Archived Hiatus

[Chief]

(A joint post with Chief Weller, Deric Storm, Cali Corranos, Sophie Conrad, and Nevon Blair. The Brazil team takes off at the end of this post, and our next post should be en route.)




9:30 a.m., ACME Hangar #4

Chief Weller awaited his agents at one of the hangar's side rooms. Having been through so many plane rides, the lot of them leaving through this very airfield, Everard Weller was never so anxious.

As a young man, he took to hunting at an early age. When his family took vacations, they often went out to fields in New England. The boys would watch their fathers gather rifles, hawks, or hounds, depending on the occasion; and the girls would prepare for the day. The 60s in that area was a time ripe for change, and when young Everard wanted change, he traveled the world. After his third water buffalo kill in Kenya, he decided that he wasn't very interested in hunting. Quite by chance, a team of people he met in Africa offered him a job with a very new agency. It was a promise to change the world for good, and Weller took it, becoming ACME's first field researcher at the age of twenty-seven.

That was an amount of time ago.




9:40 am, ACME Hangar #4

Deric pulled up to the hangar. Parked off to the side were a scooter and a motorcycle. He knew the motorcycle was Cali’s, so that left the other one unaccounted for. The scooter didn’t scream ‘Chief of a Multi-national Detective Agency,’ so Deric assumed it belonged to one of the other two members of the team. ‘Good,’ Deric thought, ‘he decided to come.’ Turning off his truck, Deric grabbed his bag and entered the hangar where he found Calina conversing with Nevon Blair.

“What a disreputable lot we have here,” Deric spoke loudly, getting the group’s attention.

Nevon tucked his shirt in this morning so he’d look more professional. It wasn’t everyday a rookie got a call from on high to join an international case among the detectives. And with Cali Corranos from the bomb squad too. She used to scare the heck out of Nev when he was taking introductions to chemistry and had to do lab work. Right now, she doesn’t seem any less scary, and with Nevon’s instincts to freeze up when talking to girls, most of the conversation was sign language.

When he heard Deric come in, Nev was still in that mindset, so he waved but didn’t say anything.

After not getting much word from Nevon, Cali was glad to see Deric. She greeted him with a hug. Deric returned the hug.

“Long time no see, stranger,” he joked. Looking at the younger agent with them, he said, “So glad you could join us, Mr. Blair.”




9:50 am, ACME Hangar #4

It had taken Sophie Conrad all of seventeen minutes to ensure that her car was safely parked and that the medical kit on its passenger seat was deposited into the cabin of the Gulfstream G550 that stood ready outside the hanger.

As she knew no details of the commission to retrieve Hailey Weller, apart from that which she had received two hours earlier, she was hardly surprised to step into the private hanger and see three persons gathered in it. One she recognised as Deric Storm (which confirmed the probable identities of his company as ACME employees), the other two she could not name.

Deric’s ears perked up when he heard the door open. He saw a young, red-haired woman walk into the hangar. He assumed this was the final member of the team, Dr. Sophie Conrad. He waved the doctor over to them.

“Hey,” Deric said to her, “what’s up, Doc?” Seeing the other two team members look in the same direction he was, Deric felt an introduction was in order. Quickly crossing the distance, Deric put his arm around the doctor’s shoulders and led her over to the rest of the group.

Sophie silently allowed herself to be brought alongside Deric, carefully keeping an amiable smile on her face, only stepping away from his hold the moment they had stopped walking.

“Guys,” Deric gestured to the new arrival, “this is Dr. Conrad from ACME Medical. She’s going to be coming with us to Brazil to make sure Hailey is alright before we bring her back to the States.” Gesturing towards the young man, “Dr. Conrad, this is Nevon Blair,” and he gestured to Cali, “and this is Calina Corranos.”

“Thank you, Mr. Storm,” Sophie nodded, then turning to the two that the sanguine detective had introduced for quick greetings to be exchanged...
*

Everyone but Chief was here, and Cali could see the technicians who are working on the plane were done with their work.

“It looks like they are ready to load our luggage,” she said, “should we wait for Chief inside?”

“I like to keep my stuff where I can see it, Cali,” Deric patted the bag containing his tactical gear and pistols. “Besides, I don’t think we’re gonna be on the ground long enough to clear Customs. All we need’s the Chief and we’re ready to fly.”

When the hangar attendants came in to report that plane was ready, Chief Weller was talking to the pilot. The plan had been to land as close to the commercial runways as possible and get cooperation from the authorities in detecting Hailey’s plane.

As Chief left the hangar’s side room, he saw that Deric had contacted a medic to come along as well, which was a good precaution.

“Hello all,” Dr. Weller greeted, “good to see everyone is on time. This mission, as we all know, is to meet VILE on friendly terms and receive my granddaughter, Hailey Weller, at Guarulhos International Airport in São Paulo, Brazil. Calina Corranos, with her Portuguese, will be leading this case as supervisor, but the lead detective will be Deric Storm because Cali does not have agent status. I am expecting the best from all of you for this very important mission. Hopefully, we will land, find Hailey, and bring her home without an incident.

Before we board the plane, are there any questions?”

“Yeah, one,” Deric interjected, “who’s getting there first? I don’t like the idea of walking into a potential ambush.”

“The airplane will land in public place?” Cali asked, “and how can we sure that we see them?”

“I regret to say that we have little to go on right now,” Dr. Weller admitted, “the only instructions VILE gave was that Hailey will be there at 1900 hours, local time. We’ll have to make the best of it.”

Nevon mostly watched, he was happy to be here, first of all, and he knew he was the only rookie, he had to be on his best behavior.

Deric frowned as he went over the layout of Guarulhos Airport for a third time. The place was a logistical nightmare. Very crowded, VERY public... plus, they didn’t even know what kind of plane Hailey was going to be on. He let out a small frustrated growl as his cell phone went off. He saw it was a message from Devineaux:

Hailey’s plane: Russian cargo Antonov An-124, heading towards Guarulhos. Change of plans, won’t let it land in São Paulo, escorting to a military strip 25 clicks northeast. See map. Wait for it there.

Chief Weller saw the same message on his communicator and looked to Deric when he was done reading. “It seems our Field Director has a change of plans. I will brief the pilot on the military airport,” he reached into his coat and pulled out a pocket watch, “Shall we board the plane?”

Deric nodded as he stood up. Grabbing his duffel, he said, “Shiny, let’s be good guys.”

It was sensible that Chief Weller, Hailey Weller’s grandfather, would travel with the team commissioned to retrieve her. A familiar face – and he was quite the most qualified familiar face – was always helpful in calming children, and Sophie perceived his concern enough to ignore her surprise at his appearance. She watched the three men and one woman before her in turn and paid attention to what they said and what they did not; and she considered, too, the message from the Field Director. In her hands, her ACME communicator began to search for and download relevant material related to Calina Corranos and Nevon Blair from the ACME Medical database – information she did not yet possess; and when it was decided that it was appropriate to board the aircraft awaiting them, Sophie turned to give the shy and equally silent Nevon Blair a quick smile before walking off towards the Gulfstream.

With everyone on their way to the plane, Cali picked up her backpack and nudged Deric from the back by putting her hands on his shoulders. “Shiny?” she laughed, “Yes, very.”

Deric couldn’t help but grin sheepishly. “Sorry, had a ‘Firefly’ moment. Couldn’t resist.”

 

[Nevon]

Later... in the plane

Planes weren't among Nevon's favorite things to sit in. Keeping his seat in the upright position and looking out the window, he watched clouds pass by. In his ears were buds connected to his iPod playing some Bruno Mars and some Bob Marley.

Without the C-5, travel was going to be this tiring all the time, and Nevon wasn't sure he could get used to it. Maybe he shouldn't have transferred from ACME Seattle's accounting position to take on fieldwork in San Francisco. But when he saw commanding agents and what they could do in those boots, he wanted to do the same. ACME was the family he wanted to be in, and he wasn't going to give it up for a few more hours of air travel. But.... if there was ever such thing as getting plane sick, Nev was feeling it.

 

[Joe Kerr]

Location: San Francisco, California (yes you read right )



Joe and VILE Bot stood in the shadows observing a private parking garage. It wasn't just any parking garage however, it held a very special car; the same car the pair had come to swipe. How did Joe even know about the place? Well let's just say that you'd be surprised what you can learn on certain chat-rooms in the internet.

Joe eyed the building with a mix of caution and glee. He may dress like a fool every now and then but he certainly wasn't one. Joe had had VILE Bot scan the structure and found there to be approximately 10 guards in the place, most of them on the ground floor with a couple of them patrolling the second and third stories. The guards were mainly unarmed (except for some Tazers, how shocking!) and would prove no big deal. It was the security system that bothered Joe. The car lift required a security pass and voice check to access. This would prove tricky as Joe did not plan on forcing any of the guards to cooperate or harming them (much). Luckily, Joe had come up with an ingenious solution.

"You know the plan. Go and make our special delivery. I'll wait here with Allie. We'll join you when the 'smoke' clears."
Joe instructed VILE Bot. As VILE Bot made his way to the structure, Joe looked down at the cage at his feet and reached in to give Allie a reassuring pat. "You'll be fine Allie. I'm sure Chase will love you, not as much as I'll enjoy His cayman though. Hyuk hyuk."

VILE Bot entered the ground floor of the parking garage and as Joe correctly predicted, all the guards in the building came out and surrounded him with their tazers, even the ones that were supposed to be patrolling.
VILE Bot waited till all the guards were around him and then quickly scanned the lot till he found the shift supervisor. VILE Bot gave a menancing (as menancing as a robot can get) glance to the person as asked in a metallic voice "What is your name?"

The guard seemed petrified and it took a couple of tries before he answered back in a trembling voice "Shift supervisor A.S. Leep." The guard then continued to tremble and demanded to know what he/it was doing here.

VILE Bot gestured to the box he held and simply replied "Special Delivery".
The guards glanced closer at the box whilst maintaining a wary distance from VILE Bot. The box turned out to be a Jack-in-the box of sorts but when VILE Bot cranked the handle it played out Brahms Lullaby. After the song ended, the Jack-in-the-box opened to blow out a huge cloud of Joe Kerr's custom knock out gas. The gas was pretty much harmless except that it put you to sleep for two to three hours. VILE Bot was of course immune to it, one of the perks of being a robot.

When the cloud of knock out gas cleared, Joe entered the building holding Allie in her rather spacious cage. He cracked a mischeivous smile. "Did you get it?"

VILE Bot replied an affirmative and played back the recorded conversation between him and shift supervisor A.S.Leep. Joe gleamed. A handy thing, tape recorders. Even handier that VILE Bot had one inbuilt.

Joe took the supervisor's pass card and accessed the car elevator. The security system dutifully prompted for a voice recognition. VILE Bot played back the recording "Shift supervisor A.S. Leep".
"Vocal recognition confirmed" came the acknowledgement from the lift.
Just like that, Joe Kerr and VILE Bot, with Allie, made their way to Chase Devineaux's Posrche Cayman. Joe's internet sources had correctly predicted that the car would be stored on the third floor in a special parking lot that needed vocal recognition and a security pass to access. Joe and VILE Bot repeated the process of fooling the system again and were now standing over the car, yes THE car, Chase Devineaux's Porsche Cayman.

It shone beautifully in the faint light of the garage and its perfectly polished exterior gave a crystal clear reflection of the two VILE operatives hovering over it.
"Such a beauty. Almost seems a shame to steal it. Almost but not quite. Hyuk hyuk." Joe laughed.
Joe turned to where he knew a security camera was located and waved at it.
"Hey Chase," he spoke into the camera.
"If you're watching this, it means I got your ride. But don't worry. I'm a man of principles. I propose a fair trade - my cayman for yours. Hyuk hyuk. Don't worry, I'll take good care of the car, just be sure you do the same for Allie" Joe gestured to the crocodile in the cage which had been placed outside the lot and laughed again before turning his attention back to the car.

Joe reached into his pocket and pulled out a universal car remote (another handy thing he found on the internet. Amazing what you can find if you know where to look). He tuned the remote to "Porsche Cayman" settings and tried it.
It ended up setting off an alarm on the car. Joe wasn't too surprised. That was how the remote worked. When it set off the alarm you knew you had the right frequency. Then you just had to try again a couple of times to overwrite the car security and you'd have perfect access.

"Warning. Sensors detect a silent alarm has been given off by the car." VILE Bot intoned.

Joe wasn't surprised. He'd expected as much from the car of none other than ACME's head of field operations. He calmly completed his 'hotwiring' of the vehicle and got it into the lift. As it went down to the first floor he gave his instructions to VILE Bot.
"Alright, you know the plan. Go downstairs and clear the guards out of the way so I don't run over them by accident. Then take the plane and fly to the rendezvous point. I'll drive there after I've had some fun with whatever company Chase decides to send after his beloved Porsche." Joe grinned wickedly.

VILE Bot did as instructed and soon flew the highly modified Antonov An-225 Mriya off to the rendezvous point. Joe meanwhile got into the Porsche and revved up the engines.
"Alright girl, let's see what you can do. I wonder if Chase put any NOX or turbo functions into you?"

Joe gave his characteristic laugh as he sped off into the night.

 

[Narrator]

[Zack]

“Watch it!”

“Hey! Be careful!”

“ZACK!!!!”

Those screams of annoyance and variants of were yelled as Zack weaved his way through a filled crowd, almost having some waiters spill coffee on the patrons at the patio, nearly running over some pedestrians, and disrupting a flock of pigeons. However, those whose were disrupted by Zack’s sudden reappearance of causing chaos couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long time since they had seen Zack, and they were, in a strange way, glad to have a day of mild chaos.

Except the flock of pigeons, who just flew away in fear.

The younger of the Monaghan siblings made a sharp turn at the end of the street and slowed down his skateboard, eventually slowing down enough that he could grab his skateboard and walk. He passed by a little shop called San Francisco’s Fantastic Gifts, and waved to Tracie, who was organizing the window display. He entered a small door beside the entrance that lead to a set of stairs heading into the apartments above it. He climbed up the stairs, to the top floor and knocked on the apartment door.

 

[Eugene]

Eugene heard someone come down the stairs to the basement and tensed, only to relax when he saw Chase Devineaux open the door. Not many people knew the full scope of the plan yet, and the equipment Ding currently held was word being paranoid over.

“I have the satellite feeds,” Devineaux briefly lifted the pictures before putting them down on the table, “It’s verified, the tower’s location.” Visually examining the briefcase, he looked to the stranger and then back at the pilot, “Is this it?”

"Chase Devineaux, Domingo Chavez. Let's head to the airfield; we'll have plenty of time to get up to speed en-route." The three men piled into the Chevrolet, and with Domingo in the driver's seat, Eugene took this opportunity to examine the imagery Chase had acquired. The pictures had obviously been degraded in the name of national security, but there was no doubt this was the building they were looking for.

It was mere minutes to the airfield, and soon the trio was en route to the latest war zone. Unlike the return trip from Luxembourg, the cockpit was a buzz of activity; from reviewing the latest satellite imagery to debating possible ways the op could go pair-shaped to monitoring the progress of the Brazil bound aircraft. There was little time to get lost in one's thoughts here; the demands of flying the plane coupled with the possible scenarios required all mental faculties to be directed at the task at hand.

 

[Flag]

They had taken turns with driving, sleeping, and dismantling the equipment stolen from the ACME tower. Although Flag couldn't understand a single word that his current companions had spoken, he figured out that they were planning on selling the pieces to someone in Algiers, which according to the signs was not entirely to far away.

It was his turn to sleep, and he had done well with that on the floor in the small extended cab of the truck. It was only when he heard English being spoken that he woke up.

"Can you help us?"

He sat up and glanced out the window to see what appeared to be a misplaced janitor and a college student running up to the truck.

"We drove into a rock."

No... he wasn't a janitor. He was starting to look military... just... stupid military.

"And I wonder, if you could take us to some... like a town or someplace?"

Once they jumped into the back of the Truck, Flag chose to ignore them and went back to sleep. The next thing he knew there was on onslaught of gunfire, shouting, and then silence. He peered out the window just in time to see another truck peeling away, while his was left alone in the middle of a circle of sand dunes.

"What...?"

He climbed out of the truck and found that many of the other VILE members were defeated and lying in the sand. The whole scene of it didn't make a lick of sense to him, and when he attempted asking one of the crew what had happened, he only got the word "jedi" as a response.

"Riiiiight..." He hated language barriers.

After waiting around a while for some of the crew to get back up, he helped them into the truck and they were off again. Naturally their destination had changed for the time being and they made their way towards the first roadside inn that they came across.

(Just trying to get back into the game a bit... and I saw a stupid movie, which I had to include for some reason. X'D )

 

[Vic]

Somewhere between Tunisia and Brazil...

In the plane going from Southern Tunisia to Brazil, Vic the Slick was still getting sand out of his shoes. Hailey Weller was asleep. The three watches on her wrist pressed against her cheek, so Fumigalli moved her hand down a little. He didn't particularly like kids, but he also didn't make them a problem. He just hated babysitting.

"How long 'til Brazil?" Vic asked the pilot.

There were only three of them on this flight, and everybody packed light. Knowing Carmen, he knew she's got everything handled, but for the first time in years, he wondered if she'd cut into something a little too deep this time.

She's a real pleasant thing, his boss, people who didn't know her wanted to know her, and people who already knew her wanted more. When they don't get more, some get mean. Small fry those people, they don't know who they're dealing with. But this time, it's ACME that's taking the hit, and it's ACME that's hitting back. He could tell from the shadow over Chase Devineaux's face during the press conference that they were in for some sludge.

"Five more hours," the pilot replied, "some turbulence ahead."

It didn't make sense to Vic why Carmen would stay in Tunisia except to make sure everyone got scattered to the right places. She was smart about that. She'd figure exactly how long an agent took to go how far, and how many counter agents should be ready. But unless there was something else in that tower she had to have, she might have been safer going to a public airport in São Paulo.

Five hours is enough time for another long nap, so Vic got up to get a blanket.

 

[Chase]

(Flag, staring at goats will do that to you.)


Under a reading light over his seat inside the aircraft to Tunisia, ACME's Field Director was making calls to Tunisia, Brazil, and San Francisco; each connection relayed through the plane's satellite module.

The Brazilian Air Force agreed to supply two planes to control the course of the Russian Transport carrying Hailey Weller. Guarulhos and Congonhas airports were advised to disallow the Russian Carrier's landing until further notice. For the purpose of the arrest, Chase was informed they would be forcing the plane to land in an empty field, not an official airport. It seemed risky, but with the size of VILE's plane, this option was necessary.

After Devineaux sent the exact coordinates to Chief Weller's pilot, his phone buzzed an alarm. Checking the message, he froze momentarily. The text was from his Porsche Cayman, reporting itself stolen. 'Please activate GPS tracking,' it told him. Quickly entering the code to trigger the Global Positioning System, Chase watched attentively as the dot representing his vehicle moved out of its parking garage. Why this was happening now seemed incomprehensible, he needed someone in San Francisco to figure out exactly what's going on.

Looking through his list of available help, Chase was limited to Ivy Monahan, Tanya Erzin, and Eleanor Mayhem. Despite being former field agents, none were now directly working under him. Making the decision to not rely on local police, he sent a message to all three in hopes that one would respond:

To Agents: Mona, I.; Erzi, T.; Mayh, E.

Code 2*: Stolen Vehicle -- California 6MCV177 -- 2009 Porsche Cayman -- Silver -- on the move. Passcode 939 to view GPS tracking.



*Code 2: ACME -- Urgent, proceed with caution.

 

[Tanya]

Tanya Erzin received the urgent memo from Chase Devineaux and instantly wondered why. Sliding on her feet to the nearest laptop, she entered the license plate number into a database for vehicles identification only to discover the car’s owner was the Field Director himself.

What Popov [famous Russian clown] would dare take that? The Russian raised her eyebrows. Concluding that this wasn’t an official case yet, but a matter of Chase needing help, she popped a “reply to all”:

I am taking my jeep in pursuit, tag me for location.

Opening the door to her apartment, she stopped when she saw Zack coming up the stairs.

“Privet!” She greeted, “someone took Chase’s Caymen, come on, I will explain on the way.”

 

[Deric Storm]

(A conversation between myself and Nevon on the flight to Brazil)

Somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico

Deric woke with a start. Looking down at his watch, he saw that he had been asleep for a little over two hours. It had been three hours since they left San Francisco and another six before they reached their destination. Even though they were flying directly to the base, they were still going to have to be lucky to reach the base before VILE did.

Normally, the young detective was not a fan of air travel. The seats weren’t built for guys his size. Luckily, there were couches long enough for him to stretch out on in the Gulfstream. Once they were in the air, Deric snagged one and nodded off until now. He got up to stretch his legs and use the bathroom.

On his way back from the lavatory, Deric spotted the most inexperienced of the group looking the same as he did when they first took off, in other words a mix of nervous energy and looking like he was going to puke. ‘Googly-moogly,’ Deric thought, ‘I forgot, this is probably his first field op as an agent.’ He had wanted to go over Nevon’s role on this assignment with him, and now seemed better than anytime. He plopped down into the seat across from the younger agent, getting his attention.

“What’s on your mind, Nevon?”

“Uhm... nothing much,” Nevon replied a little nervous, “I’m feeling better that we’re not going to a public airport, but I still don’t want to mess this up, my stomach is in knots.” He put away his iPod. When he was a new accountant back in Seattle’s ACME branch, things were a lot easier. Boring, but easier. He knew what he was going to see every morning. Here, as a new field agent, he mostly studied to keep himself off the field because beyond studying, he didn’t know what to expect.

“First mission jitters; it’s natural.” Deric remembered his own butterflies before his first assignment. He actually did hurl before the op, but it did settle his nerves after he did it. “Anyway, a little nervous energy will probably help keep you focused. You’re going to be our eyes once we get to Brazil. Cali and I will be focused on our own assignments and we need someone keeping an eye on the ‘big picture,’ so to speak.”

“I can do that,” Nevon shifted his eyes a little, not wanting to tell his new Supervisor that this wasn’t his first case. His first real mission was getting a necklace back for an old lady in London. Then he was on a team mission following Sarah Nade, and another one with Nina West and Brian that ended in the capture of Sir Vile. Come to think of it, Nevon had a lot of experience, but he liked playing the safe underdog.

“Where should I be positioned when we land?”

“Here,” Deric said, pointing to a spot on the map provided to them by the Brazilian military. “in the nearby sentry tower. Once we land, I need to you to haul it to the tower and get set up.” Handing him a radio, Deric said, “we’ll be operating on channel 2 on the radio.”

“Got it, Super,” Nevon gave a grin to confirm he understood his supervisor, “Go to sentry tower, be on channel 2.”

“Good man,” Deric smiled, trying to put the young man even more at ease. Rising from the seat, he said “We’re still a few hours out, try to get some rest. Also, just remember if something, no matter how fleeting it might be, seems hinky, let us know.”

Once he was a few feet away, Deric released the mental breath he had been holding. Blair might be a rookie, but he should be able to do the job. Plus, with all of his nervous energy, he would be a little hyper-focused and would notice the little things.

‘Now,’ Deric thought, ‘I just have to deal with the other unorthodox member of the team...’

 

[Mikal]

Southern Tunisia

Hours humming though the desert roads took Mikal Darsha to the dusty vastness of Southern Tunisia. He settled after dark into the small community of El Khadra, and began talking to locals. One old couple told him an unusual amount of tourists in desert vehicles were passing this way, and a young backpacker recalled hearing distant thunder in the middle of the day for no apparent reason.

In the evening, he sat for coffee at El Khadra Café, in time to see a caravan roll in. He recognized them as sand-colored versions of the KraZ-6322, all-terrain transport vehicles made in the Ukraine. They were not marked as military, and someone had worked hard to make them look like research trucks, but the tarp covering the cargo area showed these were being used for moving.

The train of trucks slowed down to stir less dust while passing through, but they didn't stop. In the dark, the Israeli found it difficult to spot features. Still, he didn't need to know who these people were. His objective was the tower.

Mikal had no GPS receiver in his vehicle, only a map, the coordinates Chase gave him, and a little luck. Seeing the KraZs come in was lucky. All he had to do now was follow their trail.

Once the trucks passed, the Israeli took his car and followed the fresh imprint of giant tires on the sand. He drove slowly, wary of the possibility of surveillance. The woman behind the theft of the tower was known to be ready for everything, and if she did not want someone near the ACME building at this time, Mikal would only be able to watch from a distance.

At a point in the trail, the tracks turned into a wide circle and a second set of headlights, another truck, was heading towards him. Mikal hit the brakes. As if in a stalemate, the other car also stopped. The Israeli then switched off his lights. His reflection did the same.

Realizing what this was, Darsha turned back on his lights and drove closer. ACME Tower was masked in complete darkness, illuminated only by the front torch of a jeep. The trucks he saw must have been the last set to leave.

"Captain," Mikal spoke into his phone after dialing, "I found your tower," he shrugged, the Israeli way, then looked up into a glassy blackness that melded with the sky, "Yes, I have a visual. Big, big visual."

 

[E. Mayhew]

ACME Detective Agency
San Francisco Headquarters
ACME Academy Offices - Temporary Base of Operations
Noon


The academy was empty. REALLY empty. Everyone who could be out on a mission was out in a plane awaiting their arrival to far off places. Everyone, that is, except E. Mayhem.

In the emergency of the tower's disappearance, Halley's abduction and even Chase's car being stolen she'd been left behind, a maneuver she couldn't really say she was regretting at the moment.

Quietly she made her way down the linoleum floored hall of the academy's west wing, what students called the West Classrooms. She was dressed to, what was in her opinion, the nines. A white women's suit with beige blouse beneath, white high heels. They were only two inch heels, sure, but heels none the less. A fair layer of makeup covered up bags under her eyes from not being able to sleep properly the night before.

Yes. she was still worried. About Chase. About his 'being asked to resign.'

It was the same lack of sleep that gave her time to ponder what she was to do about it. Or even if it was her place to do something.

Yes. Yes it was. Why? Two reasons. The ACME she respected did not and WOULD NOT disrespect and blame the wrong people, for one. She was, always had been and she hoped always would be a cheerleader for ACME. An ACME which would treat people like they were about to treat Chase was not the company she'd been hired by and would not be the company she'd work for.

And second? Chase didn't deserve it. Period. Sure, she understood about accountability, about how a leader takes responsibility for a failed case. ACME's HQ and its disappearance was the fault of ALL OF ACME. Not just him.

But Chase would accept it. He would do as asked because that's the kind of stand up man he was. He'd 'take one for the team'. That didn't sit well with Eleanor.

Eleanor Mayhem poked her head inside a quiet lecture hall just off of the end of the hall and, finding herself, alone, entered, closed the door behind her and took a seat at a large table in the front of the room.

It was a bit coincidental that she now took a seat in the front of 'Agnes Auditorium', a place where years ago she'd first met Chase Devineaux, to commit, what at best was mutiny against her own company and at worst was about to be employment suicide. But to be fair she didn't have an office, temporary or otherwise, to use her laptop's camera with and this place seemed quiet enough. It would have to do.

Opening her laptop she booted up the camera on its top, moved it and herself to make sure she was centered and paused. Well? What was she going to say?

She took a deep breath and began.


"ACME Detective Agency employees and agents. This is Agent Eleanor Catherine Mayhem, agent number 567353."

She paused, suddenly finding herself at a loss of words. She'd had so many in her head the night before. She'd run over what she was going to say. At 4 in the morning her words had been almost poetic but now she was simply running blank.

"...We have a problem. At a time like this, when ACME has been dealt one of the hardest blows in its history words like that may seem unnecessary. However in the wake of our problems another has come along... a problem which is our responsibility as agents to address. Immediately. As of last night it has been... 'suggested'..."

The tone of her voice at the word 'suggested' seemed almost venomous.

"...by our Board of Directors that Chase Devineaux resign from ACME. The ACME Building's disappearance is a mark on the face of ACME... and I believe it is the belief of our Board of Directors that placing blame on one man will make this entire fiasco go away. It won't. Not only that but to act as if only one man is to blame for the inability for ACME to protect itself from a direct assault leaves us unwilling to accept our own failures and to better ourselves in the future. ACME must take responsibility for itself, not Chase Devineaux."

She took another deep breath and raised a piece of paper. "I have tendered my resignation of the ACME Detective Agency, which I plan on delivering to the Board of Directors personally in about ten minutes or so. If it is fine for the board to ask for the resignation of Mr. Devineaux then they may have mine as well."

She gave a small smile, brushing a piece of hair out of her face. "I'm asking you, ACME agents and ACME employees, to do the same. This agency was built by the efforts of people like Chase Devineaux and for him to be forced into this situation violates every principle this Agency was founded on. Enclosed with this video you will find the email addresses of each member of the Board as well as their phone numbers should text be unavailable to you. I know you're all busy... but please. I need you to stand with me."

A look of worry passed over her face for a moment before she placed a broad smile on her face. She almost wanted to explain more but her point had been made. Now all she could do was hope she was right about everyone.

"Thank you all for listening. Agent E. Mayhem, 567353, signing out."

Clicking on the computer to stop recording she quickly attached it to a message to ALL ACTIVE ACME AGENTS as well as a few choice members of a few departments. Mostly the women of accounting and the trainers of the academy, the ones that liked Chase. Sure that it had gone out she closed the laptop, slipped it back into her bag and left, her destination within ACME clear.

It was time to put her money where her mouth was.