Thirty-two hours had passed since a team from ACME was despatched from its headquarters in San Francisco to São Paolo, Brazil with the intent to retrieve an intrepid Hailey Weller.
The precipitation had shadowed them – the generous rainfall that had created the lush colours of the Federative Republic transforming into a misty drizzle that blanketed the lunch-time bustle of the bay area.
A six-year-old child pitter-pattered through the private terminal of the San Francisco International Airport, clad in a pink-coloured coat that her grandfather had donned for her. She waved two inflated latex gloves, beckoning the elderly man to make haste and join her as she climbed into the first of a short caravan of unmarked SUVs…
* *
Sophie Conrad, with her profession and role indiscernible behind her placid expression, a generic outfit of a tailored shirt and fitted pants, and the visual absence of an ACME identification tag that had been tucked between the folds of the coat draped upon her arm, kept a steady pace as she moved through the ACME Academy. Five measured steps separated her from the backs of Chief Everard Weller, ACME Agent Nevon Blair, and the young Hailey Weller.
Leading the way was a young blonde woman, conveying a succinct walking brief to the Chief. She was pragmatic in manner, spoke briskly and had a faint Russian accent that Sophie found somewhat melodious.
Lecture Theatre 2 was a 250-seat auditorium that had, not so long ago, seen various groups of exuberant ACME cadets pouring in and out of it for lessons on anything from Criminal Law to Corporate Security. Now, it was packed with every manner of reporter and journalist, all eagerly awaiting to hear from a man so rarely seen in the public eye and yet so important to the institution of ACME.
Chief Everard Weller bent down to take Hailey Weller into his arms. He nodded once at the steady Press & Public Relations Officer beside him, and stepped into the filled room.
“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, thank you for gathering at such short notice…”
For a moment, as the Chief of ACME entered, his granddaughter in his arms and a mix of personnel in his wake, a hush fell upon the occupants of the auditorium. Then, a single murmur gave rise to a torrent of confabulation. Sophie kept her eyes on Hailey Weller as the Chief strode towards the front of the lecture theatre, returning a smile and the playful wave that the child had sent her way.
As Dr. Everard Weller took centre-stage, Sophie stole a seat on the third row, disappearing into the mess of media representatives. She turned her attention to the surroundings, evaluating the crowd with acute percipience.
It took many long minutes before such a degree of quiet was attained so that the venerated gentleman could speak.
“I am happy and relieved to announce that my granddaughter, Hailey Weller, has been returned yesterday. An ACME physician has examined her and the report is that she is her perfect, healthy self - even though she has missed her ‘Kuppa’ much...”
From her seat, she did nothing to acknowledge the rapid glance that Chief Weller cast in her direction. Everything he had said, was saying, and would say in this auditorium, she recognised existed for the sole purpose of the audience this message was being and would be broadcasted to. She watched, like everyone else in the theatre, as Dr. Weller gave Hailey a light kiss on the cheek - which elicited a giggle from the child -, beamed, and cleared his throat.
“I would like to thank the team from ACME, some of whom are still on their way back; and I would like to thank VILE for their kind cooperation on this... matter. I can't say more. It has been a tiring ordeal. Thank you all and have a good day.”
Sophie stood up, like everyone else in the room, but instead of leaning forward to solicit more words from the Chief or the Press & Public Relations Officer accompanying him, she picked up her coat and slipped out of the lecture theatre. A message would be sent to her mobile phone should ACME require her presence for a debrief.
The excuse of returning Hailey Weller to her undoubtedly anxious parents was proffered as the Chief and his accompanying contingent were escorted from the auditorium. No questions would be answered and no further comments would be made.
The true circumstances of how and why the granddaughter of the Chief of ACME had come to be in his office at such a pivotal moment in the history of the organisation would never be known nor did Sophie consider it anymore important to the current circumstances. All that the child had recounted to the doctor - as they drew smiling faces, miniature clock faces and winged figures with large skirts on the surfaces of purple-coloured examination gloves - was that she had meandered across the ACME compound to tell her ‘Kuppa’ of a cartoon she had dreamt about and had, “like magic”, gone on an adventure to discover that fairies dressed in red, and that their queen was named ‘Carmen’.
* *
Her steps were swift as she traversed the ACME park grounds, heading directly towards the ACME Medical Center. The 12-degree Celsius air felt five degrees colder and, when Sophie decided that she had put enough distance between her and the media circus that surrounded the square whence a 16-storey tower once stood and the adjacent Academy buildings, she slowed her pace to undo the low chignon that had held her hair in place and lifted her head to expose her face to the wind, enjoying the sensation of its biting chill on her skin.
Her thoughts wandered to Agent Deric Storm and Calina Corranos, the two members of the team who had remained in Brazil with the task of dealing with the VILE representation they had captured. She did not know their directive nor did it feel essential to know it; all she could hope for was its success and their safe return.
She considered the video Agent Eleanor Mayhem had transmitted and could only wonder about its ramifications. There had been such differing reactions from the agents she had travelled with that could only be a glimpse into the conflict such an agenda - as well-intended as it was - could cause.
Yet, she hoped that Eleanor Mayhem would not find the persecution Chase Devineaux had appeared to receive from the Board of Directors at ACME. The devoted agent, Sophie perceived, clearly had great feelings for the Field Director.
All these thoughts accompanied Sophie as she entered the Emergency Department of the ACME Medical Center and glanced around at the empty chairs and trolleys that appeared bereft in the low light. The facility was now devoid of patients and only a minimal number of staff remained to attend to any internal medical requirements. Some of these select employees were now gathered in a circle behind the capacious nursing counter in the center of the department. Clearly, something of import had occurred to command such attention.
The sound of her boots against the linoleum-covered floor announced her arrival and a nurse whirled around with widened eyes. “Sophie,” she exclaimed, bringing a hand to her chest, “there has been a plane crash in Brazil!”
No further elaboration was required. The looks on the faces that now turned towards her explicated the necessary details. Sophie Conrad frowned and looked down, her gaze falling upon the flakes of colour that peppered the linoleum beneath her feet, a flash of aggravation betrayed by her expression as she pressed her lips together. Then, she drew a breath and raised her head.
“We will wait for further instructions from ACME Command,” she said with resolution, approaching the counter and reaching over it for one of the tablet computers that had been plugged in to charge. She disconnected the device from its power source and logged-in with her thumbprint to extract a freshly-created roster of medical, nursing, and ancillary personnel that would provide for the needs of ACME for the immediate future. “Don’t assume anything,” she instructed as she departed, the computer in arm.
[Credit: EarlJr, for consult. Chief and Chase, for indulgence and privilege. Carmen, for inspiration.]
