More official author's note coming at the end, but I'm gonna just grab you real quick to say a few things. First of all, thank you as always to the lovely Haven126 for all of the invaluable help provided, and thank you as well to all of you for being so patient. Second of all, y'all strap in because this is long as FUCK.


Mac jolted upright, almost falling out of his chair, when his alarm on his phone went off. With a groan, he pulled himself closer to his desk and picked up his phone, cancelling the alarm as he rubbed his eyes. It was six in the morning, and it was time to start getting ready for work.

Before he even moved a muscle, though, he pulled up his messages and opened up the group chat he had for him, Jack, Riley, Boze, and Matty. It was also time for his morning check-in, something he had gotten the team into a habit of doing. Check-in codes changed daily, and were given verbally in person at the Phoenix by whichever member of the group won the rock-paper-scissors battle at the end of the day. Last night, Jack won, and had given each member of the team a superhero alter-ego, something he'd apparently been thinking long and hard about since their trip to Chernobyl.

Bozer was Mr. Fantastic on the grounds of him being able to change his face with prosthetics. Matty was Phoenix because she ran the Phoenix Foundation and, like Jean Grey, she scared Jack just a little bit. Jack himself was Captain America "for obvious reasons." After some "careful consideration," Riley had been assigned Professor X because if anyone was going to put on a helmet and jack into the Matrix, it was her. They tried telling him that wasn't quite what Professor X did, but he did not care. Mac was given Havok. When questioned about this, Jack had responded with, "Well, Mac blows stuff up a lot, causes a lot of destruction, both are crazy smart, and I dunno...he just kinda looks like him..."

The team had unanimously decided that they didn't know what he was talking about on that front, but Jack was persistent, and none of them had been in the mood to argue.

The check-in required each of them to respond with their hero and their hero's secret (or not so secret) identity. Matty had checked in first an hour earlier with "Jean Grey is Phoenix."

Forty-five minutes later, Riley had chimed in with "Charles Xavier is Professor X."

Bozer replied at almost the same time with "Reed Richards is Mr. Fantastic."

Nothing from Jack yet, but he was still recovering, and it was still very early, so Mac refused to let himself worry. Instead, he sent in his check-in: "Alex Summers is Havok."

With this, he put his phone down and dragged his hands down his face. Like most nights in the month since Jack was shot, he hadn't slept well—something that was highlighted by the fact that he'd once again fallen asleep at his desk instead of in his bed. He'd taken several precautions to keep Murdoc at bay, but still, sleep did not come easy, and when it did come, it was often plagued with nightmares.

His room was also a bit of a cave, now, with all the blinds drawn, blocking out the view he loved but also keeping any prying eyes at bay. His windows and the French doors leading out to the deck were all locked and rigged with trip wires that would pull the pin on one of several sound grenades he had set up, should someone come through them. He had a similar setup for his bedroom door, which he now closed at night. He'd done the same rigging for Bozer's room, and Riley's upon her request.

Together with Riley, he'd also set up a way to be certain that they were getting home okay: inside their walls, by the front door, was a device developed by another agency that could read the EKG signature of any person in the room, activated by a motion detector. If an unauthorized signature was recorded, an alert was sent to the other group members' phones, as well as Riley's computer and a designated satphone that they'd trusted to Simmons, with option to view the security cameras that were now set up in their homes. After viewing the cameras, they had the option to either ignore the alert or send it straight to the Phoenix.

Mac and Bozer had five cameras—one light bulb camera inside and outside the front and back door, and a more obvious camera outside the front door. Jack and Riley both had three—a light bulb camera installed outside their apartment, one inside, and a more obvious camera inside. Matty, of course, had her whole house wired, and had even further updated her security system since the encounter. Each of these systems were also set up to send out an alert should they be deactivated for whatever reason.

Needless to say, Mac was making sure that everyone's homes were as fortified as they could possibly be. Or, at least, he was trying to. So far, they'd heard nothing from Murdoc, but Mac knew better than to take that for granted.

The agent stood up and stretched his tight muscles, several joints cracking beneath his skin, and rubbed the back of his neck as he headed for his bedroom door. He reached up and unhooked the trip wire at the top corner of the door, then pulled it open, heading for the bathroom. This whole situation was wearing him down. That was Murdoc's point, of course; he was doing all the heavy lifting, now. He was paranoid, barely sleeping, beyond tense...he was playing into exactly what Murdoc wanted, and the worst part was that there was nothing he could do about it; if he just ignored the threat and relaxed, he'd be making himself and his friends easy targets. If he refused to look at the evidence, refused to chase down every dead-end lead, they would be sitting ducks when Murdoc finally decided to make his move. But if he stressed about the threat, studied the evidence, and chased every dead end, he pushed himself past his limits and wasn't as sharp as he probably needed to be. It was a Catch 22 of the worst kind. Mac knew he was giving his enemy exactly what he wanted, but he didn't have another good option; at least, this way, he might be able to catch Murdoc before he could come after them in the first place.

Although, he knew that that was also, very likely, impossible. Murdoc didn't leave anything that he didn't mean to leave. Some of it may give him some sort of clues, but none of it would lead them directly to him. He was far too meticulous for that. It was Murdoc's game; Mac was just playing it.

Mac shook his head, jarring himself from his thoughts as he closed the bathroom door and locked it, turning on the water for his shower and starting to toss his clothes into a pile on the floor. He waited until the water heated up, then stepped under the stream, letting it pound away at his eternally-tense muscles, and started going over what he'd found so far, like he did every morning.

Like every morning, his first thought was that he'd found a big pile of nothing. The oxygen tank Murdoc had brought with him traced back to a hospital that closed down three years prior. Phoenix had checked the building and come up empty, and Riley couldn't find anything odd in the building's past—including financials and patient files. The stool, dental stand, recliner, and even the tools were also dead ends; they were too generic, easily obtained from any number of sources.

They thought they found something with the drugs Mac had been dosed with—they were purchased under the authority of a doctor at a mental institution with a sketchy past—but their investigation only turned up awful patient neglect, mishandling of schedule 1 drugs, and the outright torture of several patients. While Mac was happy to have assisted in getting the place shut down, the guilty workers arrested, and the patients the actual help they needed, it still got him no closer to Murdoc. He was starting to wade through the boxes the assassin left on his cart, but there was so much inside those boxes that it was nearly overwhelming.

The only bright spot appeared to be the cameras; Murdoc had set up numerous cameras besides the one that had been filming Drew. They'd found one aimed at his recliner, one aimed right where Murdoc had been sitting, and several more around the building, all of them connected wirelessly to a remote location. Even though the connection had since been cut, Riley was working on tracing it. Still, the crushing feeling that he was running out of time was getting heavier by the day. He couldn't keep this up forever.

"Hey, Mac!" the blond agent jumped when he heard his roommate's voice from outside the bathroom door, his voice a bit muffled. Mac wiped the water from his eyes and leaned out.

"What?" he called back inquisitively.

"I made waffles; you want any?" Bozer questioned cheerfully. Mac couldn't help but crack a smile; leave it to Bozer to find a way to make life seem normal through this mess.

"Sounds great, Boze," he confirmed. "Be out in a few."

"You got it!"

Mac got through the rest of his shower quickly, then turned the water off, stepped out, and began drying off. He tied the towel around his waist and headed back to his room, closing the door and reemerging a few minutes later, dressed for the office with his damp hair combed. The only trace of his fatigue that remained was the darkening of the skin under his eyes. The Phoenix agent followed the scent of fresh waffles hungrily, finding Bozer in the kitchen, already setting a plate out for his roommate.

"Right on time, Mac," Bozer grinned, and Mac couldn't help but smile back.

"Thanks, Boze," he said gratefully, taking a seat in front of his plate and drizzling syrup over his still-steaming waffles.

"You get any sleep?" Bozer asked, digging into his own plate.

"Yeah, some," Mac confirmed, letting out a sigh and taking his first bite. "These are amazing, by the way."

"Thank you," his roommate grinned. "You find anything useful last night?"

"No," Mac denied regretfully. "I'm going to keep wading through the physical evidence when we get in today."

Bozer just nodded, glancing at him in concern. The two finished their breakfast in comfortable silence, glancing at their phones when they vibrated almost simultaneously as they finished. It was Jack, checking in with "Steve Rogers is Captain America."

Mac felt the slightest bit of tension release from his shoulders, though his body was still wound like a spring. Bozer studied him for a moment before he let out a weary sigh.

"I know I've asked this before, Mac," he said slowly. "But is there anything you want to talk about?"

"I'm fine, Boze," Mac rolled his eyes, the response like a reflex. They both knew it wasn't true, but they both also knew that talking wasn't one of the blond man's strengths. Still, Boze needed to try, so he opened his mouth to say something else, but Mac cut him off.

"I think I'm gonna head in early," he announced. "Thanks for breakfast, Boze; I'll see you there."

With this, he was out the door, and Bozer let out another sigh, putting his elbows on the counter and his face in his hands. The more Mac insisted he was fine, the more worried his roommate became. He'd seen Mac go through some dark times, and this was shaping up to be one of the worst. His friend was spiraling, and there was nothing he could do to stop it; Mac wouldn't let him in. If he kept going the way he was going, Bozer knew that Murdoc wouldn't be the only threat to himself Mac would face; he was his own worst enemy at times like this.

Bozer shook his head and straightened up; it was a problem he'd have to face later. In the meantime, he pulled on his shoes and headed out the door. They all had work to do.


By the time Bozer made it into the office, Matty had already summoned them to the war room, so he headed straight there, finding Mac, Riley, and Matty all waiting for him. His roommate, as always, looked tense, and Riley looked a bit tired as well, but Matty looked the same as ever: serious and ever-so-slightly terrifying. Jack had yet to arrive, not that it particularly mattered; he was not yet cleared for the field.

"Morning," Riley greeted him from her place sitting on the arm of one of the chairs, facing the big screen, and Mac gave him a nod and a forced smile, twisting a paperclip in his hands as he stood behind the coffee table in the middle of the room.

"Morning," Bozer nodded back at them both, taking the chair opposite Riley's. "What do we got, Matty?"

"Hold on," Matty sighed. "We're waiting for Jack."

Mac looked up from his hands in surprise. "What for?"

"Yeah, didn't he only start PT, like, last week?" Bozer raised an eyebrow.

"He can't be ready for the field, yet," Riley looked doubtful.

"No," Matty confirmed. "He's not. No matter what he claims. He's got another month and a half at least of rehab before I let him back out in the field."

"Then why...?" Mac didn't have to finish his question.

"Because if I don't at least pull him in for the briefing, he's going to be in my ear all day long demanding to know everything," Matty replied, already sounding irritated. "That's what he's been doing ever since he was released from the hospital. If I have to hear 'Matty where'd they go?' or 'So what's the mission?' or 'You know I could easily go provide backup,' one more time, I'm going to shoot him."

The rest of the team laughed, and moments later, Jack opened the door and stepped into the room.

"Nice of you to join us, Dalton," Director Webber's tone was still irritated, but it was clear that she was happy to see him. He'd only been cleared to begin PT six days prior, and before that he'd been strongly encouraged to stay away from the office so he could rest. Of course he hadn't been receptive to that suggestion, but even still, he hadn't set foot in the war room since he was shot.

"Sorry I'm late," Jack gave a goofy grin to excuse his tardiness. "But I'm here now, so the party can start; where are we going?"

"You are not going anywhere," Matty said firmly, fixing him with a glare. "But you can stay here and monitor Mac, Riley, and Bozer while they go to Seattle."

"Ah, c'mon, Matty," Jack pouted, but Matty wasn't hearing it.

"You started rehab six days ago and haven't even been cleared to move faster than a brisk walk, so shut it, Dalton; you're staying here," she snapped. Jack scowled, but held up his hands in surrender and sat down in one of the two chairs behind the coffee table and waved a hand for their boss to continue as Mac looked on with a small smirk. Matty sighed and shook her head before turning back to the screen and hitting a button on the remote in her hands.

"Last night there was a breach at Nuvogenix, a biotech company that currently holds several government contracts," their boss told them. "They have dozens of active research projects with applications in everything—agriculture, biodegradable plastics, biofuels, vaccines, nanobiotech, pharmaceuticals—you name it, they have someone working on it."

"Was anything stolen?" Mac asked, his fingers still fidgeting with his wire project.

"Yes, but they won't tell us what," Matty sighed. "Nuvogenix refuses to read us into their project."

"So they're asking for our help, but they don't want to tell us anything?" Bozer raised an eyebrow. "How are we supposed to find anything if they don't tell us what we're looking for?"

"We're the best for a reason, Bozer," Matty shrugged, though it was clear that the company's lack of cooperation was getting under her skin. "That said, if you happen to figure it out, no one can fault you."

The way she said it made it clear that it was more than a disclaimer, and all three active field agents nodded, smirking slightly to indicate their understanding. Matty hit another button on the remote in her hand.

"This was recorded at Nuvogenix's lab the night of the robbery," she informed them as the agents turned their attention to the screen. They watched as five armed, masked men in body armor stormed into the lab where four scientists had been working diligently. They all cringed and looked away when the attackers immediately shot one of the researchers, then threatened the others to stop them from coming to his aid. One of the attackers, this one the only one wearing a backpack, stepped forward and dragged the nearest scientist—a young woman—off screen. The two remaining scientists flinched visibly, screaming silently in reaction to something off screen. About a minute later, both returned, and the woman was shoved over to her companions, who were all holding their hands up by their heads, looking completely and utterly terrified. Though the footage had no sound to accompany it, the agents could all practically hear the three of them scream as they were all gunned down. The four agents shifted uncomfortably as Matty turned back to them.

"Three of the scientists died of their injuries before help could arrive, as did two security guards they shot on their way in." she explained. "The remaining researcher is still in surgery; we don't know if she's going to pull through."

"Who survived?" Riley asked curiously.

"Her name is Doctor Abigail Kinkade," Matty hit another button, pulling up the doctor's profile. "She was the one they used to open the project vault. Twenty-eight years old, adopted her younger sister—Elenore, nineteen—after the death of their parents in 2012. She graduated high school at fourteen, finished her undergraduate studies before she turned seventeen, holds several patents, and has doctoral degrees in biochemistry, engineering, marine biology, and immunology, all of which were obtained before her twenty-second birthday."

"Wow," Mac whistled, looking both impressed and perplexed. "She's kind of all over the place with her degrees..."

"What are you talking about?" Jack scoffed, adjusting his position and wincing just slightly. "They all sound sciency to me."

"Well, yeah, Jack, but usually, people specialize in one area," Mac rolled his eyes, his body starting to relax just slightly as he began to settle into the task at hand. "When people have multiple degrees they're usually in closely-linked fields, like chemistry and biochemistry, or engineering and applied physics, or biology and immunology...biochemistry and immunology are kinda close, but engineering and marine biology? She's all over the board...any idea what department she's in?"

"Nuvogenix has denied us access to their employee records," Matty's irritation was palpable. "All we were given access to were the most basic files on each employee that was involved in the incident. Nothing even tangentially related to what they were working on."

"Do we at least know if they were all working on the same project?" Riley questioned, one eyebrow lifting with her words.

"No," Matty denied, seeming almost personally offended by that fact. "Unfortunately, this is all I can give you. I've sent what I have to your phones; the plane leaves in fifteen minutes."

"Whoa, hey, Matty," Jack interrupted as he got to his feet, stopping his team from leaving. "Listen, I really don't like the idea of sending either Mac or Riley out without any backup; at least one of them's gonna be on their own no matter where Bozer goes, and odds are good that sooner or later all three of them are gonna be alone out there. I should be going with them."

"Not a chance, Dalton," Matty shook her head. "You, Mac, and Nikki went out just the three of you all the time. So did you, Mac, and Riley, until Bozer came in. You've sat out on missions before, and everything worked out just fine."

"We didn't have Murdoc actively gunning for our asses back then," Jack argued, noting how Mac tensed right back up at the mention of the psychopath's name. "He might not be coming after Mac first—so he claims—but Riley and Boze are fair game. No matter how this goes down, at some point at least one of them is gonna be exposed, and I wouldn't put it past that psychopath for a moment to come after them while they're on a mission."

"We have gone out without you since you were shot, Jack," Riley reminded him gently. "Nothing happened then."

"So you wanna just keep tempting fate?" Jack challenged. "Frankly, the more I recover, the more likely it is he's gonna come after you. You're thinking it, too, Mac; I know you are."

Mac didn't answer, looking down and shifting his feet uncomfortably, but it was clear that Jack was right; it was exactly what he was thinking. Murdoc wanted him and his friends to feel helpless, useless...being injured and unable to stop him was one thing, but being healthy and still not standing a chance would be that much worse, which was exactly what he wanted.

"Jack, you haven't been cleared for the field; you're not going," Matty's voice made it clear that she was done arguing about it. Jack glared at her—really glared, as if to say 'if anything happens to them, it's on you'—but didn't say a word, lowering himself back down into his chair.

"That said," the director continued, making Jack look up in surprise. "I do understand your concern, so here's what I'll do. Simmons' team is due for an AMOS refresher course, but Kyser and Ramirez both already recertified two weeks ago; I'll send them with Mac, Riley, and Bozer up to Seattle. That's as good as you're gonna get, Jack."

The former Delta nodded, knowing it would have to do and trusting Kyser and Ramirez to keep his friends safe, both from anything they may find on their mission and anything Murdoc may throw at them.

Bozer and Riley both smiled at their sidelined companion as they passed him, but Mac didn't meet his eyes, hurrying out after his colleagues. When the door closed, Jack spoke.

"He's not okay," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Of course he's not," Matty scoffed. "Would you be?"

"I don't know if he's ready to go back out there, Matty," the former Delta shook his head and turned to meet her eyes. "His head's not in it. At this point, if Murdoc doesn't get to him, he's going to get himself killed in the field."

"He passed his psych evals with flying colors, Jack," Matty shrugged. "In their two missions since you were shot, he's given me no reason to doubt him. I can't bench one of my best assets on a maybe. Murdoc isn't the only threat out there; the world needs Mac."

"Yeah," Jack nodded, getting to his feet with a weary sigh and heading for the door. "That's exactly what I'm worried about."


Mac stared out the window as the jet soared above the clouds, their two-and-a-half-hour flight to Seattle a mere thirty minutes from completion. Their expanded team was spread out in the jet; Kyser and Ramirez were both up front getting themselves some coffee, Riley was in the tech bay trying to see what she could find from the footage of the attack and on Nuvogenix itself, and Bozer was...

...Sliding into the seat across from him, jolting him from his thoughts. His roommate leaned forward on the small table between them, his hands folded, looking Mac in the eye. MacGyver blinked at him.

"Something you wanna say, Boze?" he asked, giving his friend a look.

"You're somewhere else, man," Bozer stated, his expression serious. "What's going on?"

Mac let out a weary sigh, rubbing his tired eyes. "Nothing, Boze; I'm fine."

"No, Mac, you're not," Bozer growled, frustrated and, frankly, both annoyed and offended. They'd been having the same one-sided discussion since Jack was shot, and it was getting them nowhere fast. The fact that Mac was refusing to confide in him felt like a personal slight, even if he knew it wasn't. "'I'm fine' is not good enough anymore. You've been shutting me down for a month, now; it's not doing any of us any good, least of all you. You're not with us right now, and we need you, so talk to me. For once, just talk to me."

The blond agent felt his jaw twitch, his hands clenching as he turned to look out the window. Bozer felt his anger flare.

"No, Mac, don't you dare just shut down on me again," Bozer snapped, trying to keep his voice down. "I'm tired of it. I get that you went through some shit, man—I do—but I can't do a damn thing to help you if you refuse to talk to me. I get that Murdoc is targeting you, but he's targeting us, too, and you're not doing yourself or us any favors by keeping everything bottled up. You let this shit get to you, and you're not gonna be the only one who pays for it. You let this shit distract you, and it could get you and any number of the rest of us killed in the meantime. So for God's sake, Mac, just stop with the lone wolf crap and talk to me. I'm your best friend, man; act like it."

Mac swallowed hard, knowing his friend was right and yet still quite irritated at being called out, and let out a weary, heavy sigh.

"What do you want me to say, Boze?" he asked finally, dragging his eyes from the window to meet the man's gaze. "That he's getting to me? That I can never relax because I know that the second I do, he's going to hurt one of you? That I know that I'm playing right into his hands by letting this get to me, but I don't have a choice? Murdoc's pulling all the strings, Boze. You heard what Riley found; he engineered that whole night. He put out the hit on me. He made sure Drew took the contract. He followed us. He called 911 to save Jack. He waited until just the right moment to kill Elliot..."

Mac paused, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to push the memory away. His hands were tight fists on the tabletop, shaking as his knuckles turned white. He took another breath to calm himself before speaking again. "He set the location, he chose the method they were going to use to kill me, he chose exactly what evidence he was going to leave behind...he set everything up. And we all did everything exactly the way he wanted us to. And we didn't know it until he wanted us to. There was no other way that night could have gone, which, yes, that makes it not my fault, but it also...no matter what I did, he would have gotten what he wanted. And I can't help but feel like that's exactly how it's going to go when he comes after you guys. I'm going to be just as helpless—as useless—as I was in that damn chair, watching him torture Drew. Because no matter what I do—whether I just sit back and bide my time or I drive myself crazy trying to go after him and catch him before he can do anything—I'm giving him exactly what he wants."

"He's not unbeatable, Mac." Bozer did his best to hide his shock; he'd never heard his friend doubt himself so intensely.

"No, he is, this time," Mac growled quietly. "And he knows it. He engineered everything about that night and I didn't know it until he wanted me to—what's to say that won't happen again? Literally every scenario could just be a trap and I wouldn't know it until we were in it. Until it was too late. What am I supposed to do against that? How am I supposed to beat that? There's no scenario where I come out on top, here. Everything he left behind, he wanted to leave, so even if I find something, it'll only be what he wanted me to find, and there's no way he'd ever hand me a way to beat him. There is nothing I can do, and yet I can't stop trying."

"Mac, do me a favor, and take a breath," Bozer interrupted his friend's panicky rant. "Seriously, just breathe for a second."

The blond agent clamped his mouth shut and swallowed hard, studying his best friend for a moment before forcing himself to take a deep breath.

"Good," Bozer approved. "Now, I get where you're coming from, man, but you're wrong. No, now, hear me out," he silenced the agent across from him when he opened his mouth to speak, "just listen. You're right; there was nothing you could do that night. But you weren't ready for him then, and you were alone then. Yeah, he only left behind what he meant to, but that doesn't mean what he left is useless."

Mac looked doubtful, but his best friend ignored the expression, instead counting on his fingers, "First of all, Murdoc is too cocky for his own good; he probably left more than enough to catch him or at least anticipate what he's going to do. Second of all, you're not on your own anymore. We've got your back. Drew and Elliot got you when your guard was down; none of us ever have our guard down anymore. The way you've got us operating right now, even if one of us gets caught somewhere along the way, the others are gonna know about it almost instantly. We're changing up routines, checking in with each other every morning, our houses are all rigged up with cameras and traps...we're not safe, Mac, but we're covered."

Mac nodded slightly. His friend was right; he'd taken every reasonable precaution—and several unreasonable ones—when it came to protecting his team. They were, truly, as safe as they possibly could be without going completely into hiding.

"And, I'm gonna be honest here, man," Bozer gave him a slight half smile, "even if Murdoc gets his hands on me, I know you'll be able to save me. There's not a doubt in my mind. You've done it before, and you can do it again; it's what you do. Especially since you'll have everyone else to back you up. I mean...you and the full force of Phoenix? I'd be back before lunch. I know he tried to get you to doubt yourself, get you to think that we'd start doubting you, but I don't, and neither does anyone else. Whatever Murdoc does, whenever he does it, we'll be ready and we will help you. You don't have to do this by yourself. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Mac nodded again, some of the tension in his body releasing as his friend spoke. "Yeah, I know."

"Good," Bozer approved, happy to have finally, finally gotten his friend to open up. "Then how about this: We shelve all things Murdoc for right now, focus on what we gotta do here, and when we get back, we can all dig into those evidence boxes together. And before you say that's something you'd rather do alone, since I know that's what you were gonna say, clearly you trying to go all Beautiful Mind on it all isn't working out for you. As much of a genius as you are, you might need a few extra pairs of eyes. Now, do we have a deal?"

Mac laughed slightly, surprising the man across from him; his (genuine) laughs had become few and far between.

"Yeah," Mac agreed with a smile. "We have a deal."

"Excellent," Bozer smiled back at him. "Now let's go see what Riley's got."

Mac nodded in agreement, and the two of them stood up, called Kyser and Ramirez to follow, and made their way back towards the tech bay. They found Riley in her usual spot, studying the screen before her through slightly narrowed eyes.

"Hey, Riley," Mac greeted her first, again to Bozer's surprise. "You find anything?"

"Not much," Riley reported regretfully. "Nuvogenix operates on a closed system; I can't get in without being on site. Jack texted, though, says he thinks the guys were military."

Mac stood behind her, watching the footage again as it played on the screen. This time, there was more of it; Nuvogenix had sent over footage of the entirety of the attack, from them breaking in to them making their way through the lab before finally ending with them shooting the researchers. The former EOD tech nodded, concurring with his partner's assessment.

"I can see that," he confirmed. "Their movements, their focus...they all certainly look military-trained."

"So what's the plan when we arrive?" Kyser asked, sipping his coffee.

"Let's start with the lab first," Mac sighed, crossing his arms in thought. "We'll see what we can find. After that, we'll go to the hospital, see if Doctor Kinkade can give us any insights."

"If she survives that long," Bozer put in, his voice and expression grave. Mac glanced at him, but before he could say or do anything, the pilot came over the intercom and told them to prepare for landing. The five of them made their way back out to the front of the plane and took their seats, fastening their seatbelts.

Bozer was once again facing his roommate, studying him as they landed. It was evident that his desperate plea to snap out of his haze had indeed had an effect on Mac, but he was obviously still distracted. He supposed it was too much to ask for his friend to simply flip a switch and go back to normal, but it was still so hard to see him struggling. He usually seemed so put-together. Of course, Bozer often saw through that front—at least on some level—but the facade was usually at least half-convincing. This time, Mac had started out strong, but his efforts had quickly devolved as his stress steadily grew.

Still, the newest agent thought, he was trying. For now, that was enough.


The second Mac caught sight of the head of project development at Nuvogenix—Doctor Nigel Hart—inside his private lab space, he knew immediately that they were in for a rough time. The man wore a frown as he talked to one of the other scientists, and that frown deepened when he saw the approaching Phoenix agents. They watched him quickly dismiss the researcher he was talking to and turn to face them. When he opened his mouth, he confirmed Mac's suspicions instantly.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" the man asked irritably, as though their mere presence was insulting. He was a tall, lanky man with a slightly receding hairline, frown lines etched into his face, and a thick air of impatience. All five of the Phoenix agents raised their eyebrows at him and looked at each other before Mac blinked and turned back to him, speaking first.

"Um...Doctor Hart, my name is MacGyver, and this is Riley Davis, Bozer, Mark Kyser, and Ricardo Ramirez. We're from the Ph—"

"Phoenix Foundation, yes, I know," Doctor Hart interrupted. "We sent you all the footage and our projects certainly aren't here, so what are you doing here?"

"We, ah..." Mac tilted his head slightly, a bit taken aback by the man's tone. "We just had a few questions—"

"Of course you did," Hart rolled his eyes and rubbed his brow irritably. "You people always do, but in case no one told you," his tone became condescending, as though he were talking to a bunch of children, "the projects are classified, and you haven't been cleared to know about them. Frankly, even if you were cleared, explaining them to you would be like explaining poetry to goldfish, so how about we all save our breath, shall we?"

"You know, not to overstep," Ramirez spoke up, his eyes slightly narrowed, "but if you would stop being so unnecessarily confrontational and maybe try being the slightest bit helpful, we could leave and start finding your missing projects a lot faster. You know, since you couldn't do your job and stop them from being stolen in the first place."

Mac bit back a smile as Kyser lightly elbowed Ramirez in the ribs and Riley laughed quietly. Doctor Hart glowered at the operative before him, and Ramirez met his gaze with no intention of backing down, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at the man. As expected, Doctor Hart blinked first, giving a huff.

"Fine," he snapped. "What is it you want?"

"Well, for starters, you only told us that there was one missing project," Mac pointed out. "But just now you used the plural. Just how many projects did these guys get away with?"

"Two," Hart replied stiffly. "Project 1232-K and project 0734-W-B. And before you ask what they were, I'm going to remind you again that both are highly classified, and I haven't been authorized to read you in, as if any of you could ever hope to understand them even if I did."

"Okay, listen, man," Bozer began, but Mac cut him off.

"Can we see the lab?" he requested, managing to stay pleasant.

"If you must," Hart rolled his eyes. "I'll have one of my senior researchers escort you, make sure you don't ruin anyone's progress while you bumble around in there."

"We'd appreciate that," Mac forced his smile to seem sincere as his team stood obviously fuming. Hart sneered at him, then picked up his phone from his desk and called someone—presumably one of the senior researchers. As he did so, Mac turned his attention to a whiteboard that he'd noticed immediately upon arrival.

"This your work?" he asked curiously, taking a couple steps closer to the board. It displayed a complex series of organic chemical structures and thermodynamic equations, all together obviously composing the theory behind one of Nuvogenix's projects—some type of biofuel, if Mac had to take a guess. The surface was absolutely packed, leaving almost no white space and incredibly hard to follow if one didn't know what they were looking at. Likely just some sort of stream-of-consciousness deal from Hart. Behind him, the four other agents smirked ever-so-slightly to themselves.

"Yes," Hart confirmed dangerously after hanging up with his employee. "And I'd appreciate if you'd keep back from it."

"It's very impressive," Mac admitted. "Some kind of biofuel, right? Plant-based, I'm guessing."

"Yes," Hart repeated, seeming surprised and suspicious. "How did you know?"

"I took a little chemistry in college," Mac shrugged with a smile. "Haven't been able to get it to work, have you?"

"No," Hart admitted, stepping up beside him. "Been trying for months, but I can't get it to behave as expected. It's too volatile."

"That's because your theoretical output is wrong," Mac stated simply.

"I beg your pardon," Hart sounded offended as he turned to look at the agent. "What on Earth makes you say that?"

"Simple, really," Mac shrugged, leaning forward and picking up a black marker, pulling off the cap and stepping up to the board. Before Hart could protest, the former MIT student made just one short, simple line on the surface before capping the marker and replacing it on the ledge under the board, turning to face the head of project development.

"You dropped a negative."

Hart gaped, his eyes darting between Mac and his work. After a few moments, he shoved past the agent, examining the math with his jaw hanging open. He turned back to face him, but by then, the researcher he'd called—Doctor April Lane, who was one of the employees Matty had managed to get some bare-bones information on—arrived, and the Phoenix team began following her up towards the lab that had been robbed. But before he could even get all the way out the door, Mac stopped himself and leaned back in.

"Oh, and I'm pretty sure you accidentally divided by 6.202 times ten to the twenty-third, instead of 6.022 times ten to the twenty-third," he added with a grin, pointing to a set of equations on the board. "Nice meeting you!"

With this, he quickly moved to catch up with his group. When they'd all gotten into the stairwell, all five Phoenix agents started laughing.

"Mac, that was beautiful," Bozer approved as they began ascending the steps to the next floor.

"Easily one of the most satisfying things I've seen in a long time," Ramirez nodded.

"His face was priceless," Riley chimed in, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hart give you guys a hard time?" Doctor Lane asked with a knowing smile, though there was sadness in her eyes as she carried a cardboard file box.

"He always like that?" Kyser inquired, almost finding it hard to believe.

"Pretty much," Doctor Lane nodded. "He's a bit of a control freak."

"Understatement," Bozer scoffed, earning small laughs from his colleagues.

"What do you have there?" Mac asked curiously.

"Oh," Doctor Lane blinked, as though just remembering what she was holding, and handed the box to the agent. "It's all of Abby's stuff; she left it hanging up in the lab."

"Thank you," the blond agent said graciously, tucking the box under his arm as they continued walking, eventually exiting the stairwell.

They came to a stop outside a door that was blocked off with caution tape, and Lane turned to them.

"I hope you guys don't mind if I wait out here," she said quietly. The team murmured in agreement, and Lane moved aside, allowing them to open the door and duck under the caution tape. A Phoenix forensic team had already come through and thoroughly processed the scene, but the assailants had left almost no trace of themselves, apart from the bullets and shell casings, but they hadn't led anywhere. The operatives made their way into the lab, careful to avoid the blood pools, and right away, they noticed something was off.

"Hey, weren't there whiteboards at the back of this room?" Mac asked their supervisor out in the hallway, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"Yes," Lane confirmed. "Doctor Hart had us move them because they were full of project details."

"Of course he did," Ramirez rolled his eyes. He looked to his right for Kyser, but he found that his colleague was walking towards the right hand side of the room. There, he saw a thick, heavy, metal door locked with a keypad.

"Find something, Mark?" he asked as Mac handed the box of Doctor Kinkade's belongings to Bozer and nosed around the lab stations, trying to find some clue as to what they were looking for.

In response, Kyser called to Doctor Lane over his shoulder, "This where the projects were kept?"

"Yeah," Lane nodded, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed, looking anywhere but the blood pools. As Ramirez made his way over to Kyser's side, Mac motioned to Riley, calling her over to him as he stood in front of one of the lab computers. Kyser glanced at Mac out of the corner of his eye, and the agent motioned to keep Lane distracted.

"Passcode protected," Kyser observed, keeping his attention on the door and consequently pulling Doctor Lane's attention towards it as well. "Who knows the passcode?"

"Well, Doctor Hart, obviously," Lane sighed as Riley hooked her laptop up to the lab computer and Mac casually took off his jacket and draped it over the cord, Bozer leaning against a lab bench and playing lookout. "But also all of the project leaders. Project leaders are responsible for making sure their projects and all related written research and data is securely locked away in there."

"And none of that data can ever possibly leave?" Ramirez asked, picking up on what was going on and playing along seamlessly.

"Well, occasionally researchers will take their physical notes home with them to keep working, but they're not supposed to," Lane shrugged. "And researchers are searched before leaving if they're working on a government contract to prevent such things."

"And the woman who survived, Doctor Kinkade, was she a project leader?" Kyser asked, his voice rising in volume ever-so-slightly when Lane started to turn and look at what Mac and Riley were up to, regaining her attention. Ramirez glanced subtly in his snooping colleagues' direction, and Mac signaled that they were just finishing up.

"Yes, but I'm not sure which project," Lane confirmed. To her left, Riley finished her task and disconnected her laptop from the computer, closing the screen as Mac picked up his jacket again. "We're not allowed to talk about our projects...um...what are you doing?"

Lane had shifted her attention to Mac and Riley, but too late to see anything too incriminating.

"Reviewing the security footage," Mac lied smoothly. "I don't suppose you have any insights into what happened, do you?"

"Not really," Lane denied regretfully. "And honestly, I don't care what Hart would say; I'd tell you if I did. Abby has been like a sister to me since college. I'd be with her right now if I could afford to take off work."

"Can you tell us anything about her?" Bozer asked.

"Like what?" Lane tilted her head in confusion.

"Has she been acting different lately?" Mac clarified. "Jumpy, paranoid...like something was bothering her?"

"No more than usual; she and her little sister have been at odds with each other since she was born, always fighting about something, and yesterday was no different in that regard," Lane shrugged, and then her eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask? You...you don't think she had something to do with this, do you?"

"No, of course not," Kyser assured her. "But we have to consider that one of the victims could have been the target all along. Not likely, but it's something we need to look into."

Lane nodded, accepting his answer, and gave a helpless sigh, "I wish I could be more help."

"Don't worry," Riley's voice was soothing as she gave a charming smile. "I think we've got what we need."

"Thanks for your help," Mac added sincerely. Then he and the other four operatives made their way out of the lab, Bozer still holding the box tucked under his arm, and Lane escorted them out of the building.

Once outside, Ramirez looked over at Riley, "So, how did we make out?"

"I couldn't access the files," Riley admitted, "but I was able to copy them, so I can decrypt them when we get back to the hotel."

"Any theories yet?" Kyser asked Mac, seeing his gears turning in his head.

"Huh?" the agent seemed surprised, blinking and turning to look at him. After a moment, he processed what the older man had said and shook his head, "Ah, no, I'm just thinking."

"Anything you'd like to share with the class?" Kyser pressed as they approached the parking lot.

"I'm just...thinking about the project numbers," Mac admitted, still clearly distracted by his thoughts. "If I'm right about them, we have a huge problem."

"Tell us in the car," Kyser ordered, pulling the keys from his pocket and glancing around the area. They weren't alone in the lot; a few security guards and several scientists were milling about, some visibly upset by the previous night's events.

"Shotgun!" Ramirez claimed the front seat before anyone could argue, and rushed forward to grab the passenger door handle.

"Eric, for Christ's sake, how old are you?" Kyser rolled his eyes. Behind him, Mac and Bozer looked at each other and touched their noses with their index fingers before shifting their gaze to Riley.

"No nose goes," Bozer smirked. "You're in the middle, Riley."

Riley shook her head and rubbed her temple. "Looks like we're the only adults here, Kyser," she reported with a sigh. The five of them shared a laugh, then piled into the SUV they'd arrived in, Bozer placing the box at his feet.

"How long to the hospital?" Bozer asked.

"About thirty minutes," Kyser replied, starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. "What are you thinking, Mac?"

"Well, the project numbers were 1232-K and 0734-W-B," Mac reminded him. "I think the letters have to do with what category they fall under."

"Maybe but how does that help us?" Riley gave him a look from her place in the middle of the back seat.

"Ahm...okay, so, biotech is broken down into colors based on application," the agent explained. "The main ones being white, red, yellow, blue, green, gold, and black. White is industrial, red is medicine, yellow is anything related to food production, blue is marine and aquatics, green is agriculture, gold is nanobiotech and computer science, and black is bioterrorism. So, if I'm right, the W and B in 0734-W-B mean white and blue, and the project has industrial and marine applications."

"And 1232-K?" Ramirez raised an eyebrow at him, turning in his seat. "None of those categories you listed started with a K."

"True," Mac agreed. "But blue and black both start with a B, so one of them would have to have a different tag letter, and black is the only one with a K in it at all. Again, I could be wrong, but if I'm right..."

"Then 1232-K is a bioweapon," Kyser concluded grimly.

"Exactly," Mac nodded.

"Aren't we, like...not supposed to be making any bioweapons?" Bozer raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, we're also not supposed to have nukes anymore," Riley scoffed. "And we definitely do."

"Fair enough," Bozer allowed.

"Theoretically, there's also the possibility that it wasn't a US contract," Mac pointed out. "Unlikely, I'll admit, but we were only told about one project until we got here. Hart's the only one who said they were both classified military contracts."

"And that guy is an asshole," Ramirez scoffed, seeming irritated just by the thought of the man.

"Either way, I think we should ask Matty to see if she can at least get a definitive on how many contracted projects were stolen," Mac concluded with a chuckle.

"Agreed," Riley nodded, already sending the text. Almost immediately after getting on the highway, they hit thick traffic, and a chorus of groans erupted from the car.

"Strap in, guys," Kyser warned. "It's gonna be a long drive."


It took the Phoenix agents nearly twice as long as anticipated to reach the hospital, but when they did, the whole building was in chaos, thanks to the seven-car pileup that caused their delay. They had a hard time finding someone to point them in the direction of Doctor Kinkade's room, but eventually, they found their way. They split up, Ramirez and Bozer going to see what they could do about taking a look at the personal effects she'd been brought in with, and Mac, Kyser, and Riley going to her room in the ICU.

Upon arrival, the trio pushed the ajar door open and found Doctor Abigail Kinkade in a private room, attached to a ventilator, face bruised, and her IV pole crowded with bags, looking small and broken surrounded by machines. Mac grimaced visibly, the sight bringing up too many unwanted memories, and pulled his eyes away from her, instead looking around the room. In one of the chairs, looking out the window, a younger woman sat hugging her knees to her chest. She was obviously Abigail's sister; both women had the same brown hair, the same face shape, the same slight frame. The younger woman's hair was longer than her sisters, and pulled out of her face by a ponytail, and her eyes were lined with dark makeup that was running as she cried silently.

"Excuse me," Mac's voice jolted the younger woman from her thoughts, and she wiped her eyes quickly before turning to them, standing up with her arms folded across her chest. She was wearing black, skin-tight skinny jeans, a black crop top with a logo Mac didn't recognize on it, black boots with silver zippers, and an oversized red flannel that hung open. She also had a silver piercing in her bellybutton and a silver hoop piercing the cartilage of her left ear. White gauze encircled her left hand, covering some kind of injury. "I'm Angus MacGyver, and this is Riley Davis and Mark Kyser. We're investigating what happened at the lab last night; you must be Doctor Kinkade's sister."

The young woman nodded, sniffling softly. "Ellie," she introduced herself shakily before clearing her throat.

"How's she doing?" Kyser asked, his voice gentle and compassionate. Ellie stifled a sob.

"Not good," she admitted. "She lost a lot of blood, and they hit her at some point—probably because she wouldn't open that stupid vault—and...and the bullets broke off some pieces of her ribs...she lost part of her liver...They shot her seven times; why wouldn't she just open the stupid vault?"

Her tears began to fall again, and Riley, her heart breaking for her, stepped forward, pulling her into a hug without thinking. Ellie clung tightly to her, sobbing for about thirty seconds before stepping back and wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry," her voice trembled. "I'm sorry, I just...We had such a huge fight yesterday. It got so heated and we both said such awful things, and..." her face contorted as she suppressed another sob, "and she offered to call out from work so we could talk, but I...I told her I didn't want to talk. I should have told her to stay...it's my fault; she could die because of me."

"No, now, that's not even close to true," Mac shook his head. "No one's to blame, here, except the people who shot her in the first place."

"He's right," Kyser agreed. "And, don't take this the wrong way, but I wouldn't have expected her to survive at all after being shot seven times; the fact that she's not only alive, but stable, is incredible, critical or not. She's strong; she could pull through. But if you don't believe she will, then how's she going to? Mentality is incredibly important when it comes to recovery; you'd be surprised what the human body can do by simply believing it can do it."

Ellie sniffed and wiped her eyes, swallowing hard as she forced herself to nod. "You're right," she agreed at last. "And, hey, if anyone can do it, it's Abby."

"Are you and your sister close?" Mac asked, and Ellie gave a slight laugh.

"We're all each other's got," she told him, looking over at her sister. "Our parents died in a car crash when I was thirteen and she was twenty-two. She took me in, and we've been living together ever since. We're always fighting but we're also always there for each other. We always like to say 'if anyone's gonna make my sister cry, it's gonna be me.'"

The Phoenix team laughed at that, each of them filling with sympathy.

"Did she seem stressed lately?" Kyser asked. "More than usual? Or maybe like something was bothering her?"

"Just her asshole of a boss," Ellie scoffed, folding her arms again

"Yeah, we met him," Riley rolled her eyes.

"What a dick, right?" Ellie smiled just a bit. "He won't even give you the time of day if you weren't invited to join Mensa by age eight. My sister graduated high school at fourteen, finished her undergrad in two and a half years, and then got her PhDs two at a time and finished school by twenty-one, and he still barely treated her like a person."

"He's a special one, alright," Kyser sighed. "Can you think of any reason someone might want to hurt your sister? Any enemies you can think of?"

"No," Ellie sounded a bit defensive when she spoke, any trace of a smile vanishing, "everybody loves Abby, or if they don't they at least don't have anything against her. Why?"

"We just have to ask, is all," Kyser assured her. "We don't think what happened had anything to do with her; we're just trying to see if there might have been another motive besides robbery."

Elli hesitated, then gave a small nod, relaxing slightly.

"Did your sister ever take her work home with her?" Mac asked.

"Well, she never brought anything home, but she'd work on her ideas and stuff at home," the young woman explained. "Said that that way, she wasn't technically breaking any rules, and Hart couldn't say shit. She keeps all her notes locked up in a safe."

"Any chance you know the combination?" Riley perked up at the mention of notes; maybe they'd finally get some idea of what they were dealing with.

"No," Ellie replied regretfully. "Abby doesn't keep much from me, but she doesn't tell me anything about her work and never lets me see her notes."

The trio exchanged somewhat disappointed glances before Mac turned back to Ellie.

"Would it be alright if we took a look around your house?" he asked hopefully. "We might be able to find something that could shed some light on what the robbers wanted."

"Of course," Ellie agreed readily. "Anything to find them."

"Thank you," Mac's voice was sincere, and he gave a gentle smile. He looked at his two companions, and they all turned to leave. Kyser stopped and leaned back into the room.

"Just hang in there," he encouraged. "And remember, if you don't believe it, neither will she."

Ellie nodded and gave the smallest smile, resuming her seat, and Kyser quickly moved to catch up with his companions. The trio found the rest of their crew in the stairwell, headed up to them.

"Hey," Bozer greeted them, a large plastic bag in his hand. "You get anything from the sister?"

"Maybe," Mac replied with a sigh. "We're headed to her house. Apparently, Doctor Kinkade often worked while at home, kept notes locked in a safe."

"Cool," Ramirez shrugged, turning around and jogging back down the steps with his companions. "We got her personal effects, but there doesn't seem to be anything of interest."

"Then let's hope we find something at the house," Riley sighed as they exited the stairwell and started navigating the still-chaotic hospital back towards their car. "Because if I can't break those files, I don't like our odds of finding something when we don't know what we're looking for."

"Oh, come on," Kyser smiled at her as they exited the building. "Stranger things have happened."

The rest of the group laughed slightly, and then they all climbed back into the car. As they made their way towards the Kinkade residence, Bozer dug through the box they'd gotten from Doctor Lane, finding Abigail's keys in her purse and handing them to Mac. Kyser pulled the car over around the side of the house and put it in park, allowing the group to clamber out. The house before them was a modest two-story with gray siding, a fenced yard with a gate, an attached garage, and a brick path leading up to the front door. The street was relatively quiet, with only a few other cars parked in view, most of the residents at work or school by that time.

Without much hesitation, the five of them walked up to the front door, Mac leading the way with the keys in hand. There were four keys on the keyring, each dotted with a different color of nail polish. The door was a deep blue, so on a hunch, Mac first tried the key dotted with blue polish. The key slid in easily, and the agent smirked slightly to himself before turning the key in the lock to the left. When he did, his smirk became a frown.

"It's already unlocked," he reported, pulling the key from the lock and putting it in his pocket as Kyser and Ramirez exchanged glances. He started to open the door, but Kyser reached out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back and stepping in front of him. Mac blinked, but one look from the medic silenced him before he could question it. Kyser let his hand rest on the gun behind his back, then pushed the door open, stepping carefully inside and looking around with his hand still resting on the doorknob. When he was certain there was no immediate threat, he moved aside and let the others trail in after him, Ramirez bringing up the rear.

The team spread out, looking around the main floor.

"I've got dog bowls and dog food but no dog," Ramirez reported from the kitchen, breaking the silence.

"Found the game room," Bozer called from behind a door to the right of the living room, sounding excited, his tone drawing Riley towards him curiously.

"Alright, you guys keep looking down here," Kyser sighed. "Mac, let's go upstairs, find her room."

Mac just nodded. The stairs were near the front door, and since Mac hadn't ventured too far into the house, he made it there first and started jogging up the steps, Kyser right on his heels.

There were five doors on this floor, and three of them were closed. Mac pushed open the one to the right of the top of the stairs and saw a room that he easily identified as Ellie's; her pictures hung on the walls and there was a stack of college textbooks on the desk. Posters hung on the walls, there was a guitar in the corner, and the dresser was crowded with framed photos of friends and family.

Behind him, Kyser leaned into the open door to the left of the stairs, seeing a bathroom with two sinks, one side crowded with an organized mess of makeup and hair products, the other left bare.

Mac walked around him to open the second closed door, the corner room. This one appeared to be a spare bedroom, but looked as though someone had stayed there recently. The sheets were ruffled, as though someone had haphazardly made the bed. There were glass bottles on the nightstand, and a forgotten t-shirt sticking out from under the dresser. There was also a large tub of cleaning supplies on the dresser top, as though someone had been in the process of cleaning up and just stopped. Next to the tub of supplies was a large first-aid kit, with a roll of gauze, tape, and a pair of scissors left out. There were also small bits of glass on the floor, and Mac recalled Ellie's hand, and how it had been wrapped up like she'd hurt it, quickly concluding that she'd cut it on the glass.

Kyser opened the fourth door, finding a closet stocked with sheets, towels, and cleaning supplies.

Mac edged around him to the final room, walking several steps down the hall. As he reached for the doorknob, Kyser heard a creak and a footstep coming from beyond the door, and he jolted. The medic lunged for Mac, grabbing the back of his jacket and yanking him back, putting himself between Jack's partner and the door. Without pausing to explain, he pushed the younger man urgently towards the corner bedroom. Less than a second later, bullets began to fly, a cluster rapidly forming around where Mac's chest would have been. Kyser shoved Mac through the open doorway and lunged after him, taking cover as they heard their friends call out for them downstairs.

"Kyser!" Ramirez's worried voice carried through the house. "Mac!"

"We're good!" Kyser called back, pulling out his gun and flicking the safety off. The pair heard Ramirez start to speak again, but his words were cut off by more gunfire, this round coming from down below. The hiding agents exchanged grim glances, but they heard Ramirez yelling for Riley and Bozer to get down, so at least they knew their colleague was alive.

"I'm going out," the medic said to Mac, getting into position and waiting for his opening.

"I'm going with you," Mac nodded.

"No, you're not," Kyser scoffed.

"Yes, I am," Mac argued with a frown.

"Mac, the guy has a gun," Kyser reminded him while raising an eyebrow. "I have a gun. Do you have a gun? No. You're staying here."

Before Mac could protest—and he was about to—there was a lull in the gunfire. Kyser heard a magazine eject, and without hesitating, he launched himself from the spare room, ran down the hall, threw open the final door, and fired at the first shape he saw.

The medic almost immediately regretted his decision; there were three men in the room, all dressed in bodyarmor and wearing masks like in the lab video. The one that Kyser fired at was not the one who'd shot at Mac; this one was standing over near a large safe built into the wall. The one who'd been shooting was to Kyser's left, and the third man was by the window.

Kyser's shots hit the man in the center of the vest, knocking the wind out of him, and the medic didn't hesitate to turn and kick the original shooter's gun from his hands before he could reload, knocking him to the ground. He turned to fire at the man by the window, but the now-unarmed man by the door recovered shockingly fast and rushed him, knocking him into the wall and denting the sheetrock. The medic grunted with the impact, his gun falling from his hand, and he forced himself to ignore the pain that shot through him, catching his breath quickly as he kicked his attacker in the chest, driving him back.

Now free, Kyser dove for his pistol, managing to grab it just before his attacker's companions recovered and drew their weapons, firing in his direction. The medic scrambled for cover, finding refuge just inside the doorway of the en suite bathroom.

"Jesus, I'm over here, too!" the man Kyser had disarmed shouted at his companions, moving over towards the bedroom door to get out of the way.

"There's more downstairs!" one of the two other men yelled back. "Go help out Adams!"

"On it," the first man grunted, still sounding annoyed. Kyser heard him leaving, and his stomach dropped, hoping to God that the man wouldn't come across Mac in his trip down the stairs, and that Ramirez would be ready for him when he arrived. The medic leaned out to shoot at the other two attackers, forcing them to dive for cover.

Outside the room, the hallway had begun to fill with thick smoke, baffling the masked man making his way towards the stairs. The smoke appeared, strangely enough, to be coming from the closet, billowing out from under the door and through the bullet holes in its surface. Gun at the ready, the man yanked open the door, coughing when the white smoke came out like an avalanche, blinding him to his surroundings. This afforded Mac the perfect opportunity to emerge from his hiding place just inside the spare room door and throw the queen sized comforter in his arms over the assailant's head. The man thrashed about in his attempt to strike out at Mac and free himself from the comforter. Mac easily avoided his hits, instead grabbing him and shoving him into the open bathroom—hearing rather than seeing him fall as the smoke continued to fill the air—before slamming the door shut. He then leaned over and grabbed the strip of bedsheet he'd tied around the handle of the spare room door, pulling the door shut and hooking the other end, tied into a loop, over the bathroom door handle. When the masked man inside tried to yank the door open, the sheet held fast, keeping both doors closed.

One down, at least three to go, Mac thought to himself. He heard Riley scream below him, so he didn't hesitate to sprint down the steps, trusting that Kyser could handle the remaining two gunmen himself. By that time, the smoke from his improvised smoke bomb had started to fill the master bedroom, where Kyser and the other two attackers were. The medic was still crouched just inside the en suite bathroom, quickly disregarding the smoke once he realized Mac was the cause. His two opponents, however, were perplexed.

"The hell is that?" one of them demanded.

"Who cares? Keep going," the other ordered. Kyser waited, hearing what sounded like a drill or a saw start up, as the smoke continued to flow into the room, creating a haze that made it difficult for the medic to see his targets—and vice versa. When he was sure he had enough cover, Kyser silently slipped out of the bathroom, moving to get a better angle on where he was pretty sure the attackers were; the smoke had become so thick that he could barely make out their outlines. Kyser took aim and fired three times, watching the dark figure fall with a loud cry of pain. The man who'd been trying to drill his way into the wall safe—whom Kyser had already shot in the vest—fired in the medic's direction, and one bullet grazed his left shoulder, causing him to let out a soft grunt and move to take cover behind a bookcase.

By this time, they heard sirens approaching in the distance, and the two assailants cursed loudly. Kyser heard a window open, followed by someone shouting, "Let's go! Let's go! Leave it! Let's go!"

The medic heard two loud thumps and the distant sound of glass breaking, and then a few moments later, tires squealed.

"Kyser!" Mac shouted up urgently from below.

"Yeah!" Kyser called back down, abandoning his hiding place and carefully making his way out towards the hall, putting his gun away and covering his arm with his right hand. He came around to the top of the steps and found Mac standing about halfway up the stairs.

"You okay?" Mac asked, catching sight of the blood on his arm.

"I'm fine; what's up?" Kyser dismissed his concerns, realizing that he had been about to say something. "Is everybody okay?"

"Yeah," Mac confirmed. "One of them came in through the back door. He managed to get the jump on Riley at one point, but Ramirez took care of him. In theory I have one trapped in the bathroom, but unless that glass breaking we heard was you, he might have gotten away. Cops are almost here; Ramirez is already on the phone with Matty."

"I'll check the bathroom," Kyser volunteered. "You try to clear out this smoke. How did you even do this anyway?"

"Instant cold packs, tissues, and matches," Mac shrugged. "Among other things. There shouldn't be any more smoke."

"Uh-huh," Kyser rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Go clear it out."

Mac smirked and nodded, moving from room to room and opening all the windows to help vacate the smoke. While he did so, Kyser turned his attention to the bathroom. With his gun at the ready, he freed the sheet from the doorknob and threw the door open, clearing the room. Just as Mac suspected, the window had been broken, and their suspect was nowhere to be found. The medic let out a sigh, returning to the hallway and meeting up with Mac.

"He's gone," the older man confirmed, putting his gun away.

"I figured," Mac sighed, seeming disappointed. "C'mon; let's go see the others."

The two of them made their way down the steps, meeting up with Ramirez, Bozer, and a shaken-looking Riley as they talked to the cops outside. The group was surrounded by five or six officers, looking at the five of them suspiciously. Ramirez gave them a nod of acknowledgement, jerking his head in the direction of one of the officers, who had one phone up to his ear and another in his other hand. Kyser immediately went to Riley, asking with just a look if she was alright. Riley gave a smile and a reassuring nod just as the officer in charge hung up the phone by his ear and walked over to the group, handing Ramirez the second phone he'd been holding with a sour expression.

"You're free to go," the officer told them with a frown. He looked over at Kyser, "You might want to get that arm checked out."

"Thanks," Kyser gave a smile. "'Preciate the concern."

The officer just scoffed, rounding up the rest of the cops and directing them back to their cars. Meanwhile, Ramirez brought the phone in his hand back up to his ear.

"Thanks, Matty," the operative said with a slight smirk. "Yeah, we'll let you know what we find. Bye."

With this, he hung up and turned to his four companions. "You guys okay?"

"We're fine," Kyser assured him, looking down at the cut on his left bicep. "Just a scratch. What about you guys?"

"Guy came in through the back door," Bozer explained as they made their way back inside. "Ramirez and Mac took care of him after he tried to rush Riley."

"You see what they were after upstairs?" Ramirez asked.

"The safe," Kyser replied, guiding them up the stairs and towards the master bedroom. "Seems we weren't the only ones who knew about Kinkade's notes."

"Yeah, but if they already have what we can only assume are her projects, why do they need her notes?" Riley questioned no one in particular as they all gathered near the safe in question. Mac stepped forward and picked up the thieves' abandoned drill, looking at the safe in the wall. They'd almost managed to get it open; a few more minutes was all they would have needed. The blond agent turned to his companions.

"Only one way to find out."


Whoo! Y'all made it through! I'm proud of you. I know this took far longer than any of us had hoped, but theoretically it's all smooth sailing from here. Mostly. I know where I'm going at least. And if I've paced it right, this particular story has 2 more chapters, and then you guys can look out for MURD 201: Exam 2. If, of course, I can convince you to stick around that long. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and keep an eye out for the next chapter!