The morning sun, filtered through dusty blinds, painted stripes across Carina's face as she stirred. The events of the previous night replayed in her mind like a dream – the sterile apartment, the stark revelation of Morgan's past, the lingering mystery of his missing eye. Stretching, she found herself alone on the plush sofa, a crumpled blanket the only evidence of her slumber.

A knock on the door startled her. It creaked open, revealing Morgan, hair rumpled and eyes heavy with sleep. He held a steaming mug in one hand, the other clutching a worn copy of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy."

"Coffee?" he offered, his voice a husky rasp. "And a literary shield against the impending doom of retail therapy at Buy More?"

Carina chuckled, accepting the mug. The scent of coffee and cinnamon filled her senses, a welcome comfort in the unfamiliar environment. "Doom might be a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

Morgan grinned, his single eye twinkling. "Dramatic? Perhaps. But have you met the Karens of retail? They're like mythical beasts, armed with coupons and fueled by righteous indignation."

He settled onto the opposite end of the sofa, taking a long sip from his own mug. A comfortable silence fell between them, punctuated only by the clinking of spoons against ceramic.

"So," Carina began, breaking the quiet, "did you sleep well?"

Morgan shrugged, rubbing a hand across his stubbled jaw. "Ah, not as well as usual. New place, unfamiliar sounds, all that. But coffee helps," he added with a wink.

Carina couldn't help but smile. His attempt at nonchalance was endearing, and she felt a pang of curiosity. "Think the lack of sleep might affect your 'legendary' customer service skills today?" she teased.

Morgan feigned offense, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. "Legendary? Please, Miss DEA I'm merely a humble retail warrior battling the forces of Karens and malfunctioning printers. But fear not, even on minimal sleep, I can charm the socks off any disgruntled customer. Anyways...I thought you'd be long gone by now." He then trailed off rather nervously

Carina chuckled playfully upon hearing that, "Well that's what I usually do. But I don't have anywhere to go, at least for the time being. And all the background check DEA ran on you last night came out pretty clean, including the occasional mess you made at Operation Bot Roast. "

The revelation hung heavy in the air, tinged with a mixture of surprise and apprehension. Morgan choked on his coffee, the playful banter dissolving in an instant. His single eye narrowed, suspicion battling with relief.

"Clean?" he croaked, setting down his mug with a clatter. "You mean... the FBI didn't spill the beans? Not even a whisper about... unorthodox methods?"

Carina leaned back on the sofa, her gaze unwavering. "Officially? Squeaky clean. Commendation and all. They had their results, the botnet was neutralized, and everyone pretended the mess never happened. Though," she added, a sly smile playing on her lips, "there might have been a few raised eyebrows and some creative interpretation of 'don't ask, don't tell.'"

Morgan stared at her, his mind racing. This wasn't the reaction he expected. Had the FBI truly kept their silence? Or was there more to this seemingly clean slate?

"Creative interpretation?" he echoed, his voice tight. "What does that mean?"

Carina shrugged, her smirk widening. "Let's just say they found their digital ghosts chasing their tails. Encrypted within encryptions, servers bouncing across borders like a pinball, and chatbots feeding them disinformation. You covered your tracks well, hacker extraordinaire."

The playful tilt in her voice sent shivers down Morgan's spine. He couldn't tell if she was impressed, suspicious, or something else entirely.

"So, they just... let it go?" he asked, disbelief lacing his words.

Carina shrugged, a playful glint in her eyes. "Let's say they got the outcome they desired. A neutralized botnet, a scapegoat they could point fingers at, and enough plausible deniability to choke a horse. Besides," she continued, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile, "wouldn't a public revelation about your, shall we say, 'unorthodox methods' be a tad inconvenient for a certain government agency that prides itself on following the rules?"

A humorless chuckle escaped Morgan's lips. "Convenient, huh? You could say that." He took a long swallow of his coffee, the warmth a small comfort against the sudden chill in the air, "It's all in the past anyways. I am not as adventurous as I used to be back in the days."

Carina's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Adventurous, huh? Or maybe just good at covering your tracks." She set her mug down with a decisive click. "Look, Morgan, the past is the past. But the way you handled that botnet... it was impressive, unorthodox sure, but undeniably effective."

Morgan stared into his mug, the silence stretching between them. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "Effective, but not exactly the kind of thing the feds like to advertise. Collateral damage, blurry lines, that sort of thing."

"Exactly," Carina said, leaning forward. "Which is why it's all buried under a mountain of red tape and plausible deniability. But let's be honest, Morgan, some skills are too valuable to just discard."

He finally looked up at her, a flicker of something unreadable in his single eye.

"What kind of game are we playing here, Agent?"

A wry smile played on Carina's lips, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Game? Morgan, there are no games here. This is about containing a potential disaster. But," she conceded, leaning back on the sofa, "let's call it a test run. A chance to see if the 'hacker extraordinaire' hasn't lost his touch."

Morgan scoffed, a single eyebrow raised in skepticism. "Test run, huh? Or are you fishing for a new guard dog, Agent Carina?"

"Guard dog?" she echoed, a playful lilt in her voice. "Maybe a guard cat. A feline with a penchant for scratching up bad guys' plans, wouldn't that be more fitting?" Morgan couldn't help but chuckle, the tension easing a fraction. "So, it's all about metaphors now? No more talk of convenient amnesia from the feds?"

Carina's smile faltered slightly. "Look," she said, her voice turning serious, "we both know the situation. The FBI can't exactly advertise their success if it comes at a cost they can't stomach. But this time things are different. "

Morgan's chuckle grated against the tense atmosphere, laced with a bitterness that mirrored the stale coffee in his mug. "Saving your life the day before seems to have landed me in deeper than I ever imagined," he muttered, pushing the mug away with a sigh.

"Consider it a thank you with a side of payback," Carina countered, her voice softer now. "The truth is, Morgan, there aren't many people who could do what you did with that botnet. You have a unique skillset, and sometimes, the right tool for the job isn't always found in a government armory."

A flicker of something akin to pride crossed Morgan's face, quickly masked by a sardonic smile. "So, I'm a tool now? A glorified wrench for the clandestine plumbing of national security?"

Carina met his gaze, her eyes holding a quiet intensity. "Maybe," she admitted. "But a damn good wrench. Look, Morgan, I wouldn't be here if this wasn't serious. We do have our own tech guys, believe me. Top of their class, Ivy League degrees, the whole package. But none of them could've pulled off what you did with that botnet. Remember that self-replicating code you snuck in? The one that fingered the bot herders and sent them scrambling like roaches in the light? No government textbook teaches that kind of brilliance. Besides Fulcrum has eyes and ears everywhere ,even within my own agency, and I can't trust them with this prototype."

"This isn't my battle to fight," Morgan repeated, his voice firm. "I already did my part by saving your life the day before. Now it's your turn to clean up the Fulcrum mess. You folks have the resources, the training, the whole government agency shtick. Me? I'm just a guy trying to live a quiet life."

Carina chuckled mirthfully upon hearing that, "And you really believe Fulcrum is going to leave you alone, especially after how you helped me run away with their most prized possession. In their eyes you are already my accomplice, my partner, whether you like it or not."

"Prized possession, huh?" Morgan smirked, the single eyebrow arched high in mock surprise. "Sounds fancy. You wouldn't happen to be referring to the little gadget I helped you 'liberate' from those goons, would you, Agent Miller?"

Carina's smile widened, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Oh, but it's not just any gadget, Morgan. It's the key to unlocking a Pandora's box of secrets. And you, my friend, just became an unwitting co-conspirator in this little escapade."

Morgan leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded Carina with a mix of incredulity and resignation. "You know, for someone who's supposed to be on the side of law and order, you're remarkably good at making a guy regret his good deeds."

Carina chuckled softly, her expression softening with a hint of apology. "I promise you, Morgan, once this is all over, you'll be free to go back to your quiet life. But for now, I need your expertise to decrypt Fulcrum's prototype . See what makes it tick, identify its vulnerabilities. Imagine it as… disarming a ticking bomb before it explodes in the wrong hands."

"Disarming a bomb, huh?" Morgan scoffed, a sardonic edge to his voice. "Easy for you to say, Agent Miller. You're not the one who might get blown sky high if I clip the wrong wire." He gestured towards the device on the table with a sardonic flick of his wrist. "This thing looks alien compared to anything I've ever seen. Cracking government tech is one thing, but whatever Fulcrum cooked up here feels like it belongs on a different planet."

Carina leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. "That's where you come in, Morgan. You're not your average government techie. You see things differently, think outside the box. That's exactly what we need to break through Fulcrum's encryption. Besides," she added, a hint of a playful smile flickering across her lips, "don't you get a thrill from the challenge? A chance to outsmart a bunch of cybernetic spooks with their own little bag of tricks?"

Morgan couldn't help but crack a slight smile at her words. The competitive glint in his single eye betrayed a hint of his past life, a life he'd tried so hard to leave behind. "Challenge, huh? You might be underestimating my aversion to unnecessary risk, Agent Miller. But," he continued, his voice dropping to a quieter tone, "he continued, his voice dropping to a quieter tone, "fine. Let's see what can I do here."

Carina produced the small, unassuming device from her pocket and handed it over. As Morgan examined it, he noted the intricate design and the subtle glow of its display. It seemed like an ordinary piece of tech, but he knew appearances could be deceiving.

"Alright, Carina," he said, walking to a cluttered workbench, "this is going to take some time. I hope you're patient."

She leaned against the edge of the table, watching intently. "Take all the time you need, Morgan. I trust your skills."

Morgan smirked, his confidence returning. "Trust, huh? That's a rare commodity in your line of work."

Carina, perched opposite him, watched with rapt attention. Her earlier tension had eased, replaced by a spark of fascination as she observed the unconventional tools sprawled across the table. A tangle of brightly colored wires, each a vibrant extension of Morgan's personality, snaked their way from a breadboard bristling with jumper cables. Each wire served a purpose, meticulously hand-soldered to reach otherwise inaccessible pins on the chip. The laptop, adorned with faded conference stickers from bygone hacking conquests, hummed with life, its internals stripped down to a bare-bones Linux distro designed for speed and efficiency. Pre-loaded on the screen were Morgan's own encryption-cracking tools, testaments to countless nights spent deciphering the language of code.

"Old-school tools," he winked, catching her gaze. "But highly modified by your truly." He tapped the breadboard, his finger tracing a circuit path. "See these colorful wires? They're not just for aesthetics, Agent Miller. They allow me to tap into hidden signals, whispers of the device's inner workings." He gestured towards a vintage oscilloscope, its screen flickering with the ghostly dance of captured signals. "This beauty saved my bacon back in the botnet days, revealing hidden patterns in data streams. And this..." he picked up a dusty textbook on cryptography, its dog-eared pages testament to countless nights spent deciphering the language of code, "...these old dogs still know how to bite. Let's see if they can unlock this modern mutt."

A comfortable silence settled between them, punctuated only by the rhythmic whirring of the laptop and the soft clinking of mugs as they sipped their popcorn. Morgan's fingers flew across the breadboard, manipulating wires and jumpers with practiced ease. On the screen, lines of code scrolled by, a symphony of ones and zeros orchestrated by his commands.

Carina, leaning forward, couldn't help but be captivated by the intricate dance of technology before her. "So, this is your toolkit," she mused, her eyes tracing the pathways of the colorful wires. "Impressive. Remind me never to challenge you to a game of connect-the-dots."

Morgan chuckled, his focus unwavering. "Only if you want to lose spectacularly, Agent Miller. Now, let's get into the nitty-gritty." He opened a terminal window on the laptop, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he initiated a series of commands. "We're going to start by probing the device's defenses, see where it's vulnerable."

As the terminal screen filled with scrolling text, Carina couldn't help but marvel at the symbiotic relationship between Morgan and his tools. It was a ballet of expertise and technology, a dance that seemed to transcend the physical realm.

"Any idea what kind of encryption we're dealing with?" Carina asked, breaking the silence.

Morgan glanced at her, a sly grin playing on his lips. "That's the fun part. We're about to find out." The rhythmic hum of the laptop's fan intensified as the code scrolled faster, like a digital heartbeat echoing through the room.

Carina observed, her confidence in Morgan's abilities growing with each passing moment. "You make it sound like a game," she noted.

Morgan grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "In a way, it is. Every line of code is a move, every encryption layer a level. And when we unravel it, we win the game."

As the lines of code continued their intricate dance, Morgan's fingers moved with purpose, navigating the digital landscape. The process was methodical, yet filled with a sense of urgency. He entered keystroke after keystroke and delved further into the information scrolling on the screen. To the untrained eye, it looks like gibberish, letters, symbols and numbers haphazardly strung together. But to Morgan, it's his language of choice, the one he understands above all others.

As Morgan delved deeper into the encrypted data, Carina couldn't help but marvel at his expertise. She watched with bated breath as his fingers flew across the keyboard with practiced precision. Lines of cryptic symbols scrolled by on the screen, a language as foreign to her as ancient hieroglyphics, yet Morgan seemed to converse with it fluently.

"It's like watching a virtuoso perform," Carina finally breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

Morgan glanced at her, a hint of amusement flickering across his single eye. "More like a bomb disposal expert," he countered, his focus never leaving the screen. "One wrong move and the whole thing could blow up in our faces."

Carina felt a shiver crawl down her spine. The stakes suddenly felt much higher. "So, what's your strategy, then? Defuse the bomb with a pair of wires and some chewing gum?"

Morgan chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Not quite. Patience and persistence, Agent Miller. And a whole lot of improvisation."

Carina raised an eyebrow. "Improvisation? You're not exactly known for following the script, are you, Morgan?"

"Script?" he scoffed. "There's no script in this game, just lines upon lines of code designed to keep prying eyes out. My job is to find the loopholes, the hidden pathways that Fulcrum's engineers overlooked in their arrogance."

He tapped a rapid rhythm on the keyboard, conjuring a flurry of commands on the screen. A new window blinked to life, filled with complex mathematical formulas and arcane symbols.

"What's that?" Carina inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"My secret weapon," Morgan replied, a hint of pride tinging his voice. "A custom decryption algorithm I'd been working on. It analyzes the encryption patterns, searching for weaknesses based on unconventional methods. Think of it as a skeleton key, handcrafted to fit the unique lock Fulcrum designed."

Carina's eyes widened in awe. "That's… incredibly resourceful, Morgan. But what if it doesn't work? What if Fulcrum's encryption is truly impenetrable?"

Morgan met her gaze, a steely resolve hardening his features. "Then we try again. And again. That's the beauty of being a hacker , Agent Miller. There's always another approach, another angle to exploit. It's a constant battle of wits, a race against the clock."

A tense silence settled over the room, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the laptop and the occasional clinking of mugs as they sipped their now-cold coffee. The air crackled with anticipation. Carina watched as Morgan's brow furrowed in concentration, the lines on his face deepening with each passing moment.

"Running into a snag?" Carina asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Morgan let out a frustrated sigh. "This encryption's unlike anything I've ever seen. It's layered, Agent Miller, like an onion with a thousand skins. Peel back one layer, and there's another one waiting underneath."

He tapped his finger against his chin, a thoughtful glint in his eye. "But there has to be a way in. Every lock has a key, even a digital one."

"Maybe we need a brute force approach," Carina suggested, her voice laced with a hint of desperation. "Just throw everything we have at it and see what sticks."

Morgan shook his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. "That's like trying to crack a walnut with a sledgehammer. We'd only end up destroying the prize inside."

He paused, his gaze flickering towards the cluttered workbench across the room. His eyes landed on a dusty, forgotten textbook titled "Obscure Cryptography Techniques by Doctor Hartely Winterbottom" A mischievous glint entered his single eye.

"There might be another way," he muttered, reaching for the book.

Carina watched with renewed interest as Morgan flipped through the yellowed pages, his lips moving silently as he scanned the text. A glimmer of hope flickered in her chest. Perhaps this unconventional approach, this maverick hacker with his unorthodox methods, was their only chance of cracking Fulcrum's code.

"Forget brute force, Agent Miller," he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "We're going to try something a little more… artistic."

Carina raised an eyebrow, skepticism battling with curiosity in her gaze. "Artistic? You expect to crack Fulcrum's encryption with some digital finger painting?"

Morgan chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "Not exactly. But think of it like this – encryption relies on patterns, algorithms designed to scramble data in a specific way. My idea is to disrupt those patterns, throw Fulcrum's decryption key off balance with something it wasn't programmed to handle." He tapped the worn cover of the book. "This old tome holds the secrets to some truly bizarre encryption methods. Stuff most code monkeys wouldn't even believe exists."

Carina leaned closer, her interest piqued. "Bizarre? Like what?"

Morgan flipped through the pages, his finger stopping on a diagram depicting a series of interconnected geometric shapes. "This, Agent Miller," he declared, "is called a Steganographic Rose. It's a way of hiding data within an image, like a secret message woven into the petals of a flower."

Carina's brow furrowed. "So, you're suggesting we hide a decryption key within an image file? How's that going to help us crack Fulcrum's code?"

"Not exactly," Morgan explained, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "We're going to use the Steganographic Rose as inspiration. We'll build a custom algorithm that mimics its structure, a chaotic mess of interwoven code snippets that disrupts Fulcrum's decryption process." He pointed at the screen, where lines of code danced in a frenetic display. "See this? This is my first draft. It injects random data bursts – quotes from Shakespeare, lines of binary code reversed, even snippets of classical music – all woven together in a seemingly nonsensical pattern."

Carina stared at the screen, her initial skepticism giving way to grudging admiration. "That's… insane. It's like throwing a bucket of confetti at a locked door and hoping some of it sticks to the keyhole."

Morgan chuckled. "Not confetti, Agent Miller. Think of it as a carefully crafted chaos bomb. It might not be elegant, but if it throws Fulcrum's decryption algorithm off kilter for even a second, it could create a window of opportunity. A chink in their digital armor." He swiveled in his chair, facing Carina directly. "It's a gamble, sure. But sometimes, in this game, the most unorthodox methods are the ones that yield the most surprising results. And I am speaking that from my personal experience."

Carina regarded Morgan with a mixture of skepticism and intrigue, her mind racing to comprehend the audacious plan he was proposing. "And you think this chaos bomb of yours will actually work? I mean, we're talking about Fulcrum here—they're not exactly amateurs when it comes to encryption."

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a confident smirk playing on his lips. "That's exactly why it might work," he replied, his tone laced with determination. "Fulcrum's encryption is undoubtedly top-notch, but it's also predictable. They rely on tried and tested algorithms, patterns that they assume no one would dare challenge."

He gestured towards the screen, where the lines of code continued to swirl in a mesmerizing dance. "But what if we introduce an element of unpredictability? What if we disrupt those patterns, throw a wrench into their meticulously crafted decryption process?"

Carina considered his words, her mind racing with possibilities. "It's risky," she conceded, "but it just might be crazy enough to work."

Morgan grinned, a glimmer of excitement in his eye. "Exactly," he exclaimed. "And besides, where's the fun in playing it safe?"

With that, he turned back to the screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he fine-tuned the algorithm.

"Alright, here goes nothing," he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness despite his outward bravado.

With a click, he unleashed the digital chaos bomb upon the encrypted data. The laptop whirred with renewed intensity, the screen flickering as the code collided with Fulcrum's encryption. Lines of gibberish scrolled by, a testament to the confusion Morgan had sown.

Carina held her breath, her gaze glued to the screen. Minutes stretched into an eternity as the program ran its course. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Finally, a notification box popped up on the screen. Carina's heart leaped into her throat. It was either a glorious success or a spectacular failure.

Morgan leaned forward, his single eye scrutinizing the message. A slow smile spread across his face, breaking the tension with a burst of unexpected warmth.

"Bingo, Agent Miller," he announced, his voice laced with triumph. "Looks like our little art project paid off."

The notification box displayed a single line of text: "Decryption Key Unlocked." Relief washed over Carina, a wave of exhilaration replacing the gnawing anxiety. They had done it. Morgan's unorthodox methods, fueled by his unconventional brilliance, had cracked Fulcrum's code.

However before they could actually start celebrating, A dark red tint filled his room as millions of images began scrolling on his screen at unimaginable speed. Morgan's focus didn't sway as the program started running, multitude of three dimensional images beginning to register in his brain at an increasingly fast rate beyond conscious comprehension. Time passed and although he was frozen physically , his consciousness was actively absorbing the information via the bytes of images being projected.

"Morgan!" Carina yelled in concern as the one eyed hacker extraordinaire finally keeled over, falling out of his chair and onto the solid floor.

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The insistent beeping tore Sarah from a dreamless sleep. A sterile white assault greeted her bleary eyes, the air thick with the metallic tang of disinfectant. Her arm throbbed, a dull ache radiating from the fresh bandage wrapped around her thigh where the bullet had found its home. A glance at the IV drip snaking into her hand confirmed her suspicions – she was in the agency's medical wing.

Panic clawed at her throat. Alone. The stark emptiness of the room echoed the hollowness in her chest. Bryce. Where was Bryce? They were partners, a well-oiled machine forged in the crucible of countless missions. He'd always been there, a reassuring presence by her bedside, their recovery a shared journey. Her gaze drifted to the worn copy of 'Moby Dick' tucked beneath her pillow, a silent testament to their shared love for the classics.

The door creaked open, and a man with worry lines etched around his tired eyes shuffled in. He held a satellite phone and a newspaper, the bold headline screaming – 'Government Facility Breached in Daring Attack'. "Agent Walker, good to see you awake. We were getting worried. Six hours under that sedative, you must be feeling like a slug." His smile was strained, a politician's attempt at empathy.

Sarah knew the drill. She'd delivered the same news countless times, her voice a practiced monotone masking the storm within. But this time, the words stuck in her throat. "Where's his body?" Her voice, when it finally emerged, was a hoarse whisper.

The man flinched, surprise flickering across his face before schooling his features into a solemn mask. He placed the satellite phone on the bedside table, the black plastic glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. "It's a secure line, Agent. Director Graham's expecting your call." His gaze held a flicker of something akin to pity, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared.

Sarah gripped the phone, her knuckles turning white. She knew. If Bryce were alive, he wouldn't have let her live. He wouldn't have hesitated to finish the job after she'd taken out his entire team, the bullet grazing his arm a testament to her near-miss. Taking a deep breath, she dialed the number, her voice devoid of emotion as she spoke. "Walker. Secure."

Silence crackled on the other end, then a familiar voice, gruff with concern, filled her ear. "Sarah, thank God you're alright. We were starting to think…" His voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

Sarah steeled herself. There would be time for grief later. Now, there was a mission to complete, a truth to uncover. "What happened to Bryce, Director?" The question hung heavy in the sterile air, a stark counterpoint to the rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside her.

"There's a lot to unpack, Sarah," Director Graham sighed, the weariness evident in his voice. "But for now, focus on getting better. We'll debrief you when you're up to it."

"No," Sarah insisted, her voice stronger now, fueled by a potent mix of grief and determination. "Tell me what happened. Was he… was he…?" She couldn't bring herself to utter the word 'dead'.

A long pause stretched between them, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Finally, Graham spoke, his voice low and grave. "He's gone, Sarah. Lost control, went rogue. Tried to take down the facility. You… you stopped him." His voice held a hint of something unreadable, a mix of admiration and sorrow.

"Stopped him?" Sarah repeated, the words echoing hollowly in the sterile room. "He wouldn't… he couldn't have…" Denial rose in her throat, a desperate attempt to ward off the chilling welled in her eyes, blurring the harsh overhead lights into a halo. "But… how? We were a team. We always had each other's backs." Her voice cracked, a raw vulnerability replacing the steely resolve she'd forced upon herself.

Agency Surgeon Doctor Matthew, ever the pragmatist, cleared his throat, his gaze flickering between Sarah and the phone. "Director's waiting, Agent Walker."

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, the phone a cold weight in her hand. The sterile scent of disinfectant did little to mask the phantom metallic tang of blood, a constant reminder of the fight, the betrayal. With a shaky breath, she lifted the phone to her ear.

"Director," she began, her voice barely a whisper. "I need to know everything. What happened to Bryce? Why… why would he…" The questions tumbled out, a desperate plea for answers amidst the storm of emotions threatening to consume her.

A flicker of static danced on the line, then Graham's voice filled her ear, laced with a weary patience. "We're piecing things together, Sarah. Forensics are combing the scene. But everything is burnt to crisp and plain old broken. Bryce sure knows how to cover his tracks. Except..." Graham trailed off

"Except what?" Sarah was dumbfounded.

However, Graham didn't respond this time around. Instead, Doctor Matthew presented Sarah with a sort of electronic device. Something she recalled Bryce carrying with him when he infiltrated the top secret government facility she had been assigned to protect.

And it's screen only flashed three words in bold red

"Sent to Charles Irving Bartowski."

...xxxxxxxxx...xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx...

Thanks for reading and reviewing my story so far XD

Really appreciate all your support.

See ya soon in next installment of Morgan's Adventures with Carina now that Sarah and Chuck are thrown in the mix :)