Indonesia was hot. Zack didn't really like it, but it was better than whatever VILE was up to. Working alongside Carmen, he learned about some of the worst of humanity. It left a vile taste in his mouth.
And the whole scheme of destroying perfectly good food for the sake of money-making was a travesty. Food was something sacred when it was him and his sister. Even back with Grandma, bless her soul. In fact, he told Carmen and Player that if he had to kill a person, he would never do it with food. Why would he waste perfectly good food to kill someone? It would be a travesty. Even if he didn't care for rice so much, he could understand having food you needed to rely on. He and his sister made so many meals from cheap white bread. It was about survival, not comfort.
He could understand that.
"Are you ready Zack?"
"Sure am Carm! Let's get started," he said enthusiastically. He had pulled a drone from the backpack he was carrying and sent it into the air. With all his time he had spent with Carmen, he at least was able to navigate the little bot. He preferred if it wasn't a whole, the world could suffer immensely hanging on his shoulders when he messed with it, but he didn't sign up for fun and games.
That didn't mean that they didn't have fun now and again. Such as the absolute delight that came from having a good friend again.
Most were rather pussy footed around his one-armed status. Or just jerks about it. Both were entertaining to run into depending on the day. Carmen and Player though? They were practically a godsend. Carmen and Player knew he could pull his own weight in their group and was useful in more of a "stage crew" kind of way. Like Player was the tech and Carmen was the star, and he was the guy moving the sets. Literally with his driving expertise.
He was enjoying this whole adventure. Even if he did miss his missing sister. But despite the searching, there was still no sign of her. That didn't mean he was giving up, but it was a bit frustrating.
He'd find her one day. He bet his arm on it.
Devineaux was frustrated. Their only witness had just seemingly vanished into this air. His only lead to find la femme rouge before she struck again- gone. How irritating. He had to find out what was going on. Come hell or high water, he would find out. Once he could get away from Ms. Argent's little conspiracy ramblings, he would begin his own investigation. La Femme Rouge would see justice!
Of course, the world had a funny sense of humor as being kidnapped was not a part of the process he had in mind.
ACME at least seemed to have an understanding of the danger la femme rouge posed. And her working with an organization made sense he supposed. How else could one person escape interpole?
It was these thoughts on his mind that had him less than prepared for a sack being thrown over his head.
"Hey- What are you-?!" he cried out as he tried to attack his assailant. A sharp jab to his neck had him fall limp and into someone's arms.
What were the odds that he would be kidnapped twice in one day?
"Wha' are you-?" he slurred. His hand tried to grab hold of his assailant but could only attempt at steadying himself before blacking out.
Waking up, he did not apricate being handcuffed to a chair, with the sack still over his head.
"You awake?" a voice- no doubt his assailant- spoke. They had a thick accent. Something distinctively American if he had to make a bet on it. But what kind of American he didn't know. It was all just a wild mishmash of sounding voices from them. Something northern?
He would find out after he arrest this punk.
"How dare you-!" he yelled and began to thrash. He noted he didn't get far. The chair was bolted down. "Kidnap a member of Interpole!"
Sure, he was working with ACME now, but that had just occurred. If someone was after him, he was certain it was because of his work in Interpole.
"Easy there chief," the assailant spoke again sounding somewhat amused. "I ain't gonna hurt you."
Devineaux scoffed. He had already had one "benevolent" kidnapping. He had severe doubts that this was another. Especially considering he still had a bag over his head. One that smelled like coffee and a hint of the breath mints he devoured on a regular basis.
"No. You just want me to do something illegal for you. Well, you can forget it."
"Illegal? Ah, yeah. No. I just thought you might be interested in some information," the voice said sounding very confident and a little cocky. "You're chasing Red, right?"
He paused for a moment.
"And just what would you know about La Femme Rouge?"
"Enough." The response was sharp, irritated. "She's a slippery one. And you want her brought to justice, right?"
"And what are you? A partner of the infamous crimson phantom?" his voice rose with the accusation.
"We never worked the field together. But we did know one another. Not well. But enough," the speaker responded vaguely.
"Let me guess, you want to just walk free of your crimes in return?" Devineaux scoffed. He was a detective worthy of being pulled from Interpole and into a secret organization. He was all too familiar with the attempts at walking away Scot free.
"So, you think you know who I am." There was a layer of amusement in their tone.
"Uh... That's right!" Devineaux lied. "Wait, think?"
The speaker didn't clarify.
"You want information on Red or not?"
"What kind of information could you possibly have that would interest me?"
"The vile kind."
The bag was ripped off his head. Devineaux's eyes squinted in the brighter light. Before him was a person in a trench coat, a full-face mask over their face- a ski mask? - just a solid black. To top it off, sunglasses were covering the eyes, and gloves covered their hands. The only thing he could ascertain was the height. Short. And stocky. But other than that, it was hard to tell. Although the accent struck him as incredibly "American".
They had an envelope in one hand.
"This is yours, if you tell no one how you got it."
"Why should I trust you?"
The kidnapper shrugged their shoulders.
"Why should you trust anyone who kidnaps you?"
He felt like that was a jab at ACME.
"What's in the file?"
"Targets. They're... time sensitive. Knowing her, she won't waste time when she has an "opportunity"."
Devineaux would not admit his curiosity, but he had a growing urge to see what exactly was in the envelope. If he agreed, he was also sure he could subdue his kidnapper and get more answers. Not to mention, kidnapping was illegal. Still, he didn't want to look too eager.
"What will you get out of this?"
"The downfall of "La Femme Rogue" of course."
How strangely convenient that that was all this person wanted.
"And how will I contact-"
"You won't. I'll call you."
Everything about this was shady and unnerving. But Devineaux had cracked tougher nuts in stranger circumstances.
"Very well. I'll work with you...?"
"Chickadee. You can call me Chickadee."
"That's a dumb name."
"Don't blame my mom. She didn't give it to me. Now hold still."
The untying. Great then he could capture the famous Carmen Sandiego's miscreant once ally and-
A pocketknife was placed in his hands.
"You should be able to cut yourself free in a few minutes. I'll leave the information here," they said placing it on the table. "Tell anyone about me, and you'll never get anything from me again."
"Wait! Where are you going?"
"...To work."
The shady kidnapper wasted no more time in leaving. Devineaux swore to himself and fiddled with the knife to open it. He began sawing rapidly at the rope around his wrists, each second ticking by, the further the kidnapper could get. It was in his rush that the knife slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor. He groaned, then twisted his head around to try and see where the knife dropped. In trying to find it, the chair tipped over, with Devineaux landing on his back. On the plus side, he found the pocketknife, and was able to get it in his hands. On the downside, he was lying on top of his hands and the knife. With a grunt, he did his best to "roll" onto his side so he could continue to cut himself free.
Hey, it's been a while since I posted the first chapter, but I got enough motivation for a third.