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The Broken Silence

Chapter 41

Volkov

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Mime Bomb thrashed and struggled as the van screeched away, but he was buckled into one of the seats and held there by the two enormous men on either side of him.

[[Calm down!]] one of the men growled at him.

Mime Bomb didn't know very much Russian other than the few words he'd picked up from his time in the lab, but he understood the gist of what was said. His response was to fight even harder. The men tightened their grip on his shoulders, and flashed him an annoyed look, but they didn't say anything more.

Mime Bomb was still weak from the transplant, and was quickly getting tired from over-exerting himself. The men easily held him down, and after a few minutes of fighting against them, he went limp wheezing in exhaustion. One of the men frowned down at him for a moment, and then glanced to his partner.

[[Do you think he hurt himself?]]

The other man looked down at him and then mirrored the frown. [[Hopefully not or the boss will have our heads.]]

Mime Bomb turned his head to look out the back window, but they were already long gone from Zack and Le Chèvre. He remembered the cold and uncaring look Le Chèvre had shot his way as he was taken and he didn't understand it. Le Chèvre did nothing to stop the kidnapping and he had stood by and watched as Zack was beaten to the ground. Mime Bomb's eyes then widened in horror. Zack! What happened to Zack?! Did they kill Zack?!

Mime Bomb looked up at one of the men, and then tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. The man looked down at him and Mime Bomb signed at him, hoping he understood. The man stared at him blankly, but the other man spoke up.

[[Your brother? What are you talking about?]]

Mime Bomb signed again.

"You want me to speak in English?" the man asked incredulously, "Don't you speak Russian?"

Mime Bomb shook his head.

The other man swore in Russian. "Pathetic," he muttered, "You're Russian and you don't even speak the language?"

Mime Bomb shook his head again and signed.

"He says he's Welsh," the man informed his partner.

"Disgraceful."

"Shut up, Boris," the man responded irritably.

"Well, it is pathetic, Viktor," Boris responded, looking away, "He knows nothing of his own heritage!"

"And that is not his fault," Viktor pointed out., "These things can be taught."

Mime Bomb relaxed a bit, realizing these men didn't seem like they were going to hurt him...at least not yet. He once again asked about Zack, hoping the men hadn't seriously hurt him.

"The other redhead?" Viktor questioned in confusion.

Mime Bomb nodded vigorously.

"The boy is fine," Viktor assured him, "He was let go after we drove off."

Mime Bomb let out a breath of relief. At least Zack was still safe.

"We're not monsters," Viktor stated with an offended frown, "We try to not kill innocents."

Mime Bomb crossed his arms and gave him an unimpressed look.

"We're not going to hurt you either," Viktor assured him.

"Unless you give us a hard time!" Boris threatened.

"Oh, shut up, Boris," Viktor replied with a roll of his eyes.

Mime Bomb signed something else.

"No, we can't let you go. We have our orders, and you have to come with us for now. You have my word that you will not be harmed. I would prefer not to tie you up, but if you give us a hard time, I'll be left with no choice. It will be easier for everyone if you just cooperate."

Mime Bomb knew he stood the best chance of escaping if he simply played along for now, and so he gave the man a nod. He found it odd that they didn't just immediately tie him up and toss a bag over his head, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Crossing his arms against his chest, he let out a deep sigh and then watched as the van headed towards the airport.

Mime Bomb had a sinking feeling he was being taken back to the lab in Russia, but something about the men made him second-guess that. Maybe they were from V.I.L.E instead?

When the van pulled up beside a private jet at the airport, Mime Bomb knew this would be the only chance he'd likely have to escape. Viktor got out of the van first and then motioned for him to follow. Mime Bomb slid across the seat and then crawled out of the van. Boris got out next followed by the two men in the front seat. Mime Bomb acted completely compliant as Boris stepped to his side and then they began walking towards the jet.

Knowing he had to escape before it was too late, Mime Bomb suddenly lashed out and kicked Boris as hard as he could between the legs. As Boris let out a scream of agony and fell to his knees, Mime Bomb didn't hesitate to run for it. He could hear the men yelling after him and he knew he was seriously overdoing it, but he forced himself to keep running. There was the sound of thundering footsteps directly behind him and he pushed himself to run faster. He suddenly felt a stab of pain in one of his shoulders and he pushed himself even harder.

Mime Bomb then felt his entire body grow weak and he stumbled and then fell flat on his face. Reaching behind him, he pulled a dart out of his shoulder and scowled, knowing he'd been sedated. He tried to crawl but fell again as the sedatives took effect, and his whole body felt like it was made of lead.

Viktor then scooped him into his arms and Mime Bomb could do nothing about it.

"Didn't I tell you we weren't going to hurt you?" he scolded as they walked back towards the jet.

Mime Bomb didn't even have the strength to raise his hands to reply. The second they neared the jet, Boris stormed over, his face purple with fury. He raised a hand like he was going to slap Mime Bomb across the face, but Viktor quickly caught his hand.

"Are you crazy?" Viktor snapped, "What would the boss say if we deliver him covered in bruises?"

"He kicked me in the balls!" Boris roared angrily, "I'm going to beat him within an inch of his life!"

"Oh, shut up, Boris. You know very well you're not going to do any such thing. He's just a foolish kid who got scared."

Boris swore angrily in Russian, but Viktor paid him no mind and instead walked past him, carrying Mime Bomb onto the jet. Mime Bomb was barely awake, and he didn't even have the energy to hold up his head. Viktor laid him down on a couch, and then took a seat beside him.

"Sleep, Yuri Volkov," he ordered, "Stop trying to fight the drugs."

Mime Bomb refused and kept trying to force aside the drowsiness but the only thing he accomplished was giving himself a headache.

The other men settled inside the jet and Boris flashed him a dirty look, but said nothing as he took his own seat. All the men began chatting with each in Russian, and they paid no mind to Mime Bomb, who was barely conscious. The jet took off into the air, and Mime Bomb now knew this made things a lot harder when it came to escaping. Where were they headed? Back to Russia?

Flying always gave him a massive headache, and fighting the sedatives had only made it worse. Mime Bomb had no idea how long the flight was because he was in a drugged stupor for most of it, and when the sedatives finally began to wear off, he felt awful. He slowly sat up, and although Viktor glanced at him, he didn't comment. Rubbing at his throbbing head for a few minutes, Mime Bomb turned his attention to Boris who approached him.

Boris was still looking rather grouchy, but had clearly calmed down over the last several hours. He glared down at Mime Bomb and then held a brown paper bag out towards him. Mime Bomb made no move to take the bag, leaning away from Boris distrustfully.

"Lunch," Boris stated, "Eat before I change my mind."

Mime Bomb had missed supper the night before and he was hungry, but he didn't trust him. He simply stared at Boris and didn't move.

"You sure he's not retarded?" Boris demanded.

"Boris!" Viktor scolded angrily.

"Well, there's something off about him, and I don't like it!"

"You don't like anybody !" Viktor retorted, snatching the bagged lunch away from Boris.

Boris rolled his eyes, and then returned to his own seat without another word. Viktor muttered to himself in Russian for a few moments and then opened the bag. Pulling out a triangular pastry, he held it out towards Mime Bomb who shook his head.

"It's not tampered with," Viktor assured him, "We're not going to hurt you."

Mime Bomb narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. Viktor let out a sigh.

"Do you think it's poisoned?" he asked.

Mime Bomb responded with a shrug. Viktor gave him a nod of acknowledgement and unwrapped the pastry. Without a word, he took a bite of it, chewed, swallowed and then held the rest out towards him. Mime Bomb stared for a long moment and then reluctantly reached out to accept it.

"It's good,' Viktor assured him, "Russian sausage with onion."

Mime Bomb stared inside the pastry at the greyish meat within, and then reluctantly took a bite. Viktor eagerly watched him and when Mime Bomb took a second bite, he seemed satisfied.

"Good, yes? That is called Pirozhki. They're very popular in Russia."

Mime Bomb gave no indication he heard, simply ignoring him as he ate.

"There's much you must learn about, Yuri. Russia is your homeland, and you should learn the customs and traditions of your people!"

Mime Bomb stopped chewing and slowly set down the Pirozhki. He frowned up at Viktor and shook his head, and then signed something.

"No, you are not Welsh," Viktor argued, "Your father is Russian, and so you are Russian as well! It doesn't matter what your mother was."

Mime Bomb crossed his arms again and glared up at him, clearly disagreeing.

"Do not be so foolish," Viktor scolded, "Finish your food."

Mime Bomb shoved it onto the floor, his glare not lessening in the least. Viktor simply sighed and knelt to clean the mess.

"So stubborn," he commented, "Doing this will accomplish nothing. You're the one who's going to be hungry. This doesn't affect me at all."

Viktor dropped the paper bag back on Mime Bomb's lap and then went back to chatting with Boris, seemingly ignoring him for the time being. Mime Bomb stared down at the bag and as his stomach growled, he hesitantly reached inside to pull out another Pirozhki. As he unwrapped it, he glanced over at the other men but they weren't paying him any attention. As he folded back the plastic wrap, he lightly brushed his finger over his pocket, surprised when he felt a tiny lump. The men hadn't searched him and he still had his ear-com.

Mime Bomb knew how critically important this was and made sure to keep his expression blank as he ate. He could get in contact with Team Red and they'd be able to find him. Poking a straw into the juicebox, he sipped it slowly, turning his gaze to each of the men in turn. Because he was the biggest threat, Mime Bomb studied Boris first. The man was tall, and heavy with a long and crooked nose like it had been broken many times throughout his life. He had no hair, and his eyes were always annoyed. Mime Bomb didn't trust him at all. He had a feeling if it wasn't for Viktor, the other man would have beaten him half to death.

Viktor was equally as tall and strong as Boris, with short dark hair, and his face was badly scarred, but his entire demeanor was very different from the others. Mime Bomb certainly didn't trust him, but he had a feeling he was probably the least likely one to hurt him.

The other men hadn't interacted with him at all, and he didn't have much to go on other than their looks. They were all large and strong looking, but their expressions were dumb and they were clearly there as muscle only. It was obvious to him that Viktor and Boris were in charge. All of the men were double his age, and he found it curious that no one younger had been sent.

Setting his juicebox aside, he knew he needed to get a hold of Team Red as soon as possible. Reaching out, he gave a tug to Viktor's sleeve to get his attention. Viktor gave him a questioning look, his gaze falling on the empty juice box.

"Are you still thirsty, Yuri? Do you want another drink?"

Mime Bomb shook his head and began signing.

"Bathroom? Yes, right over there," Viktor told him, pointing.

"There's nothing you can use as a weapon in there!" Boris snapped, "We removed everything except for a bar of soap and toilet paper."

Mime Bomb gave no indication he heard and headed for the bathroom. To his surprise, none of the men got up to follow him or to wait outside the door like he was expecting. Instead, the men went back to chatting and Mime Bomb was left to his own devices. Entering the tiny bathroom, he locked the door and immediately stuck his hand into his pocket. Pulling out the tiny ear-com, he slipped it into his ear and activated it.

He could hear voices and knew some or all of Team Red must have been wearing their coms. He tapped the com a few times and then waited. There was no reaction and so he did it again. He could hear Chase going on a tangent about something and knew that was probably drowning out the sound of his taps. He began tapping relentlessly, hoping someone would notice.

"Ugh, what is wrong with this stupid com?" Tigress suddenly demanded, "It's driving me crazy!"

Chase went silent for a moment and so Mime Bomb tapped the com again.

"See!" Tigress yelled out, "There it is again! What is that?"

"Some sort of interference?" El Topo guessed.

"It sounds like someone is tapping on their com," Carmen stated, sounding a bit unsure.

Zack suddenly gasped. "Mime Bomb?" he cried out, "Buddy, is that you?!"

Mime Bomb tapped once.

"Was that a yes?"

Mime Bomb tapped again.

"Oh thank god, you're alive!" Zack said in relief, "Where are you?"

Mime Bomb hesitated and then tapped the com three times.

"What's that mean?" Zack asked, confused.

"How do you expect him to answer, genius?" Ivy snapped, "Morse code?"

"...oh," Zack replied a bit sheepishly.

"I'm glad you're safe, Mime Bomb," Ivy told him, sounding genuinely relieved, "Are you hurt?"

Mime Bomb tapped twice.

"Okay, so once is 'yes', twice is 'no' and does three times mean 'I don't know'?" Tigress guessed.

Mime Bomb tapped once.

"Ok good!" Tigress replied, "Do you know where you are?"

Two taps.

"Are you still in Kazakhstan?" Carmen asked.

Two taps.

"Are you in Russia?"

Three taps.

"Have you escaped the men?"

Two taps.

"Are they near you right now?"

One tap.

"Are they with Volkov lab?"

Three taps.

"Is Player with you?"

Two taps.

"Are you still travelling?"

One tap.

"Are you on a plane?"

One tap.

"Have you been on a plane this whole time?"

One tap.

"Alright, that's a very long plane trip and so we should be able to estimate how far they are from us by figuring out time and speed. Since you've been flying for nearly twelve hours, you must be in a commercial size plane or perhaps a jet."

One tap.

"Jet?" Carmen guessed.

Another tap.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the bathroom door. "You need to hurry now, Yuri," came Viktor's voice, "We will be landing soon and you need to take your seat."

"You'd better go," Carmen instructed him, "Leave your com on so we can hear what's going on. Please don't do anything dangerous. Just do whatever they say until we can get to you."

Mime Bomb tapped once more and then turned and flushed the toilet. He then turned on the sink and washed his hands, not wanting to raise any suspicion. Drying his hands off on his pants, he opened the bathroom door and Viktor was standing there waiting for him.

"It's going to be a bumpy landing," Viktor told him, "There's a storm in the area and we have to land through it. You'd better get to your seat and buckle yourself in."

"Okay guys, Mime Bomb is landing, so now we can draw several flight paths based on the time it took. Everyone listen for any clues."

Mime Bomb sat down in an empty seat and then buckled his seatbelt, hoping they wouldn't get struck by lightning. Glancing towards the windows, he could see it was nothing but dark clouds and rain. He tightened his seatbelt a little more.

The Russians buckled themselves in as well, and Mime Bomb listened as Team Red began trying to figure out the farthest he could be from Kazakhstan. The plane began to descend, and true to Viktor's word, there was a lot of turbulence as the wind howled around them. Mime Bomb's ears popped from the pressure as they got lower and lower, and he winced in pain, wishing he had some gum to chew. The plane landed hard and everyone inside was jostled, glad they were buckled in. Now that they were safely on the ground, Mime Bomb relaxed and looked out the window again. This was definitely not Russia…

"Yuri," Viktor said, catching his attention, "Can you be trusted to come with us, or will you have to be sedated again?"

"Go with them, Mime Bomb," Carmen ordered, "Don't give them a hard time. Don't worry, we're coming for you!"

Mime Bomb gave Viktor a halfhearted sign in reply and the other man seemed satisfied with that.

"Relax, Yuri Volkov, you will see everything will be fine. Just be patient, and everything will be explained to you."

Mime Bomb gave him a nod, and once the plane had come to a full stop, he unbuckled his seatbelt. Viktor stood over his seat as the others prepared to leave the plane and then he motioned for Mime Bomb to get up. Viktor walked just behind Mime Bomb, but true to his word, he didn't restrain him or even touch him for that matter. When Mime Bomb stepped off the plane, the heat hit him in the face and he glanced around, trying to figure out where he was.

It was raining heavily, and the muggy heat was almost nauseating. His eyes fell on a sign written in English and Hindi hanging from the tiny airport terminal. He was in India. Mime Bomb frowned, having no idea how he was going to relay this information to Team Red. Getting an idea, he turned to Viktor and then pointed towards the sign.

"Yes?" Viktor questioned, "What about it?"

Mime Bomb jabbed a finger in the direction of the sign several times, a somewhat urgent look on his face.

"What?" Viktor demanded.

Mime Bomb crossed his arms and scowled up at Viktor, hoping he would say it out loud.

"Are you upset because we're in India?" Viktor questioned with a frown, "You didn't think we were going to stay in Kazakhstan, did you?"

"Heard that loud and clear, Mime Bomb!" Carmen informed him.

Mime Bomb turned and kept walking, leaving a very confused Viktor behind. He was taken to a waiting car, and all the men piled in the back, making it an extremely uncomfortable fit. Mime Bomb was surprised when he was given the front seat without protest, and he wasn't cramped at all. One of the men immediately began blasting the air conditioning, and another rolled down the window a crack. Although there were muttered complaints, none seemed to be directed his way.

"We're taking you to our safehouse for the night, and then you'll be moved in the morning," Viktor informed him.

Mime Bomb was still surprised they didn't try to blindfold him, and as they drove down the highway, he read the street signs, now knowing exactly where he was. Mime Bomb listened to Team Red discussing plans as they booked a plane, and he wished there was a way for him to share his exact location. He smiled to himself as he listened to Zack who was making an effort to talk to him even though he couldn't answer.

Carmen and the others kept trying to force Le Chèvre to speak with him for some reason, but the other man refused to say a word to him. He kept saying he wanted to speak to him in person and not over com, and Mime Bomb wondered what was going on. He remembered how Le Chèvre had done nothing to help him when he was being kidnapped, and he assumed it was about that. He had no idea what had caused Le Chèvre to freeze like that, and he was honestly a little annoyed he hadn't put in more of an effort. He knew Le Chèvre didn't like him, but surely he didn't hate him that much, did he?

Mime Bomb wasn't sure how long the car ride was because he was so focused on listening to his team, and so when they slowed down and pulled in front of a massive gated house, Mime Bomb was taken by surprise. The gate swung open and they drove inside, the building looking more secure than even V.I.L.E Island. Dozens of armed men were everywhere, and they were all staring towards the car as it came to a stop.

"You may get out of the car now, Yuri," Viktor told him, getting out himself.

The second Mime Bomb stepped out of the car, the dozens of armed men began cheering like they had accomplished some great victory. Mime Bomb stared at them with wide eyes and didn't move, having no idea what was going on.

"Mime Bomb? What's all that noise?" Zack demanded, "Are you driving past some sort of parade?"

Mime Bomb glanced at the cheering men, and then back at the car, suddenly wanting to get back in. Viktor walked around to his side of the car and then rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He then snarled something at the men in Russian and they all quieted. The mood was odd, and Mime Bomb was confused and incredibly concerned. Viktor led him towards the house and as he passed by the armed men they all clapped him heartily on the back and greeted him in Russian. Mime Bomb simply stared at them like a deer in headlights.

Luckily the only ones who followed him inside were just the four men he'd been traveling with.

"Please excuse the rudeness, but we will need a vial of your blood to confirm your identity. Our doctor will be here very shortly, and so you can have a few minutes with your friend."

Mime Bomb grimaced at the thought of them taking some of his blood, but he followed along behind Viktor without protest as he was led to a thick wooden door. Viktor unlocked the door and motioned him inside. Mime Bomb cautiously peered into the room, and his eyes immediately fell on the small boy sitting on the bed. They stared at each other, and then Mime Bomb surged into the room, throwing his arms around Player tightly.

"Mime Bomb!" Player gasped out in surprise.

Viktor closed the door and locked it, and Mime Bomb didn't hesitate as he pulled away from Player, and yanked the com out of his ear, holding it out to him. Player let out a gasp of surprise and eagerly seized it.

"You managed to smuggle a com!"

Player placed it into his ear and could immediately hear Team Red talking.

"Hey, guys," he greeted.

"PLAYER?!" Ivy shrieked.

"Player!" Carmen exclaimed in shock, "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

"No, Red, I'm fine," he assured her, "They've been pretty decent kidnappers in my opinion. Other than the crippling boredom, I'm doing alright."

"Is Mime Bomb with you?" Shadowsan demanded.

"Yeah, he's right here. He was just brought in a few seconds ago, and he gave me his com."

"We know you're in India, but we just need a location and then we're on our way," Carmen assured him, "Do you know where you are?"

Player frowned. "No, sorry, Red, I have no idea."

Mime Bomb then nudged Player and then began hurriedly signing.

Player's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh! Mime Bomb says he knows exactly where we are!"

Mime Bomb signed and Player nodded as he tried to make sense of it.

"Okay, he says we're in the state of Jammu and Kashmir, in the Jammu district. Look for a large mansion surrounded by a ten foot tall wall with a black gate. The building is nearby the town markets."

"Perfect!" Carmen said excitedly, "We're on our way guys, we're on our way to get you!"

"Going radio silent for now in case they're listening in to us," Player told her, "Please get us out of here."

"We'll see you soon!" Carmen promised.

Player then turned a wide grin up at Mime Bomb. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you!" he told him, "I've been so worried about you guys! How did the transplant go?"

As Mime Bomb caught Player up on everything he had missed, Player had a really bad feeling about this. Why did these men want Mime Bomb so bad? Why were the men now acting in such a strange way? Something wasn't right and he seriously hoped nothing bad was going to happen to the mime.

Player told him everything that had happened with him as well, and when Mime Bomb heard about the escape attempt, he looked visibly worried.

"It's okay," Player assured him, "I'm not hurt. I'll never do anything that stupid again though. Some weirdo nearly pulled me off to his murder basement."

Mime Bomb was about to respond when there was the sound of the door being unlocked. Viktor entered the room with a man he didn't recognize, and spoke a few words in Russian to the man.

"This is the doctor that needs a sample of your blood," he told Mime Bomb, "Please do not give him a hard time about this, or we will be forced to hold you down to get the sample."

Mime Bomb glanced over to Player who seemed incredibly concerned. Knowing he didn't really have a choice, he nodded and rolled up his sleeve. The doctor swabbed his arm with alcohol, tied off his upper arm with a band and then gently felt around for a good vein. Mime Bomb winced as the needle entered his arm and then he watched as his blood was drawn.

The doctor didn't only take one vial, he took three and Mime Bomb shot Viktor an accusing look. Viktor saw the look and then spoke to the doctor who responded in Russian. Viktor gave Mime Bomb an apologetic look and then shrugged.

"The doctor wishes to check your health at the same time. I apologize about the extra blood taken."

The doctor withdrew the needle and then placed a smiley face bandaid over the tiny wound. The doctor then handed him a lollipop, and then turned and left the room without a word.

"Well, that was interesting…" Player commented.

Mime Bomb frowned down at the bandaid and then at the lollipop.

"You may relax for the rest of tonight," Viktor told him, "I'll be back for you in the morning."

Viktor then turned and followed the doctor out of the room. Mime Bomb handed Player the lollipop and then rolled his sleeve back down.

"Guys, did you hear that?" Player asked, "I think we're being moved in the morning!"

"I heard," Carmen confirmed, "Don't worry, our plane will land during the night. We'll get you back, don't worry."

Player and Mime Bomb exchanged a long look, knowing how dangerous of a rescue this was going to be.

"Just be careful, Red, there are dozens of guards here."

"Will do," Carmen confirmed.

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"Okay guys, are you ready for the surprise?" Crackle asked, shooting the rest of his team an excited grin.

"What is it?" Roosevelt asked, peering out the van window, "And where is it?"

"We're almost there!" Crackle informed him, "I've been setting this up for the last three days!"

"Did you find Team Red?" Paper Star demanded.

"No, nothing like that," Crackle answered, "But I know you guys will love it just as much as I do!"

"Okay, now you're really getting me curious, wombat," Neal commented, "I don't think I've ever seen you this excited."

Crackle pulled the van over to the side of the road. "Okay, everyone out of the van!"

Everyone exchanged confused looks and then piled out of the van to stand next to him on the sidewalk.

"Okay, now what did you drag us here for?" Dash demanded, glancing around them with a frown.

"I'm showing you the surprise?"

Everyone looked one way and then the other but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"Er...where?" Moose Boy asked in confusion.

"Here it is!" Crackle announced proudly, pointing to the house behind them.

The house was two stories tall with boarded up windows, peeling and dirty-looking paint, a sunken roof, and grass and weeds so tall you could barely see over them.

"Here's what?" Dash demanded, staring at the condemned house in front of them in disgust.

"This is our new base!" Crackle announced with a large grin.

The rest of the team glanced at the house that looked like it was ready to fall down at any moment, and then turned to stare at Crackle in disbelief.

"This is a joke, right?" Paper Star demanded.

Crackle shook his head. "I know it needs a little work-"

"It needs a wrecking ball," Neal corrected.

Crackle continued as if he hadn't heard. "But I know a thing or two about construction, and we can get this place fixed up in no time."

"I hate it," Theodore commented, "It smells like a musty gym sock."

Crackle's smile wavered a bit. "Oh… well I'm sure the smell will fade once it's cleaned up!"

"Did you really buy this?" Dash demanded skeptically.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" Otterman demanded, unable to see far enough to tell how bad it was.

"This was the only house within our budget in this area of San Diego," Crackle explained, "I paid for it in cash."

"I almost expected you to say you paid for it with loose change," Neal commented in amusement.

"I have plenty of money," Dash pointed out, "We can get a really nice place that isn't crawling with vermin."

Crackle shook his head. "No, this purchase was off the grid, and V.I.L.E won't be able to trace it. None of us can use our personal accounts, and we need to use cash only to be safe. If we're careful, we should be able to do the renovations ourselves, and have enough to live off for a while. When we run out of funds, we can pull a few small jobs."

"Oh, well, good luck with all that," Dash told him, "I'll be at the Hilton when you're done with all this."

"No, everyone is going to be helping with the renovations," Crackle responded, "No exceptions."

"What about Sven?" Moose Boy protested, "I'm not letting him do construction! He'd kill himself!"

Otterman flushed. "I would not ki-"

"Sven will be in charge of keeping track of our supplies and finances," Crackle answered, "He won't be doing anything physical for quite a while."

"I'm really feeling fi-"

"No arguing," Crackle scolded, "Everyone has a job to do and if we all work hard, we should be able to finish it in just a few weeks."

"Um, Graham?" Dash questioned.

"Yes?"

"What exactly about me makes you think I know anything about construction?" he demanded, "I've never even held a hammer before!"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Crackle responded, "Neal, you said you have construction experience, right?"

"Yeah," Neal replied with a nod, "My brother and I used to do our own home renovations because he was too cheap to pay someone else to do it."

"Roose and I did a lot of construction growing up too," Theodore informed them, "I actually enjoyed it. It's a good workout."

"Good, those with experience can teach those that don't know what they're doing," Crackle announced.

"Hear that, Dashie?" Neal teased, "I'm in charge of you!"

Dash scoffed, but didn't comment about it. Instead he turned an unhappy glare in Crackle's direction. "This house is disgusting. You don't expect us to sleep here, do you?"

"What, no, of course not," Crackle answered, "The plumbing doesn't work yet and the house is a mess."

"Thank god for small favours," Dash muttered to himself, "Which hotel are we staying at? We should probably choose one a little closer to here than the one we're at right now."

"We're not staying at a hotel." Crackle replied, "Tonight is our last night in a hotel."

Dash frowned. "Motel?"

"Nope."

"Bed and Breakfast?"

"Nope."

Dash was now very concerned. "...Airbnb?"

"No, I have something much better planned. You'll have to wait and see!" Crackle said, looking overly pleased with himself. "For right now, our priority is getting the bathroom working so we don't have to use the portapotty."

Dash glanced all around and then narrowed his eyes at the sight of it, having absolutely no intention of using it.

"Dash, do you want to help with design?" Crackle asked, "I was thinking that would be one of the jobs you'd be assigned."

Now that was something that interested Dash, and he eagerly stepped forward. "Yes, you will give me complete creative control and I might actually be able to make this house livable!" he vowed.

"Great," Crackle said enthusiastically, "Now let's all go to the hardware store to do some shopping! Today we'll try to get the plumbing working, and mow the grass."

As they crawled back into the van, Otterman squinted in the direction of the house. "Is it really that bad?" he whispered to Paper Star.

"Worse," she replied.

"Oh, wonderful," he commented.

Otterman was glad he wasn't going to be in charge of trying to fix it up, and knew he'd gotten the easiest job. He was excellent at budgets and financing and he felt confident he'd be able to do his job well.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mime Bomb woke with a start when he heard the door being unlocked, and he hurriedly sat up in bed. He glanced next to him at Player who was still sound asleep, and then turned his eyes back to the door. Viktor and Boris both entered, and when they saw he was awake, they gave him a cordial nod.

"We need you to come with us now, Yuri," Viktor requested.

Mime Bomb felt rather uneasy about this situation and he reached over to shake Player awake. Player blinked awake sleepily and then let out a squeak of surprise at the sight of the two Russians standing over the bed. Mime Bomb signed, letting him know it was time to leave, but Viktor quickly shook his head.

"No, little Matteo needs to stay here. Only you are coming."

Player gave Mime Bomb a terrified look, and so Mime Bomb reached out and took his hand, giving a stubborn shake of his head to Viktor.

"Only you are needed," Viktor insisted, "Matteo will be safe, I promise."

Mime Bomb shook his head again, refusing to leave Player behind. Boris muttered angrily to himself, but seemed to be letting Viktor handle the situation because he didn't try to intervene.

"You are really insisting on this?" Viktor demanded.

Mime Bomb met his gaze fiercely and nodded his head. Viktor sighed and then nodded in return.

"The boss isn't going to be happy over this, but it's your decision to make."

Mime Bomb was rather surprised by this, and then glanced to Player who seemed relieved.

"Hurry and get your shoes on," Viktor ordered, "We need to leave immediately. The boss is waiting and he's not the most patient person to deal with."

Mime Bomb and Player both grabbed their sneakers from the floor and hurriedly put them on.

"Yuri, you have my word, that after you speak with the boss, you'll be free to go."

Mime Bomb gave Viktor a completely bewildered look and so the man continued.

"If you choose to leave, no one will stop you, and no harm will come to you or little Matteo."

Mime Bomb narrowed his eyes, not believing any of this for even an instant.

"Come, come," Viktor ordered, motioning for them to follow, "Breakfast will be served at the boss' house. This will be a very peaceful meeting, I promise."

Mime Bomb glanced to Player who looked just as skeptical as he did. They followed after the two men without protest, and as they left the house they were immediately greeted with the sight of the dozens of armed men from the night before. Although there was no clapping or cheering this time, they seemed strangely glad to see him, and there were smiles all around. It made Mime Bomb incredibly uncomfortable and he stepped between Boris and Viktor to hide out of view as they walked to the car.

Three cars followed behind theirs, and another three led the way, making it very clear that no one was getting anywhere close to their car. Team Red had been listening to the whole conversation, and Player could hear them discussing it.

"The others are on their way," Carmen assured him, "Shadowsan wouldn't allow me to join the mission, but everyone else are almost to you. Another hour and they should be in the city. Do you know where they're taking you?"

Player eyed Viktor and Boris, who were sitting up front and then quietly whispered "No."

"Don't worry about it," Carmen assured him, "They should be able to trace your com once they're within range. Just do everything these men tell you to and don't argue with them. Don't give them a reason to hurt you."

"Where are we going?" Player asked, doing his best to look sweet and innocent.

"Never you mind, Matteo, you are not even supposed to be coming with us. Behave yourself or you might offend the boss."

"Who's your boss?"

"Nosy little goblin," Boris muttered, "I really hate children."

"And they hate you too," Viktor replied with a roll of his eyes.

Boris let out a snort and then turned to glare at Player. "No more talking."

Player fell silent, knowing they weren't likely to tell him anything. They drove to the other end of the city and entered an incredibly fancy and wealthy neighbourhood. They came to a large black gate which opened to allow them to enter, revealing a massive estate that looked fit for royalty.

"1740 Robastian Court," Player read outloud, "This is a really fancy looking place!"

"And you will behave yourself!" Boris snapped at him.

"Thanks, Player," Carmen said into his com, "Just try to stay safe until the others get there."

The cars all drove up the long driveway and parked in front of the manor, and Viktor turned to face Mime Bomb.

"Be as polite and as respectful as you can," he instructed, "The boss is known for his bad temper and you don't want to end up on the wrong side of it."

Mime Bomb gave a hesitant nod, having no idea what to expect. They got out of the car, and Viktor led the way as they approached the butler who waited for them at the door. He greeted them in Russian and then his gaze fell on Mime Bomb's makeup and outfit. He immediately began gesturing to him while speaking frantically, clearly upset about something, and Viktor responded with a shrug and a few words. The butler switched to English for Mime Bomb's sake, and then motioned for several servants to approach.

"He can not be brought to the boss like this! Clean him up and make him presentable as fast as you can!"

Mime Bomb didn't even have time to respond to that before he was seized by an entire group of servants and quickly ushered away. He glanced back to Player who was left standing next to the front door, having no idea what to do. The butler looked down at Player with a disgusted expression and then he let out a deep sigh.

"You will be shown to a waiting room where refreshments will be brought for you."

"Er...well, actually I'd really rather-"

"No arguments, small and dirty child!" the butler responded.

"I am not dirty!" Player responded, offended.

"All children are dirty," the man replied, nose in the air.

Player then recognized the butler, and his eyes widened in surprise. "Wait a second!" he exclaimed, "I know you! You were at the Finnegan building! Sebastian, right? You used to be the secretary for Michael Finnegan!"

The butler seemed taken off-guard and then he narrowed his eyes. "Escort the little boy to the west-wing waiting room," he ordered.

"Why are you here?" Player demanded, "Are the Finnegans behind this?"

"Come along, Matteo," Viktor said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "No more questions."

As Player was led away, he shot a concerned look over his shoulder, having no idea what was going on.

To Mime Bomb's horror, he was yanked into a bathroom by the servants, stripped down and then shoved into a hot shower. The servants then went about scrubbing the makeup off his face while washing his hair at the same time. Mime Bomb kicked and struggled, but he was outnumbered, and less than a minute later, he was clean and pulled back out of the shower. He was then hurriedly dried off and new and very expensive clothes were shoved into his arms.

" Торопиться! Торопиться! " he was scolded by one of the servants.

When he hesitated a moment too long, the man grabbed the black silk dress shirt from Mime Bomb and yanked it down over his head impatiently. Mime Bomb hurriedly finished dressing so it wouldn't be done for him, and then to his annoyance, his hair was slicked back and a toothbrush was shoved into his hand.

"Торопиться!" he was scolded again, and so he obediently brushed his teeth.

He barely had time to spit before he was pulled out of the bathroom and then back to the main hall where Sebastian was waiting for them.

"Five minutes," Sebastian scolded, "I expected better of all of you!"

The servants shot unhappy looks to Mime Bomb who knew he was the reason for the delay. Sebastian tsked once more, and then began circling Mime Bomb, looking him up and down critically.

"Much better," he said approvingly, "You finally look presentable. Now, follow me if you please."

Mime Bomb signed, asking where Player was, but Sebastian rolled his eyes. "I don't know sign language," he informed him, "Now stop delaying and come with me."

Mime Bomb shook his head.

"Don't be difficult," Sebastian said impatiently, "Follow me, now."

Mime Bomb stomped a foot and then shook his head.

"I don't know what you want," Sebastian informed him, looking annoyed.

Mime Bomb held a hand beside him approximately how tall Player was and then pointed around, getting agitated.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Sebastian muttered to himself, "Yet another spoiled Volkov. What do you want? The little boy?"

Mime Bomb nodded and crossed his arms.

Sebastian heaved a weary sigh and then adjusted his glasses in annoyance. "Fine, fine, fine, but we have to hurry."

Mime Bomb relaxed and followed after Sebastian, allowing him to hurriedly lead him through the manor. When Sebastian opened a door and revealed Player sitting on a couch happily eating sweets, the butler immediately turned his gaze to Viktor.

"Can you please accompany us? I have no idea what he keeps trying to tell me."

"I'm okay," Player assured Mime Bomb, "Viktor said you won't be gone long and so I'll just have breakfast while I wait for you."

"Nothing will happen to Matteo," Viktor assured him, approaching, "Now what is it you want to say?"

Mime Bomb scowled and began signing.

Viktor gave him a nod. "Yes, Sebastian is a prick," he agreed.

Sebastian sputtered indignantly, and then turned on his heel to walk away. Viktor shot Mime Bomb a grin and then they hurried to catch up to the other man. Sebastian sent them both a glare, but said nothing as he led them up a grand staircase to the second floor. They were taken to an incredibly ornate door and then Sebastian rapped hard using the knocker.

The door was opened by a guard within and they were led into the room. Mime Bomb stared around the room and saw it seemed to be someone's personal suite. There was a small sitting room and he was encouraged to take a seat to wait.

Glancing up at the walls, his gaze fell on several portraits. Not thinking too much of it, his eyes went from portrait to portrait in curiosity. Suddenly he saw a very familiar face staring back at him in one of the portraits. Getting hurriedly to his feet, he crossed the room and stood in front of the fireplace, staring at the family before him. There were four people in the portrait, three men and one woman, all with the same dark hair and stormy blue eyes. He stared at one of the men and felt his breath catch in his throat. It was his father. His father was young in the portrait and he was smiling widely, his arm wrapped around his brothers affectionately. As Mime Bomb stared at the faces, he recognized Maxim, and then Dmitry, but he was pretty sure he'd never met the woman.

"I had that painting commissioned twenty-five years ago," said a voice directly behind him.

Mime Bomb spun around and was met with the sight of an old man leaning heavily on a cane. The man had the same blue eyes as the others in the portrait, and his expression was stern and a little bit angry.

"Come here, Yuri Volkov," he ordered, "Let me take a look at you."

Mime Bomb felt rather uncertain, but the old man didn't seem to be an immediate threat and so he took a few steps closer to him. The old man raised a hand and laid it on Mime Bomb's cheek and then stared at him as if studying him.

"I see Alexei in you," he confirmed, "I have no doubt that you are a Volkov."

The old man then pulled him down and planted a kiss on top of his head.

"Welcome home, Yuri," he stated, "I am your grandfather, Mikhael Volkov, head of the Volkov empire."

Mime Bomb gasped and pulled away, staring at Mikhael in shock. Grandfather?! He had a grandfather?!

Mikhael turned his gaze to the portrait and a brief pained look crossed his face. "My oldest son, Maxim," he introduced, "He is ten years dead now."

Mime Bomb stared at Maxim and even though he knew the other man was long dead, he still got a shiver of fear when he looked at him.

"My second son, Alexei, your father," Mikhael said, "He is five years dead now."

Mime Bomb had suspected it, but to hear it confirmed left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. His father was gone, and he'd never get to see him again.

"My only daughter, Alexandria, twin to Alexei," Mikhael continued, "She was disowned over two decades ago. She is likely dead by now."

Mime Bomb stared at Alexandria and then at his father, easily able to see how much they looked alike.

"My youngest child, Dmitry," Mikhael said sadly, "He is the only one left now, but even he stopped contacting me after Alexei's death. I have no idea if he is still alive."

Mikhael then turned fully to Mime Bomb. "It became clear to me that the Volkov dynasty was in jeopardy without an heir, and so I've been trying to locate any and all grandchildren my children created. This was not at all easy, and it took me many years before I was able to locate one. I found a child of Dmitry's, but unfortunately, the boy is not suited to lead an empire. He is my blood and so I love him, but I have denied his claims of being heir."

Mime Bomb stared at him. He had a cousin?!

"You however, might be what I'm looking for," Mikhael continued, "My sources informed me that you're intelligent, and incredibly loyal. These are the traits that I'm looking for. I would like to get to know you if you allow me to, to see if you're a good fit as my heir."

Mime Bomb didn't like where this was going, and glanced towards the door. The Volkov empire had been responsible for countless acts of evil and he wanted nothing to do with it.

"You may leave at any time," Mikhael informed him, "The only thing I ask is that you listen to what I have to say."

Mime Bomb frowned at him, but he made no move to leave.

"Even if you do not end up becoming my heir, you will still be loved and welcome in this family," Mikhael assured him, "You are a Volkov, and you belong here. I want to know my grandchildren."

Mime Bomb stared at his grandfather, up until this moment not knowing he had any other family besides Alys. Taking a deep breath he began signing. Mikhael glanced over to Viktor who immediately stepped forward to translate.

"You stalked me for two months, put my friends and family in danger, and then kidnapped me," Viktor said.

"Apologies," Mikhael replied, not sounding at all sorry, "We needed to be sure it was really you before anything was revealed to you. I'm sorry that our treatment has upset you and I promise it will not happen again."

"I can leave?" Viktor translated, "I can just walk away right now?"

Mikhael gave a slow nod. "You can," he confirmed, "But please hear an old man out. I just want to get to know my grandson. Join me for breakfast, and then I'll send you back wherever you want."

Mime Bomb hesitated a long moment, wanting very much to find out what his grandfather was planning. Did he really want him to be part of the family? What exactly did that mean? What kind of criminal activities did Volkov get up to? Mime Bomb bit his lower lip as he considered it. Even if he refused, Mikhael had mentioned that he had a cousin who was denied heirship. Perhaps he could reach out to this cousin to get to know him?

Mime Bomb gave a slow nod and then began signing.

"I will stay for breakfast," Viktor translated, "Is my cousin here? I haven't met him before."

"No, no, he's not here. The boy is a fool and is off pretending he's spying for us," Mikhael replied with a roll of his eyes, "He doesn't realize I know he's been goofing off for the last several years. I think I have a picture of him somewhere if you'd like to see…"

Mime Bomb nodded, wondering if they looked anything alike.

Mikhael pulled out his wallet and then began digging inside, sifting through several photographs until he found the one he was looking for. He held the photo out to Mime Bomb who reached out to take it.

"This is my grandson from Dmitry. He was named after me, and I think he's around your age."

Mime Bomb's blood felt like it had suddenly frozen in his veins. It was a photograph of Michael Finnegan Jr.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Bored, bored, bored, boooooooored!" Michael moaned to himself irritably, "This whole stupid lab is fucking boring!"

Michael glared at the television screen with a scowl and then reached for the remote to turn it off. His Russian wasn't good enough to understand the plot of any of the shows, and he was tired of trying. Russian was hard and the grammar didn't make sense. He'd actually tried hard at first, but he quickly realized he was too dumb to learn a second language. He'd given up after a few months of difficult self-study and hadn't bothered with it since.

Michael tossed the remote aside and glared at the empty spot his PS4 used to sit. Vess had taken it away after Michael had borrowed his com without asking and then losing it. Vess had been furious with him, but luckily the com had been found on the floor of the infirmary. Vess had been especially grouchy lately, and he'd taken Michael's PS4 and tossed it into a closet to punish him. Michael had tried to explain that he was just using the com for a few minutes and hadn't meant to lose it, but Vess refused to listen.

Michael had been forced to listen to a long and boring lecture about respect, and he'd honestly zoned out within the first thirty seconds of it. His mind wandered and he began thinking about how much he'd messed up, and then he stared at Vess' angry eyes thinking about how they looked almost yellow when he was angry. His mind then began thinking of different animal eye colours he'd seen, which then led to him thinking about dragons' eyes, which then led to him thinking about mythical creatures. Were dragons and unicorns real, or was that just something in the bible? Michael thought about that for a few moments, trying to recall if he'd ever seen anything mentioned about it in nature documentaries.

Michael remembered seeing something about bearded dragons being kept as pets, and also he vaguely remembered Steve Irwin being chased by a Komodo Dragon. Was it legal to keep one of those as a pet? Could he train it to be his attack dog-er attack dragon?

Michael was then brought back to reality when he was slapped sharply across the face.

"You're not even listening to me!" Vess snapped in frustration, "You're just standing there with a fucking stupid look on your face."

"No, I was listening!" Michael protested.

Vess clearly didn't believe him. "Oh? Then what was I talking about?"

Michael hesitated. "Dragons?"

Vess took a deep breath through his nose and that was when he proceeded to take Michael's PS4 away. He then left the apartment with orders for Michael to stay out of his hair for the day. When Michael pointed out the PS4 would help with that, Vess told him he'd smash it if he touched it.

Michael was then left by himself as Vess went to work, feeling sulky and a little bit rebellious. Not rebellious enough to touch the PS4, but enough to switch all of Vess' favourite channels to something else. He'd watched several shows in sullen silence, but by mid day he was bored out of his mind.

"Ughhhh!" Michael complained.

Did Vess actually mean he wanted him to stay away for the whole day, or was he just being overdramatic? Surely he was over it by now, right? It had been four hours after all and Michael never stayed mad that long. Maybe he'd pay Vess a visit and get him to take lunch with him? Michael pondered that for a moment, and felt certain he'd be able to cheer the other man up.

Jumping to his feet, he headed for the door, looking forward to spending a bit of quality time with his partner. Vess had been a little more distant than usual lately, but Michael assumed it was because of stress. His mind then went back to what Siren had told him and it left a lump of worry in the pit of his stomach. Michael ignored the feeling and hurried through the complex, heading in the direction of the lab.

When he reached the lab doors, he paused at the sight of a sign taped to the door.

'Do NOT disturb for any reason. Experiment in progress. This means you , Michael'

Michael frowned at the note wondering how old it was. Vess likely put that up when he first started work, and so he had to be long done with his experiment. How long could it possibly take to mix a few chemicals in a test tube? Five minutes? Ten at the most? Vess had obviously just forgotten to take down the sign.

Shrugging, Michael opened the lab door with a loud bang, startling Vess who was carefully measuring something.

Vess' hand jostled and a silver liquid slopped into the beaker in front of him. There was instantly a massive explosion, and the lab filled with a thick, black smoke. Michael let out a gasp and charged into the smoke to rescue his partner.

"Numa?!" he called out, "Numa, are you okay?"

Vess was coughing heavily and Michael grabbed his wrist and pulled him in the direction of the door. The moment they were out in the hallway, Vess continued coughing, his face smudged in black ash, and part of his right eyebrow was missing. When Vess finally got his coughing under control, he turned murderous eyes on Michael.

"Do you have any idea what you just ruined?!" he snarled, "That was an entire week's work!"

Michael was confused. "I saved you!" he protested.

Vess' response to that was to slap Michael so hard he tasted blood. Vess then pointed to the sign on the door, his expression only growing angrier by the second.

"What part of this sign was confusing to you?"

Michael squinted at the sign. "Um…"

Vess went to slap him again, but this time Michael stepped back.

"Look, I'm sorry!" Michael protested, "I thought the sign was old! I only came to ask you to go to lunch with me!"

Vess said some very colourful words in Arabic, knowing that because of Michael, his experiments had been delayed a full week.

"You are not to step foot in this lab ever again!" Vess snarled, "I don't care if the building is on fire or if there's a crazed gunman in the hallways! NEVER go in my lab again, is this clear?"

Michael gave him a slow nod. "Until tomorrow?" he asked.

"Do you know what the word 'never' means, Michael?"

"Um...yeah?"

"You are NEVER allowed in my lab again."

"You're banning me from coming to visit you?"

"Yes," Vess replied firmly.

Michael gave him a hurt look. "I'm sorry I messed up your experiments," he told him, "I just wanted to spend some time with you."

"And look what that has accomplished!" Vess snapped, "Go back to our suite, Michael, and for your sake, you'd better not find any other way to piss me off today. We will be discussing this in great length later tonight."

Michael raised a hand to his bloody lip and winced, having a feeling he wasn't going to like the upcoming conversation.

"I'm sorry…"

"Go away, Michael," Vess ordered, turning back to his lab, "You've done enough."

Michael watched as Vess re-entered the smoke filled lab, and then he turned to walk away feeling like an absolute idiot. Why did he keep making such stupid mistakes?

Michael headed for the cafeteria, feeling like drowning his sorrows in copious amounts of grease and cheese. When he entered the cafeteria, there was only one single guard sitting at one of the tables by himself. Michael approached the order station, and his gaze fell on the girl in charge of making the coffee for the entire building. Siren's words once again came back to haunt him and he narrowed his eyes at the girl.

Michael thought back to any and all interactions he could remember between Vess and the girl, but he couldn't really recall much. She did seem to visit Vess' lab incredibly often and he found that a bit suspicious. Vess had always been polite to the girl, and Michael was suspicious of it. What if Siren was right and Vess was cheating on him?

Michael glared daggers at the oblivious girl, not sure what he should do. Should he beat her face in? Ignore her? Tell her Vess gave up caffeine? Michael quickly shook his head. No, Vess lived on caffeine and he would murder him if he messed with his coffee. He then became aware of someone talking to him. Glancing over, he saw the lunch lady was giving him an odd look.

"What?" he snapped.

"You okay there, sweetheart? I spoke to you five times just now and you didn't seem to hear me."

"Mind your own fucking business, you nosy Boomer."

The lunch lady gave him an unimpressed look. "You going to order food or not?"

"Gimme a slice of pizza with nachos, bacon and cheese on it," he ordered.

"Doctor Vess told me to stop serving you that," she responded with a shrug.

Michael scowled at her. "Are you serious? Why?"

The lunch lady gave him a flat look. "It's over 8000 calories in one dish, and you're lactose intolerant. He said to encourage you to eat a salad."

"Salads are for girls and gays," Michael responded irritably, "I don't eat rabbit food."

"Sorry, I really can't disobey a direct order like that."

Michael turned his glare at the nearby coffee girl. "This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it?!" he snarled at her, "I hope you're happy now, you homewrecker!"

The girl gave him a confused look and said nothing, simply backing a little further away from him.

Michael took a deep breath and then grabbed a family size bag of M&Ms. Tossing some cash at her a lot harder than necessary, he turned and took a seat at one of the many empty tables. This was not turning out to be a good day, and he had no idea what he was going to do. He sat head in hand for a moment, wondering if Vess was planning on breaking up with him. He turned his gaze to the coffee girl and narrowed his eyes. She was around nineteen or so, thin, pretty and had a decent looking body. Michael looked down at himself, pretty certain he had a good body as well. The girl was clearly competition however, and he needed to make her understand how she was overstepping.

Shoving the massive bag of M&Ms in the waistband of his pants, he stood back up, determined to prove himself as the superior one. Stalking back over to the counter, he glowered at the coffee girl and beckoned her over. She eyed him a bit warily, but still approached to see what he wanted. The second she came within reach, he grabbed her by the shirt and yanked her over the counter. The girl began screaming, and Michael slammed his fist into her face as hard as he could over and over. He got in three good hits before he was grabbed from behind and was pulled away from her. Turning around, he saw the guard who'd been eating lunch in the room was now retraining him, and Michael struggled uselessly against him.

"STAY AWAY FROM HIM!" Michael snarled at the girl, "GO NEAR HIM AGAIN AND I'LL KILL YOU!"

The girl was sitting on the floor clutching her bleeding face and crying, and Michael felt satisfied. She'd never go near Vess again, he was certain of it.

"I'm calling Doctor Vesalius!" the lunch lady called to the guard, phone already in her hand, "Keep him restrained!"

Michael's eyes widened. What would Vess say when he discovered Michael had beaten his side-chick? What if Vess had liked her better than him? Michael suddenly regretted his rash actions, knowing Vess was going to be furious. Michael was once again interrupting Vess' work, and he knew this was not going to end well for him. What if Vess broke up with him on the spot because of this?

Thoroughly panicking, Michael stomped as hard as he could on the guard's foot. The other man let out a loud cry of pain and released him, and Michael didn't hesitate to run as fast as he could from the cafeteria. He ran through the halls, shoving aside anyone in his way, hoping to delay the inevitable. If he could hide out for a while, that would give Vess time to calm down before they spoke. Michael would then have time to think up a good explanation that would hopefully satisfy the doctor.

Michael had no doubt that Vess would be sending people to look for him, and so he headed for the place he liked to go whenever he was hiding. Making sure no one was paying him any attention, he snuck through the lower level, and then pressed his hand to one of the keypads next to a door. The door popped open and he slipped inside, making sure not to make any noise.

"Mikey!" DD exclaimed in delight when he entered her room.

Michael didn't answer, standing next to the door listening for anyone approaching.

DD smiled up at him, amused by the nervousness on his face. "Are you in trouble again?" she asked.

"...maybe," Michael responded, finally turning away from the door.

Michael looked down at DD and saw she was completely surrounded by Lego. "Where did all this come from?" he demanded in surprise, "Did Numa give this to you?"

DD gave him an evasive shrug. Michael frowned suspiciously, and his eyes fell on the nearby box, remembering that was the same one Siren had with him the day they got rid of Braxton.

"Siren gave it to you?"

DD gave him a calculating look and didn't answer.

Michael took a seat in front of her on the floor and picked up the half-finished pirate ship. "Did you do this?" he asked in surprise.

"Siren was helping m-" DD's eyes then grew wide and she slapped her hands over her mouth.

Michael rolled his eyes, not especially caring. "That creepy little asshole won't be visiting you for a while," he informed her.

DD was instantly concerned. "Why? Is he okay?"

"Naw, he got the shit beat out of him and he's in the hospital wing."

DD was instantly distraught. "Oh no! Did Doctor Vess hurt him like he does me?"

Michael's expression turned unreadable for a long moment before he gave a slow shake of his head. "No...it was someone else."

DD stared at Michael a bit suspiciously, easily picking up on the guilt on his face. Her eyes fell on Michael's split lip and she reached out towards him.

"You're hurt!" she exclaimed, "Who did that to you?"

Michael said nothing, and then raised his hands to cover his face, once again remembering how angry Vess was at him.

"Mikey?" DD questioned, scooching over beside him, "What's wrong? Why do you look so sad? Are you crying?"

Michael removed his hands and glared at her. "I'm not Siren," he snapped, "I don't cry over every little thing that happens."

DD's concerned expression didn't waver. "What's wrong?"

Michael let out a deep sigh, his thoughts on the pretty coffee girl.

"I'm handsome, right?" Michael demanded, gesturing to his face.

DD cocked her head. "I guess?"

"Then why does Vess prefer that fucking bitch that makes his coffee? What does she have that I don't?!"

DD blinked, having no idea how to answer that. "Uhhhh…"

Michael stood to his feet and then began angrily pacing. "Everything I do only makes things worse! I shoulda killed that whore when I had the chance! She's probably bawling to him right now while he comforts her! I hate her!"

DD had no sweet clue what he was talking about and brushed her long hair out of her eyes as she watched him pace around the room like a caged animal.

"He's going to kill me!" Michael said in despair, "I messed everything up, and I don't know how to fix this!"

DD gave him a thoughtful look as she considered how to help. "Can you say sorry?" she suggested.

"That never works," Michael said with a sigh, "I need to show him I'm better than that girl!"

"How can you show him?" DD asked with a frown, "By taking a picture?"

Michael stopped pacing, and gave her a surprised look. "Actually...maybe a few sexy pictures would get his attention…"

Michael considered it and then pulled out his com. Holding the com at arm's length, he gave his most charming smile and snapped a photo. DD peeked around him to see, and gave a nod of approval.

"See, you have a good smile!" she told him.

Michael stared at the picture and then frowned. It wasn't good enough. He needed to make it really special somehow. Remembering the movie they had watched together the other night, he suddenly got an idea.

"Wanna earn an M&M?" he demanded.

"What's an M&M?" DD asked.

Michael pulled the bag of candy out of his belt and held it out. "I'll give you one M&M if you take a picture for me."

DD stared at the bright and colourful package and cocked her head. "Is it food?" she asked, "They look like pills. I don't like pills."

"No, it's candy," Michael told her.

"I've never had candy before," DD said thoughtfully.

"That's not true, I gave you a marshmallow once," Michael challenged.

"I don't remember," DD responded, "Did I like it?"

"You loved it, but then I got yelled at for feeding you something unauthorized."

DD stared again at the bag and felt her curiosity grow. "Okay," she agreed with a nod, "What do I do?"

Michael showed her how to hold the com, and what button to press to take the photo and she took a couple practice pictures before giving him a nod. Michael unbuttoned his shirt so his chest and abs were showing, and then posed himself on DD's bed, doing his best to look sexy.

"You're weird," DD commented, snapping the photo.

"Lemme see!" Michael demanded, snatching the com.

When he saw the picture, he nodded in approval, the pose being exactly like the one in the movie.

"Perfect!"

Typing in a caption of ' I'd fight a dinosaur for you any day! ' he hit send, and then anxiously waited.

"Will you help me put my boat together?" DD asked, sitting down next to the Lego again.

Michael glanced down at her uncertainly as she held up the thick instruction manual.

"I don't read so good," Michael admitted, sitting down across from her.

"That's okay," DD assured him, "I can't read at all!"

Michael took the manual and stared at the complicated instructions, immediately getting overwhelmed. He glanced at the half-finished ship, and then back at the instructions, quickly feeling embarrassed that he had no idea what to do. DD watched his face closely, and when it was obvious he was getting upset, she quickly spoke up.

"Actually, I don't feel like finishing the boat," she told him, "Do you know how to build something else?"

Michael tossed the instructions aside in relief and then nodded. "Yeah, I can build a Lego dog."

"What's a dog?"

Michael crinkled his nose, certain she was messing with him. "It's an animal," he responded, "It's the evolved form of a cat."

"Oh!" DD exclaimed excitedly, "Can you show me?!"

Michael hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "I guess…"

As he put together the very simple shape, DD watched him like a hawk so she'd remember how to do it later. When he was done, he held it out, expecting her to laugh, but instead she let out a gasp of delight and reached out to take it.

"I love it!" she told him, smiling wide.

"Really?" Michael said in surprise, "Normally people laugh at me."

"It's perfect!" DD promised, smiling up at him, "Are you going to play with me for a while today?"

Michael glanced back to his com, but there was still no reply. Maybe it would be best he stay for a while until things calmed down…

Michael stared down at DD for a long moment, having no idea why he kept coming back here. He supposed it was because DD was too young to judge him, and too young to know how stupid he was. She was always happy to see him, and it was an easy way to kill a few hours. He'd been visiting her from the time she was a toddler, and to his knowledge, Vess had no idea. Vess would have a fit if he knew how often he came here, and he'd probably get in trouble over it.

"Where's my M&M?" DD suddenly demanded, holding out her hand, "You promised!"

"Oh, right," Michael replied, ripping open the bag, "What colour do you want?"

"Blue!" DD said, "I like blue things!"

Michael placed a single blue M&M into the palm of her hand and then popped an entire handful into his mouth. DD studied the piece of candy intently and then she hesitantly licked it. It didn't seem to have much of a taste and so she put it into her mouth and chewed. She'd never tried chocolate before, and the sweet taste was better than anything she'd ever had before.

"Oh, it's good!" she told him, eyeing the massive bag Michael held.

"Lego's boring," Michael told her, "How about we play poker instead?"

"Okay," DD agreed, "How do we play?"

Michael pulled a deck of cards out of his front pocket and quickly explained the basics of the game. He then gave her a poker card which showed her the different hands and began shuffling the cards.

"Okay, now what can we use to bet?" Michael pondered out loud, "Do you have any money?"

DD shook her head.

"Hmm," Michael said, glancing at the M&Ms, "Okay, we'll use these to bet with. Whoever wins the game gets to keep all the candy."

DD was now completely alert, eyes on the chocolate. Without another word, Michael began dealing the cards.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mime Bomb stared at the photo in absolute horror, feeling like this was some sort of nightmare. Michael Finnegan Jr. was his cousin. The man he hated more than anybody, the one who had tortured and tried to kill him was his own cousin.

The picture fell to the floor, and Mime Bomb clenched his fists, certain this had to be some sort of joke. Mikhael watched him closely for a moment, his blue eyes boring into his grandson in a calculating fashion.

"You've already met him," he stated knowingly.

Mime Bomb simply nodded.

"By your reaction, I'd say he hasn't made a very good impression on you."

Mime Bomb grimaced. That was the understatement of the year, that's for sure…

"I met Michael when he was sixteen after he'd run away from the Finnegan home. His mother had told him the truth of who his biological father was, and he set out to find Dmitry. He didn't find him, but he did find me," Mikhael explained, "Michael had grown up spoiled and pampered and didn't like the fact there were rules in this family. He insisted on leaving to work for our family. I didn't see a future for him as head of the family, and so I permitted it."

Mime Bomb averted his eyes, wanting to leave, but doubting he'd be allowed. He wanted nothing to do with Michael Jr., and he was fully prepared to deny any relation between them. Mikhael took note of Mime Bomb's stiff posture and he narrowed his eyes.

"Your cousin is an absolute moron, but you have nothing to fear from him."

Mime Bomb violently shook his head and then signed.

"No. You have no idea what that monster did to me," Viktor translated, "He belongs in jail."

Mikhael frowned. "I'm aware he was in jail for a month or so, and I was planning on leaving him there for a few months to teach him a lesson, but V.I.L.E rescued him. I'm sure whatever he did was not as bad as you're making it out to be. Did you two boys get in a fight or something?"

Mime Bomb looked up and there was white hot fury in his eyes. Without signing another word, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Yuri, what are you-"

Mikhael cut off when Mime Bomb opened his shirt, displaying the horrendous scars that covered his entire torso. Mikhael reached out a hand to inspect the scars and he knew just by looking at the wounds they'd been caused by a knife.

"Michael did this to you?" he demanded in surprise.

Mime Bomb nodded as he buttoned his shirt back up.

"He broke my arm, broke half my ribs, and sliced my chest and stomach wide open. I nearly died," Viktor said, his tone sounding incredibly disturbed, "He starved and tortured me for three days straight."

Mikhael swore in Russian, and then knelt down to pick up the photograph. "You have been wronged and it will be dealt with," he promised, "Michael is family, and we don't hurt family. You have my word that he will never lay a hand on you ever again."

Mime Bomb shook his head and backed up a step.

"Michael is a disappointment, but he is still a Volkov. He is still claiming that he's spying on the Finnegans, and V.I.L.E, but there's no doubt in my mind that he's fucking that V.I.L.E doctor. I've been looking the other way on that, but he is going to understand that you are off-limits."

Mime Bomb froze in place, eyes wide. Michael Jr. and Vess were...they were...Nope. He didn't want to think about that. There had to be some mistake. The two most evil people he knew were together? Nope. Nope. Nope. He shook his head, and Mikhael gave him a questioning look.

Mime Bomb turned away, fully intending on just walking away, but the door suddenly opened and a tiny old woman hurried in. She was short, portly and moved slowly, but her eyes were kind and her face lit up at the sight of Mime Bomb. She hurried over to him and began babbling in Russian to him a mile a minute, and reached up to pull him down by the shirt so they were eye level.

The woman was very short and so Mime Bomb was awkwardly hunched as she cupped his face and cooed over his freckles. Her hands touched his red hair as if she were completely delighted by it, and then she planted a kiss to his cheek. The only word Mime Bomb understood her saying was his name, and she hugged him tightly while still babbling affectionately. Mime Bomb turned a pleading look over to Mikhael who was watching in exasperation.

"This is your grandmother, Annika," Mikhael explained, "She doesn't speak a word of English, but she's been incredibly excited to meet you."

Mime Bomb's gaze went back to the old woman. Grandmother? He had nothing but terrible memories of his maternal grandmother, but Annika seemed to mean him no harm. She looked him up and down and then tutted him as she made a motion to show she thought he was too thin. She then took him by the hand and began leading him away, ignoring the annoyed look on her husband's face. Mime Bomb glanced over at Mikhael and then at Viktor, and saw both were following behind.

His grandmother spoke to him the whole way through the manor, pointing at various pictures and obviously explaining who was in each. Mime Bomb simply nodded along with everything she said, her sweet demeanor starting to calm him down. They then entered a large dining room, and Annika ushered him into a seat, giving his cheek an affectionate pat. She took a seat to his right, and Mikhael took a seat to his left, not saying a word about any of this.

Mime Bomb glanced around the dining hall, taking note of the extravagant carvings in the woodwork of each doorway. When he looked up, there was a massive crystal chandelier above him, and the entire room seemed to scream 'filthy rich'. They were only seated for a few seconds when the side door opened and several servants entered, carrying silver trays of food. One was placed in front of each person, and the lid was removed, revealing pancakes and orange juice.

"Съедать! Съедать!" Annika said to Mime Bomb, giving him a pat on the back.

He understood that word from his time in the lab, and he reluctantly picked up a fork. Viktor took a seat at the far end of the table, close enough to help translate if necessary, but far enough away to not intrude. Mime Bomb stared down at the food, but his stomach was twisting painfully, and he poked at it a bit, but didn't try any of it.

"Yura?" Annika questioned in concern.

Mime Bomb looked up at her, and something must have shown in his expression because she reached out and rested a hand on his arm, shooting her husband a look. Mikhael glanced up from his breakfast, and stared at Mime Bomb for a moment before speaking up.

"What was done to you at Volkov labs was not supposed to happen," he said slowly.

Mime Bomb looked over at him, the old man now having his complete and undivided attention.

"I ran the Volkov empire for over sixty years, and I was going to turn over Volkov to my eldest son, Maxim back in 2010. I stepped back to allow him control and without my knowledge he began funding the disgusting experiments at that lab. I had no knowledge of it, otherwise I would have put a stop to it."

Mime Bomb was skeptical and Mikhael gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

"I trusted my son, and I couldn't see how the power went to his head. He was always my pride and joy, but he destroyed everything. He began a war with V.I.L.E and he split Volkov apart. I couldn't believe it when I was told what he'd done to you, his own nephew. Family is everything to us, but he tossed you aside like you were nothing. As the only known Volkov grandchild at the time, you were a threat to his claim as heir. He had cancer just five years before he met you, and was rendered sterile, and believed he would never sire children. He was afraid I would choose Alexei as heir so the family line wouldn't die out.

He committed unspeakable evil in the Volkov name, and for that I'm truly sorry. We failed you in all the ways that mattered. Your place is here, and you will never be harmed again."

Mime Bomb hunched his shoulders and was honestly feeling overwhelmed. He wanted time to think about all of this, not quite sure whether to believe him or not.

"We were the ones who organized the rescue of you after V.I.L.E took over the lab. We had an inside contact that worked with Viktor's brother, and he managed to get you to Dmitry."

Mime Bomb glanced over at Viktor in surprise. The other man nodded in agreement, a sad sort of look crossing his face.

"My brother Kosnya Kuznetsov worked for over a year to shut down that lab," Viktor informed him, "Unfortunately he did not make it out of the building alive. V.I.L.E rebuilt the lab, and we've been working to take it back and destroy it once and for all."

Mime Bomb thought of the boy who had rescued him and knew how dangerous it would have been for him to betray V.I.L.E. If that was the case, there was no way he'd survived once V.I.L.E took the lab back over. Did Volkov rescue the boy before V.I.L.E won the fight? Mime Bomb signed to Viktor, asking about the boy and Viktor hesitated.

"What is he saying?" Mikhael demanded.

"He wants to know if we rescued the scientist who saved him," Viktor replied.

"Go ahead and tell him," Mikhael said, "Don't hide anything from him."

Viktor nodded, and then turned his gaze back to Mime Bomb. "The scientist who rescued you was unfortunately taken by V.I.L.E when they retook the lab. We haven't been able to get confirmation that he's alive."

Mime Bomb's shoulders slumped, expecting this was the case, but now that it was confirmed he felt a sense of loss. Why didn't Dmitry take the other boy at the same time? They both could have been saved! He thought of the scientist and could still remember his odd eyes and his snarky attitude towards everyone around him. Despite the other boy's unfriendly demeanor, Mime Bomb had seen the kindness within him, and he had come to trust him during the first year V.I.L.E took over the lab. Knowing he was likely dead left a deep sense of loss, and Mime Bomb averted his gaze away from Viktor.

"My brother was very close to that scientist," Viktor informed him, "He was posing as an American at that time and going by the name of Kevin. He was assigned to be Del's personal guard and it was through this that we learned Del had no loyalty to V.I.L.E. He'd been kidnapped and forced to work in the lab against his will. He joined us once my brother was sure we could trust him, and he was the one to discover who you really were."

Mime Bomb stared down at the table. Del? He hadn't even known his name. There was now a name that went with the face.

"I'm sorry we took you in such a way," Mikhael told him, "I want you to stay here with us in this house and learn about what the Volkov Empire does. You will attend university in order to obtain a business degree, and then you will be apprenticed to me if you show promise. If you're not suited to someday running Volkov, then you will still be a valuable member of the family. Hopefully one of your cousins is suited for it if it comes to that."

Mime Bomb stared at him in surprise. Cousins? He had more than one? He quickly signed his question, and Viktor nodded in response.

"Yes, you have three cousins."

Mikhael nodded as well. "It seems that all four of my children had one child each, but it's been extremely difficult to trace my grandchildren down. It took me over ten years to be able to find you, and I still have no idea where two of them are. Maxim had no idea he fathered a child, and he died without ever finding out. My children hid their indiscretions well, and it was only through a lot of digging that I found out any of you existed."

Mime Bomb thought of Michael Jr. and grimaced at the thought of his other cousins being just as deranged. What if the whole family was like that? If Michael was the son of the sweet and gentle Dmitry then what would the child of Maxim be like? Mime Bomb shuddered at the thought.

"What do you say, Yura?" Mikhael asked, "The decision is up to you, you won't be forced."

Mime Bomb thought about what he was being offered. He'd be able to get to know his grandparents, his cousins, learn his family history and even attend university. That would mean leaving Team Red, and just the thought of it made him feel guilty. Zack and Ivy came to mind, and he felt an instant longing for his found family. He could never leave them behind.

Mime Bomb hesitated and then began signing.

"What about my adoptive brother and sister?" Viktor translated, "I won't leave them behind."

Mikhael didn't seem bothered by this and gave a shrug. "If you want them, then that's fine with me," he replied, "They can join Volkov and attend university with you. It's always good to keep trustworthy people around you. We will welcome anyone you want us to as long as they can be trusted."

Mime Bomb wasn't expecting the invitation to be extended to Zack and Ivy. He doubted they would ever want to leave Team Red and Carmen behind, but he knew it was good to keep their options open.

"Can I think about it?" Viktor translated.

Mikhael gave a nod. "I will provide you with my contact information and you can take as much time as you need. The same rule applies to you as it does your cousin Michael. I expect at least one phone call a week to make sure you're still alive and well. I want to know my grandchildren, even if you don't wish to join Volkov."

Mime Bomb gave a slow nod, feeling too overwhelmed with everything to respond. His grandmother hadn't understood a word of what was being said, but she could feel the tension in the air and could see how upset Mime Bomb was and so she reached over and took his hand. He glanced over at her and she offered him a smile and gave his hand a tight squeeze.

"After breakfast, we'll drive you to the airport if that's where you want to go," Mikhael informed him, "No one will try to stop you."

Mime Bomb nodded.

"Съедать! Съедать!" Annika encouraged, placing a fork into Mime Bomb's hand.

Hoping this would mean he would be left alone to think for a few minutes, Mime Bomb obediently began eating. Annika beamed at him happily and then began chatting with him in Russian, clearly pleased that he was eating. Just as he reached for his glass of juice, several men burst into the room, causing him to jerk his hand in surprise, spilling the juice across the table. They shouted something in Russian and Mikhael and Viktor jumped to their feet, reaching for the guns on their belts.

Mime Bomb stared with wide eyes, and then Mikhael turned to him. "There are intruders trying to break into the building," he explained, "We need to get you and your grandmother to safety while we take them down."

Mime Bomb sucked in a sharp breath of fear. Team Red had come for them, and they were in danger.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Michael glanced down at his last two M&Ms and then scowled over at DD's massive pile. Why was a four year old so good at cards? She only learned to play two hours ago!

"You're cheating!" he accused, tossing his hand of cards to the floor.

"No, I'm not," DD replied, also setting her cards down, "I saw you trying to cheat though!"

Michael flushed, realizing she was just better than him. "This is stupid, I don't want to play anymore."

DD eyed him for a moment and then reached down and slid half her winnings towards him. "We'll share," she told him, "Thank you for playing with me, Mikey."

Michael glared at her for a moment and then glanced to his phone when it dinged. Grabbing it up, he saw Vess had finally replied to his text.

' Don't think this picture erases the fact that I'm mad at you '

Michael sighed and then replied with an apology.

' Where are you? ' Vess demanded, ' I want to speak with you for a few minutes .'

Michael didn't want Vess to know his secret hiding spot, and so he quickly stood up. ' On my way, " he replied.

"Are you leaving?" DD asked.

Michael nodded. "Yeah, I gotta go."

DD seemed disappointed but gave him a nod of resignation. "Will you come back to play with me tomorrow?"

Michael had no idea what Vess was going to do to him, and so he shook his head. "Probably not."

DD began scooping the M&Ms into the empty bag, and Michael stared down at her and frowned. It was a shame that DD was going to be killed soon, and he wondered if any of the new children would be like her. Michael doubted he'd have as much fun with older kids, and knew once DD was dead he was likely going to become extremely bored.

Michael continued staring down at her and he knew it probably would have been kinder to just kill the girl the same time he did her mother. He'd taken her on an impulse, and Vess had been incredibly pleased when he'd presented her to him. Michael had only wanted Vess' approval and he hadn't cared that a baby was going to be experimented on. He had finally gotten Vess' attention, and they'd been together for over four years now.

Michael had known her the entire time he'd been with Vess, watched her grow, and now it was her time to go. Vess had told him he could watch when DD was disposed of, and Michael was curious of how Vess was going to do it. Would she be euthanized like an animal or would he go for a more violent approach and slit her throat?

Michael had seen violence and bloodshed his entire life, and he was desensitized to it. Everyone died, and there was no point in getting attached to people who were disposable.

"Here's your half!" DD said, holding up the bag towards him.

Michael turned away. "Keep it," he told her, "But don't you dare tattle on me to Numa!"

"I won't!" DD promised, smiling up at him in delight. "Thank you!"

As he left the room, he heard her call after him to say goodbye but he didn't reply. As soon as Vess had older children, there would be no need for DD, and she'd be disposed of like garbage. Vess would likely dissect her to see what effects his experiments had on her body, but ultimately, her remains would be bagged up and thrown away.

Michael remembered seeing his father, Mr. Finnegan, kill his younger sister when he was seven. He had been so excited to finally get a sibling that he had snuck out of his room so he could meet her. The baby had been born late at night, and had been obviously a result of infidelity. The baby was mixed race, and Michael Finnegan Sr. had been enraged. Michael watched from the closet as the baby was violently killed in front of his mother as she screamed and begged for mercy. He remembered the baby's tiny, squeaky cries which had cut off abruptly, and the baby had been tossed aside like a limp doll. Michael had then witnessed his mother being beaten within an inch of her life. He had watched with wide eyes, his hands clamped to his mouth, too terrified to move.

Michael eventually got several siblings which were the spitting image of Mr. Finnegan, but everything had changed for him. His siblings were all ginger, but his hair and eyes were dark. He looked nothing like the rest of the family, and as he grew, his father became more and more suspicious. When he was sixteen, his mother told him the truth of who his real father was, and he'd been enraged. He remembered what had happened to that baby and he called her some really terrible names. She told him how she had been forced into the marriage, and that there was no escape from this life. He hadn't cared what her excuses were and he had left the house, fully intending on never speaking to her again.

Michael distinctly remembered the shame and embarrassment of knowing he was a bastard, and he didn't want to face the man he'd called his father for his entire life. He honestly wasn't sure what his reaction would be, and he was afraid. He knew the rage Mr. Finnegan had, and knew he or his mother might be killed because of it.

Michael stopped walking and glanced back towards DD's room. This was the way life was, and although not fair, it was a life where innocent children died. There was nothing anyone could do about it. Michael had to learn to stop getting attached to disposable people. Death had been around him his entire life, and even his friends weren't safe. He thought of Dustin and how Vess had shot him without any hesitation whatsoever.

Michael was always alone, and Vess was the only constant in his life. Vess was too valuable to ever be killed by V.I.L.E., or by Volkov for that matter. Vess was not disposable, and he was therefore safe to get attached to. Siren had offered his friendship, but Michael didn't trust it. Although Vess needed Siren alive, Siren was also volatile and unpredictable. A guard or even Vess could be forced to shoot him some day, and then Michael would once again be alone. Michael wanted someone to hang around, someone to talk to, but he'd have to avoid getting attached.

Michael passed by the infirmary and then continued on his way towards Vess' lab. If Vess sent him away, where would he go? The Finnegan empire had collapsed, and that only left Volkov or returning home to his mother. Michael hadn't spoken to his mother since he'd left all those years ago, and he'd rather die than return there now.

Michael Finnegan Sr. had eventually found out Michael wasn't his son, and he'd been furious, but he hadn't killed him like Michael had expected. By this time, Michael had proven himself valuable, and so his 'father' had allowed him to remain working for him. Everything had changed and Mr. Finnegan was always cold towards him, and he'd been written out of the will. Michael had then planned the assassination attempt, angry and resentful over everything. Team Red and that clown had ruined everything. If it wasn't for them, he'd now be the head of the Finnegan empire.

Vess wanted that clown more than anything, and Michael was going to delight in watching him get dissected. There was something about the other boy that set him on edge and he didn't know what it was. Maybe it was the fact he was a clown or perhaps it was because he'd never once heard him make a single sound, even when he was being tortured. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

Michael shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he reached the lab. Pushing open the door, he saw Vess seated at his desk typing on his laptop. The room was covered in dark smudges of ash from the explosion, and Michael winced, knowing it was all his fault. Vess glanced up at him, and then narrowed his eyes angrily. Michael tensed as Vess stood up, and he knew this was probably going to be bad.

"I don't know what's wrong with you today, Michael, but I expect an explanation," Vess snapped, his hands clenching into tight fists.

Michael averted his eyes and then responded with a silent shrug. He was expecting the slap, but it still made him gasp, his hand going to his burning cheek.

"You attacked one of the kitchen staff and I want to know why ," Vess demanded, "Did she do anything to you?"

Michael said nothing.

Vess took a very deep and slow breath, his eyes taking in Michael's distressed expression. Perhaps this would take a different approach…

"Michael," Vess said, softening his tone, "You've been distracted all day, not listening to a word I say, you blew up my lab, got into a fight with a girl and then disappeared for hours. What's going on?"

Michael clenched his teeth as he thought of the coffee girl. He should have hit her harder. She was a threat to everything he cared about, and he wished she was dead. Vess saw the anger that crossed Michael's face and he frowned at him.

"What happened with the girl in the cafeteria?" he asked.

"How long have you been fucking her behind my back?" Michael demanded, turning furious eyes up at him.

Vess blinked. "What?"

Michael thought of his cheating mother, and the betrayal ran deep within him as he felt a rage consume him. "How long have you been fucking the coffee whore?" he snapped, "Months? Years? You planning on getting rid of me?"

Vess gave him a completely bewildered look. "...what?"

"What did I do to make you do this to me?" Michael demanded, "I'm way hotter than her, and I can fight better too! Is this why you never want to spend any time with me lately? Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it!"

Vess stared at him for a long moment. "...Do you think I'm sleeping with the girl who makes my coffee?"

"Yes!" Michael snarled, "You are , aren't you!"

Vess let out a deep sigh. "Michael, I'm gay."

Michael scowled up at him. "So? I'm gay, and I still like girls!"

Vess sighed again. "No, that means you're bisexual, not gay. I have never been nor will I ever be interested in women. I haven't slept with the coffee girl, and I'm not cheating on you."

Michael's shoulders slumped, all fight leaving him. "You telling the truth?"

Vess crossed his arms. "Is this what your problem has been today?" he asked, "Where did you ever get the idea that I was sleeping with some random kitchen worker?"

Michael hesitated. "Well, Siren said-"

Vess sighed. "Of course it was Siren. Even when bedridden that little goblin still finds a way to make my life more difficult. Don't believe anything Siren tells you, he's a liar."

Michael's face flushed, realizing how much of an idiot he'd been. "...oh."

Vess stared at him thoughtfully, and then gave a nod. "I suppose perhaps some of the fault is mine…"

Michael looked up in surprise. "It is?!"

Vess nodded. "I haven't really been spending much time with you, and I've been rather short with you lately. I suppose taking the rest of today off won't affect my experiment too much since I have to start from scratch anyway. How about we go back to our apartment and just stay there until tomorrow?"

Michael looked at him in shock. Vess was going to take an afternoon off?! That never happened! Michael eagerly nodded, and offered him a smile. Vess gave one more glance around his ash-covered lab and knew the cleaners would have to spend all night on it to get it back in shape for the morning. Reaching out, he took Michael by the hand and then began pulling him towards the door.

"That was a very interesting picture you sent me," Vess commented, "Was that from the dinosaur movie you made me watch with you the other day?"

"Yeah!" Michael said enthusiastically, "There's a bunch of sequels too! We can have a marathon tonight!"

Vess rolled his eyes. "Joy," he commented, but didn't protest, knowing he would most likely sleep through 75% of any movie Michael put on.

As Michael babbled to him about how much he loved dinosaurs, Vess tuned him out, and simply led him out of the lab.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

TBC