.

Be the Serpent under It: Infiltration

Fires burned everywhere. GJ agents darted about frantically, desperately trying to put them out. The ground was littered with bodies and wounded men and women screaming in pain. Some were beyond saving. They would soon join the corpses littering the ground. She could only gape in horror at the scene. She'd been out on a mission. An easy one, barely an inconvenience. It had only taken three hours, counting travel, and within that span of time, this had happened?

Stunned at first, she quickly snapped out of it and leapt into action. "What happened here?!" she demanded, going to the aid of one of the injured and dragging him to safety.

"Madam Director, we-we were attacked. A-A package was delivered. It looked safe. It was from a trusted source! We didn't know. We didn't suspect. When-when it went off there was a flash of light and a roar, then there was the screaming and the-the fires... It was unlike any explosion we'd ever seen! Unidentified objects went flying everywhere. They ricocheted and blew up at random! There was nowhere we could run to get away," the agent replied.

She cursed under her breath. "Hold on, agent," she ordered, quickly binding the wounds he'd sustained. Right after, she leapt up and yelled, "Get it together, people! Put out these fires! Come on, work as a team! Get organized before you end up trampling the wounded!" She looked over to a group of agents nearby who had just put out one of the blazes. "You there, help with the casualties! There are enough of us fighting the fires. Come on, get moving! Where's Director Sload?!"

"Betty," a voice quietly said from the shadows.

Betty turned swiftly and gasped, paling. The woman was lying sprawled on the ground bleeding profusely! "Sharon!" she exclaimed, running to the older woman with fear in her eyes. She dropped to her knees next to her and immediately applied pressure on a gaping wound in the woman's abdomen. "Easy, easy, you'll be okay," she soothed. As she assessed the damage GJ's figurehead had sustained, however, she began to doubt her own words.

"No I won't," the woman answered.

"Who did this?!" Betty demanded in despair.

"Hench. It was Jack Hench," she answered. She began to choke a bit. "An experimental prototype of his no doubt, and we were his test subjects. He knows we've been watching him. Gods, how did we fall for this? He'll get away with it. He always does. He'll claim he had no idea how dangerous it was. He'll offer condolences and compensation. Hardly a penny to him. The damn man could persuade a lion not to make a meal of him."

"No, no, he'll pay. I promise you he'll pay," Dr. Director swore, tears in her eyes. "There is no limit to what I won't do to ensure that! Whatever it takes, Sharon. Whatever it takes."

Sload smiled fondly at her and reached up, cupping her cheek. "The time has come for you to take charge, my dear. GJ was always your vision. You needn't hide behind a figurehead any longer. You're ready for this," the woman said. She began coughing a bit, chest heaving.

"Hang on," Betty pled, voice breaking a bit. She knew it was pointless though.

"There is a file. Find it. End him. End Hench," the woman ordered in pain.

Betty caught her breath, paling. "What?" she whispered.

"End him," the woman repeated. Slowly she fell back dead, and Betty stared numbly down at her still corpse, tears stinging her eyes.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "No, Sharon!" She clung to the woman's shoulders, but Sload's eyes were dulled and vacant. "No," she whispered again. What had the older woman even meant by that? Surely not assassination! GJ was an organization devoted to justice, not execution! Maybe Sharon had meant for her to tear down his business. Throw him in jail and make sure he never saw the light of day again. Strip him of everything. Make him powerless! Bury him in his own mire!

"Kill him," a voice suddenly said. She gasped, looking quickly up. All around her were her agents, expressions dark. The chaos had been contained, the fires put out and the wounded grouped together. "We have to kill him. It's the only way to stop a man like this. Is it justice to let him walk for this massacre?!" the agent continued furiously, pointing back at the carnage. "He won't stop. He'll never stop! This will happen again and again! Maybe not always to us, but it will happen."

Betty looked numbly around at the corpses littering the floor, then back down at the dead body of Sharon Sload once more. Tears burned her eyes and she pressed her lips together tightly. She hated that a part of her agreed with that... Sniffing once more, she stood. "I will do whatever I deem necessary," she replied, wrapping her arms around herself as she gazed down at her deceased mentor. She looked up at them once more, eyes narrowed in determination. "Leave Hench to me. This just got personal." Turning, she walked away eyes glittering dangerously. She would do whatever it took...

KP

It had taken her hours, but at last she'd found it! Hench's file. It had been buried somewhere in the deepest depths of the cabinet, filed in the completely wrong location. It wasn't like Agent Sload to be so careless, which meant one of two things. One: Someone had purposely moved the file in an effort to cause it to be overlooked, or Two: Sharon had misplaced it herself in an effort to keep it out of the hands of anyone who might misuse it. Maybe some corrupt agent who dealt in stolen information, maybe even someone on Hench's payroll. She had no idea how deep the man's hooks were, but she knew that he had been on GJ's watch list since its founding. Sharon had been keeping a file on the man since her days in the FBI...

"Did anything ever come of it?" an eighteen-year-old Betty Director asked the retiree, though Sload seemed fairly young to be retired.

"No. It seemed like at every turn the case was shut down," the sixty-year-old replied. "Not enough evidence, they said. Speculation they said. No matter who I went to, no matter where I turned, there was always something that kept it from going any further than my desk. Then one day I was called into the office. They ordered me to drop the case and turn over the files, but I refused. They told me it would lead nowhere. They told me I was only kidding myself. I insisted there was something there and finally they agreed to look at it. I thought that at last it would go somewhere. They investigated for a week before calling me back in and telling me there was nothing... No evidence, no information, not even a hint of anything that implied any sort of case could be made. They told me I was delusional. That I must be getting senile in my old age. As if fifty-eight was any kind of old. I told them as much, and they implied perhaps Early Onset Dementia. They told me to take a break. Sort my head out. Less than a month later, they forced me into early retirement. Told me to leave everything except for what was on my desk. Not counting the computer and such of course. Fortunately for me, the file happened to be on my desk."

It had always struck Betty as strange that such a renowned and decorated agent had been kicked from the Bereau so suddenly. The mental illness excuse the FBI had given the public in response to the inevitable outcry had never made sense to her. It was why she'd sought the woman out in the first place. She'd had a vision, and Sload had the respect, connections, and know-how to get it off the ground if she could convince her to help. Let's face it. No one would have taken an eighteen-year-old seriously enough to agree to fund a secret crime-fighting organization that worked in the shadows. It sounded like a child's fantasy, and coming from the mouth of a child, they would have perceived it as such. Sload had been no child, though. As soon as Global Justice had gotten the go-ahead, Betty had asked the woman to take on the role of leader. Sharon had refused. She had said that honor belonged to Betty, but Betty had known better. No one would take some teenager fresh out of high school seriously as a leader. It was better if Sharon took on the role. Sharon had compromised, agreeing to be a figurehead, and had become the channel through which Betty's orders had flown.

"The time has come for you to take charge. You needn't hide behind a figurehead any longer."

Betty swallowed over a lump in her throat, and at last flipped the dossier open, expression darkening.

Subject: Jack Hench.
Position: CEO of HenchCo
Family: Unknown
Family History: Unknown
Friends: Unknown
Pets: Unknown
Age: Unknown
Education: Unknown
Physical Health: Unknown.
*Personal Note: Look at him. Physiology implies his physical health is excellent.
Mental Health: Unknown. Suspected Narcissistic personality disorder or Borderline Psychopathy/Sociopathy.
*Personal Note: A psychopath is born (ergo 'Psycho'), a sociopath is raised (ergo Socio). As his family history is unknown, it is impossible to tell which of these borderlines it would be. I personally am inclined to think psycho.
Bio: Prominent tycoon. Among the top ten richest people in the world. One of America's most eligible bachelors.
*Personal Note: This man is an enigma. A total mystery. All anyone has to go off is speculation, which is as follows.
Speculation: An extremely shrewd businessman with an ego the size of a planet whose dealings, I suspect, aren't exactly 'clean'. Possible arms dealer. Believed to be deeply and personally involved in the illegal buying, selling, and smuggling of a wide variety of weapons; some legal, most illegal, and many of them of his own design. Claims to have coined the term 'Henchmen'. What he calls 'henchmen', though, are in reality trained mercenaries supplied at a pretty price to whoever wants them. He may even train them himself at one of his facilities, of which there are many. He works with every up-and-coming supervillain and established supervillain in the world. Any other clients are kept under lock and key, wrapped up in confidentiality agreements, vaults, and thick wads of bureaucratic red tape. No one can get a hold of the information. Attempts at hacking have failed. It is unknown if he even keeps electronic records. It is unknown if there is even any information to get a hold of in the first place.
*Personal Note: He is dangerous. Incredibly so. I know there's nothing that lends to that, but I feel it in my gut. He is dangerous, he is highly unpredictable, and if you've opened this file with the intent of following up on anything that has to do with him, beware. You tread deadly waters. More than one agent has disappeared in them.

Betty pursed her lips. He sounded like a charmer, she wryly thought. She flipped over his picture and found herself gazing into the smarmy, confident face of an unconventionally handsome man. He was younger than she'd expected. Or at least seemed that way. She put down the file, leaned over it, and began formulating a plan. She needed to get close to him. If she could get hired on at HenchCo, it would place her right where she needed to be in order to spy on the man. She would get to the bottom of this, and if he really was the one behind what had happened here today, gods help him.

"Kill him."

The words of her agent echoed in her mind and she closed her eyes. They hadn't been his words alone, she knew. He had spoken for all the others too. That had been evident enough in the angry and pained faces of the others.

"Kill him."

She didn't want to. She wasn't judge, jury, and executioner! That wasn't what GJ was about!

"This will happen again and again!"

She opened her eyes, now narrowed coldly. She would do whatever was necessary, she promised herself again. Whether it ended in his death or his arrest remained to be seen. Heck, it would end in nothing if she found him innocent. She looked towards a mirror and stared at herself for a moment. She was a beautiful young woman, and he was a fabulously wealthy bachelor with a massive ego and probably one hell of a sense of entitlement. She could make this work. A moderately risque look, a few flirtatious words, a couple of come-hither glances... Seduction was a powerful tool, especially when it came to men like him, so she would use it. She would use it to its fullest...

HenchCo

Jack Hench was a laid-back kind of guy. A hard-working businessman, he cared about little other than turning a profit and upholding the hard-earned reputation of his company. He was charismatic, intelligent, quick-witted, and blessed with a golden tongue. More diamond, actually. Should trouble ever arise, he dealt with it, but he was very good at avoiding trouble. In fact, thus far there'd never been a situation he couldn't talk himself out of.

He listened absently to a background broadcast coming over the radio. Fledging organization Global Justice had been attacked. Staggering casualties, among them the retired and heavily decorated FBI Agent Sharon Sload. Good riddance, he thought. She'd been a pain in his backside for years now. The source of the attack was a bomb of unknown origin. More details to come as they were uncovered. He wasn't particularly interested in the details though, so shut the thing off.

"It's high time they were brought down a peg. They really can't just let things go, can they? Oh well, at least it'll be a good long time before they come after me again," Jack remarked to his business consultant and head scientist.

"Frankly I'm surprised the report made the news at all. Global Justice is only a few years old," his consultant, a short, balding, portly man with spectacles, replied. "Still, we should be ready to do damage control. Just in case."

"In case of what?" Jack warily asked.

"In case we're blamed for it. We have a lot of weapons floating around out there, and if it turns out the bomb was one of ours, well, you know GJ's been keeping an eye on us as of late," the consultant replied. "They could send in spies, agents, assassins, who knows? They're still something of an enigma you see."

"Noted," Jack replied, smiling a bit. "I'm ready for whatever they throw at me!"

KP

The woman walked into Hench Co with her head held high, eyes fiery and determined. Every man's eyes were immediately on her, and every mouth dropped. The eye patch was intimidating and commanded respect, her choice of outfit boasted professionalism and a lot more than that. An air of confidence surrounded her, but also one of naivety. Keep them guessing was her motto. Her sights were set on a singular goal. Her mind whirled with a thousand thoughts. She was in enemy territory now, and she was completely alone.

She walked up to the desk and leaned on it. Her somewhat low-cut blouse didn't reveal too much, but what it showed was enough to get her job done with ridiculous ease no questions asked. "I'm looking for a Mr. Jack Hench," she said to the young man who was gaping at her in awe.

"J-Jack Hench? O-of course ma'am!" he said quickly before scrambling up and hurrying away to inform the man in question. She smirked and stood up straight to wait.

KP

He hadn't seen it coming. Not for even a moment. One of his employees came in blushing and flustered, babbling about a woman waiting in the lounge to see him. Jack raised an eyebrow wondering what kind of woman had flustered his employee so much. "O-kay," he said warily before standing up to follow his worker out. "So, where is this woman?" he asked as they pushed open the door to the lounge. He looked ahead and stopped dead in his tracks with a gasp, mouth dropping. Never mind. Question answered.

"Mr. Hench?" the mysterious woman questioned, sauntering towards him with hips swaying. He gaped at her like a fool. Pixie cut auburn hair, deep brown eyes, an eyepatch that seemed a bit strange but kind of did it for her, and an outfit that hugged every curve leaving little up to the imagination. The slit up the side of the skirt was just a nice bonus. For the sake of his own dignity and professionalism, he refrained from checking her out any further than he automatically had already. He shook his head, snapping out of the daze, and grinned almost predatorily at the woman, straightening his tie.

"Why hello there. Who might you be?" he asked.

"Betty Director. It's a pleasure to meet you," she answered, offering her hand. Her name wasn't known in the villain community in any way shape or form, so she was safe to give him it.

"Director, Director. Any relation to Sheldon Director?" he asked, taking her hand and shaking it. She had good form, he noted. Firm and confident. Impressive.

She started, blinking at him in surprise. He knew her brother by name? Well, this could complicate things. She grimaced and answered, "My twin brother." She was taking a risk in admitting as much, but if she was going to pull this off, she would need to keep as close to the truth as possible. The more honest she could be about herself, the less chance there was of him catching her in a lie.

"Here to steal something for him?" Jack asked with a smirk. He wouldn't be surprised, honestly. He was used to incidents like that. They rarely ended well for the thieves.

"Not a chance," she answered. "My brother and I are on terms, but they're not speaking ones. I have nothing to do with his business." At least not in the way Hench was inferring, she inwardly added.

Jack summed the woman up. She seemed genuine thus far, but he couldn't help but feel something was off about this. Namely the timing. GJ had been attacked only a couple of days ago, and now some mysterious woman he'd never heard of or seen before was sauntering up to his company dressed to impress in more ways than one? That in and of itself was enough to set off alarm bells.

"So, you're the best GJ can do," he said in an attempt to catch her off guard.

"GJ?" she asked calmly. Part of her was alarmed - she'd known she'd be taking a risk coming to him so soon after the attack on her organization - but she kept her tone even. He knew nothing.

"Don't take me for a fool, Ms. Director. I know who you are," he said.

"Miss, actually," she corrected, completely ignoring the second half of the remark. He was quiet, trying to puzzle her out, and she decided her best bet was to add a bit to her response. "Sir, I really don't know who GJ is. My brother rants about them from time to time, but I've never bothered asking. I'm just happy to know they're a major pain in his sorry backside."

Jack chuckled a bit at this. "You're sharp, I'll give you that, but I'm afraid I'm not so easy to distract," he said.

"Are all you tycoons so suspicious?" she replied.

He watched her carefully. He couldn't read this woman. He didn't like that he couldn't read her. "My apologies, Miss Director. I'm out of line. Please, follow me to my office and we'll discuss your reasons for this little visit there."

"Of course Mr. Hench," she said, following his lead.

KP

As they entered Jack's office, he turned to her. "Please, allow me to take your sweater," he said.

"Thank you," she replied. She'd been hoping he'd offer. If he was the type of man she figured he was, the more skin that was exposed the better. As he slipped it off her shoulders, she subtly arched her back and arms in a beguiling fashion. She was pleased to hear him clear his throat a bit. It was a good sign. He hung her sweater up then went around his desk and sat. He gestured at the armchair across from him, wordlessly inviting her to take a seat as well. She did so and crossed one leg - the one on the slit side of her skirt - over the other. Prior to coming here, she'd waxed her legs and moisturized them with a product that made them appear sleek and shiny for added effect. His eyes darted to them briefly before quickly snapping back to her face. She admired his restraint.

"I have to know. What's the story with the eyepatch?" he asked.

"Mmm, careful with questions like those, Mr. Hench. For all you know it could be an extremely sensitive topic for me," she replied.

"My apologies, Miss Director. Pretend I never asked," he replied.

She smiled a little. "It's an old injury," she said.

"I won't pry. So tell me, what brings you to HenchCo today?" he asked.

"I heard you had a job opening for a personal secretary," she replied. She'd been especially sure there was a job opening too. Anything less than the truth, at least as much of it as she could give, would be asking for trouble.

"Do you have the experience?" he asked.

"Most definitely," she answered, slipping over a resume, cover letter, and reference sheet.

He took all three documents and read through each one. "You have excellent qualifications. Do you have time for an interview right now?" he asked.

"I'm available any time, Mr. Hench. Currently not working," she replied, grinning winningly at him. Judging by the stacks of paperwork, and his slightly disheveled and stressed appearance, he was desperate for help right now. Clearly he'd had no luck, thus far, in finding a competent administrative assistant.

"Please, call me Jack," he replied.

She smirked a vixen smirk. "First name basis already?" she teased.

He started at her brazenness then grinned in amusement. "Not one for the workplace harassment movement, are you?" he asked.

"More I don't think of it as black and white," she replied, leaning forward and entwining her hands beneath her chin as she fixed him with smoldering eyes and a little smirk. The position had the added benefit of emphasizing the semi-low cut of her blouse, but he was more interested in her face, it seemed, which either meant they were just naturally hitting it off, or that he was trying to read her. She hoped for the former but wouldn't dismiss the possibility of the latter. Still, if it was the former, it meant that getting close to him would be that much easier. Here was hoping luck was on her side this round.

Day One

She smirked to herself as she set up her new desk right outside his office. Needless to say, her interview had impressed him. So much so, in fact, that he'd hired her on the spot and asked if she could come in the next day. Which, of course, she could. Now there was just the matter of finding some way to bug his office. It wasn't going to be an easy task, she realized. As early as she'd arrived at work, he'd arrived earlier. His car had been parked in the lot when she'd gotten here, and she'd heard him moving around in his office when she entered her own

She checked the calendar for any appointments he had lined up for the day and made note of them. Those would be her best bet. As she was doing so, the door to the executive office opened and he came out, shuffling some papers around. "Good morning Miss Director. Setting up I see," he greeted, not even looking up.

"Good morning Jack," she replied. "You have a meeting at eleven in Conference Room C."

"Already on top of things. Impressive," he replied.

"No indication of timeframe on your calendar. Is it a long one?" she asked.

"No. No it's not," he replied, smirking smugly.

What she wouldn't give to know what it was about. "Easy sale, or are you planning something underhanded?" she asked, winking playfully at him like she was only joking around.

"Nothing of the sort. I'm looking to get in and out without a mess," Jack replied.

"Mess?" she asked.

He chuckled and didn't really answer. "Wacky Wally, owner of Wacky Wally's Weather Machines. He's like me. Legal business but plenty of seedy clients. He doesn't question what they do with the products they purchase. Neither do I. We'd rather keep our hands clean of the whole affair."

"Giving no regard to human life," she said, crossing her arms.

"Miss Director, there's no corporation on the face of the planet completely free of misdealings. Just some of us do it better than others," he replied. She frowned at him, unimpressed, but as much as it pained her to admit, he wasn't wholly wrong. Even her own reasons for being here were a testament to that, she bitterly realized. He winced a bit then put on a grin again. "Tell you what! Let me take you to lunch. Show you around. You can see for yourself what we do here. Where we're coming from."

"Forward, aren't we?" she teased with a smile, sitting down.

"I have to be. It's in my job description," he said with a grin.

"Are lunch and a tour the best you can do?" she asked, resting her chin on the backs of her hands as she leaned forward on her desk.

An intrigued glint sparked in his eyes. "What else were you expecting?" he asked, leaning on her desk as well.

"Mmm, I'll keep my thoughts to myself," she said with that vixen smirk of hers.

"Ooh, careful Miss Director. Harassment suits are a dog to talk your way out of," he replied with a wicked grin.

"Did I imply anything inappropriate?" she asked.

"You're good. You're very, very good," he said, straightening up so he was no longer leaning over her desk.

"Then perhaps I'll hold my own here. I'd be delighted to join you for lunch, Mr. Hench," she said. He grinned at her.

KP

Betty and Jack sat together in a little bistro not far from HenchCo, laughing at a joke they'd shared. Betty sipped at her drink and said, "Mmm, I've never had hot chocolate this good before."

"That's probably because it's actually called drinking chocolate. Quite literally melted chocolate with milk. Not the powdered mix stuff. This is the genuine article," Jack said, tapping the rim.

"It's heaven," she said. She finished it off and placed the cup down, smiling sweetly at him. "I believe I'm ready for that tour you promised me now," she said.

"But of course. It'll be my absolute pleasure," he said, standing up and offering his hand to her. She smiled and rested her own in his, allowing him to help her up.

It was about a five-minute walk back to HenchCo. They spent it engaged in conversation and some flirtation. They walked into HenchCo and right through the lobby without taking their eyes off one another, and he led her deeper into the building. "This is the testing room," he said, opening a door. Betty gasped at the large metallic pit where various devices were being deployed against men who were fighting determinedly back.

"What's going on?" she asked, subtly adjusting her brooch. Rather, she snapped a picture with it.

"Experimental prototypes versus henchmen in training. Two birds, one stone," he said. He shut the door and led her off again. He opened the next door. "This is where surplus inventory goes. Products that went out of style and devices that didn't sell as well as projected. I tend to try and keep the extra around. Good for experimentation, upgrading, and improving. Heck, wait a couple of years and market it as retro or something. All the power with twice the style! With the proper wording and some well-placed propaganda, I could sell a stick to half of the suckers, I mean clients, I deal with."

"I have no doubt," she replied, snapping another picture subtly. She had to be careful. He seemed a little too willing to show her everything. "What else is there?"

"Come along, Miss Director," he answered, grinning at her and bringing her to another room. They walked inside and she gasped, mouth dropping. Numerous production lines ran through a large factory-like floor. "This is the main workroom. Just below we have the latest and greatest of HenchCo products being packaged up for shipping. On the far end is where our most promising prototypes are assembled for sale. The third, fourth, and fifth lines? Weapons, explosives, and ammunition. Military-grade."

"And the last few lines?" she asked.

"More… shall we say 'questionable' products," he answered.

"Fascinating," she said, making sure to take as many pictures of the massive space as she could get away with.

"It really is. Now let's move on," he said, leading her out again.

As he guided her down a hallway, she asked, "Where are we going now?"

"To visit a few of the less industrial features of Hench Co," he replied.

He opened a door and she gasped. In front of her sprawled a large and luxurious employee lounge! "Whoa," she said, eyes wide.

"It may seem like a little much…" he began.

"Tell me about it," she said in awe, walking inside. GJ didn't have close to anything this magnificent! She went towards a balcony attached to the lounge and opened the door, peering out. She looked to the side in a private little corner and gasped. "A hot tub?!" she exclaimed, seeing the thing shimmering in the light. "What next, a pool?"

"Look over the railing," he replied, smiling.

She started, looked blankly at him, then walked to the railing and peered over. She gasped. Sure enough, below them in the small yard was an outdoor pool! "Is this a resort or a workplace?" she demanded.

"It's remarkable, I know, but what I've found over the years is that a healthy dose of recreation improves employee morale. Improved morale means happy workers. Happy workers mean harder workers. Harder workers mean increased productivity which translates into enlarged profit margins. Of course, there's a strict schedule around it all, but it gets the job done," he said. "Any preferences, Miss Director?"

"At the end of the day before I pack up and go home?" she flatly replied. "More flexibility to subtly extend."

He huffed a laugh, smirking. "Clever you," he replied. "You're asking for a premium. Prove yourself and we'll see."

"Challenge accepted," she replied. If she could earn it, it meant being able to stay later. No doubt Hench already did. The more private time she could have with him, the higher the chance they got close. "Honestly, I don't even know what to say. I'm absolutely stunned by all of this," she continued, turning to look up at him.

"I know how to make my people happy," he bragged. "Come on. Lunch is almost over. Let's get back to our offices."

"Yes sir," she replied.

Day Two

Jack came out of his study, saying, "Betty, take notes; I want an order for a new shipment of parts to go out by three. Contact Metal Tech to check the progress of my last order. It was supposed to have been here this morning. I want answers by noon, preferably."

"Of course, Mr. Hench. Your 4:30 appointment just called to reschedule your meeting for tomorrow morning at 10:00," she said, literally in the process of hanging up the phone.

"How's my schedule for tomorrow?" he asked.

She brought it up on the computer and said, "That time slot is free. Shall I pen it in?"

"By all means. Finally, a competent secretary. Things are already going smoother!" he said, looking around at the paperwork she'd managed to complete, sort, and file.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she said.

"Maybe not, but it's worth a shot," he replied. "Keep this up, Miss Director, and you'll be looking at a raise in the very near future."

"You're too kind, sir," she answered.

"I need a few new client accounts set up," he said. She prepared to write them down. This would be good. Names of his new clients would likely be names of villains Global Justice would be interested in. "Number one: Dr. Drew Lipsky, alias Dr. Drakken. Number two: Professor Demens, alias Professor Dementor. Number three: your brother, alias Gemini. Number four: Dr. Amy Hall, alias DNAmy."

Betty frowned at the mention of her brother but nonetheless took it down. She was a little on edge with how closely Gemini was working with Jack. If she wasn't careful, this whole operation could be blown. All Sheldon had to do was find out about what she was doing and let it slip. She would have to be careful. "Is that all, Jack?" she asked.

"For the clients, yes," he answered. "Get on those tasks right away. Oh, and set up a formal gathering. Four months from now I plan to throw a little party at my mansion. Improve relations with some suppliers and top clients."

"Any specifics?" she asked.

"Party starts at 8:00 PM on a Friday night. Other than that I'm leaving it in your hands. Don't let me down," he said. "Bring up my schedules, make sure there's a free day, and be certain no appointments are arranged."

"Right away," she answered.

"Good girl," he said, smiling at her. The door opened and one of his people came in. "There you are," he said to the man. Turning to her, he said, "Betty, make sure we're not disturbed."

"Of course, sir," she answered. Jack quickly entered his office with his employee. She tilted her head, frowning curiously. This might be something she wanted to be privy to. She'd come a bit more prepared today, equipped with a listening device that should do the job until she could manage to bug the office. Going into her bag, she pulled it out and inserted it into her ear.

KP

Jack shut the door behind them, then went to his desk, gesturing for his short, portly, bespectacled consultant slash head scientist to take a seat. "What's your request, Mr. Hench?" the man asked.

"Foggman, I want you to dig up everything you can on Miss Betty Director. I mean everything. Birth certificates, marriage certificates, fingerprint analysis, high school records, college records, university records, etc. Check every database you can manage to hack into for any mention of her being affiliated in any way with people we may not want stirring up drama for HenchCo, if you catch my drift," he said.

"Again?" Foggman asked, unimpressed. "Sir, you do this for every newcomer."

"And how many times has it saved us trouble?" Jack challenged.

Foggman winced. "Oh, a couple dozen," he admitted.

"So then why are you trying to get out of it?" Jack asked.

Foggman sighed. "I'm not, sir," he replied.

"I didn't think so. Get going," Jack replied, smirking. Foggman rolled his eyes hopelessly, then rose to leave.

KP

Betty frowned and took off the earpiece, tucking it away. Good luck with that, she inwardly scoffed. GJ was virtually hack-proof. Still, she would contact them just in case and get them to hide any reference they had on her. There was no guarantee Hench's people wouldn't be able to penetrate GJ's defenses, after all.