INT. KING'S ROOM - HEADQUARTERS - NOVEMBER 24, 2019 - 7:00 AM
King groggily wakes up in his bed, his left hand blocking the sun rays hitting his face this early, finding himself in his new room of the Juveniles Headquarters, he checks the paper calendar on his nightstand instead of alarm clock, to find it November 24, 2019. It's been three days since his stay in this place and three days after the evac mission in Tokyo. So far everything's completely neutral. No attacks, no breaches, nothing but dull days and that's bugging him the first three days; it's utter silence and solace, he's used to the chaotic city homeland compared to the serene wilderness, where anything can pop out of anywhere like a rabbit out of the hat yet instead of . But there a few bright sides to this, he's already used to the cold temperature around the area.
That or Johan eventually turned down the inexcusable cooling system, plus with the look of things now, he's planning to become a clean slate and avoid any charges from his government now that he's free from being Japan's Number One Fugitive, and all he has to do is not do anything stupid for the entirety of his stay, unless tempted to. He turns to his alarm clock only to see it gone, replaced by the paper calendar on his nightstand, along with his broken picture frame.
He then remembers something from yesterday, massaging his head trying to remember the sequence.
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FLASHBACK
As King sleeps peacefully in his bed, the sun slowly shines outside, the light rays shine at his snoring face, until the alarm clock beeps loudly inside.
King gasps in shock, opening his red tired eyes and jolts up from his bed, "NOT TODAY, YOU FUCKERS!", he then pulls out his sawed-off shotguns from under his pillows and blasts the alarm clock to shreds, it's inner parts flies out everywhere, spreading across the floor.
Johan and Cassandra bust in the room with the former drawing her arrow and aiming at the supposed threat and the other's hands has fireballs floating on her palms. "KING?! YOU AL . . . right?", she turns to King who is rattling from the series of blasts, he then drops his shotguns and massages his head with his hand, the ringing of the alarm clock still buzzes in his brain.
Cassandra extinguish her fireballs, balling her hands into fists and sighs, "He's still loco.", she lifts her hand and waves a spell on King. "D o r m i r .", once casted, King's brain shuts down along with his senses, dropping his body back into bed. Afterwards, the blanket slowly covers him down to make him calm down further.
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King remembers it and frowns at the broken picture, feeling guilty about ruining his first impression with the team. Are they a team? He wasn't sure about it considering their "leader" is busy sulling in his room ever since you-know-who got seemingly killed by reformatting. However, he doesn't mind about that and focus what's on today. He gets up and does a little warm-up exercise, stretching his muscles and joints and leaves the room, walking to the elevator. His bare feet touches the not-so-cold floor, thus having a small gleam on his face. "Guess this place isn't so bad after all. . . let's hope it stays this way.",
Once there, he presses the 2nd floor button and the door elevator closes and instantly plays the classic elevator music chimes in the sound of rumbling vibrations out on the elevator shaft, and it was only there for 10 seconds.
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INT. LIVING ROOM
As the elevator music dies down, King scratches his back to see the morning light reflect on the entire floor. On his left, he sees the clean kitchen and the dining room, all the kitchenware and other cooking utensils are neatly arranged inside the wall cabinets with a central glass opening to see all inside.
Tatiana wearing home clothes such as a pair of teal shorts a white tee shirt with simple designs, however, he noticed she's wearing a black apron, presuming she already made the breakfast and already directly plays on her phone. He glances at the white green plastic food cover with intricate holes symmetrically designed to let the aroma roam around the floor.
On his right, he sees the flatscreen TV, broadcasting the local news, with Tatiana watching from the kitchen and the dining room, it breaks the silence of humming generators and beeping of the bots. Cassandra is up early, wearing a plain purple shirt and a pair of skinny jeans, however she has her straight back turned against him, facing the wall window while floating in a stagnant motion in mid-air with her flexible legs crossing inwards.
Thankfully, King groggily walks forward, still dizzy from waking up and can see her reflection, from afar. Her eyes are closed shut, while her hands are resting on her squatted legs, not minding the glowing purple orb floating on her palms. It's energy is faint, but he can see the purple smoke eminating from the orb.
Cassandra knows King is staring at her spell and despite her pride of being a magician, staring at somebody for a long time does give the creeps. She ceases her spell, vaporizing the energy ball entirely and tilts her head to King's direction, her eyes still closed. "You're up early. And no gunfire too."
King rolls his eyes and scoffs as he goes to the kitchen and picks up a plate, spoon and a fork then opens the cover to see the cheese omelette and takes a fair portion since he doesn't want to gain too much weight to maintain his physique. "What? And ruin your daily mental yoga?", he gobbles a piece of it and is immediately taken aback at how good the dish is.
Cassandra gets up and stretches her back and her arms to ease her dormant muscles. She then walks to the television and sits down on the large couch to change the channel, "No, it's rather hilarious to see you go ballistic."
King cringes at the pun and goes back to eating his breakfast, then he glances at Tatiana who is playing games on her phone. "What about you? You're gonna let all these go to waste?", he points at the cheese omelette with his fork.
Tatiana keeps her eyes on the screen, and her stomach didn't grumble at all. "Nah, I have leftovers in my room. You all can have that."
He stops for a moment and remembered Johan's words about the layout of the rooms in the quarters floor, and is curious to know where does she exactly sleep, "Where is your room anyway?".
Tatiana merely replies with a blank stare, not the threatening one but a more indifferent. "Rooms are for chumps, I sleep on the sofa."
Now that he got a good look at her, Tatiana and Joshua really look the same when it comes emotionless reactions. However, in spite of doing chores, Joshua is occassionally spotted washing his clothes, sweeping and mopping the floor, and cutting the courtyard's grass so as to not let the weeds, block the automated turrets hidden within the courtyard. Either way, King is mildly overwhelmed by her revelation. "Oh. By the way I'll be heading out to buy a new picture frame, want something?", he takes a bite of the cheese omelette.
Tatiana perks her head up a bit, retracting her one hand and takes something out of her pocket, placing a note on the table and a credit card beside King, the raider sees the list and instantly broadens his eyes. "Just a couple of things we ran and got broken for the past week.", On the list are sorted according to the items he presumed: Cooking ingredients and cooking utensils, Cleaning agents to cleaning materials.
(3) 1 Gallon of Non-Fat Milk
(5) Packs 10kg of fresh beef
(5) Packs 10kg of chicken meat
(5) cloves of Onions
(5) packs of Garlic
(5) packs of Ginger
(5) packs of Potatoes
(2) 1 Litre of Soy Sauce (The American Garden one, that shit tastes good)
(2) 1 Litre of Vinegar ( The American Garden one again)
(2) Peeler
(3) Kitchen Knives (bonus if there's a knife holder for free)
(2) Frying Pans
(1) Large Chopping Board
(7) 2 Liters of Cooking Oil (any brand, if there's no Cooking Oil, then use Vegtable Oil, also any brand)
(10) Smart Dishwashing Paste (the large ones with a free sponge)
(20) bundles of Tide Detergent Powder
(2) Mops
(2) Large Plastic Buckets
(2) Two Indoor Brooms
(2) Feather Dusters
King scratches the side of his head, confused at how ordinary the items are. "Are you sure these aren't . . . you know, secret names? For weapons? Plus what's with the credit card?"
Tatiana drops her game and inserts her phone back inside "Weapons? We're hungry, not blood-thirsty. And that credit card is Johan's so be sure not to waste anything. Last time Joshua did that, she went on a meltdown for two weeks."
King winces at the thought of Johan getting furious and slamming objects left and right as she is the active member around the Headquarters; doing the chores and using her savings to buy food and other necessities to liven up the roof they are now under. He then puts his spoon and fork down and gets up, taking the credit card and the list of goods. "Meh, I've carried heavier stuff than this. I'll head upstairs to change. - "
" - Not gonna jinx it here, but you obviously don't know where the nearest supermarket is. I can help you around.", Cassandra smirks at King but not a flirtatious one to manipulate his pheromones.
"Uhh - this is America, everywhere you look is a supermarket mixed with pollution and cash reserves.", he then glances at the countless forests outside the building, and turns to her and scowls, but he's not going to show how right she is and remain in his blank face.
Tatiana replies as holsters her phone just as the game says 'DEFEAT' and starts to wash the dishes, "The nearest Walmart supermarket is a few miles from here. Just you know, putting that out.".
Ultimately, King groans as he thinks about her suggestion and pressing the UP button, only to be greeted by the 'DING' sound and the elevator doors open, showing a sleepy Johan on her grey pajamas and a grey hoodie with a large 1D logo at the back of it. Johan greets the two incoherently before heading to the dining room, already smelling the delicious cheese omelette.
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INT. GARAGE
The door slides open and King's hand pops out of the doorway, touching the walls for a moment, before feeling the texture of a lightswitch panel. His fingers touches the switch and turns the fluorescent lights on inside the garage area. The lights flickers for a brief amount of seconds before steadily maintaining the light source. King and Cassandra enters the garage and sees shelves littered with rusty toolboxes and spare parts.In the central area are two huge empty spaces that was presumably used for standard automobiles one of which is used by Angel along with King's red motorcycle helmet, but the overall size seem to be smaller than an ordinary car, but not too small for motorcycles.
Of course with King going out on uncharted roads, he needs to conceal himself to avoid being blantly spotted as the former Roaring Dragons leader and more of a law-abiding citizen, to which King initially replies 'FUCK THAT!', but soon changes his mindset along with a new set of clothes this consists a red flannel shirt, a pair of khaki pants and rubber shoes.
Cassandra looks around the garage and brushes a dusty shelf as she walks by and smiles, "Hmmm, looks like your standard garage. My father used to have one of these."
King sees the sportsbike and a shelf containing a motorcycle helmet, covered in a large black sheet he grabs the thick sheet and pulls it out, unveiling the motorcycle's shiny surface and the helmet's neat tinted glass glistening underneath the lights. "Oh yeah? What car did he drove?", he coughs lightly as the dust is getting to his facial orifices.
Cassandra grips a wrench with an antenna attached to the hook jaw and extending above while around it's handle is three metal coils around it. She touches it it, only to feel a faint spark, albeit no pain or a trickle of connection. "A purple 1954 Pegaso. He's a classy man through and through."
King then starts the superbike, thus Angel is now awake. The bike roars its engine with glee and throttle around the garage before stopping in front of King, offering it's seat and ready to roam streets of America. He chuckles and opens the garage doors, "Guess I know now where you are related with. C'mon, let's go.", he hops on the bike first and prepares the boost.
Once she places the weird pipe wrench where she found it and hops on the bike, scooching herself closer to the raider. King wears his motorcycle helmet, and places his smartphone on the mount clamp located at Angel's handlebar then opens the Google Maps app, around the state and displays their current location. He pinpoints the nearest Walmart in the map and the app responds by giving a bright yellow line for the recommended path they'll take.
He slides down his visor, "Better hang tight.", As Cassandra clenches King's shirt, she hears loud screeching noises from the engine and a second passes, they take off into the lush Appalachian wilderness, following the yellow road.
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INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - WASHINGTON D.C, USA
The J. Edgar Hoover Building is a low-rise office building located at 935 Pennsylvania Avenue NW in Washington, D.C., in the United States. It is the headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI). Planning for the building began in 1962, and a site was formally selected in January 1963. Design work, focusing on avoiding the typical blocky, monolithic structure typical of most federal architecture at the time, began in 1963 and was largely complete by 1964 (although final approval did not occur until 1967). The building is named for former FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, the very first FBI Director ever to be in-charge.
This building has 2,800,876 square feet (260,210 m2) of internal space, numerous amenities, and a special, secure system of elevators and corridors to keep public tours separate from the rest of the building. The building has three floors below-ground, and an underground parking garage. The structure is eight stories high on the Pennsylvania Avenue NW side, and 11 stories high on the E Street NW side. Two wings connect the two main buildings, forming an open-air, trapezoidal courtyard. The exterior is buff-colored precast and cast-in-place concrete with repetitive, square, bronze-tinted windows set deep in concrete frames.
Behind all the flashy movie scenes and internet memes this organization has been involved, the FBI is still a force to be reckoned with. Not only they have special agents trained with roughly the same curriculum as their hardened militaries, but they are updated and an all-rounder in every situation. However, there are a few agents who have . . . odd personalities that are quite who proven their skills and prowess. Haylee Hydes is one of them.
Like everyone else inside the FBI, she passed the rigorous examination with all she got. At first, it was quiet and casual, but when she delved deeper into the sub-categories of the agency mixed with harsh physical training, she is forced to use her A-game. Diligent, passionate, and sharp-witted; these are the traits every single agency, organization, company, etc. needs. But again, she has never been promoted into higher ranks because of her single unique trait: which is the urge to complete the mission in her own, imaginative way. The FBI functions the exact opposite. Despite this, the Director decided to keep her on the team, much to everyone's mild chargin because with the right guidance, Haylee can be a key factor in the near future.
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INT. LOBBY
The front door in Headquarters blast open as a 27 year-old woman, dressed in her darkblue uniform with the acronym of the agency weaved on the breastpocket and the name on both sides of her shoulders. Her signature bright blonde hair streaks across the room as the lights around the headquarters reflect upon it, attracting some people or straight up avoid it. She uses her elbow to bust the door open, leading to a long staircase. She stops for a moment and eases her joints all over her slender but agile body and uses her past training to sprint her way all the way up to the 5th floor and bashes the door on her way out only to be interrupted by a heavy grunt behind the door. "Uh oh."
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INT. 5TH FLOOR
She peers her head behind the door to see the Director halfway on the ground, clenching his nose. The way everyone sees it, there's no blood dripping out. A man with a clean cut, wearing a business suit goes up to the person on the ground. "Director, are you alright?!", however, he turns to Haylee with a pissed off disposition. "Agent Hydes! Can't you just go to work without bashing someone else's skull!? - "
The attention is now brought out on Haylee, even the operators are getting up from their desks as Haylee is being scolded by the FBI Assistant Director, David Bowdich, and seeing their Director, Christopher Wray, already on the floor clenching his nose from the pain while two other agents are helping him get up. By the looks of it, she spots small amounts of blood on the floor, which makes it even worse and ultimately ruins her day, turning her smile into a frown.
She slowly backs off from the door and from her superior officer, but her expression remained firm and stale. " - Sir, I swear I didn't mean to - ".
David Bowdich walks up to her and towers over her figure and his leans his angry face closer and not to reveal his temper to everyone in the agency, " - Zip it, Hydes. You've basically bashed everyone's heads ever since you first came here, including mine. And I've never had someone in this agency so stubbornly actively such as you, treating this workplace as a playground, and that's coming from a future Senior Special Agent, so much for that, huh? - "
The Director groans as he gets up, " - I believe that's enough, Bowdich.", he brushes off the dust from his back and double-checks his suit to see if there's any bloodstains on it. He lets out a relieved sigh and clears his throat. "Agent Hydes, was it?", Haylee nods reluctantly, "If what Bowdich says it's true, then you may freely knock that door away. We could use a far better battering ram.", his statement gets a shocked Bowdich and a confused Haylee. "But if I hear another agent getting bashed by a blonde bombshell with this door. Then you better unpack your bags before Bowdich will do it for you. Understood?".
Although, calm and collected, nobody has ever messed a man like Wray. As a matter of fact, "Y-yes, sir. It won't happen again."
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me.", he then leaves first through the metal door, but Bowdich turns to the entire staff and officers and gives them the cold silent glare for a few seconds before realizing they need to get back to work or else they'll be next later. Afterwards, he scowls at Haylee before closing the metal door with two of his hands.
Now that's done, Haylee ruffles her hair irritably and walks to her desk stationed within the Critical Incident Response Group, passing by busy operators, one is snoring on the job, and agents carrying their targets in cuffs, heading to the interrogation rooms. Most of the criminals they grabbed range from petty, young crooks in the dirty alleyways to old, greedy businessmen from high positions. But most of them have been charged with first and second degree murder, manslaughter (both voluntary and involuntarily), child-abuse and child pornography, embezzlement, fraud and all kinds of crimes for an ordinary week and definitely in that order.
And despite all of these, Haylee turns her eyes away to these kinds of highly important cases as they are ''predictable'', ''boring'' and ''easy to catch'', which is also the reason why Bowdich mentioned her upcoming promotion for 'Senior Special Agent', however her naive and rowdy nature is a double-edged sword, one hand she has high pain tolerance combined with her speed and agility, while the other is constant noise harrassment within the headquarters that's why some tours are immediately canceled whenever Hydes is on duty.
Sitting down on her squeaky desk chair, the cloth wearing out as visible patches of foam is revealed, letting that stench of old and the slight abhorrence of the material. She hangs her head at the back of the chair, looking up in the dull, dirty white ceiling like every gloomy office in the world and slowly twirls around her messy, unorganized desk and filled with disarranged papers and a mug filled with all assortments of colorful pencils and classy-looking ballpens, a mix of her playful yet professional personality.
On her desk is her personal computer, a standard issue for all FBI employees, completed with their own personal files and for a special agent like Haylee, her desktop is surprisingly organized and clean, though some speculations around tells that Haylee has a techie side of hers, hence her eccentricity, or in a more logical and straightforward theory: She never used the desktop at all and spends the rest of her time chatting with the fellow agents or heading off on her own to catch bad guys and making her own investigations, at least she has her credentials.
A man in his late forties donning a pair of leather shoes, a dirty brown leather jacket, underneath it is his FBI uniform with glimpses of the dark blue color but mainly his ID is hanging around his neck which is the only thing that excapsulates his identity as an agent, that and along with his gruff beard and his grizzled eyes hence his current position. He leans on the wall of her desk, glancing elsewhere with a blank face. " Mouthed again by Mr. Bowdich, huh? Eh, a couple more days and you'll start getting used to him."
Haylee scowls at the middle-aged man and eventually smirks as she fixes the messed up files scattered around her desk. "You know how it works, Lex. If I better get used to it, then I'd happily bash his head even more tomorrow."
Lex rolls his eyes as he watches the elevator doors open to let a batch of agents enter the floor, "Relax. You know, that's the 2000th time Mr. Bowdich already did that, but getting the Director with a face full of metal AND got a compliment from him? That's a rare sight."
"Mainly because suits like him never goes below the 8th floor? Stuck with Mr. Uptight Bowdick interviewing hot secretaries while having social calls with the POTUS. I bet you have the time of your life being an SAC and all.", she grumbles underneath her desk as she types her daily report for the number of arrests she had made within the week.
Lex blows a raspberry at that response, "Ahh come on, you know I'm better than those kiss-ass. I was the only freak around here 'till you showed up."
She scoffs as she finishes her report and opens her drawer to get her favorite paddleball. The string is obviously brand-new having a clean white color and a red sleek rubber ball, yet the oak wood has certainly aged a lot, it's texture is already rough to the touch and the smell oozing from it is the same scent is the same from an old funeral in a local town. "Yeah, nearly died on my first op and Mr. Justice saves the day with nothing but a rusty lead pipe and a smoking revolver.", but as she plays the old-school toy, she smacks the ball a brief but powerful force, the ball hits the ceiling and hears a guy screaming while choking on the rubber ball.
She immediately hides the paddleball under her desk and whistles casually, pretending to be innocent. However, she knows an inevitable force named Karma is going to bite her ass back later and groans as she places her head on the desk, "This was supposed to be a good day, and I never did a single dick move AND masturbated yesterday."
At first, things seem gloomy for the young agent, but Mr. Justice beside her has a small gleam plastered. "Maybe . . . ", then his gleam turns into a sly smirk at his friend. He then takes a vacant chair and sits close to her, not letting anyone hear their conversation. "You see, Directory Wray asked me earlier to come by his office after the White House meeting is done. He said something about a . . . massacre . . . just on the borders of South Korea's waters. I don't any further details of that, but I know it's one just for the two of us."
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Despite, Lex's breath of alcohol and tobacco, Haylee's ears twitches for a bit and slowly perks her head up, and then rests on her palm, connected to her elbow on the desk still looking skeptical. "Really? A classified mission? Why bother telling me all this? And I'm sure you'll hog all the glory to yourself."
"Because I know how much love you missions like these. Admit it, Hydes, there's a reason why you've been banging that hard door 24/7 non-stop. Everyone does the same old thing, Catch, Arrest, Interrogate, Report, Catch, Arrest, Interrogate, Report, and the cycle goes on and on. Everyone sees you as this flimsy cog in the big machine that just won't fit. But the way I see it, I see a woman who's nerves are wrecking for destruction, knuckles slowly cracking to beat those criminals senseless and walking away from explosions like nobody's business. So . . . you wanna prove yourself? Or just continue to bash Mr. Bowdick's head tomorrow?"
With that said, Haylee looks at her desktop seeing her meager report is filled with petty criminals and amateur thieves, she mentally sees it as a lack of progress and she's better off being a desk jockey until the day she dies. And if she dies, well, at least she'll die fighting bad guys. Her lips form a smirk, same as Lex's. "Alright, Justice. What's your plan?"
Lex reveals the inside of his coat, a wireless bug that is connected to Haylee's phone, which rings in time for her to check. "Already on it, just be sure to wear earphones. Catcha' later, Hydes.", he gets up and leaves her desk, heading to the elevator, presumably to the director's office.
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EXT. / INT. DIRECTOR'S OFFICE
Wray's office consists of a polished large wooden desk with three drawers, behind Wray's office chair is a big wall shelf that contains several books drapped with dull colors, some are even collections of records during his past experiences as a former Assistant Director. On the pale blue walls are his several medals, plaques hanging steadily, much like any purpose: to show flaunt his accomplishments. However, Wray does have his own moments such as his dedication to the agency and his duty for justice across America and the globe.
On his desk are items that are only for display and a standard computer and some files on the side contained in one secure stand along with a few accessories for display. Not only that, Lex notices as he enters the cold bright office is a sheet of paper and a fountain pen are visible, by the looks of it; the metal tip is crooked, it's case has slight scratches and dents, presumably used all the time by the Director, and whatever he's signing, it's none of Lex's business.
Lex closes the door behind him, and catching Director Wray's attention, jerking his eyes up to Lex and slowly puts the fountain pen down and inserts the page in his drawer. Afterwards the Director goes eye-to-eye with him, "Thank you for waiting, Lex."
He smirks nonchalantly at the response, "I had to go take a smoke break on the roof. How about you? You're getting antsy on a Sunday, worried Jesus might bust down that door?".
Wray chuckles in his desk, "I'm sure I can think of a better reason than that one.", he takes the mouse and clicks on a series of pictures of dead bodies on the deck of a rusted out cargo ship. After that he turns the monitor so Lex can see. "Three days ago, the local police found several dead bodies on the deck of a large Japanese cargo ship. By the looks of it, these are refugees from Tokyo and they were presumably massacred with no signs of struggle from them. In short, we're dealing with organized crime and you may say, this is none of our business, but the calibers used at these refugees . . . were ours. So this group is also international, which makes it all the more difficult to track. However, you objective is just to do some reconnaesance, if this organization exists, you report to it to me, and I'll have the Secretary of Defense issue a full operation on this case."
Lex raises his eyebrow at his director, surely the other military branches can handle this kind of situation, if he has to compare the equipment from the all military branches, the FBI has got to be the least, but above the local law enforcement. "Why us? Why not the CIA?".
Wray turns his monitor back to it's original position, and his brows form into a slight frown. "During the meeting, Ms. Haspel reported to the SOD, that was a minor insult I was thinking of don't tell anyone, that some of U.S around the Middle East are having problems with the communication along with logistics, and they are sending all they got to investigate who are responsible. But what we should focus on is that massacre because as we speak, the public does not know about this, only the NPS, you, me, and Hydes. Do NOT compromise the mission and be discrete at all times."
With that kind of sincere emphasization, Lex couldn't just take this job as one of his ordinary cases and must be dealt with extreme prejudice. He meets his eyes with his director and nods accordingly, but instantly snaps his eyes with a shocked expression, blinking rapdily in a second, "Right - wait what?".
Wray smirks cleverly at his agent while his hands rests on the chair, "You'll be working with Detective Jung Park-soon, he's one of the lead detectives on the case, Oh, and you'll be taking Special Agent Haylee Hydes too. I know she's eccentric and has fluency over the South Korean dialect, but most of the crime rate around some of Washington have been decreased thanks to her initiative. Plus I can smell a bug from a mile away, so that leaves her a big part of this."
Lex sighs as he removes the bug from his suit and turns it off, holding it in his hand. He stands up and brushes off the metaphorical dust on his sleeves. In hindsight, Wray didn't reach the rank of Director by being a jackass and a manipulator. Outsmarting an a fellow agent is one thing, but a higher position is a complete game of 50-50, "Will that be all, sir?".
Wray nods and smirks at one of his agents, still pleased about discovering the bug he just deactivated. "Yes. Best of luck to you three. You're dismissed."
Lex leaves the office in mild distraught, whlie Wray immediately twirls his chair to the back facing the book shelf, hearing the faint sound of his smartphone ringing. Wray quickly picks it up and answers the call, "Oh hi honey, I'm gonna be late tonight, be sure to tell the kids.", he pauses for a moment to let his wife speak, "You're going shopping with them? That's great! They could use a change of scenery there."
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EXT. DIRECTOR'S OFFICE
Despite that failed attempt, the middle aged agent breathes a sigh of relief since getting Wray in his nerves was the last thing he needed. But before he could walk to the elevator again he hears incessant laughter and cheering from the 5th floor, presumably Haylee as every officer within that floor is currently wearing earplugs like it's a daily occurence. Not many can appreciate her happiness and her demeanor, even he wants to find someone else for his best friend to accept for who she is. He shifts his eyes to elevator area and presses the 5th button and stands there waiting.
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EXT. WALMART - HARRISONBURG, VIRIGNIA - 9:30 AM
Walmart is an American multinational retail corporation that operates a chain of hypermarkets, discount department stores, and grocery stores. The company was founded by Sam Walton in 1962 and incorporated on October 31, 1969. It also owns and operates Sam's Club retail warehouses. As of April 30, 2020, Walmart has 11,484 stores and clubs in 27 countries, operating under 56 different names. It is the world's largest company by revenue, with US$514.405 billion, according to the Fortune Global 500 list in 2019. It is also the largest private employer in the world with 2.2 million employees.
Within the parking lot, filled with cars, King spots an area where motorcycles are lined up properly. Fortunately there aren't any people around to see them, since Harrisonburg has the nearest supermarket around them, yet also the farthest because going from HQ to here took 25% of Angel's maximum fuel. Do another run back to HQ and that's equivalent to 50%, which is absurdly high.
Not only King silently changes his mind about doing another errand run, but also he has to be rational when it comes to maintaining his free time and Angel's maintenance. But as the saying goes, 'Nothing learned, nothing gained', and for now the raider will have to comply and finish this run before the sun goes down.
The sportsbike parks perfectly within the designated spot and revs one last time before ceasing function. Cassandra hops from the bike and checks her long hair if she has broken twigs and leaves stuck in between the strands, so as to not smell like bug shit. King locks the sportsbike's balance, preventing it from tumbling over the others. As a fellow mechanic, he shares his displeasure of having to replace broken side mirrors countless of times.
Cassandra turns her eyes up to the large grey-ish building with giant white letters that says, 'Walmart' with 6 slim rectangles forming sun rays beside the brand. Despite the several families and customers going inside the supermarket before them, the seer has a thought about the company. "THIS is where everyone buy all those products from the TV? I've read some articles and reviews about the company having a bad rep from all the false advertising. You've seen them, right?", she casually turns to the raider.
King takes off his helmet and placing it on the handlebar then ties it with zip-tie. He glances at the seer, raising an eyebrow at that statement, " 'Reviews'? Lady, you'd be surprised about my ways of 'shopping'.", he spoke with relaxed sarcasm before walking towards the supermarket.
Cassandra crosses her arms and scowls behind at King, wondering what kind of life he had before the Juveniles helped him. Sure, she could just mind-read her way inside, but she has reasons; first, she can nullify the mind of an organism, bonus points if it's an animal or that person has a disability, however she cannot read nor wipe what's inside, so far. And second, even the potential of infinte magic and can basically leave the Juveniles and control everything for herself, she has her standards of being a good not-so-lawful abiding citizen. She'd rather be exposed for an accident rather than being a creep for the rest of her lifetime.
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INT. WALMART
As they enter the supermarket they found themselves in the everyday life of ordinary citizens, people buying what they can: food, spices, and utilities though most buy the ones for leisure while some buy it for work. Other than that, these people are just living the decent living with no problems but paying taxes and ranting just about anything on their phones, not like their ragtag group at HQ, each of them has lost a part of them and a reason why Richard brought them altogether, besides their potential to have powers no man could acquire.
The employees are doing their jobs right arrangring the products neatly like scribes and archivists arrange countless of records shelf and shelf, the difference between the two is the first one is cheap labor and the second is also cheap labor, yet also meaningful in one way or another. At least it's easier to identify since nowadays each product have their own brand and uniquely colored package, sure there are cheap knock-offs, but they are immediately grouped up in one section to separate from the popular and original ones.
In the distance, Cassandra can hear pop music blasting around the supermarket via small but deliberately placed speakers all over the building's ceiling together with the flourescent lights perfectly lined up. Good thing the echoes gives off a relaxing vibe around them, along with the churning out of the cold air from the bulky air conditioners located on the fringes on the supermarket. Guess that's where a portion of the funds came.
Cassandra picks the rest of he twigs and flickers it away on the floor, letting the janitors clean it off, then huffs out her mild stress out of her system before standing beside King, who is looking for the 'Basket' area, "Okay, we do this quick and clean. I'll get the cart while you handle the heavy lifting. We can't attract too much - What are you doing?", the seer stares at King, holding the receit. For a novice, she can sense mischief.
King stares at the list, and then casually rips the list in half and then shifts his straight look towards her, also handing the half of the list. "Making things quick and clean.", he replied. But before she could grab the other half of the list. He slyly smirks as he waves it off from her grasp, catching her attention again, "But I challenge you to a race. See if you're capable without all that Houdini-crap. Loser gets to mow down the Courtyard. Whaddya' say, sorceress?".
She smirks as she takes it from his fingers and clenches it lightly on her other hand, "You're on, cabron.".
The guard opens the last gate which is near them. Picturing it as the starting line, the two scuffle their way to the entrance area yet King's agility together with his choice of footwear got a headstart from his opponent. On the other hand, Cassandra curses herself for wearing such fashionable yet restrictive sandals, one mistep and she'll sprain her ankle. And eventually the raider and the sorceress both gathered the listed ingredients from their own separate isles, some moments they cross paths, but one will be the victor in this oddity of a challenge.
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INT. OFFICE - BERGHOF
Inside the dark , warm and the smell of bygone antiques and books around the office of the Berghof, letting the brick fireplace light the entire room by itself, yet the thick red theater curtains behind the office desk, shrouding the entire room in darkness, only little gleams of light shine around his room. The only occupant in this dreaded office is the same young man who used to wear the white suspenders is wearing the all-black formal outfit, yet there is a small change.
An infamous red band attached on his left arm like an ancient brace however, it's whole metallic material rusted and had been exposed to the elements for a long time, but behind all that rust is a symbol that brought fear and chaos during the 20th century. He sits on his sleek and maintained leather chair, with towers of old books and documents between him.
On the corners of his office are four marble pedestals which are all maintained by the young man in the office, each pedestal holds a unique book, but one thing they all have in common: they are all related to strategy, tactics, and some inspiration for new but debated designs for warfare. Besides that, only a couple of shelves with termites gnawing at rotting corners and a few pages to boot, whoever owns this vintage place has little to no cleaning service 24/7.
The floor is made out of thick wood, even a single step lets out a small or heavy creak, depending on the person's average weight. Luckily, there's the intricate brown carpet on the floor, centered on the office, though any person with a non 20/20 vision may or may not see it properly, due to the darkness around the room.
On the back-right corner is the Napoleon Bonaparte's "The Military Maxims of Napoleon", it's physical cover clearly has seen better days, but ever since this dated from the 18th-century, collectors from all around the world have tried their best to maintain it's condition. Despite Napoleon's infamous reputation as more a tyrant than a hero, he is considered one of the best military commanders and one of the few to ever rise the ranks with a calm and collected demeanor, the same demeanor he used to rule over France until 1799.
Adjacent to the book towards the back-left corner is the one and only Sun Tzu's "Art of War", one of the Seven Military Classics in the world of warfare. Despite the future generations described it's ways as 'primordial' and 'foregone', but it's philosophical lessons are essential to every skirmishes and battles. This book remains the most influential strategy text in East Asian warfare and has influenced both Eastern and Western military thinking, business tactics, legal strategy, lifestyles and beyond.
After the influential Chinese book or treatise, is the unfinished work of Carl von Clausewitz's "On War". A little bit on the continuation of Napoleon's works and more on the psychological side of the wars. Considering Carl's experience as a realist military theorist, he had made quite the debate about 'nuclear proliferation' and 'massive retaliation' because of course, only a lunatic would love a nuclear fallout. Or maybe a hardcore single-player gamer.
And this last book is Albert Speer's "Inside of the Third Reich". Now before anyone could complain about this book may have been separated from the other three books of military arts, however this book tells about the past, the history of how the young man's biological father started as a mere soldier, and rose to power with mad intentions, until the downfall of his entire organization. The young man never wanted to learn about his father's actions, but he intends to correct his errors whether to conquer the rest of the modern but internally vulnerable world with brute force, or the unlikely option; peace. But peace can only last so long, before humankind will relive old wounds. No - he never wanted to learn about his father, he wants to learn the secrets. All of the secrets he and his organization have tried to access; energy weapons, advanced prototypes, and a little bit from the realm of the occult. Only time will tell, that he will uncover what his father's main architect was trying to tell him and the future generations that there are some things that are far darker than the Holocaust, the countless wars, and the corruption amongst ourselves.
As the desk lamps continues to flicker on and off on impulse, the young man is reading an old novel he took from one of the rotting book shelves in the room. It's cover is also worn-out, having little eaten parts on the corners by the termites infesting around the office.
Suddenly he hears the double doors creak open followed by a strut of footsteps in front of him. With the dim yet still clear light from the outside, he sees the shadow of a man wearing the fedora and a thin briefcase, like he just arrived from a country. A desk lamp flickers on and off as he reads a book on the table.
"Never thought of you as a bookworm. And also a George Orwell fan too.", Andrei's voice echoed around the office, no sound, except for the kindling fire within. The young man closes the book and glances at him, giving him a stern look, "Isn't an agent supposed to mind his own business and do his job right?"
Andrei chuckles as he takes out his canteen, if he can't smoke in the mansion, he may as well drink some 'tea', while he's at. "Ah you know me, Braun, I am my own business. And as for the job - ", he opens the briefcase and takes out a brown folder out and places on the table, Braun notices a few glistening particles on the table.
As Braun opens the folder to see quite a lot of sand on the center, but there are different clear photos. Photos of the destroyed US convoys and dead soldiers on the ground, riddled with bullet holes. "They are quite . . . eager.", he speaks while viewing the rest.
Andrei takes another sip of his 'tea', and smacks his lips at the taste of it, sitting on the leather chair "Or that's just how they celebrate, 'Liberation' is all they think about after all."
Single-minded AND unpredictable, Braun can see the different possibilities he can do to destroy Richard's pawns and can finally erase every single. He nods accordingly and closes the folder, "Good work. But our actions in Seoul and all these celebratory acts have casued quite a ripple."
He then takes out an old fashioned recorder and plays the tape of the conversation between Director Wray and Agent Lex. Andrei chuckles to himself, always cocky at everything. "Why worry about these guys? I've been through every agency and these are nothing but amateurs - "
" - If I recall, a group of amateurs managed to evacuate a hefty amount of refugees, eradicated an entire gang and NEARLY wiped another in the process. What makes you think these ordinary people cannot be another problem we have to face?", Braun places his face on his fist, expecting a proper and more or less the usual cocky answer from his agent.
His cocky attitude is then diminished, all he can reply is silence and uneasiness, sure the teenagers are quite surprising, but the FBI is always about busting your doors down. Chances of having these two different groups in one place will be chaotic. On one hand you have a small group of superpowered teenagers presumably led by the killer of Braun's father, and while on the other, the entire FBI agency is now on to them, but with the surprising lack of evidence, it's a miracle they are way behind them.
With the adjustment of his suit and tie, Andrei gets up from the leather chair, "It won't happen again. And I'll make sure it won't be." it's what all he could say before finally leaving the office, shutting the wooden door with the lock of the doorknob, once again, Braun is left alone in his office filled with past, hearing nothing but the sound of fire cackling and the stuffy air around him.
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INT. WALMART
As the race is almost coming to a close, Cassandra, handicapped from using her magical abilities, picks up all of the ingredients but King, even though has a head start earlier, he has somewhat lost track of his past English language lessons thus interpreting some of the products he sees, but he does check the contents inside and does a pseudo trial-and-error with the other products: if they have the same color, then take the inspected product and onto the next.
Cassandra smirks as she grabs the 5 cloves of Onions, already completed her end of the list, and is about to bust towards the counter with the shortest line, only to hear a child cries on the other side of the isle. Remembering a vivid memory from her past, she turns her eyes away from the competetion, crouches down and peeks over the corner, to see a little girl wearing a light pink dress and has a ponytail on her, neatly tied. She can clearly see the child bawling into tears as the constant music blocks her cries.
Without a second thought, she stands up and walks up to the little girl, putting up a gentle smiles across her cheeks. "What's wrong, ninita?".
"My mom and my brother . . . I lost them . . . I couldn't find them . . . ", she spoke between her sobs.
Seeing her tears dripping down from her cheeks, she places a hand at the back of her neck, covered by her red hair, and secretly pulls out a purple handkerchief. "Now, now there's no need to cry. What's your name?". She asks as she wipes the child's tears.
"Caroline . . . ", her sobs are now occassional and her voice isn't hoarse. Slowly but surely, she stops crying.
"Well, Caroline, my name is . . . ", however she remembered Richard's rule not to use their full names, even she's just a child, children can say even the truth without knowing the heavy consequences and considering she has already been labeled as a fugitive in her country. it took a couple of seconds before Cassandra thought of a name. She goes back to the child and smiles, ". . . Amelia. But you can call me Amy. Now, come and let's go find your family."
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King squats on the floor, his back leaning on the sack of rices, in front of him are four different gallons/liters of soy sauce each has it's own different brands from the companies/manufacturers reads the contents as he comparesthem all, but having difficulty translating as some words have similar meanings, which means one of these is the original and the rest are knock-offs."くそー、これは何と言いますか？ (Damn it, what does this one say?)", he says to himself as he scratches his scalp promptly, only to nick himself a bit with his sharp nail on his index finger.
Abruptly, a pair of heels steps up beside him, but not enough to catch the corner of his eyes, "Uhh - konichiwa?", her American accent merely confuzzled his brain at how mildly insulting that was. Sure, another Japanese can respect or smile at the thought of their cultures spreading to other countries, but there are people who mock said cultures and slowly shifting into an act of disrepecting the fellowmen, King is one of the latter. He could blast this woman's face with a shell full of buckshot, but since he's in a place with civilized people, and one wrong move and it's straight to Jail Town and have a big spotlight in Viral City.
The raider gives a small scowl, "Can I help you?".
The blonde lady, wearing a black dress with white polka dots all over, and a pair of glamorous sandals slowly backs off bashful at King's intimidating aura. By the signs of her skin and the visible stretch marks, this lady is a mother - a dutiful mother. "Oh! I - I thought are having a hard time reading the labels. I can hear it from there.".
King cups chin and goes back to staring at the four bottles, frowning his brows. "I'm sorry. School is very taxing here." He lies without looking at her and flatly taps on his head, like that 'Think Smart' guy meme. Within a few days, he spent browsing on his phone understanding the 'culture' around the land of free, but 50% are full of political news and propaganda and the other 50% are just full of internet memes, though some are good, most are just either lame or offensive. He then takes out the list and point on the word so she can see the specific item. 'The American Garden' "Just need to find which of these bottles have the same brand."
"It's alright. My kids feel the same way too.", she then sees the list of grocery items spotting the item King pointed on, she checks all four of the bottles, only to realize none of them is the real product and breathes through her nose, a bit sad that this young man has been guessing the wrong selection. She goes behind her to see her basket with all kinds of ingredients and grabs the real American Garden soy sauce and extends to "Aww they really ran out of it. And the next shipment will be the next several months, but you can have mine."
King backs off a bit from her and the botttle, raising his hands as he doesn't want to accept it not out of humility but out of suspicion. Though such a product from a citizen is just as normal as anything else around him. "Hold on, it's alright. I can just explain this to the guys. - ", he lets a little weak smile to play himself as an innocent.
But before the lady could insist on letting him have it a young child wearing a blue-white-red horizontally-striped shirt white shorts and a baseball cap rushes from the corner of the isle, his face is mild distraught. "Mom! Is Caroline with you?! I can't find her!".
The lady is shocked to see the child behind her and immediately crouches down and calms him down. "Trip! Where did you last saw her?".
"Where the Tide Pods are.", King guesses in his mind that she is in on the 'Laundry' section, within the West Isles, Cassandra may be there, but chances are 50/50, either she's still gathering the listed items or worse - she already left. He clenches his fist in anger, but it's too late for that now, for he has a missing child to take care of.
King smirks as he eagerly approaches the two, placing the four bottles beside the rice sacks, and takes the list from the floor, getting up and moves his feet a little to let the blood flow. "I'll help you find your kid, it's the - uhh - the least I can do for your kindness, ma'am.". In Japan, repaying someone, even a stranger is common, some instances may recognizes it as a tradition and for a former raider, King still has a little of that left inside him.
She smiles and bows a bit at King in gratitude. "Thank you, she has got to be somewhere, this place is quite big for only one floor. Lead on, Trip.", the agile child runs first and searches for his little sister.
While walking west ward, he glances at the lady while maintaining distance, placing his hand inside his pocket, while the other one is carrying his basket. "So what does she look like?".
The lady eagerly turns to him, "Brown hair, no higher than my lower Light pink dress and she a ponytail I tied up earlier on our way here also a bright red ribbon tying up, not hard to spot."
"Well, I had some experiences on finding people. Worked as cop before they gave me the boot.", he tries to fool her way around her to make a proper story. At least to him, nothing hurts like a little fake tale to get the desired expression of the audience.
The lady nods in agreement, impressed by his fake occupation. "That sucks. The force could use someone young and skilled as you."
King scoffs at that hopeful yet insane thought, "Nah, they would rather take a fat-ass who eats donuts on the job than me.", he then receives a phone call and answers the unknown number. But this number is known to him already. Afterwards, he raises it on his ear. "[COMMS]Hey, Blair Witch. Where are you?".
"[COMMS]In the west aisle, I already got everything in my end. But there's a lost kid here that's looking for her family. Fair trade from fate I say. How about you? Why don't give in to Google Translate? I'm sure it has a camera funct - wait, it doesn't have one! Silly me ~ ", she taunts him while on the phone and the basket, now carrying the items effortlessly, however one can only carry a certain amount of weight and Cassandra is quite slender.
King balls his fists and grumbles unintelligbly before inhaling deep,"[COMMS]SHUT THE FUCK UP, WITCH! I AM WINNING THIS FREAKING CONTEST! -", he sighs as he glances at the mother and son, checking them if they're eavesdropping. "- Brown hair, no higher than my lower Light pink dress and she a ponytail with a red ribbon tying it up?", he whispers as softly as he can, using his temper to his disadvantage; that's cheating, also not cheating. He's so torn between two sides that his brain can't juggle philosophy right now.
There was a small silence between the transmission before her voice resurfaced, "[COMMS]Yeah?".
King lets out a relieved sigh, "[COMMS]Then meet me at the pile of TV screens at the central isle.", He ends the call and glances at the lady and her son. "Looks like this is gonna be easier than I thought, my friend is with your daughter but we'll have to meet up with those TV screens at the center of the supermarket."
Just then, Trip instantly pops out of the corner with a big smile, "That's where I watched the latest episode of Adventure Time! - Oh.", he turns to his mother, who has the look of 'You're Grounded!', without a word, Trip slowly goes back to searching his sister around the isles. King chuckles in his head at the kid's guts, if it were him, he would've stayed there even longer. Abruptly, the raider hears the faint ending song of Adventure Time, despite not familiar with the show, he's getting closer.
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"Who was that, miss?", the child tilts her head like a curious puppy.
Cassandra holsters her cellphone, and inserts it back on his pocket. Then she smiles at Caroline, "Just a friend of mine, I believe your family are at the 'Appliances' section. You can help out by looking up here.", she smiles as she crouches down, her back facing Caroline. The child giggles as she climbs onto the sorceress, her head between her legs and her hands grip Cassandra's hair, but the latter never cared for her hair as she can just fix later. After stabilizing herself and grabbing the basket, the two gradually goes on to the arranged location.
The two then reunited as Cassandra and King meet up and Caroline, at first, everything is a bit awkward that they literally broke the rule on not interacting with other people, but it's all in the name of good karma. Afterwards, they wave the family goodbye as they exit the supermarket through the entrnace. With that little situation dealt with, they still have a contest to finish. The pair glances at each other and at conveniently two counters with no one else lining up, yet both are separated by two other filled counters.
"Isn't this nice? ~ Have you thought of who's the winner?". She shifts her eyes to King.
King smirks as he readies, "You're looking at him, witch.". The two then bolts at the empty counters and quickly places all of their items on the counter, and test their patience with the typically slow pace of the employees who are clearly oblivious to their secret challenge.
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EXT. WALMART
After that final test, King smirks to himself as he leans on the wall, on the ground are the items on the list, albeit half of the products are in the wrong brands, "Amelia? Psh, you need to take look at yourself.".
Cassandra places her hands on her waist, looking at him with sass, smirking at him like he's the silly one in the group. "Really? And what kind of person that says he's good at "finding people"? Only middle-aged stalkers can say that without blinking an eye."
With that said, King looses his cool with just one retort, "Hey! I just made that up, cut me some slack! Besides, I won the bet so you'll have to mow the entire courtyard - ".
Suddenly, they heard a racuous scream in the distance, followed by crying. Both of them stood still before Cassandra snaps out of her trance and sprints to the source of the scream, only to be grabbed by King on the wrist. "What do you think you're doing? That's none of our business!".
Cassandra lets go of his grip and scowl at him, however she didn't say a word and continues to dash forward. With no other choice King grunts as he grabs both of the plastics and follow her down.