Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the book characters.
Thank you: Wendylouwho10 who read over the story for me and made content suggestions, helped with the flow, and provided some spelling/grammar corrections. Typos are mine and discover them all the time. :-)
Rating/Setting: Rating is T. Setting is blue spine-ish and AU. Timeline: Taken; Recovery; Retribution; Wild Pitch; and now this story. While you don't NEED to read the previous stories, things will be referenced and perhaps even some from my younger Hardys stories.
Chapter Three
Joe sat as calmly as he could in the room with Agent Johnson. He was waiting to go see a 'stylist' and make-up artist. He had been a little taken aback by that when the agent had told him. But then he had followed it up as it being part of his cover. In all honesty, he was glad to have the distraction of what getting into his cover would be like. His mom had practically been in tears when he left the house forty-five minutes ago. His father had tried to explain but his mom just wasn't in the mood to hear it. When she had hugged him good-bye, she had told him that though she didn't like it, she understood. That was the best he could hope for in this situation and he was glad that he wasn't his father as the time spent until he and Frank came back was sure to be rough. After all, his mom knew quite a few submission holds herself.
Finally, a door opened and a twenty-something year old girl with a nose piercing, and gothic black hair called him into the room. Agent Johnson followed him in.
"Hi, I'm Kiki," the girl said as she put the cape around him as he sat down.
"Kiki?" Joe asked in surprise. She didn't look like a Kiki with her dark make-up and gothic clothing continuing the theme.
A broad smile lit her face. "Yeah, Kiki. I know. Doesn't sound right does it? But then, the make-up crew and the stylist try their hands at various styles. Can you tell what they were going for with me?"
"Well, that would be hard," Joe said as he smiled back into the mirror at her. "Goth?"
"Yep. But you know the look is only part of it. You have to have the attitude to go with it." Kiki took a moment to look over the screen on her table with her directives regarding his hair and then back to Agent Johnson. "It's a shame," she said. "He has beautiful hair." She ran her fingers through it.
"It'll grow back," Keo Johnson said dryly.
Joe looked at Kiki again in the mirror. "It's okay. He's right. I can't have all this hair if I'm going for a punk with an attitude."
"Guess not," she said with a shrug as she brought out her clippers. "It definitely doesn't take a lot of effort to get that look." After making sure she had all the implements she wanted on the side table, she turned back to Joe. "I'm going to shave the sides so it's just stubble and leave a Mohawk strip down the middle. That will only be about an inch long and I'm going to gel spike it."
"Isn't that a little out of date?" Joe asked.
"Not really. At least not with the attitude you're going for." Kiki looked to Agent Johnson and then back to Joe. "And when you're trying to show off a scar, it's the best way.
Joe's eyes widened. It made sense now. The scar on the left side of his scalp was still pink and an obvious sign to anyone looking at him that he was dangerous. "Oh," was all he said as Kiki went to work with her shears. He thought immediately of his scars on his abdomen. Another obvious sign that he was trouble and a force to be reckoned with- a teenage with scars from knives and bullets. They were real and something that hopefully, not many teens in ORT would have as part of their cover. Joe felt Keo's eyes on him as Kiki had now moved on to working on his Mohawk.
"Yes, Joe, your scars- all of them, will go a long way to helping solidify your cover. They're something that we can't fake if anyone went to look at them."
"Well, I'm glad they're good for something," Joe said but he couldn't bring himself to even attempt to smile.
Kiki kept him turned from the mirror and when he attempted to look she wagged a finger in his face. "Nuh-uh. You have to wait to get the full effect."
"Full effect?" Joe asked.
"Yes," Johnson said. "We're heading into the make-up artist now."
Joe stood from the chair once she had the cape off and quickly said good-bye as Johnson was already out the door.
Catching up quickly, Joe asked, "What is the make-up artist going to do?"
"He'll be applying your fake tattoos."
Joe frowned. "I thought those could be dangerous."
"They can be if you're using the stuff on the street. However, ORT has access to materials that many don't. This is one of them. I'm not saying they're healthy but you're looking at short-term and we've had good success with them for up to six months."
"What happens then?" Joe asked. He noticed that no one was giving him and his crazy hair a second look as they walked down the corridor.
"Usually some type of skin reaction. It's similar to what happens with the street stuff after just a week or two." Johnson stopped and opened a door. "Here we are."
Joe stepped in behind Johnson and closed the door. He watched as Johnson went up to a middle-aged Asian man and had a short discussion. The man waved him over and went into another room. Joe stopped at the door and looked to Johnson who hadn't moved. "Aren't you coming?"
"No. You're going to be in there for a couple of hours minimum. I'll be back when Tao messages me." With that, he turned and left.
Joe looked at the door that Johnson had exited and then the door that Tao had gone through. "Might as well get it started," he said quietly to himself.
.**********.
Johnson had been right. It had taken over two hours to get the tattoos. Tao had had him strip to his boxers and then had him lie on his back on a table. After donning some protective glasses and gloves, he had gone to work with his stencils and a small brush. While Tao wasn't talkative, he did make sure to tell Joe about the procedure. The black ink, for lack of a better term, would not wash off immediately in contact with water, sweat, or alcohol. However, repeated rubbing of the tattoos with any liquid would eventually lead to fading. He suggested touching up an area of the tattoos every day after three days. By doing a little every day, it would help continue the illusion of a real tattoo. As Joe lay on his stomach to get a tattoo on his back, he asked how he was supposed to do that one. Tao had simply replied that his partner would. Joe wanted to think of it as Frank, but he had a feeling it would be his fake girlfriend. The ink would be disguised in containers that were similar to her eyeliner.
"Done," Tao finally said.
As Joe sat up and put on his shirt, he noticed the man was sending a text message. He wondered how long it would take Johnson to get there. As he waited, he looked at the flames that went up his right arm past the middle of his forearm. On the left side of his abdomen was the wing of an eagle and from what he could see, the bird extended around and onto his back. The other wing felt like it had gone almost across his back. In the bird's talons was a skull. He knew he'd have to have at least one.
When Joe had asked why there wasn't any color, Tao had explained it would be harder for his partner to apply it correctly and that real color tattoos of this size were expensive and his cover wasn't that of a rich kid.
In less than ten minutes, Johnson arrived and gave Tao the okay for the work.
"So can I see now?" Joe asked.
Johnson studied him for a minute and said, "Come with me."
"I guess that's a no then," Joe mumbled as he followed the agent out.
Johnson went down a floor and down a corridor. He opened a door and Joe looked into what looked like a store dressing room. On the bench inside was a pair of trunks like MMA fighters wore on tv.
"Put them on and call me. We'll open that door on the wall together. It's a mirror," and Johnson cracked a smile as he continued, "and I want to see your reaction."
Joe just nodded, stepped inside and closed the door. In less than five minutes he was in the fighting trunks and had put on the padded fingerless gloves that had been underneath them. He called for Johnson who stood in the doorway a moment appraising him before closing the door behind him.
"How do you plan to act?" Johnson leaned against the opposite wall and crossed his arms over his chest.
Joe knew what he meant. There was more to the cover than his physical appearance. The cover would be also be about his facial expressions, how he reacted to people, what he said. "I'm not trying for any type of accent. I can't do it. I need to be from somewhere where people talk like I do. I won't be doing a lot of smiling or joking around. I'm not going to be nice to my girlfriend all the time and I don't really care if people like me or not. If they don't like what I have to say, they can just bite me."
Johnson smiled as Joe crossed his arms over his chest with the left arm on top displaying his flame tattoo. Joe had also tilted his chin up and gave the appearance of looking down his nose at the agent.
"Sounds good. I wish we had time to train you more in the nuances of maintaining a cover but we don't have it. I think that your natural swagger should carry you through if you keep it up." Johnson walked to the cabinet mounted on the wall and opened the door revealing a mirror that folded out.
Joe's eyes widened as he took in his new appearance. He certainly didn't look like himself and he knew that it would take Frank a little time to figure it out.
Johnson clapped him on the back. "Your father should be here by now. Want to show him?"
"Um. Yes and no."
Johnson laughed. "I understand. And believe me, your dad will too. This isn't who you are, Joe. It's a ruse to get what we need."
"Yeah, I guess so," Joe said as Johnson pulled out his phone and sent a message. Joe turned and looked at himself in the mirror and thought how glad that this wasn't who he was. He wasn't a punk with a grudge and a heart full of animosity. A soft knock on the door drew his eyes to the door and he put his mask back on- pulling his shoulders back and putting his hands on his hips.
.**********.
Fenton opened the door and saw Agent Johnson. His eyes moved across the small room and found his son. "Joe?" Fenton asked even though he knew it was.
"Nope," Joe replied. "The name's Jake. What's it to you anyway?"
Fenton stepped in and closed the door. He scanned his son. He looked downright intimidating. This was the kind of guy you didn't make angry and that you didn't want to run into in a back alley. His eyes lingered first on the scars on his right side and then he moved to circle around Joe. His eyes moved to the left side of Joe's head. He had seen Joe's stitches and he knew that scar was there. But now they were out in the open. The evidence of how close Joe had come to dying was out on display. What was he doing letting his youngest son do this while he was still on antidepressants?
"Dad?" Joe dropped the act when he saw how disturbed his father was.
A grim smile came to Fenton's lips as he looked in Joe's eyes and saw his son and not the cover that ORT was setting up for him. "It's okay, Joe. I was just really drawn in."
"We'll take care of him, Fenton. We'll be there if he or Frank need us." Agent Johnson had seen the doubt surface once again. "Let me walk you out."
After giving Joe a final big hug, Fenton left the room with just one backward glance. Outside the room he turned to Johnson. "I don't-"
"We have his back, Fenton. I know you're concerned but we wouldn't have offered this to him if we didn't think he could handle it."
"But his medication-"
"Will go with him under the cover of being for his girlfriend. It won't be suspicious at all."
Fenton looked back at the closed door. "Bring them both back safe to me." Fenton looked Agent Johnson in the eye. "No other option."
"No other option," Johnson repeated.
.**********.
Joe changed back into his clothes. He had been a little rattled by his dad's visit. It was obvious that Fenton was having second thoughts and Joe knew it was because of his scars. After all, it had thrown him a little to see that scar on his scalp. It had definitely thrown his father.
A knock sounded on the door and a voice asked if he was ready.
Opening the door, he said, "Lead the way." It was time to meet his partner in the mission. They would be briefed together from here on out and getting to know each other. Pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend wouldn't be the easiest thing, but if he was a jerk, maybe the distance between them would be plausible.
Johnson soon entered a room with a tv on the wall and conference table in the middle. As he closed the door behind them, he said, "Joe, I'd like you to meet your partner, Vanessa Bender."
