Follow you heart but take your brain with you."

"Wow, that's deep. Where'd ya get that?"

Cavendish shrugged. "Some poster in a school hallway when I was a boy. I liked that one the best, though."

"Huh. The only posters in my school were the ones with the cats on them that said, 'Hang on to learnin'' or somethin' like that."

Cavendish chuckled a bit. "What about you?"

"My cousin Jim once told me, 'When life gives you lemons, take them because free shit is cool."

The older man gave Dakota an odd look. "Is that why you stuffed your pockets with lemons when we went back to 1992?"

"More or less." The two men shared a laugh at the fond memory. After taking another sip of his tea, Cavendish turned to Dakota. "Alright, my turn. Hmm… what is your most embarrassing injury story."

When the younger man snorted, already smiling at the memory, Cavendish knew he was in for a good story. "Ok, ok, hear me out." Dakota told him. "When I was eight, I needed to have lazy eye surgery. The doctors told my folks and myself I wouldn't be able to see for a couple o' days while I let my eyes recover. So, I was left with one parent a day while I was recoverin'."

"Uh-huh…"

"Well, a couple days after my surgery, and my dad was watchin' me. I told him I needed to go to the bathroom—something I could do on my own, by the by. He led me down the hall and told me, 'Ok, next door on the right is when you turn'. My brain interrupted this as: 'Turn right, now'. So, I did and…" Dakota paused as another round of laughter overtook him. "And I rammed my eyes into a doorknob!"

Cavendish surprised himself when he also started to laugh. He reasoned that since Dakota was also laughing at the memory, it was ok. Still, around his laughter, Cavendish was able to ask, "How does that even happen?"

"I was at perfect eye level of the door, and I'm not exaggertain' either!" The two men laughed again. "My dad just sorta stood there, kinda in shock at what his child just did… I don't blame him. That's how I feel sometimes…"

After calming down, Cavendish turned to Dakota and asked, "Were you alright, afterwards?"

The younger man made a so-so gesture with his hands. "Nothin' terrible or anythin'. But I did end up breaking a stitch in my eyes. I was out of school two weeks longer than I should've been, What about you? Most embarrassing injury ever?"

Cavendish had to ponder this before glancing down at the ground, a slightly bashful smile on his lips. "About a month before I was set to start high school, a few of my friends and I had been riding our bikes up and down my grandmother's dirt driveway. My friend Hildegard had found one of my younger cousin's bike and she thought it would be a grand idea to try and do tricks on it."

"Why did she think that would be a good idea?" Dakota asked, trying to picture a teenaged Cavendish doing tricks on a young child's bike.

"I don't know, she was always a bit of a risk taker." Cavendish chuckled at the memory. "Anyway, we had all taken terms riding up and down the driveway and doing tricks. Hildegard managed to flick some pinecones and large rocks away with the wheel, her brother Albert managed to pull off a Superman. I, for whatever reason, decided to try and pop a wheelie." Dakota shook his head, already smiling at the mental image of Cavendish trying to pop a wheelie.

"How'd that go over?"

"Well… I had succeeded in doing a front-wheelie for all of thirty seconds before my wheel got caught in a rock and I was sent flying over the handle to the ground." Dakota winced as Cavendish continued. "Not only did I break both of the bones in my forearm, but I had a rather large gash on the underside of my chin."

Dakota raised a brow. "Really?" Cavendish nodded before tilting his head up and pointing to the faint line just under his chin. Dakota chuckled, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, "Yeah that's pretty bad. Did you need stitches or anythin'?"

"Three." Cavendish laughed slightly. "It's funny, I knew after I picked myself up that my arm was broken, but I didn't even think the gash was that bad."

"Really?"

"Yes. It took Albert shoving some paper towels under my chin and Hildegard all but shoving me into the back of the car for me to realize how bad it really was."

Dakota laughed a bit, draining his cup of the now lukewarm chocolate. "Ok… What's something I would never guess about you?"

Cavendish pondered for a moment, an answer popped into his head almost immediately, and on instinct he pushed it aside. Out of the corner of his eyes, he studied Dakota's face. The younger man was patiently waiting for an answer, a small smile on his face. Cavendish mentally berated himself for not being able to give an honest answer… until he questioned why couldn't I give an honest answer? I wanted this, I asked Dakota for this, I want to get to know him better so… shouldn't I extend the same curtesy to him?

Swallowing his nerves, Cavendish turned to Dakota. "I'm autistic."

Dakota blinked in surprise. "Really?"

The older man nodded. "Asperger's Syndrome, to be precise. I tend to focus on certain projects to the point of exhaustion… It's led to some complications."

The younger man nodded. "That actually explains a lot." He raised a brow at him "Is this why you don't like me eating chips next to you on the couch? Because it's not a good noise for you to hear?"

"That's half of it. It's also because you make a big mess whenever you eat chips on the couch."

Ignoring his joke, Dakota offered a shy smile to Cavendish and—cautiously, as if he was testing the waters—placed a hand over his. "Thank you for telling me."

Cheeks tinted pink at the sudden contact, Cavendish nodded, staring at Dakota's hand over his own. "What about you?" He asked quietly, shyly. Not trusting his voice to remain even with the newfound contact.

Dakota's eyes widened, and he looked out towards the road near the café they were at to think of an answer. A sudden rush of learned fear and self-preservation kicked in before the younger man forced himself to think about the situation logically. Cavendish really opened up to me… And I haven't even told him that I… C'mon Vinnie, you can do this. Taking a breath to steal himself, Dakota glanced down at the ground. "I have heterochromia."

Cavendish blinked. "Huh?"

"I… I have heterochromia. One eye is brown, the other is blue."

"Really?" Cavendish asked. He tried to think back to all the times he saw Dakota without his glasses and was more than surprised to find he couldn't remember a time where Dakota had been without his trusty sunglasses for more than two minutes if he could. "Is this why you wear sunglasses all the time.

The younger man nodded. "I guess I didn't get enough melatonin or somethin' when I was in the womb, and that's why they're different colors." He shuffled his feet awkwardly, and Cavendish frowned slightly. "I got picked on a lot growin' up. 'Two-eyes', 'Freak', and for some reason 'Changeling' were pretty common. When I started wearing sunglasses, it helped a lot. So, I just sorta wear them as a security blanket. Weird, right?"

Instead of answering, Cavendish shifted his hand so that he was holding Dakota's. The man abruptly turned to look at his partner in surprise. The earnest, almost loving, loo Cavendish was giving him made his face heat up. "Could I see?" Cavendish asked quietly, as if he was afraid to startle Dakota in this moment.

Dakota stared at Cavendish for a moment longer before he slowly, shyly, removed his sunglasses. He made sure to avoid looking directly at Cavendish, though. He had been teased for so long, without his sunglasses on, he felt naked. And if Cavendish said something against him… well he wouldn't know what to do.

Cavendish was silent for a long time, and Dakota almost made a joke to break the tension in the air. However, Cavendish merely lifted his free hand to Dakota's face, making Dakota lock eyes with him. Dakota's mouth dried in an instant, and he felt his face warming up. After another long moment of silence, the older man smiled.

"One is like chocolate cake, and the other is like the summer sky. They're beautiful," he paused before continuing, "you're beautiful."

Dakota's heart skipped a beat. He brought his own free hand up to hold Cavendish's in place, as silent please, don't move. This is wonderful. Cavendish's hand didn't move, and the two men smiled at each other, soaking in each other company.

Those who walked by and saw them gave a small smile, thinking to themselves, now those are two men who really do love each other. And they weren't wrong at all…

–Meanwhile, with Savannah and Lotte–

Lotte took another generous bite of her donut as she watched Savannah silently fume from her seat in the grocery store cafeteria. Lotte had been more than reluctant to explain to Savannah what Brick had been telling everyone at the Bureau. The woman looked dangerously close to murder and Lotte had a high sense of self-preservation.

However, Savannah had bribed her with a donut and Lotte had given in. Spilling all the details about the rumor Brick had spread about her. About how they had secretly had a fling for the past year, how Brick had caught her cheating on him, and how in his heartbroken state had cut his ties with her.

Lotte had to give him credit where credit was due; it was a convincing lie. The two were pretty close (though, not as close as Cavendish and Dakota) and his recent mission of avoiding her like the plague was easily explained by this rumor. However, he made one tactical error, he forgot about Savannah's own ability to express her outrage. Which Lotte was more than willing to help her express… if only it was from a safe viewing distance.

"Why would he even say that shit about us?!" Savannah asked through tightly clenched teeth.

Swallowing the last of her donut, Lotte eyed Savannah's untouched one. "You going to finish that?" The first-class agent gave her an odd look but shoved the donut her way regardless.

"It makes no sense!" Savannah nearly shouted, crossing her arms, and slouching into her seat.

Lotte shrugged. "Maybe he felt he needed to move onto improved things and you were slowing him down?"

Savannah glared at the green-haired girl. "Then why spread those rumors about me and not just talk to me?"

"Did he have the option?"

"Of course, he did!"

"Let me rephrase that: did he know he had the option?" Savannah furrowed her brow and said nothing. But, she did admit to herself that Lotte had a point. Brick and she were never close. They spoke at work parties, socialized in the same groups, and were a pretty good team. Yet, outside of the missions… Savannah realized she hardly knew a thing about Brick. They never talked, they never communicated what exactly was annoying about the other, they never worked to resolve their issues.

Suddenly, Savannah felt small and rather petty.

As if sensing her internal struggle, Lotte spoke up. "I know what you're going through."

"You do?" Savannah asked, dryly.

"Before I punched Chip that day, he would always act strange. It's like he just… forgot I existed. He ignored me, and when I tried to confront him he would berate me, call me paranoid." Lotte glanced away sadly. "I don't know when it started, but it's just like overnight be became a different person. The day I punched him… I just snapped! I couldn't take it anymore."

Savannah frowned in sympathy but could not think of anything to say. Lotte shook her head, "I remember going through his messages, trying to find some clue as to what the fuck was going on, and all I found was some message with an unknown contact about something called a Tiny Intel Core Computer. But, that was it. I can't prove it, but I feel like that god damn computer was behind it all…"

"You don't really think that, do you?" Savannah asked

"I know it's farfetched, but it's the only answer I have! Nothing else could explain why he just started ignoring me unexpectedly, or his sudden alteration in personality." Lotte took one last pitiful bite out of her donut before she smiled at Savannah. "But, hey, this Brick we're talking about. It's not like he would become so desperate to achieve some unperceived goal as to partake in a questionable science experiment that makes him ignore his closest companions and alter his personality. Right?"

Lotte felt a flicker of sympathy as doubt quickly spread across Savannah's face. But an acute, yet painful, shock of pain at the base of her neck chased it away as she smiled a somewhat comforting smile at the first-class agent, who numbly nodded in agreement before mumbling, "Yeah… right."

–Later that day, with Brick–

Brick once again examined the clothes in his closet. After nearly five hours of shopping, he had an entirely new wardrobe. Gone were his tuxedos and custom shoes, instead he was replaced with comfortable, retro clothes that gave him a sort of "Classy-All-Around-American-Man" kind of look. It was a stark contrast to his former look. It was so casual, so different.

It was approachable.

The top-agent couldn't help but smile. Maybe this would actually work. Maybe with his new look, and his TICC helping him, he could finally talk to Vinnie Dakota. Maybe he would get to do more than talk. Maybe they could hang out, get to know each other better, or even—

"Brick, if you would like to get a restful night's sleep, I suggest preparing for sleep at once. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow after all…"

His TICC explained to him the plan for wooing Dakota tomorrow, and Brick could barley contain his excitement. Tomorrow, it would all be worth it after tomorrow.

"Right, I'll get on that." Brick said as he made his way towards the drawer where he kept his pajamas. "Promise me there won't be any early interruptions like this morning?"

"Done and done, Brick."

"Great!" Brick smiled. Looking back, despite his protests while at the mall, he realized he hadn't had a too heinous of a day. And he was greatly looking forward to talking to Vinnie Dakota tomorrow.

Me: *has two essays, a quiz, a final test, and a children's book of her own creation to finish for finals week within the next week*
Also me: Hey I should finish that one chapter, it's not like I have anything else going on.

Can you tell I am great at prioritizing? Next chapter is the end of "Act 1" and yes, there will be a musical number. See you guys then! And wish me luck on my finals, I think I'll need it.