32,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean 13:24:58
Sixteen hours was a painfully long flight time, especially with no layover, a deep, endless, plane-swallowing ocean between the takeoff and the destination, and a foreboding sense of doom weighing one's stomach down. The only member of the trio who seemed content was Blaine, who had been sleeping peacefully for the last four hours, his head lolling to rest on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt didn't mind, focused on the challenges ahead of them.

"I'm going to get some shut eye," Santana announced. "We'll take shifts; keep an eye on him. Wake me up in three hours." At this point in her career, that was probably all she needed in order to function.

By this time, Stheno was definitely aware their prize had been captured, considering the agent Kurt knocked out had probably regained consciousness, and it was past the time Blaine should have woken up for morning classes by a long shot. It was the reason Santana had bought them tourist clothes; both the agents were well aware that Stheno was probably all around Weipa, either protecting the only access point to one of their labs or on the same travel route Kurt, Blaine, and Santana were. Speaking of tourist clothes, Santana had dug through their overhead bag despite the glare of one of the flight attendants and was using a Rice University sweatshirt as a pillow, quickly nodding off.

They had already flown over Baja California, and now only the ocean was below them, giving Kurt a sick feeling in his stomach. Trying to find a way to distract himself, he scanned the people in first class with them, trying to spot if there was a sky marshall (he wasn't sure if they manned international flights, but it was more entertaining than watching the ocean). He was fairly certain that with his training, it would be easy to spot anyone carrying a Sig Sauer P229 and an ASP expandable baton, and if his phone had been safe, he probably could have checked the CIA database (which often monitored the activity of other agencies) to see if there was an air marshall, but this was at least some sort of challenge.

About 20 minutes into Santana's nap, Kurt finally found the air marshall. His weapon was excellently concealed, but when he got up to go to the bathroom, Kurt saw the hint of metal that gave him away, so small and so quick he was positive no one else on the plane could have picked up on it. Not wanting to give the guy away, he stopped looking in the direction of the marshall's now-empty seat.

Then he remembered what a Sig Sauer P229 looked like…

While the 'air marshall' was walking back from the bathroom, Kurt examined him. He was tall, but no so tall that he stood out of the crowd, at about 6'1'', with broad shoulders and a shaved head. From the way he walked, Kurt could tell that he was well-trained, plus the fact that every few seconds Kurt had to look away because the man was obviously very vigilante about being watched. And the smuggled gun on his hip was a lot bigger than a Sig Sauer P229.

Now, there were a few possibilities. A crazy Australian had smuggled a gun out of the lawless America, the plane was about to be taken hostage, the crazy coincidence that there was some other matter of international security happening on this particular flight, but the one that seemed most logical was the one Kurt didn't want to face: Stheno had found them.

There was another option of course: they had coincidentally taken the same flight as a Stheno operative headed for bait, and Kurt was starting to think that was the most likely option, considering the man wasn't scanning the plane or even paying attention to his surroundings. He was actually playing a game on his phone, and it made the monster seem terribly human. And while big shots at the company like Sue Sylvester and her personal bodyguard Goolsby probably got flights in private jets out to Australia, the underlings probably weren't so lucky.

Still, they had to be cautious.

Despite how soft and content Blaine looked sleeping on Kurt's shoulder, Kurt gently placed a hand over his mouth and pinched his side. Not hard enough to leave a bruise, but hard enough to wake him up with a swear that Kurt's hand muffled.

"Hello to you too," Blaine said once he was semi-awake.

"Sorry to bother you, but you need to put on this sweatshirt," Kurt said, grabbing the second sweatshirt Santana had taken out of their bag which was to become Kurt's pillow. "Subtly, please."

"Should I even ask?" Blaine muttered, probably mostly to himself, as he did Kurt's bidding for the first time without question. "Happy?" he asked, and when Kurt smiled and nodded, he gave Kurt a quick kiss, said, "Goodnight," and cuddled blatantly into Kurt's side. Kurt wrapped an arm around him and glanced over to make sure the Stheno operative was still playing what appeared to be Candy Crush on his phone.

It was going to be a long flight.

32,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean 16:52:39
When Kurt pointed out the operative he had been eyeballing for the last three hours to the newly-awakened Santana, she grimaced. "I recognize him," she said when Kurt raised an eyebrow at her. "He was at the Anderson's party as a member of the delivery's security detail."

"What delivery?" Kurt asked.

"Well, despite your theory that I spent all of that party in a van waiting for you to screw up, I couldn't handle Puckerman and Evans for more than an hour or so, and after that I left the van to get some fresh air. I spotted a Stheno company car driving up to the house, so I followed it with a Clipper." Kurt stared at her blankly. "A Clipper is a gadget designed for unexpected following. You shoot a super-strong magnet at the right or left edge of the car and it's designed to keep you in its blind spot as you follow with the skates built into your shoe. It ends up like a scene from a secret agent movie, except without the rocket shoes. It's a terribly dangerous move, but I was bored," she said with a shrug. "The van drove down the driveway some then went into the woods, forcing me to follow it on foot. Thankfully, it wasn't going very fast and it left deep treads. When I reached the van, it had stopped, and it was unloading crates marked 'luey para.' I tried to follow the crates, but the security was too good for me to go in with no plan. I got stuck halfway into the lab for two hours until I picked their system, that's why it took me so long to attempt a rescue when you got captured. I looked up the words later, but they didn't mean anything, not even in the CIA database."

"So, that could be what started eating the agents," Kurt filled in, the words making his skin crawl.

"Exactly, but we still have no idea what it is, if it could be sufficiently weaponized," Kurt would argue that anything capable of eating someone was already weaponized, but perhaps Santana was picturing things even worse, "or how to protect ourselves from it." She looked over at Kurt and smirked. "Glad to see you already got Blaine all covered up. Did you wake him up or just strip him yourself?"

"Very funny," Kurt murmured, looking over at Blaine and smiling, petting his rapidly-curling hair then wiping the day-old gel off on his pants.

"You have four options: get some sleep, tell me what the hell happened to your hands, recount the story of how you rescued Blaine, or I'll nag you continuously about your relationship with him until you decide to do one of the other three." Santana would be a terrible hostage negotiator. Or an excellent one. Kurt wasn't really sure.

"I think I'll sleep," Kurt said dryly, not bothered about his hands, not wanting to listen to Santana's critique of his impromptu rescues, and definitely not wanting to be asked questions about Blaine that he didn't have the answers to.

Just before Kurt drifted off, he felt a soft pressure on his forehead and the words "sweet dreams" in a female voice, so soft he could have imagined them.

Novotel Brisbane Airport Hotel, 7 The Circuit, Brisbane Airport, Brisbane QLD 4007, Australia 02:13:59/17:13:59
By the time the trio reached the hotel Santana had booked eighteen hours ago, it would be 2 A.M. in Ohio. However, jet lag was already setting in, and it was 5 P.M. in Australia, which thankfully didn't change their plan, since it was so shaky to begin with. Their flight left for Weipa at 8 Australian time, which gave them time to think things over.

"Blaine, you can have the first shower," Santana announced as she placed the duffel bag and her backpack, their only bags, on the bed. "Sadly, your boyfriend will not be joining you." Kurt blushed and didn't look at Blaine for his reaction. "You can keep the jeans, but I'm sure you're feeling grimy. Here's a Baylor t-shirt and Southwestern sweatshirt if you need it. Oh, and wash all that crap out of your hair. Looks like a Helmet, Frodo," she said none too kindly. "Hippity hop to the barber shop, let's go," she said, tossing the clothes at him, and he obediently went into the bathroom at her command.

"You could try being nice," Kurt commented once the water had turned on.

"Like I said, he's your problem, not mine," she said coldly, and maybe she hadn't gotten enough sleep on the plane. Blaine was well rested, having slept through several times zones, and Kurt was used to running on low sleep, but Santana seemed irate. "Let's just plan out a suicide mission; try not to get too distracted by the fact that your boyfriend is naked and soapy over there." Kurt could feel his face heating up further.

"Hadn't even thought about it until you brought it up," he muttered. In a louder voice, he corrected her. "Blaine's not my boyfriend."

"I don't care," she answered quickly. "The Weipa airport has a helicopter service, as I've told you. There are two options as to acquiring a helicopter, and I think I know which one you're going to pick. We could use our CIA badges and the international fear that title garners to politely borrow a helicopter, or-"

"Wouldn't Stheno, if they were smart, have a way to monitor who's using the only form of transportation available to their lab?" And Stheno was very smart. Just not as smart as Kurt, Santana, or the CIA.

"Exactly why I think you're going to pick the second option. We could steal a helicopter, which would be difficult and stupid, but that seems to be your preferred type of operation."

"Ha ha," Kurt said dryly, ignoring the fact that Santana kind of had a point.

"I could easily," she said as she opened up the laptop she had bought on American soil, "find the schematics for the airport, even without the CIA database, since most places have a map on their internet, and any blank spaces are what we're looking for." Santana sat typing, and Kurt let her think, going over their plane schedule one more time and remembering they still had one more stop in Cairns before arriving at Weipa. And they still had no idea what the lab looked like or how to access it. And Stheno obviously had some sort of parasite capable of eating a human being that they couldn't see and didn't know how to fight.

Santana was right. He excelled at difficult and stupid.

"Of course," Santana said after a few minutes of frantic typing and some cursing under her breath, "this has to be the one airport on the planet that doesn't have a schematic on the internet because they don't have a website, which means we're going into our helicopter heist completely blind. We have to go into that blind, and we have to go into the lab blind." Santana founded furious, which Kurt could understand.

"What gadgets do you have?" Kurt asked, figuring he would need to know if they were going to do an entire mission off-the-cuff. He could be creative, but being without gadgets last time had caused him some serious harm.

"Well, your command center is useless, but we have mine. We have smoke cams, Spidy gloves, lipstick lasers, three bulletproof vests, x-ray contacts, stealth suits for both of us and a precautionary one for Blaine, three link bombs-"

"Link bombs?" Kurt asked. "And why do you have three of everything?"

"You can spread them all over and they explode as a domino effect. And I don't trust Blaine to want to stay in the hotel room, and better safe then sorry," Santana replied.

"We're not bringing him along," Kurt insisted.

"Oh, yes, because you've done such a good job thus far of keeping him out of danger," she said dryly, and she unfortunately had a point. "Desert Eagle .50 caliber handguns-"

"What?" Kurt interrupted, more out of shock than not hearing what she had said. Yes, he had been trained in fire arms while at the summer camp he was beginning to regret attending, but he had never actually been armed with one.

"Kurt, let me make this very clear to you," Santana said to him in an icily calm voice as she pulled out one of the gold handguns. "This fight is not going to be pretty. It's going to be bloody and brutal and possibly traumatizing. This is not the movies. The bad guys don't magically fall off a cliff into a foggy abyss. We have to be the ones who make them go splat, and that's what these are for." Shaking her head and putting the handgun away, she added, "we also have frequency jammers, a few marble cameras, night vision binoculars with thermal imaging, and these." Santana pulled out two objects that looked vaguely like earpieces, but who were they listening to?

"Should I ask?"

"They're called sleeper ears," Santana answered as she put them back in the bag. "They allow us not only to spy on communications, since we have some antineutrinos of our own, but also give us near sonic hearing, and they record. It'll be helpful while we're in the lab." Santana looked over at him and sighed. "Look, I'm sorry for scaring you, but it's eat or be eaten, and I do not want to be chowed on by whatever they're growing over at Stheno, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I'm out of the… Are you okay?" Blaine asked softly, obviously seeing Kurt's expression. Blaine looked adorable, no gel in his curls and dwarfed by the sweatshirt Santana bought for him. He was still in his jeans, but he doubtlessly had everything else new, and he smelled wonderful in comparison to the rest of them.

"I'm fine," Kurt insisted, but Blaine didn't look like he believed Kurt for a moment.

"I'm going to shower," Santana said, picking up her own clothes. She was dressing immediately in the business clothes, but Kurt would change again in Weipa. The less professional they looked, the less likely it was that they were followed. "Talk amongst yourselves."

Novotel Brisbane Airport Hotel, 7 The Circuit, Brisbane Airport, Brisbane QLD 4007, Australia 17:52:36
"You don't seem fine," Blaine said to Kurt once they heard the water turn on, sitting on the bed and gesturing for Kurt to sit next to him. Kurt ignored him.

"I really am fine, Blaine," Kurt insisted.

"I'm sorry for getting you into this," Blaine muttered, looking at the floor rather than at Kurt. The agent had no idea what Blaine was thinking, but he was obviously feeling guilty.

"Don't be," Kurt said, accepting his invitation belatedly and sitting on the end of the bed next to Blaine. "I would probably be here one way or another."

"The one way, of course, being with a team of agents behind you, an arsenal of weapons, and the full support of the United States government, and the other being with me, Santana, a few gadgets, and no plan," Blaine countered, but he was smiling.

"What?"

"I'm glad you're the one going after my dad," Blaine said softly.

"Blaine, I-" Blaine was getting into this terrible habit of interrupting him by kissing him, but Kurt couldn't complain because he didn't actually mind. Blaine kissed him softly, sweetly, wrapping one hand around the nape of his neck and letting the other rest on Kurt's thigh, making the agent jump slightly when he put it there. Kurt let himself be kissed for a few moments (and kissed back rather enthusiastically) before pulling away. "We… should probably talk about that," he said quietly, well aware his face was bright red.

"About us?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow but not exactly moving away from Kurt… or moving his hands, for that matter.

"Yes. What are we?" Kurt asked finally, and Blaine smiled.

"Hopefully not that Paul Gauguin painting," he said with a grin, and Kurt stared at him blankly. "You don't get that reference, do you?"

"I think you've been at ridiculously expensive preparatory schools for too long," Kurt replied.

"Right. We're… happy, we're together, we're… boyfriends?" Blaine asked with a raised eyebrow.

"That's not usually the way one person asks another to go out with them," Kurt teased.

"This's not usually the way two people who want to date meet," Blaine said flatly, which was terribly, extremely unfairly true. Apparently satisfied with his answer and Kurt's silence, Blaine pulled Kurt's head towards him and kissed him again. "Kurt Hummel, if that is your real name, and I'm still not entirely convinced, would you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?"

"That is my real name," Kurt said with a laugh, "and yes."

"Good," Blaine said, giving him another kiss. "Is it just me, or is Agent Lopez a ridiculous talented singer?" Santana was singing the beginning of Miss Jackson in the shower, and she sounded amazing.

"And that's something, coming from you," Kurt teased.

"Oh, shut up." The conversation kind of dissolved after that.

Novotel Brisbane Airport Hotel, 7 The Circuit, Brisbane Airport, Brisbane QLD 4007, Australia 18:52:36
Santana, being a girl, spent a solid hour in the shower, and if they hadn't been in a hotel, she probably would have used up all of the hot water. Kurt and Blaine didn't exactly notice the time going by, but they were interrupted by her lovingly sour comment. "If you two are quite done trying to eat each other and probably sullying the bed with adolescent passion, I think Kurt needs a… rather cold shower, by the look of things, and I need to meditate because you two make me want to hurt small animals."

"If you actually meditated, you wouldn't say things like that," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes after he and Blaine had separated with a rather gross (hot) sound. Ignoring what was surely a scathing retort, he grabbed his own southwest collegiate memorabilia and headed for a nice, hot shower (okay, maybe a little cold at the beginning).

By the time he returned to the room (and he only took a half an hour, contrary to the snide comments Santana had been making through the door for the last five minutes), Blaine seemed to be dozing off again, and Santana was typing furiously on the laptop again. "Still no luck with the schematic?"

"Sadly, no. However, I have found and hacked into the Stheno employee database, the one that includes hired mercenaries and all of their other illegal activities. I'm plugging it into the face recognition program on my phone, so we'll always know when we're in the presence of a Stheno employee."

"We still have to be wary of associates in Weipa, especially in the airport," Kurt pointed out, because bribing someone and having them on the payroll would probably still exclude them from that list.

"Yes, but at least we'll know if we're being followed. The likelihood of them hiring an outside contractor on a job this important is slim." Santana looked at the clock and frowned. "Our flight leaves in thirty-five minutes, this will probably be done in fifteen. Are you gonna wake up that one?" she asked, gesturing to Blaine.

"No, he should get as much sleep as possible."

"Here, let me gadget you up," Santana said, standing up from the desk chair and gesturing for him to sit down in it. "You can put on the stealth suit under your professional clothes in Weipa, as well as the bulletproof vest and the tool belt with the rest of the gadgets. Open wide." Kurt confused, open his mouth. "Your eyes, you idiot. Contacts," she said, gesturing to the cases on the table, and Kurt understood.

"Shouldn't I do that myself?"

"Do you know how to put contacts in?"

"How hard can it be?"

"I'm doing it, I don't care if I have to tape your eyes open. Open," she demanded, and she thankfully didn't poke his eyes out as she was placing in the contacts, though his eyes started watering and he had to blink to get used to them.

"Oh, great, now I can see through your clothes."

"And Blaine's, I'm sure."

Before Kurt could even get the temptation to try out the theory, Santana grabbed his chin. "Don't."

"Is there any way to turn these off?" Kurt asked, because the adjusted colors were already starting to give him a headache.

"It's helpful to see if people are armed. Suck it up," Santana said with a roll of his eyes. She turned his head with the vice grip she still had on his chin (away from Blaine on the bed, very purposefully, although he never would have looked), and put the sleeper ears in his. "This will make talking very loud," she said, proving her point with her voice, "but I can turn down the volume."

"Please?" Kurt requested, even his own voice sounding louder than he knew he was talking.

Santana fiddled around and then asked, "Better?"

"Yes."

"Pull up your shirt," she demanded, not even looking at him as she knelt down beside him.

"Miss Lopez," he chastised, mostly teasing.

"For your gun, you moron. You have no idea how to put it on so it doesn't show."

"They do train us, you know."

"As evidence by the bang-up job you've done so far, I'm sure," Santana said dryly, holstering one of the handguns for him and sliding it into an IWB holster, which she fastened around his stomach before sliding into his pants with little regard for where exactly she was sticking her hands.

"Jesus, Santana!"

"Oh, relax, Hummel, I'm not trying to feel you up."

"Because you're into Agent Puckerman?"

"Shut up," she snapped as she shifted the weapon a little so that it fit in his jeans (which was a difficult enough task), yet didn't stick out enough to be noticeable under his t-shirt. "And the sweatshirt will hide the whole thing. Could you paint your pants on any more, Hummel?"

"Yes," Kurt answered honestly, because he had pants a lot tighter than the ones he was wearing, ones that probably wouldn't even fit a gun (ones, if he was being honest, that barely fit him).

"That's as much as you'll need right now," Santana said, standing up and admiring her handiwork. "Texas A&M sweatshirt on, then you'll wake up Blaine and we'll head across the street. We're in a foreign country now, so customs is going to be a pain, even with CIA badges. Let's go."

Cairns International Airport, Airport Avenue, Cairns QLD 4870, Australia 22:31:49
They hadn't gotten the chance to eat on the flight from Dallas to Brisbane, so Santana promised them they would get food during the one hour layover in Cairns, and she kept her promise, using the CIA's money to buy them dinner at the Coffee Club, though it was so late they were the only people in the restaurant. Their flight for Weipa left at eleven thirty, which Santana saw as advantageous.

"It will be one in the morning here in Australia when we get to Weipa, which is the time zone most of the workers are probably used to, and they'll be tired and vulnerable. The corresponding time in Ohio is ten in the morning, which means we'll be much more alert. It complicates getting into the lab, having to find our way in the dark, but it will hopefully make the rescue easier," Santana said, browsing on her laptop as she spoke, and when Kurt peeked over, she was making a reservation at the Heritage Resort Weipa-Cape York for Blaine. "I've been trying to find a map or pictures of the coastline, see if there's any way to isolate the best access point to the coordinates of Dr. Anderson's phone, but there's little information available. It's an incredibly remote area, but it's about one hundred and fifty miles from Weipa to the coastline, which will take about an hour and a half. It'll be about three in the morning when we get there, so we'll have about two and a half hours until sunrise. That should be enough time if everything goes well."

"And if everything doesn't go well?" Blaine asked in a quiet voice.

"Then it won't matter if we get out before sunrise, because they'll already know we're there," Santana said flatly, not very good at assuaging fears.

Heritage Resort Weipa-Cape York, 55 Commercial Avenue, Weipa QLD 4874, Australia 01:23:56
"Where are we?" Blaine asked as they arrived at the hotel. "Is this where Kurt is going to change?"

"We can talk in the room," Santana said with a distrustful glance at the cabbie, grabbing Blaine by the ear and dragging him out of the cab, leaving Kurt to pay. Santana had them checked in and up to their room in a breeze. "You turn around. You, talk to him and change. Multitasking is key," she said, putting the computer on the desk and returning to her task.

Even though Blaine had turned around and Santana was obviously not looking, Kurt wasn't going to change in the middle of the room, so he decided to talk to Blaine first. "You can turn around, sweetie."

"Wanky."

"Shut up, Lopez," he snapped at her quickly. "Blaine, you know I care about you, and I want you to be safe."

"There's no way in hell I'm staying here while you two go risk your lives trying to save my father," Blaine said flatly, anticipating what Kurt was about to suggest and immediately rejecting it.

"Told you," Santana commented.

"Blaine, you're a liability, and a risk. The likelihood of us succeeding when you're there versus when you're not-"

"Kurt, I'm not discussing this."

"Neither am I," Santana said, turning around. "We don't have time for you two to argue about it. Since he's coming, he'll need gadgets. Help him out." She turned back around to the computer.

"Fine," Kurt said, biting the inside of his cheek. "Blaine, put this on under your clothes and… do you have professional clothes for him?"

"Of course." Santana had clearly planned on Kurt not being able to convince Blaine, which was frustrating, but not exactly his first concern at the moment.

Kurt drug through the bag, and sure enough, there was a smaller formal suit from Blaine. "Fine. Blaine, put this stealth suit on under your clothes, with this tool belt," as Kurt was talking, he filled Blaine's tool belt with a smoke cam, some Spidy gloves, a lipstick laser, a frequency jammer, two marble camera, and some night vision binoculars (there was no way he was giving him a bomb), "and then the bulletproof vest over the stealth suit, and then the formal clothes. I'll give you contacts and sleeper ears when you're dressed." Kurt shooed his boyfriend into the bathroom.

"I won't look if you change in here," Santana promised him, and since he trusted the crazy, angry Latina with his life, he was inclined to believe her. "I knew he wasn't going to listen to you."

"I realize that."

"Kurt, how do you put underwear on under this thing without it… bulging awkwardly?" Blaine called out from the bathroom, and Kurt tried really hard not to think inappropriate thoughts about bulging, but Blaine was the one putting the images in his head, so it wasn't really his fault if he couldn't control his thoughts.

"You don't," Santana yelled in return. "He's a good guy," she continued calmly and quietly, still typing. "Terribly untrained, but very brave."

"Some would call it stupid."

"One part brave, three parts fool."

"I feel much better now," Kurt said as he striped down, putting his own stealth suit on quickly, filling and fastening his tool belt, donning his bulletproof vest, then putting on his suit.

"I bet," Santana said. "I can't imagine going into a dangerous mission as poorly equipped as you were, speaking of stupid."

"It wasn't a plan based entirely on logic."

"I understand that," she said, and Kurt could tell by her tone that she was smirking. "Almost ready in there, Anderson?"

"Yes," Blaine replied from the open door.

"You should really give warning when you know people might be changing in a room. A minute or two earlier and you would have gotten a partially-unintentional eyeful of Hummel," Santana said with another smirk, turning around in her chair. She let out a wolf whistle when she saw Blaine. "I got to admit it… you look like an agent." Blaine did, he could have been James Bond with the suit and the style and the self-confident grin. "You didn't give him a gun or a bomb, did you?"

"God, no," Kurt replied, putting his CIA badge in his pocket and re-adjusting his own gun within his suit.

"I can shoot a gun," Blaine objected.

"Not today you can't," Santana argued in a tone that brooked no return.

"You're my responsibility, Blaine, and a U.S. government liability," Kurt added. Blaine pouted, but didn't argue, allowing Kurt to install his sleeper ears and put in his x-ray contacts, reminding him just quiet enough that Santana couldn't hear that they were not for fun and making his boyfriend laugh.

"Ready to go, ladies?" Santana asked, exaggeratedly impatient when Kurt gave Blaine a quick kiss.

"Really? We're the ladies?" Blaine asked, looking over Santana's outfit. Kurt had to admit she looked fantastic, entirely designer, wearing a Donna Karan Draped-Lapel Jacket, Eyelash Lace-Trim Top, Pieced Pencil Skirt, and Hand-Braided Leather Belt, with Jimmy Choo Gilbert Leather Almond-Toe Pumps with three and a half inch heels. And he was willing to bet she could run in them, too.

"Of course. We're less like the CIA and more like Charlie's Angels: mostly for show and terribly unprepared. Let's go."

A/N: And the adventure is on! I'm sorry it's been so terribly long since I've posted… anything, as a matter of fact, but the good news is that I've written the rest of this story out, so updates will now be weekly (on Fridays, because weekends have ceased to work for me). Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and more in seven days!

Song mentioned:
'Miss Jackson' by Panic! At the Disco

Reviews are Love.