Trigger warning: suicide, death
"Wait, you mean we can have a real Christmas tree?" Isabella asked, stunned, as they sat around the lab's break room table for lunch. Talk had turned to the upcoming holiday, now just two weeks away, as they took a break after Isabella had sparred with some of the CSOR soldiers. Against prepared opponents, she had been able to score blows that would have disabled them when facing three at a time, but four at a time had been able to defeat her at least part of the time.
Ferb and Doctor Tjinder had stayed behind in the lab, poring over the footage from the sparring matches, but Isabella had declared that she needed food, and Phineas and Colin had accompanied her to the break room.
"As opposed to what?" Phineas asked.
"Well, the orphanage never had a real one. We had this old artificial one that got reused year after year. We'd all try to be extra good for a couple weeks before it went up so that the nuns might pick us to be the one to put the star on top."
"...Aww?" Colin said.
She grinned. "Well, the little kids would."
"And then in the military?" Phineas asked.
"There was a tiny little aluminum one in the common area. That was about it. We didn't have any way to give each other presents, really, so it wasn't a big deal. It was just a day when we didn't have training."
Colin and Phineas nodded to each other. "We have to fix that," Phineas said.
"Yep. Should be able to fit a nice 7-foot balsam fir in your living room," Colin said. "CANEX will have decorations."
"Can we get a star?" Isabella turned to Phineas eagerly.
He laughed. "Of course. And you can put it on top of the tree."
She felt inordinately pleased at this idea.
Holly sat down in the park, looking around and trying not to look nervous. She'd turned off her cell phone and left it at home, then gone for a walk around town. Eventually, she'd ended up several miles away from both home and work, and found a small convenience store that sold, among other things, prepaid phones. She paid cash for a cheap one and enough minutes to keep it alive for quite a while, then walked down to the nearby park.
She pulled the phone out of her purse and turned it on. It said she had a small balance to start with, and she punched in the code on her card as well. She created an account on a European email service, and sent it the code that it texted to her cell phone. With that dealt with, she took a deep breath and found the white card she'd kept hidden. She typed a quick message into the email app.
Mayor is talking to General Archer. Something's up but not sure what. Something called Dewdrop and Sledgehammer going on somewhere called Sanford West.
Another deep breath, and she pressed the send button. The message vanished, and she glanced around to see if anyone noticed.
She was about to turn off the phone when it vibrated in her hand. A return message had come in.
Thank you. If you hear more about this, please keep us posted.
A faint smile crossed her face as she powered the phone off and put it in her purse. She stood and set off toward home.
Vanessa was just packing up her things when her phone buzzed briefly. A quick glance at it showed a text from an unfamiliar number, and she frowned as she unlocked it.
I'm in town for a meeting tomorrow morning, care to meet up for dinner tonight?
She rolled her eyes, and was torn between ignoring it and correcting the sender.
I think you have the wrong number.
She put her laptop in her bag, adding in a few papers she wanted to read at home. Not that she necessarily would, but she liked to have the option.
Her phone buzzed again. My apologies, Vanessa, I forgot that my number changed. This is Ferb.
Oh. That's different. She only had to think a moment - her plans tonight were just to hang out at home and maybe read the research papers she'd just put in her bag. A nice dinner out would be a pleasant change-of-pace.
Sure. Should I pick you up at your hotel?
Please. I'm at the Royal York.
I'll be there at 6:30.
Excellent. I look forward to it. How should I dress?
She grinned. Can you do suit and tie?
Consider it done.
Director Blanchard had called Ferb yesterday to check on their status, and had been pleased to find that Ferb felt that Phineas and Doctor Tjinder had Project Obelisk well in hand. He'd asked Ferb to come to Toronto for consultation, and to discuss his next project.
Ferb had, rather optimistically, packed two suits, one for the meeting tomorrow and a spare in case of...well, in case of something like this. He looked at them, pondering. He'd worn the grey with cream shirt and violet tie when he met her last time, so he should probably save that for tomorrow. But he liked it so much more than the brown suit with the white shirt and green tie.
He sighed dramatically. Really, he was overthinking this. He'd gotten over his crush on her years ago. They were just going to have a nice dinner together as old friends. He certainly wasn't looking for anything more than that. He couldn't bear the thought of giving up Vanessa after three dates, and that had been his rule for years now - no more than three dates with anyone, no letting anyone stay in his life permanently. It was safer for them, with him as a target, and safer for him, not having to worry about losing someone he truly cared about.
He quickly shaved - green hair was distinctive, but it meant that if he didn't keep his five o'clock shadow trimmed, he generally looked like his face was getting moldy. He looked at the two suits and made a decision, pulling the brown suit off the hanger.
A moment later, he was dressed appropriately. He swiped a cloth over his shoes and put them on, then looked in the mirror to straighten his tie. A quick comb through his hair, and he was set with five minutes to spare.
A knock on the door startled him, and he looked through the peephole. A short, stocky blonde man in a black suit was waiting; Ferb recognized him as Sergeant Calhoun, the head of his protective detail. That must mean that the rest of Calhoun's squad were outside, waiting patiently. He opened the door, nodding to them. "Just about set, gentlemen."
"Any word on where you're going?" Calhoun asked dubiously.
"Not yet, no. I'm sure Ms. Doofenshmirtz will choose somewhere suitable."
Calhoun frowned. "I don't like it, sir. Perhaps the restaurant in the hotel? I've heard it's quite good. Or perhaps you and the young lady would take room service on the balcony?"
Ferb laughed. "I commend your caution, and will make sure that our destination is chosen appropriately. I have even less desire to be taken back to the States than you have to fail in your protective duties."
Calhoun nodded acknowledgement just as Ferb's phone buzzed.
I'm in the lobby.
"She's in the lobby, she says. Shall we?" Ferb asked.
Calhoun and the three other members of his detail flanked him all the way to the elevator, then rode down with him. The doors opened into the lobby in all its towering elegance, and he saw Vanessa waiting in one of the couches. She stood as she saw him, with a soft smile on her face.
She'd dressed up nicely herself, in an elegant emerald-green dress that came down to her ankles and almost matched his tie. A black wool wrap covered her shoulders to protect from the Toronto winter.
She glanced wryly at his escorts. "Surely they're not here to protect you from me."
Calhoun cracked a smile, and Ferb laughed. "No, just making sure nobody tries to repatriate me against my will. They've been dying to know where we're going."
She nodded. "I was thinking Canoe, which is just around the corner, in the top of the TD Bank Tower. Is that suitable, gentlemen?"
Calhoun visibly relaxed. "That will do nicely. We've worked with the staff there in the past."
"Shall we go, then? Our reservation is at 7."
"Confirmation, General. Romeo One is Fletcher," Higgs said. "He's in Toronto, meeting with Vanessa Doofenshmirtz. 834 has eyes on him. Four guards. Should we prepare a snatch team?"
General Archer smiled. "No. Just one isn't enough. Keep me posted, but if any two of the targets are somewhere we can get them, start preparing a snatch."
Higgs nodded. "Yes, sir. Still no confirmation on which ones Romeo Two and Three are."
After analyzing what they got off of the Canadian cell records, they'd identified two cell phones that were probably being used by Flynn and Echo Three. They'd designated them as Romeo Two and Three, but which one was which was proving more difficult. Unfortunately, they could get tower positioning for the phones, but not any call or text records.
The irony of the situation both amused and annoyed him. Fort Harrison was pretty much just across the border from Suffield - about 300 miles, almost due south. By some quirk of fate, both the Sledgehammer project and its Canadian equivalent had been sent to bases in the middle of nowhere in the prairie west. They were far too well-protected in Suffield, though, and his superiors had told him not to make any attempts there. The attack in Fort Frances had heated things up too much between Canada and America as it was, and another attempt would need more certainty than an attack on a Canadian Forces base could ever promise. His best shot of capturing any of them was if they left the base - and since it had its own airstrip, that probably would mean somewhere far away, like Toronto.
"Thank you, Higgs. That'll be all."
Vanessa swirled her wine in her glass, then finished the last swallow. The lights of the city shone out below them, moving and twinkling, as the waiter cleared away their dessert plates. In the distance, the CN Tower stood tall, with the dome of the Rogers Centre behind it.
The dinner had been excellent, as expected, and Ferb had looked very pleased with it as well. "So, how often do you expect to be back?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Not sure yet. I'll know more tomorrow."
"Are you flying back tomorrow night, then?"
"That's the plan."
She nodded, trying to figure out how to broach the subject she'd been avoiding all night.
"I...spoke to Isabella," Ferb said cautiously.
Vanessa's eyebrows went up. I see I'm not the only one who's been tap-dancing around this. "And?"
"She says that she was not responsible, but she knows who was."
"Really? Did she tell you who, then?"
He glanced around the restaurant. "Yes. Not here."
"I understand. Shall we, then?"
She paid the bill, waving off Ferb's attempts to cover part of it.
"I'll get the next one?" he offered, and she decided that could be argued when it happened. If it happened.
They walked back to Ferb's hotel, flanked by his security escorts. She moved in circles that were protected by the RCMP on a regular basis, but she didn't recognize these bodyguards.
"Would you care to join me upstairs, so we can continue the discussion we were having at the restaurant?" he asked.
"That sounds good," she said. They rode up to his room on the 15th floor, and he let her in. The room was a small two-room suite, with a front room containing a sofa and two chairs around a small table. A fireplace on one wall was dark; across the room, a television sat atop a cabinet.
"We'll be next door if you need anything," Sergeant Calhoun said.
"Thank you, Sergeant," he said, closing the door.
"You got the government to cover this?" she asked, looking around.
"No, I decided it was worth the extra. For me, and the good sergeant and his men." He took his coat off and set it on one of the chairs; the tie followed, and he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. It looked very good on him; while he wasn't muscular, the shirt was clearly tailored to him, and revealed the firmness underneath. She felt herself getting a bit warm, and took off her wrap; with a nod, he took it from her and lay it on top of his jacket.
She took a seat on the sofa. "So, about my father?" she asked.
"Care for a drink?" he asked, browsing through the minibar hidden in the cabinet.
This doesn't sound like good news. "Sure. Scotch and soda?"
He smiled and poured two, handing one to her. He sat down in a chair across from her, taking a sip and nodding appreciatively.
"So, what's the deal?" she asked.
"Apparently your father was the first successful mission for Echo group."
"Which was...sorry, it's all running together."
"Echo was electronic infiltration and sabotage. Isabella's group."
"But not Isabella's mission."
"No. It was a mission for Echo One, a Tyfani Kolinsky."
Vanessa frowned. "So what happened to Ms. Kolinsky?"
"She was cornered while attempting to assassinate General Riggins, who was leading a research project in Wisconsin."
"Captured?" Vanessa asked enthusiastically.
"She committed suicide rather than let the remote kill system be used on her. Put her pistol to her temple and blew her own brains out."
"That was a better solution?"
"The remote kill system - the Liquidator, as they called it - killed by melting the implants. Including the ones in the lungs. They suffocated, between the lungs themselves being half-destroyed and what was left being full of...I believe the term Isabella used was 'snot'. It certainly matches what was found in the autopsies."
Vanessa winced. "I..."
Ferb continued, "Tyfani Kolinsky was fifteen when they drafted her into the program. Nineteen when she killed your father. Two weeks shy of her twenty-first birthday when she died."
Vanessa took a gulp of her drink. "She was just a kid."
"A kid with no choice in the matter. Ever. Assassinate people, or die painfully."
"Jesus. What kind of monster..." She paused, looking into her glass. "I get it. I do. It's just..."
"Now you know why I said my only regret was that the general in charge of this project died too quickly."
"Yeah. And we're reproducing this thing now? Was that a good idea?"
"We're not treating it the same way. Volunteers only, who know what they're getting into. No remote kill."
"So if somebody captures an Obelisk-augmented soldier, they can reproduce the tech?"
"Yes. This is a good thing."
"Now I'm confused. Why is it good?"
Ferb sat back and smiled. "They'll never let the civilian applications get serious use until there's no security risk in doing so. Once the Americans capture one..."
"Wow. I hadn't thought of that."
"I'm hoping nobody else does either."
She smiled, and finished her drink, feeling the warmth running through her. "Hm. Between the wine and the scotch, I'm not sure I should be driving home quite yet."
"You're welcome to stay for a bit," Ferb said.
"Why don't you freshen this up, then?" she said, holding up her glass.
He stood and took it, kneeling down to look into the minibar. "Another scotch or something else?"
"Another scotch, please." She could see his shoulders moving under the shirt as he retrieved another bottle and mixed two more drinks. He returned to her with both glasses, and she patted the sofa next to her in invitation.
He sat on the edge of the couch, raising an eyebrow in question, and she slid closer to him. He sat stiffly, sipping his drink.
"Do you mind?" she asked.
"I..." He paused, and she could feel his nervousness. "I've avoided relationships. I'm too dangerous to be around."
She laughed, just a bit, then turned to him. The earnest concern on his face almost made her want to laugh again. "You think I don't realize that? It's not like being with me is perfectly safe either. Especially after the war starts."
He paused, staring at her, and took a sip of his scotch. He nodded slowly and sat back. She leaned into him, and his arm went around her.
"So how often do you plan to come back here?" she asked.
"I could probably arrange every couple weeks, if needed. Progress reports. Things like that."
She looked up at him. His face was just inches away. "If you had the proper incentive?"
"That would certainly help," he said, and leaned down to kiss her.
Ferb lay in the king-sized bed, listening to Vanessa's slow breathing as she slept, his arm around her as he spooned behind her. This was a mistake, he thought.
I shouldn't have done this. Now...
Vanessa twitched a bit, pressing herself into him.
I can't stop at three dates this time. We've been friends too long...
She'll be in danger being near me. I shouldn't have done this. I was weak.
He ran his hand down her bare side, down to her thigh, and back up to her stomach, putting it around her again. She mumbled something appreciative in her sleep.
I'd blame the Scotch, were it not for the fact that I knew I wanted this before I even flew back here. And, apparently, so did she.
That was the thing, ultimately. She knew, better than anyone, what risks he lived under. They'd both lost their fathers to targeted attacks by the same people who had, later, tried to kill Ferb as well. And she had, apparently, decided that it was worth the risk.
He chuckled silently to himself. He'd finally convinced Phineas to try a relationship with Isabella by pointing out that she was an adult who could make her own decisions. He supposed it was time to take his own advice.
Quiet beeps were coming from somewhere.
Vanessa cracked an eye open and looked up. Ferb's phone was on the nightstand next to her. The clock next to it said 7:30am.
The bed shifted behind her, and she felt Ferb reach across her to swipe his finger across the screen, silencing the phone. He kissed her bare shoulder as he lowered himself back to the bed, his hand running down her back.
"Morning," he whispered.
She groaned incoherently. One of the biggest advantages of running her own company had been setting her own hours, and that meant that for her, 7:30am was something that happened to other people.
"I'll go take the first shower," he said quietly, his hand sliding across her waist as he climbed out of bed.
She sighed, and pushed herself up. "'Sokay. I'll join you."
"That might not be good for getting us out of here on time."
She rolled onto her side, looked up at him, and smiled, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "No?"
His eyes flicked down to her chest, bared by the blanket now that she'd rolled off of her front, then back up to her face. "I don't think we have time for a rematch," he said.
She laughed. "That's okay. Let's go."
Ferb walked down the hall in DRDC's Toronto research center, whistling happily. He'd been up with Vanessa for a while last night, and she'd ended up spending the night. Neither of them had been pleased at his 7:30am wakeup call, but hopefully the two cups of coffee could get him through this meeting successfully.
He came to the director's secretary's desk at 8:57. A middle-aged Korean woman sat at the desk, typing. "Your name?" she asked without looking up.
"Ferbs Fletcher."
She looked up at him and nodded. "Have a seat. Director Blanchard will be with you in just a moment." She returned to her typing.
Ferb sat, pulling out his phone to catch up on the day's email while he waited. The two messages waiting were quickly dispatched, and he pulled up an article he had been meaning to read.
He finished the article, and looked up at the secretary, who was still typing. He glanced at the clock, and saw that it was almost 10 minutes past his appointment. With a shrug, he found another article to read.
"Mr. Fletcher?" the secretary said.
"Yes?" Ferb stood up.
"It'll just be a few more minutes."
"Oh." Ferb sat again. He pulled up the article, but had a hard time concentrating on it. Hadn't the director told him to be here at 9am on the nose? Maybe something important came up that he needed to deal with.
"Mr. Fletcher?"
"Yes?" Ferb said, remaining in his seat.
"You can go in, he's ready for you."
"Thank you." Ferb glanced at the clock as he stood and entered the office; it read 9:23.
The office was small but well-appointed. A large desk filled most of it, while one wall was entirely a whiteboard, covered with scribbled equations and drawings. Behind the desk, a row of cabinets stood below a map of Canada. A window looked out over the nearby airfield.
A short man, with thinning black hair and a mustache that stood out against his pale skin, stood up as Ferb walked in. "Welcome, Mr. Fletcher. I'm Director Blanchard. Nice to meet you in person. Have a seat." He gestured toward a chair opposite his desk. "Coffee?"
"No, I'm good, thank you," Ferb said as he sat in the chair. It was a bit short for him, and he found himself looking up at the man on the far side of the desk.
"Suit yourself. So, you're probably wondering what I brought you here for."
"The question had crossed my mind, yes."
"Alright. You said you think you're at a point where your brother and the scientist that Doofenshmirtz Biosciences is loaning you can take it the rest of the way. Do you still feel that way?"
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"Excellent. The Americans are making noises about us kidnapping American scientists - claiming that we abducted you and your brother, and that since this would mean we struck first, that our treaty with the EU wouldn't apply. Clear balderdash, but it plays well on their news channels, especially since they censor anything opposing it. So your job is to make it easier for us to stand up our neighbors to the south."
"The tumbler shield?"
"Got it in one. You said you had an idea for it already."
"Yes. I may need to borrow Phineas occasionally, but I can probably put 80% of my time in on this."
"How much of your brother's time would you need?"
Ferb pondered for a moment. "10% or so."
"Sounds good. Make it happen. We're calling this Project Blunderbuss."
"Any reason for Blunderbuss?"
"It's randomly generated. Don't worry about it. What resources will you need?"
"For now, just myself and space to do some design work. Eventually, I'll need some testing apparatus, but I won't know just what until we get further in."
"Whatever works. I'll let the folks at Suffield know to give you whatever you need. You'll be sharing lab space with," he flipped through some papers on his desk, "Doctor Jacobi. Next building over from your current lab. He won't be thrilled, but there's a bit of a space crunch, so he'll get over it. Besides, his current project hasn't produced a damn thing we can use."