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The AdvAnTAGE Project

By

Mantrid Brizon

Episode 13: Playing With Fire

“I told you it was a good investment, Mr. Churchill.”

“And you were right. You always seem to be right! You must have a sixth sense for this!”

“I’m just very lucky.” He says with a chuckle.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it! The Mrs. and I, we were thinking of going to Cancun, and with this windfall, we might just move there!” Mr. Churchill laughs.

“Maybe I'll join you?”

“Maybe! You certainly deserve it!”

“Thanks for saying so, Mr. Churchill. You have a good day, now!”

“And you have a wonderful day, yourself, Mr. Foster.”

Hanging up the phone, Martin sits back in his expensive, red leather and cherry wood, wingback chair. He lets out a pleased sigh, relishing in another victory. He always stops himself, however, to remember that his “luck” has a proper name. Glancing over to the far corner of his desk, Martin slowly sits up and leans forward. He collects the framed photograph, a picture of himself with his three closest friends, taken during the summer before everything changed. They were so happy back then, before Old Mr. Hapcock’s murder, before Donnie lost his parents and faked his own disappearance, and before the men behind the curtain instructed Unifact to go public with their creations.

“Thanks, guys. You did it again.” Martin murmurs, looking at the images of Louis and Connor. “Another easy million, and I have to blame it all on luck... You’re the ones who deserve the limelight.”

Returning the photograph to the corner of his desk, Martin softly chuckles.

“I bet Donnie would freak if he knew I had you guys just sitting out in the open.”

His telephone buzzes, drawing his attention.

“Yes?” He presses a button, answering his secretary.

“You have a delivery.”

“I do?!”

“Yes, sir. You need to sign for it.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m not authorized. He’s asking for your signature. It’s per request of the shipper.”

Martin pauses, trying to recall if he had any more orders coming. He often receives stacks of mail but it never requires a signature. After taking a moment to ponder, he has no idea why anyone would need to see him for a delivery.

“Sir?” His secretary speaks up.

“Yeah, okay... I’ll be right there.”

Martin takes a deep breath and opens a desk drawer. He reaches into the seemingly empty drawer and pushes down on the bottom, near the rear. It flips up and slides back, locking itself into place and revealing a secret compartment. Inside is Martin’s Taurus PT-911 pistol, placed inside of a block of wood that's cut to fit the weapon, as well as spare magazines and ammunition. The compartment is lined in red velvet, to protect the finish of the polished silver pistol, which has gold plated accents and mother-of-pearl grips. He retrieves the firearm, holding the gleaming pistol as he checks the magazine and carefully retracts the slide. It’s fully loaded.

Rising from his chair, he slips the weapon into a special holster hidden near the small of his back, which he promptly covers with a suit jacket. Making his way into the lobby of his suite, where his secretary’s desk is place, Martin finds a man in a familiar brown uniform. In front of the UPS worker is a heavy-duty cart, unfolded and carrying a pile of computer components. Martin breathes a silent sigh of relief as he collects the electronic device and signs his name.

“Where would you like me to put these?” The UPS man asks.

“That corner will be fine. I can move them out when we leave in a few hours.” Martin replies, handing back the UPS man’s device.

“More computer stuff, I see. Planning on setting up a side business?” The UPS man asks as he unloads the boxes.

“It’s just a hobby.”

“Some hobby!” The driver chuckles.

“As often as this stuff comes in, you’d think we were Hewlett Packard or something.” Martin’s secretary chuckles.

As she and the driver joke about the quantity of frequency of the deliveries, Martin feels himself growing uneasy. At the end of his work day, he collects the spare ammunition for his pistol and heads downstairs, using a borrowed mail wagon to carry all of the equipment. It doesn’t raise an eyebrow when he asks for the wagon. The employees are growing accustomed to this request, further unnerving him. Opening the trunk of his Lexus, Martin loads in the boxes, pausing to look over his shoulder with every other box.

After returning the mail wagon, he climbs into his luxurious vehicle and drives. He checks his mirrors religiously, to be certain that no one is following him. Leaving the brokerage firm where he works, Martin doesn’t see any suspicious vehicles. He works his way around the city as he heads to his next destination. Out of paranoia, he drives a different way almost every time. Soon, he enters the rural outskirts, and after over an hour of driving, he finds himself pulling into the driveway of the secluded farmhouse, where Louis, Connor and Jack reside.

“Honey! I’m home!” He teases, stepping through the front door.

“Look who’s here!” Connor chirps.

“Did you bring the stuff?” Louis asks, climbing up from his computer chair.

“Well, it’s nice to see you, too.” Martin smirks.

Louis and Connor both give their friend a hug before offering to help unload the equipment.

“So, I’m thinking, these shipments of gear...” Martin begins.

“What about them?” Louis asks, pulling a new, boxed motherboard from the trunk of the Lexus.

“There’s too many of them.”

“But we need this stuff to continue our work!” Connor whines.

“I’m not saying to stop buying stuff. You’re millionaires, now. You can afford all the computer stuff you want. It’s just drawing attention at the office. I ask for the wagon to pull all this stuff to my car and they don’t even ask me to sign it out. That’s not good.” Martin replies.

“True. Remember what Donnie says? ‘Never keep a routine for too long, lest it draw attention.’ It probably isn’t a good idea for people to know how much stuff we get, anyway.” Connor replies.

“Hmm... There are witnesses at your firm, too.” Louis scratches his chin. “So, what’re you thinking, Marty?”

“Have them sent to one of the safe-houses and have Jack pick it up. You know how much he loves going on operations... Hey, where is he, anyway? He didn’t come out to play!” Martin looks back at the house.

“You already guessed.” Connor struggles with a large box. “He’s out with Donnie. They’re... Busy... With... Ugh! What’s up with this box?!”

Seeing Connor struggling with the package, Martin softly chuckles and moves him aside. The six-foot-tall businessman flexes a muscly arm.

“Allow me.”

Martin grabs the box and gives it a yank, before holding out the heavy computer components out to Connor.

“Here you go, kid!”

“Thanks...”

The five-foot-four Connor, the youngest and smallest of the group, struggles with the box, though he’d never ask for help. Louis glances over to Martin, who sits on the edge of the opened trunk of his car, watching with visible amusement as Connor carefully climbs the steps.

“You know he hates that. He’s always been self-conscious about his size.” Louis remarks.

“Yeah, but it’s funny.” Martin chuckles. “... What? He knows we love him! He’s like the midget brother I never had!”

“Yeah, well, you don’t live here, Marty. I’m going to be the one dealing with his attitude.”

“Just put the cookies on the top shelf. He’ll be a good boy, then.” Martin laughs.

Even Louis cannot help but chuckle.

“So, what kind of mission are they on?”

“They didn’t want to say, just that they were on to something big.” Louis replies.

Holding a clipboard, a flashlight in his mouth, Jack scratches his full beard with the eraser of his pencil. He makes a note and shakes his head, then glances back at the meter.

“That’s not good.” He says, pulling the flashlight from his mouth. “You’re drawing way too much power.”

“We are?!” The employee gasps.

“Yeah. I’m going to need to check out some of your lines, make sure that everything is up to par.”

“Oh... We have rules about that. You can’t enter the residential area of the facility, sir.”

“I’m not asking.” Jack sternly replies.

“Look, we have a very wealthy, very influential, very easy to irritate residents here. This is the best apartment complex in the city for a reason. I can’t just let you waltz around. We have our own electricians who can check the lines for you.” The employee insists.

“I’m sorry, but this badge says I work for the city. That means my boss is the mayor, not you.”

“The mayor lives here...”

“And I’m sure he'll be very upset when I have to call my office, just so my office can call him and tell him that other residents of his city are going without power because some jackass won’t let a city employee check the lines in his building. I’m sure he’ll be very happy to drop whatever he's doing to come down and tell you to shut up and let me do my job. Do you think he’ll come down here in a bath robe?”

Jack and the employee stare each other down for a moment, only for the employee to relent.

“Fine! Whatever!” The employee sighs and bows his head. “Just... Try not to bother anyone, alright? And for the love of God, don’t flip any switches without warning us first, okay?”

“Scout’s honor.” Jack raises a hand, as if making a pledge.

The employee motions with his fingers and retrieves a blank, silver card. Jack collects his tool kit and follows along, watching as the employee swipes the card into a card reader and unlocks the door for him. Slipping through, the unassuming man in the blue jumpsuit makes his way to the freight elevator. He stands in the corner, opposite the security camera, and checks his clipboard. Flipping over a sheet of paper, he scans the information, before hiding it with the top sheet.

“Alright... Now to check those lines.” He speaks to himself.

Making his way to a maintenance room, Jack looks for security cameras.

“Anything?”

“Nothing.” Jack replies.

“Good. I’m almost in the system.”

“And I’m almost in the apartment.” Jack retorts.

Typing away on a keyboard, Donnie sits at a small desk, at a workstation hidden in the back of a windowless van, well disguised with vinyl stickers. Wearing a headset, he speaks to Jack, who wears a hidden earpiece that can both transmit and receive radio frequencies.

“And... There! I'm in!” Donnie chirps.

“What do you see?”

“Believe it or not, the hallways have some serious blind spots. I can guide you right to their front door.”

“Aww, man! I was hoping to slip through the vents like James Bond.”

“I don’t think James Bond would want to dirty his tuxedo in a vent shaft.”

“Why do you think I’m in this disguise?”

“Disguise? But you always dress like a bum!” Donnie chuckles.

“Ha-ha... You’re just jealous of my denim vest collection.” Jack jokes.

With Donnie in his ear, guiding him along, Jack moves quietly through the halls, avoiding cameras and other residents. Reaching the elevator to the penthouse suite, an even nicer apartment than the one the mayor inhabits, Jack inserts a card into the card reader. His card key, with a ribbon strip attached, is the latest addition to their gear. With a small device held in the palm of his hand, the tiny computer hacks the card reader with every possible combination, trying thousands of combinations in a second. Soon, the light turns green and the elevator door opens. With access to the security cameras, Donnie remotely freezes the image, so that the security on the ground floor cannot see Jack entering. As the doors open, revealing a lavish suite, Jack is briefly left in awe.

“Damn... This doesn’t look like the home of a super villain.” He remarks.

“Focus, man! We don’t know how long they’re going to be gone!”

“Right. Sorry.”

Jack begins his work, collecting several spying devices from the bottom of his tool kit. He plants both audio and video recording devices throughout the suite, until he’s used every last bug. On Donnie’s urging, Jack makes his way back to the penthouse elevator, only to stop and look at a photograph on the wall.

“They look... Really happy.”

“Don’t think about that; think about what they’ve done, and what they plan to do. Think about how this will effect humanity.” Donnie reminds him.

Jack silently nods, a gesture that does nothing to ease Donnie’s worries. Returning to the elevator, Jack makes his way down, following Donnie’s instructions until he returns to the ground floor. Pushing open the formerly locked door, Jack nearly runs into the same employee from before.

“Woah! Careful, mister!” The man exclaims.

“Sorry.”

“So, where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The power drain.”

“Oh! I, uh, took some readings. I’ll have to run it past my supervisors and see what their thoughts are. I couldn’t exactly pin it down.” Jack promptly lies.

“Okay... Well... In the future, please contact us and we can assist you.”

“Sure.”

Hastily leaving the high-end apartment complex, Jack walks through the parking garage, where he returns to the van where Donnie waits. Climbing into the back, Jack breathes a sigh of relief.

“Man, that’s a rush!” He says with a heavy sigh.

“In a good way?” Donnie raises a brow.

“... I don’t know.” Jack replies, his head tilted back as he stares at the ceiling.

“Well, you can relax now.” Donnie begins, climbing into the front of the van. “We have everything we need to... I don’t believe it.”

Jack lifts his head, furling his brow as he watches Donnie peering through the passenger side window. Leaning past Donnie, Jack watches as a brand-new BMW in metallic blue parks only a few spaces away. He retrieves the clipboard and looks for details on their targets. Perhaps he can verify what car they drive? Before he can find the information, however, the proof of their identity is given by the targets themselves. The pair watch in amazement as Kyle and Carol Burnheart climb out of the car, only for Carol to open the back door and let little Harriet out.

The six-year-old child holds her mother’s hand and follows along as Kyle carries their second daughter, Madison, the child he’d fathered with Carol, in his arms. The happy family returns to their penthouse, where they’ve resided for the past year. Donnie shoves Jack aside, racing into the back of the van. He sits at the computer chair and begins to type, remotely accessing the bugs they’d left in the Burnheart’s penthouse.

Jack sits on the wheel well, watching the screens with eager anticipation. It’s like going to the movies and waiting through the previews, though this will be better than any film. After a few minutes of waiting, the Burnhearts and their children step into view.

“Well, that was a good interview!” Carol chirps, motioning for Kyle to pass her little Madison.

“Yeah. Harriet’s getting better with the cameras.”

Little Harriet nods, her tall ears swaying.

“Still, it’d be better if she could talk to people herself.” Carol remarks.

“I know. I’ve been looking over their research though.”

Picking Harriet up and swinging her, the child giggles as her father gently tosses her onto the couch. She rises to her paw-like feet and jumps up and down on the cushions several times before plopping down onto her butt, picking up the remote control and turning on the TV. Kyle pets her head as she changes the channel, putting on old cartoons. Madison reaches out a hand and repeatedly coils her fingers.

“Ha-we-et!” She squeaks.

Looking over to her mother and little sister, Harriet slides off of the couch and bounds over to the pair. Carol, with the widest of smiles on her face, watches as Harriet lovingly cradles Madison in her arms, carrying her sister very carefully back to the couch, where the pair snuggle together as they watch reruns of Wacky Races.

“Darn it, if they aren’t the cutest little things!” Carol gushes.

“Yeah. We’re very lucky.”

Carol steps up to Kyle, who slips his arms around his wife and kisses her. Jack glances over to Donnie, curious as to how the orphan is handling the sight of the obviously happy family. As he suspected, Donnie subtly shakes his head and sneers.

“So, did the research tell you anything?” Carol asks.

Kyle rests his hand on the small of her back and leads her away, taking her into the kitchen area, which has an excellent view of their living room, allowing the parents to keep an eye on their children. He leans against a counter and crosses his arms.

“Something about her brain seems underdeveloped.” He speaks in a soft voice, as if worried that Harriet will overhear him. “Her brain scans kind of remind me of that famous case. Do you remember that girl, Genie?”

“Not really.”

“Well, when I was a kid, they found this girl. She was locked away by her psycho father for years. When she was found, she was feral. Her isolation made her developmentally disabled, and she seemed to have real brain damage as a result of the lack of mental stimulation and social interaction. Though they tried, and did all kinds of studies on her, she never learned language.”

“But Harriet’s not like that.”

“I know. A lot of those feral kids can learn how to do things. Use tools, work simple electronics, maybe even drive cars, but they don’t have the capacity for speech. Harriet’s brain is developing in every area except that, which is why she’s mute but still has a voice box. You know all those little noises she likes to make.”

“Yeah.” Carol grins. “She’s made of pure cute-onium.”

“Heh. Well, I was just saying that her scans remind me of those cases.”

“So, you don’t think she’ll ever be able to talk?” A worried Carol glances over to Harriet, who watches TV on the couch with her sister.

“I didn’t say that. Jose declassified some documents for me. It turns out White Base was doing research on that. Using someone called ‘Donor #0001’, they tried to replicate the state of the AdvAnimal’s brains. The operation appeared to be successful, but the studies stopped a few days later, for some reason. He’s hopeful that, in time, they’ll be able to figure out how to fix whatever is causing the damage, at least enough for them to comprehend writing and maybe say simple sentences.”

“Well, our little Button certainly understands everything we say.” Carol murmurs. “When was her next scan scheduled?”

“Tomorrow morning. Jose asked to do a follow-up. He’s surprisingly good with her, considering how he was when she was still growing in the tank.”

Donnie suddenly jumps up from the chair and moves across the van, where he begins digging through drawers full of equipment.

“Where is it? Where is it? A-hah! Here we go!”

Taking out a GPS tracker, Donnie prepares the device. He opens the side door and leaps out of the van, eager to hide the device on Kyle’s car. Meanwhile, Jack sits in the chair, watching the screens. By now, Kyle has returned to the couch, with Carol joining him. The parents sit with their children tucked in the middle. Harriet cuddles up to Kyle, while he holds little Madison. Carol strokes Harriet’s ears, an arm outstretched along the backrest and her head tilted to one side, resting on Kyle’s shoulder. The family sits and watches cartoons without a care in the world.

Jack scratches his full beard, seeing how much they seem to enjoy the strange creature’s presence. Perhaps it was their long exposure to her or the fact that they made her? Whatever the reason, the Burnhearts seem to genuinely love Harriet, treating her as if she was truly their daughter. It’s startlingly heartwarming, and Jack is forced to remind himself why they’re doing this. Climbing back into the van, Donnie closes and locks the door.

“Change of plans. We’re going to stick around until he gets to this ‘White Base’.” Donnie begins.

“And then what?”

“Then, maybe, you do your secret agent thing.” Donnie smirks.

Part 2

Once they reach their cheap motel room, on the outskirts of town, Jack and Donnie contact the other Horsemen, though only through an encrypted message board. The only thing they send is the date they expect to return, and a message saying ‘OK’. Returning to the high-end apartment complex the next day, they park the van and wait in the back, watching through their cameras as the family says a very loving goodbye to each other. Kyle soon drives away, with Harriet sitting in the back seat of his car, the top of her head and her tall ears poking just over the bottom of the window.

“Can we see where he’s going in real time?” Jack asks, checking through his small collection of disguises.

“No. We have to wait for him to get back, then we can pull the tracker and scan the data.” Donnie replies, typing away on his computer.

“I really hope they don’t search his car and find it. They’ll probably sweep his place if they do, and then who knows what’s going to happen to his wife and kids.” Jack remarks.

Donnie turns his head and glares at Jack.

“You mean the mad scientists, their child and the lab-grown monster?” Donnie snaps.

“I meant what I said, man.”

“Are you fucking serious?!” Donnie’s eyes grow wide.

“Look, man, I know what happened to your parents, but do you really think he’s the guy who did it?! I mean, we saw them yesterday, and five minutes ago. If anything, he’s just some overly enthusiastic pawn, and those men in the dark suits you saw, they’re the bad guys.”

“And who do you think he works for, huh?!” Donnie snaps.

“I’m just saying, I would focus my anger if I were you... She didn’t ask to be born, you know.” Jack replies.

“You’re starting to sound like an Inclusionist.”

“And you’re starting to sound like a Puritan. You didn’t hide any bombs in here, did you?” Jack retorts.

Donnie snickers and shakes his head, though out of frustration and not as an answer to Jack’s remark. Returning his attention to the computers, Donnie ignores Jack, who takes a seat in the front and quietly listens to the radio. Neither feels like talking anymore. All they can do now is wait.

“It’s good to see you, again!”

“It’s good to see you, too, Dr. Chavez.”

The two men briefly embrace, as they’re quite pleased to see each other again.

“Please, just ‘Jose’.”

“You aren’t worried about seeming unprofessional?” Kyle raises a brow.

“Pfft! Do you see me in a black suit?! No! Us white-coats are allowed to have souls.” Jose smirks. “And how’s the little angel doing?”

“Eee!” Harriet jumps up, holding out her hands and making a familiar demand.

“Are you doing well, little one?” Has asks, picking her up.

“Uh-huh!” She nods.

“Well, that’s good to hear. Now, we have to do a few tests, but-”

“Rrrmm...” She shies away.

“They won’t be scary. I swear!”

Harriet flashes a nervous smile and nods her head in acknowledgment. Taking her to a lab in the above-ground complex, Dr. Chavez entrusts Harriet and Kyle to his lab staff. Having hand-picked them for this task, he chose only those whom he believed would be gentle, patient and accommodating. Making his way back to his office, he pauses as he passes the lounge area. Inside, Agent Sharpe stands with his back toward the archway, facing a row of windows and gazing outside.

Stepping inside, Dr. Chavez contemplates calling out to the Agent, his Chief of Security, but before he can decide whether or not to do so, his footfalls alert the Agent to his presence. He turns and looks over his shoulder, and Dr. Chavez stops dead in his tracks. Agent Sharpe holds something in his hands. It’s a wallet sized photograph of Amy Chen, weathered and wrinkled from years in his pocket. Looking down at the photograph, which has attracted the doctor’s attention, Agent Sharpe promptly returns it to his wallet, before slipping his wallet into a pocket of his suit-jacket.

“May I help you, Dr. Chavez?” He asks in his eerie monotone.

“No... May I ask what you were doing?”

Agent Sharpe turns away and continues to stare into the Georgia forest, which lies just beyond the reinforced fence that surrounds the compound.

“I was just... Thinking.” The Agent speaks, a hint of emotion in his voice.

“Oh... I didn’t know you were close to her.” Dr. Chavez remarks.

Agent Sharpe turns his head, though he doesn’t look back at the doctor, nor does he answer him in words. The guilt that’s long-since tormented the doctor grows stronger with every passing second.

“Were you? Close, I mean.” He asks.

“I just... I miss working with her.” Agent Sharpe says, struggling to maintain his cold and emotionless persona.

“... I’m sorry.” Dr. Chavez mutters.

“What was that?” Agent Sharpe slowly turns back.

Dr. Chavez gulps, his hands trembling as he stares at the perplexed Agent. For years he’s wanted to release his guilt, to reveal the truth to someone. Perhaps Agent Sharpe is the only person who could keep the secret? Perhaps he’ll turn him in and Dr. Chavez would find himself with a ‘Donor’ tattoo on his chest? Perhaps the guilt-ridden man no longer cares? The only thing he knows for certain is that his only joy in life, now, is seeing how well Kyle and Carol are doing, and how happy they seem to be with that creature they’ve claimed as their daughter.

“I’m sorry.” He speaks louder.

“For what?” Agent Sharpe raises a brow.

“For... ... I didn’t think they’d blame her. I didn’t know that would happen.”

“You mean... You’re...”

Agent Sharpe can feel the rage building.

“I’m sorry. If I could take it back... I just want you to know that-”

Agent Sharpe loses control. Reaching up a hand, he yanks his mirrored sunglasses from his face, his eyes wild with rage, a seething anger building, unlike anything he’s ever known before. Dropping his glasses onto the floor, he storms up to the quivering doctor, who turns away and takes a few steps back, inadvertently pushing himself against the wall. Before the doctor knows what’s happening, Agent Sharpe has grabbed him by the collar and yanks, before slamming him into the wall with considerable force.

“I should kill you right here, you son of a bitch!” Agent Sharpe yells. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through because of you?!”

“I-I’m sorry!”

“You damn well better be...”

His hands shiver with anger as the fuming Agent grabs Dr. Chavez by the throat. It takes all of his strength to keep himself from squeezing the life out of the trembling doctor, who begins to weep like a little child.

“I didn’t know! I’m sorry!” Dr. Chavez begs.

Looking upon the man who’d caused him so much pain, Agent Sharpe is aghast at a simple fact; this is the man in charge of White Base. Dr. Chavez, the quivering, crying coward that he is, unable to find the strength to own up to his own mistakes, is more important to Sovereign Six than Agent Sharpe will ever be, and though he thoroughly deserves to die for what happened to Amy, Agent Sharpe is powerless to take revenge. He slowly removes his hands from around Dr. Chavez’s throat and takes a step back. Covering his face as he weeps, Agent Sharpe watches the pitiful man crumbling. How long has he been wracked by guilt? Is this why he often stinks of alcohol?

“Amy was a wonderful woman, and she didn’t deserve to die. I would love to kill you for what you did. To carve you up and use you as a test subject for the next six years, before finally burning whatever’s left of you alive... But they need you. Sovereign Six needs you, doctor.” Agent Sharpe returns to his fallen sunglasses, picking them up off of the floor and checking them for damage. “Since I can’t kill you, I hope the rest of your life remains bleak and miserable...”

Agent Sharpe slips on his sunglasses and then storms out of the room. As he passes Dr. Chavez, he slams the terrified and sorrowful doctor back against the wall with his shoulder. Overcome by guilt, Dr. Chavez slowly slides along the wall, sitting upon the floor, his head in his hands as he quietly weeps. Once he finally regains his composure, he returns to the lab where little Harriet sits atop a table, swaying her feet and smiling at the nurse, who gives her a lollipop. Picking up his daughter, Kyle thanks the kindly staff before saying goodbye to Dr. Chavez and returning to his car.

“Ready to go home?”

“Mhm!” Harriet nods.

“Me too.”

As they reach the car, little Harriet pulls away from her father and runs toward the passenger side. She grabs the door handle and pulls, though the car is still locked.

“Oh, you want to ride up front?” He asks, unlocking the car and opening the door for her.

Harriet nods her head.

“Okay. I'll let you pick what’s on the radio, this time.” He says with a smile.

“Eee!” She bounces with joy.

As they drive past the guard gate and down the long, lonesome road, Harriet presses buttons and turns the knobs. She hears several songs, but passes each one. She seems to become increasingly dissatisfied.

“Next up, by special request, we have ‘In The Dragon’s Den’ by Symphony X!” The DJ’s voice chirps.

“Symphony X? Is that classical?!” Kyle perks up.

He turns up the radio, only to be blasted back in the seat by the rapid drum intro. Harriet stares with wide eyes, her jaw dropping as she listens to the heavy metal song.

“That’s definitely not classical!” He remarks.

After a moment, a smile spreads across her face and her head bobs from side to side, matching the up-tempo beat of the hi-hat.

"Oh, you like that, huh?"

Harriet looks to him and nods her head. She then abruptly leans over and reaches for the radio, grabbing the knob and cranking up the volume so loud that it startles Kyle and causes him physical pain.

"Ahh!" He yelps as he reaches out to turn it down.

"Rrrr!" She growls, swatting furiously at his hand.

"Hey, no hitting, and not so loud!" He says, turning down the volume in spite of her assault. "Do you want to damage your hearing?!"

Crossing her spindly arms before her chest, she turns her head away.

"Hmph!" She pouts, her typically perky ears slowly drooping.

He watches her for a moment as she stares in anger at the passing trees. Eventually, he sighs and prepares himself.

"Oh, alright... How’s this?"

He turns up the volume until it’s just bearable for him.

"Eee!" She gleefully exclaims.

She sits with her eyes closed, her head swaying from side to side as she loses herself in the song.

"You’re welcome." He says with a little smile.

Returning to their apartment, Kyle and Harriet make their way to the penthouse. Donnie and Jack, who’ve been waiting for them for hours, wait and watch.

“Look who’s back!” Carol chirps, as her husband and daughter step out of the elevator. “Did it go well?”

“Mhm! And you’ll never guess what I learned about our little Button.” Kyle remarks, before giving his wife a kiss.

“Alright. Let’s go get that tracker.” Donnie says as he rises out of his chair.

“You aren’t curious about what he has to say?!” An astonished Jack asks.

“Nope!” Donnie promptly jumps out of the van.

Jack turns back, watching the screen for a moment.

“You’re kidding! Heavy metal?! I never would’ve guessed that.” Carol exclaims.

“She nearly blew out my eardrums on the ride home, but she looked like she was in Heaven.” Kyle chuckles.

“Oh, that’s awesome.” Jack cannot help but grin.

After a few moments of waiting, Donnie returns, climbing back into the van with a GPS tracker in his hand. Ushering Jack out aside, Donnie takes a seat in his chair and begins to type away on the keyboard. Within moments, they find themselves look at the coordinates of ‘White Base’. Comparing them to publicly available satellite images, they’re unsurprised to find absolutely nothing.

“Looks like a whole lot of woods. How big do you think the base is?” Jack asks.

“Big enough...”

“We should probably call the guys.”

Climbing into the driver’s seat, Jack drives the van away from the up-scale apartment building, while Donnie digs through equipment in the back. Collecting a few devices, he soon joins Jack in the front of the van. Parking in a lot with little purpose and few businesses nearby, Donnie rolls down the window. Taking out a small, parabolic dish, he reaches out and sticks it to the roof, the magnetic base thumping on the metal. After plugging a cable running from the dish into his satellite phone, and another cable from the phone and into a conference box housing a combination of microphone and speaker, he dials a number. They sit through only one ring before someone answers.

“Challenge. Robin.”

“Sinai.” Donnie replies, signifying through code that they're not under duress.

“Jesus, Donnie, what the hell? Why are you using a sat phone?!” Louis gasps.

“We have big news and it couldn’t wait. At least it’s a bit more secure than a cellular.” Donnie replies.

“We really need to debrief you.” Donnie continues.

“Alright. Hold on. Connor and Marty are both here. You can bring us all up to speed.”

After waiting for only a few moments, Louis returns with a talkative Connor and a curious Martin. Jack and Donnie waste no time, hastily apprising them of every detail over their past few days of work. The trio are immediately intrigued by the successful planting of multiple spying devices inside the Burnheart’s penthouse, the data of which has been remotely recorded to the hard drive in the van’s computer. However, they fall silent when Donnie mentions ‘White Base’.

“Whatever it is, it’s got to be big, because they edited it out of satellite images, like Area 51.” Jack remarks.

“Is that something you’ve heard about?” Donnie asks.

“We’ve heard a few things.” Louis begins, even more worry in the chronically nervous man’s voice. “Our last few hacks, we found a reference to it. Some kind of big research base.”

“Should we check it out?” Jack asks.

“What?!” Louis gasps.

“Are you crazy?! We tried to get data on that place but they’ve stepped up their security measures; we can’t find anything more than the name!” Connor exclaims.

“We don’t have enough intel. Come back with what you have and let us work our magic.” Louis continues.

“Oh, come on! We're right here! According to our data, we can be there in a couple of hours!” Donnie growls.

“Don’t be stupid. All you have is an address. Let us work on it and maybe we can get you more. What do you think you’re going to do if you go there? Knock and ask for a grand tour?” Connor retorts.

“Listen to my little man, guys.” Martin jumps in. “Caution is paramount in a situation like this. You don’t want to overplay your hand. That’s a good way to lose. You always need a leg up on your opponent, and right now, you ain’t got it!”

“Is this a business call, Marty?” Jack quips.

“Business or taking down a sinister shadow government; these strategies are good for everything.” Martin replies, a familiar level of snark in his voice.

“All we want to do is take a look.” Donnie remarks.

“It sounds like all you want to do is drive up to a base that’s probably guarded by military personnel and get shot or arrested. I love you guys, so don’t make me bail you out of prison or send me shopping for headstones. Can you do that, please? Get home. We’ll talk about this later.” Martin replies.

Noticing the time, Jack starts the van. They’ve been sitting in one spot for too long, having a potentially unsecured call.

“Look, we gotta go.” Jack pulls down on the shifter.

“Are you getting back?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll do that.” Donnie says before hanging up the phone.

He reaches outside and collects the parabolic dish, then returns all of the equipment to the back of the van. Jack pulls away, driving aimlessly down the street. Donnie climbs into the passenger seat and glances toward Jack.

“So... Want to go check it out?”

Jack smirks and chuckles softly, shaking his head from amusement. Following the coordinates acquired through the tracking device, Jack drives them far into the countryside. It’s a surprisingly long drive, nearly two hours in one direction. After scouting the area, they realize that there’s only one road into White Base.

“Alright... What disguise do you want to wear?” Donnie asks, turning to Jack.

“... What?” Jack’s eyes widen in surprise.

“What disguise? Electrician or maybe a soldier?”

“I get that you’re eager, but if this place is anything like we think it is, do you really think we can get a windowless surveillance van through the front gate?!” Jack asks.

“We have a bullshit logo on it.”

“Yeah, and one-hundred-thousand-dollars’ worth of equipment, too! I’m pretty sure a military base won’t call city electricians.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

Walking through the desolate parking lot, a lone diner tucked in the back corner, Donnie approaches a late model Honda Accord. With a shaved key in-hand, and a folding Slim Jim as a backup, Donnie approaches the driver’s side door, inserts and shakes the key, then gives it a gentle turn. The door unlocks, and without an alarm to alert anyone, Donnie inserts the shaved key, gives it a little smack and starts the car.

“I love foreign cars.” He quips, buckling his seat belt and shifting into first gear.

Pulling into another vacant lot, about a minute’s drive away from the diner, Jack jumps out and uses the amber glow of a flickering street light to quickly cover the original license plate with a false one.

“Do you really need to do that? We’re just borrowing it.” Donnie remarks.

“I’m not going to let some innocent person get hurt because of something we did, alright? A fake plate will make it easy to believe that it was stolen. That’ll take the heat off of whoever owns it... I hope.”

With the fake plate installed, Jack climbs back into the van and changes clothes, emerging a few minutes later as a lab technician, complete with a badge, albeit a printed clone. They found the base template months ago, during a hack of NSA files. Hopefully, it’ll be good enough.

Changing places, Donnie climbs into the van and collects whatever gear they might need, including the wireless set they’d used at the apartment complex. With Donnie driving the van and Jack in the stolen car, they hide the van near the lonely road to White Base, before riding together to the facility in the stolen Honda. Jack drives slowly, the headlights turned off as they keep an eye out for anything that looks even vaguely like a man-made structure. After nearly a mile, Jack turns a corner, only to quickly stop.

A guard shack sits a distance in front of them. Thankfully, the guard is looking away, his head tilted forward as if he’s reading a magazine. Shifting into reverse and backing around the corner, Donnie collects his gear and jumps out, slipping the backpack over his shoulders.

“Hurry up in there. Just scope it out, okay? In and out.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Jack replies, his fingers nervously tapping on the steering wheel.

With Donnie out of the car, Jack turns on the headlights and drives up to the guard shack. The guard immediately notices the headlights and steps up to the window of the sliding door of his kiosk.

“Good evening, sir. Coming in kind of late, aren’t you?”

“Well, I had a previous appointment. Sort of a half-day kind of thing.” Jack replies.

“Lucky you.” The soldier holds out his hand. “... Badge?”

“Oh, right! Sorry. My mind's someplace else.” Jack hands over the false badge.

“Not a good place for that to be happening, sir.”

The soldier scans the badge only for nothing to happen.

“Huh... That’s weird.” He swipes the badge again. “There’s something wrong with your badge. I’m not getting anything.”

The soldier glances at the badge, which looks official enough.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Klein, but I can’t open the gate. I’m going to need to call a supervisor.”

“Damn it! I’m needed on a big project and I’m late enough as it is!” Jack grumbles as convincingly as he can.

“I’m sorry, sir, but rules are rules.” The soldier tries to hand him back his badge.

“I know the rules. I’ve worked here long enough.” Jack snatches the badge.

“Then you know not to give me a hard time for doing my job. Just wait right there. I’ll call, and we’ll see what my supervisor can do.”

“Look, you seem like a good guy. You know what we do here, don’t you?”

“I’ve heard stories, sir. They transfer us out pretty regularly.”

“Yeah, well, if you delay me, an important test will be delayed as well. I know there are rules, but you saw my badge. I don’t want to jam you up and more than you want to jam me up, but if I’m not there and they have to reschedule, I’ll have to tell them why I was late...” Jack quickly lies.

Seeing the fear in the soldier’s face, Jack leans closer to the window.

“Why give yourself the trouble? Please... Open the gate.”

Scratching his brow with his thumbnail, the soldier glances toward the button. He sighs and presses it with his palm, then waves the car through. Thanking him, Jack drives casually through the front gate.

“That was good!” Donnie chirps.

“This better be worth it, because I damn near pissed my pants.” Jack replies.

“Just keep your cool and see what you can see. After that little incident, I don’t think he’ll give you any crap on the way out.”

“I told him I was doing a test! If I leave in five minutes-”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it!” Donnie retorts before Jack can finish.

“... Or jump off of it...” Jack grumbles.

Jack follows the road for a short distance, only to approach a wondrous sight. A large building sits in a central location, with what he would guess is about five hundred meters of neatly trimmed yard surrounding it. An equally large parking lot is filled with cars, as well as some military vehicles and construction machinery. Near the east wing of the compound is a massive storage shed, similar to a pole barn in size but shaped like a Quonset hut. Several trailers have over a dozen soldiers standing guard and patrolling the area. Jack gulps at the sheer size of it. He isn’t even capable of answering Donnie, who asks for every last detail about the compound.

Parking the car in an area designated for lab staff, Jack climbs out and straightens his tie. Doing his best to look like he belongs, he climbs the stairs, passing several soldiers who nod their heads and greet him as ‘sir’ before finally reaching the double doors. Upon opening the doors, he finds himself in a lobby, and to his right is another guard booth. The security officer, who is dressed in business casual, motions for him to approach the bullet resistant window.

“New face, huh? Well, slip me your badge and I’ll swipe it.”

Taking off his badge, the nearly petrified Jack obeys the officer without a second thought. Taking Jack’s fake badge, the officer tries to swipe it through a card reader, only for it to fail. A second try sees identical results. It’s all he can do to keep from trembling as the officer flips the badge over and checks the barcode. Taking up a handheld scanner, similar to those used in a supermarket, the badge finally scans. The officer’s brow rises in surprise, his eyes slowly turning away from his computer screen and toward Jack.

“This badge... It’s no good.” He speaks in a stern voice.

“Ah-are you sure?!” Jack struggles to maintain his composure.

“Oh, yeah! Would you like to tell me why?” The security officer turns to him.

“Oh, well, uhm...”

“Because this came up as a template badge... As in, no information was ever on it.”

“Shit...” Donnie murmurs in his ear.

“What?! That's impossible! I just transferred in!” Jack finally finds his most dominant voice.

“Are you sure about that?” The officer narrows his eyes.

“Hell yes, I’m sure! I just transferred in, and they gave me a new badge! Wait...”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, my God!” Jack smacks a palm against his forehead. “I might have mistakenly grabbed the wrong one! That might be the old badge, and you know how they delete the data.”

“...”

“Force of habit. That was my fault. Let me go check my car and I’ll get the right one.”

“Hurry back...” The security guard sternly instructs.

“I will! Be right back!” Jack says as he walks as calmly as he can toward the front door.

Reaching the steps, he makes his way back to the car, with a nervous Donnie urging him to return to the gate.

“What about that fucking guard?” Jack quietly asks.

“I’ll help you with him. Just get back here.”

Looking through a window in his booth, the security officer watches Jack as he disappears near the far end of the parking lot. He glances at his computer screen before picking up the phone and pressing a button.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Pvt. Simmons. Did you wave a guy through?”

“Oh, uh... Yeah. His badge looked real and-”

“Yeah, I know. It failed to scan here, too. Listen, what did he say he was up here for?”

“Some important test.” The gate guard replies.

“Did he say he was a new transfer?”

“No. He said he’s worked here for a while.”

The officer slams down the phone and races to large, red button mounted on the wall. He flips the protective plastic cover and slams his palm against the button. Shifting the car into first gear, Jack hears the alarm sounding. He pops the clutch and shoves the accelerator down to the floor. He's in third gear before he reaches the gate, while soldiers begin to mobilize behind him.

“Get out of the car!” Pvt. Simmons shouts.

He darts out of the rear of the kiosk, which is behind the gate. Pointing his M4 rifle at Jack's head, he flips off the safety.

“I’m not playing with you, mother fucker!”

Jack struggles with his thoughts, contemplating everything from obeying the soldier to running him over and taking his chances. As he tries to figure out what to do, he can see a figure emerging from the darkness. With a ski mask on and black, leather gloves covering his hands, Donnie slides open the kiosk door and presses the button to open the gate. The soldier turns, looking over his shoulder.

“What the fuck?!”

Jack shifts into first gear and pops the clutch, the tires squealing as he rams into the distracted guard. His rifles flies out of his hands and he falls to the ground, rolling over the hood. Donnie races up to the groaning soldier and takes aim, holding his cherish Beretta 81BB. Bang! A thirty-two caliber bullet rips through the soldier’s skull. Jack jumps in the seat and Donnie stands in shock and horror. The gate is nearly open. Hearing the commotion behind them, Jack finally snaps out of it.

“Get in, damn it!” He shouts.

Donnie turns to him and nods. Stepping over the soldier’s dead body, Donnie pulls open the door and jumps in. Before he can pull the door closed, Jack has already taken off, speeding down the mile-long road as fast as he can.

“If they have guards waiting for us down there, we’re fucking fucked.” Jack growls.

“We're going to be okay, alright?”

“The hell we are! You had to shoot that guy!” Jack roars. “I’m not doing this shit again, not without proper intel. This was so fucking stupid... If you want to commit suicide, that's on you. I’m not walking into anything labeled ‘base’ again.”

“Alright.” Donnie murmurs. “Next time, I’ll do it.”

Reaching the end of the road, and without any troops or police in sight, Jack and Donnie hastily wipe down the doors and steering wheel for fingerprints before climbing into the van and taking off. A half-mile down the road, they pass a line of no less than a dozen police cars, some of them without any identifying marks beyond their flashing lights. They pay no attention to the electrician’s van that drives casually in the opposite direction. Jack glances over to Donnie, his arms visibly shaking as he grips tightly to the steering wheel. Donnie and Jack lock eyes, both of them amazed and grateful. They know how close they came to being caught. Hopefully, their future operations won’t be so poorly executed...