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The AdvAnTAGE Project

By

Mantrid Brizon

Episode 03: Counting The Losses

Hearing the grunting and groaning, Jenny raises an eyebrow. A few soft thuds accompany the sounds, further arousing her curiosity. What's going on? She pokes her head into the hallway and her eyes grow wide.

“Donnie?! What are you doing?!"

“I don't want this in my room anymore." Her teenage replies, struggling to carry his NeXTstaion computer.

“Uhh... Why?"

“I just don't, okay, mom?!" He snaps at her. “It's keeping me up all night..."

“Well, alright. We can set it up in the family room or something."

With his mother's help, Donnie moves his computer, desk and chair into the corner of the living room, where he sets it up all over again. His PowerBook 180, though compact and convenient, finds a new home in a small, gray plastic tote, tucked beside his desk and surrounded by buried under various school supplies. Old Mr. Hapcock's death hit Donnie especially hard. The mere mention of it prompted him to vomit in the bushes beside Louis' house.

“Weren't you at the library last night?" Connor asked.

“Yeah. I thought you had evidence to gather." Martin added.

“No, I wasn't there." Donnie quickly lied.

“That's a pretty extreme reaction. I mean, you knew him but..." Louis remarked.

“We were very close." Donnie replied.

He didn't dare tell them the truth. When police asked the public for help solving the murder, he stayed silent. He wasn't going to involve himself in this mess any longer. What he was encountering was just too dangerous; men would kill to keep whatever secret he was about to uncover. Agent Sharpe's threats were veiled but clear. Donnie doesn't want to die, and Old Mr. Hapcock shouldn't have died in his place. Still, the teenager couldn't bring himself to destroy the encrypted document. In fact, he made several copies in the form of floppy disks and hid them, before erasing the data from his hard drives and reformatting them entirely. Perhaps, in time, this will all go away?

“Is she ready?!" Dr. Addis asks, slipping on her sterile gloves.

“Looks like it!" Dr. Burnheart replies. “Is the kit prepared?!"

“Right here." Dr. Chavez says as he stands beside a cart full of emergency medical equipment.

“You know, you don't have to be here for this, Director Chen." Avery Keyes turns to the woman.

“I want to be here. We're making history today." She replies.

With Agent Sharpe standing beside her, Director Amy Chen cannot help but reach out for him, tickling his palm with her fingertips. The often cold, eerie, suit-wearing man turns his head and though he remains inhumanely stiff, he gently takes hold of her hand. They return their attention through the glass, watching as the three doctors prepare to open the tank and bring Specimen #0941, “Harriet", into the world. It's been six months since the last major incident at MiLab, when the dirt bike riding teenager breached their fences. Now, in the beginning of summer, 1994, they're about to have another exciting moment. Will Harriet survive? Will she be the first human-animal hybrid to take a breath in this world?

The doctors carefully open the incubation chamber and drain the tank, the organic placenta held in place by a harness built into the lid. As the fetus rides in the fluid, making its way toward the opening, Dr. Addis carefully takes hold of the child's shoulders.

“Oh! She's furry!" She giggles.

“We know." Dr. Burnheart glances at her and smiles through his hospital mask.

“Yeah, but to actually feel her!"

“Focus, doctor." Director Chen speaks through the intercom.

Resting the gently wriggling baby atop the table, they clean the goop from her fur as Dr. Burnheart clips the umbilical cord and ties the knot. She's a strange, golden-yellow color.

“Huh... I've never seen a rabbit with fur like this. She's so... Yellow!" Dr. Addis exclaims.

“Perhaps the human donor was blonde, and it affected her coat?" Dr. Burnheart remarks.

“Must be." Dr. Addis murmurs.

Lifting her up and giving her bottom a smack, Harriet winces and begins to cry. Dr. Chavez looks toward the source of the sounds, his heart racing and hand hovering over his chest. Beneath his lab coat is a black rosary. What have they done? Tall, pointy ears peak out from beneath Dr. Burnheart's elbow as he holds the mutated child upside down. The short, blocky snout creates sounds eerily similar to those of a newborn human, though this creature is anything but human.

“She's breathing! She's breathing on her own!" Dr. Addis giddily exclaims, literally jumping for joy.

“That's wonderful!" Director Chen chirps.

“Dr. Chavez? Hey... ... Dr. Chavez!" Dr. Burnheart yells

“Huh?! What?!" He snaps out of his trance.

“Help me clean her up and check her vitals. We need to make sure she's healthy." Dr. Burnheart instructs.

“Oh! Can I do it?! Please?!" Dr. Addis begs.

“Erm... Alright. Help me move her."

An uneasy Dr. Burnheart watches on as Dr. Addis wraps baby Harriet in a blanket. Her long, rabbit-like ears poke out of the opening, as does her short but broad snout. Upon placing the crying baby on a scale, they find that she is a healthy six pounds and twelve ounces. Perhaps that is as human as she could possibly be? Dr. Chavez watches on as Dr. Addis coos and rocks the baby as if she were her own. Even Director Chen and Agent Sharpe are unnerved by this, as Harriet is supposed to be a mere test subject.

“Dr. Addis?" Director Chen calls out to her through the intercom.

“Who's a sweet little button? Hm?!"

“Dr. Addis."

“You! Yes! You're a sweet little button! Ooh, she's so adorable!" Dr. Addis gushes.

“Dr. Carol Addis..." Director Chen speaks with a deliberately slow and stern growl.

“Yes?" She turns toward the window, cradling Harriet in her arms.

“I'd like Dr. Burnheart to continue his examination, if you don't mind."

“Oh... Uhm... Alright." Dr. Addis' expression softens, a sorrow in her voice. “Here. Be careful with her, Kyle."

“I will." Dr. Burnheart replies, taking Harriet from her arms.

Agent Sharpe watches the exchange, intrigued by Dr. Addis' behavior. He pulls his hand from Director Chen's and steps back.

“I need to make a phone call..." He speaks in his now trademark eerie monotone.

“Alright. See you later?" Director Chen looks over her shoulder.

“Of course, my dear."

A smile spreads across her lips and she feels her heart flutter. After taking a moment to regain her calm and stern demeanor, Director Chen looks through the window. Dr. Addis watches as Dr. Burnheart works on baby Harriet, taking her vitals and monitoring her. She looks quite nervous, as if his subtlest of motions could harm the child. With narrowed eyes, Director Chen leans toward the intercom and presses the button.

“Well? How is she?"

“Everything looks fine. These are only preliminary readings, of course, but that's a very good sign." Dr. Burnheart replies.

“Good. You did good work, people. You've made history today, and I hope you're all very proud of yourselves."

“I hope you are, too." Avery turns to Director Chen.

“What's that?" She raises a brow.

“This was a team effort. We could never have been so successful if you hadn't been constantly kicking our asses with those high heels." He smirks.

“... Get back to work." She replies, struggling to subdue a grin.

“Yes, Madam President!" He stands at attention and salutes.

“Asshole."

She chuckles and pats him on the shoulder as she leaves, intent on returning to her office to file more paperwork. Inside the sterile operating room, Dr. Addis approaches Dr. Burnheart and Harriet. She rests a hand on his shoulder and looks down at the bundle. With a smile on her face, she rests her head against his upper arm. Unable to resist, Dr. Burnheart slips his arm around her waist and briefly nuzzles her head. After finally going out on a date several months ago, an event that's since kickstarted their relationship, the pair have grown increasingly close.

“You know, I think you were right." He suddenly remarks.

“Hm?" She turns her amber eyes up, towards him.

“Now that I can feel her, she doesn't seem all that strange."

“Yeah." Dr. Addis returns her gaze upon the newborn creature.

“Maybe it's all those days watching her in her tank? Maybe we've desensitized ourselves to her?" Dr. Chavez suddenly speaks up.

Continuing their work in relative silence, Dr. Burnheart and Dr. Addis move Harriet to a room not unlike a typical nursery, where the pair work in shifts to watch over and care for the baby. They're joined by medical staff, brought in by Agent Sharpe and handpicked for the task. Many of these new faces have arrived in just the last few months, beginning with the completion of “the crockpot" - what Avery has taken to calling it - the hangar containing 50,000 new incubation chambers, all of which contain more unborn creatures. These creatures, many of them of varying species, are only a few months behind Harriet.

“Dr. Burnheart!" A familiar voice calls out in the hallway.

“Oh, hello, Director Chen." He stops and turns toward her.

“On your way to the nursery?"

“Yes. I wanted to check on Harriet before heading to the main lab and reexamining our data."

“Good, good... I'm glad I caught you. I've been meaning to have a talk with you." She begins, a strange tone in her voice.

“Is this about Carol?" He softly asks.

“No, although I couldn't help but notice your increasingly 'close' relationship with Dr. Addis... I hope that won't interfere with your work." She narrows her eyes.

“No, ma'am!"

“And I hope her attachment to 'Harriet' won't interfere with the research, either." She adds.

“I don't believe so."

“Good. What I actually wanted to talk to you about was a promotion."

“To what?" The perplexed doctor raises a brow.

“They didn't give me a title, but they want you to oversee the crockpot."

“Is that the official name, now?" He flashes an amused grin.

“It's kind of catchy." She returns the gesture. “Anyway, make sure things run smoothly and that we don't lose any of the specimens. The lab techs and new doctors will all be under your direct control."

“Wow! I, uhm... I don't know what to say."

“You've earned this, Kyle." She speaks with startling warmth. “It's mostly your work that's got us this far. Here's your new badge. It increases your clearance level to four. That's only one level below mine." She adds, handing him a new, high-tech looking keycard.

“Thank you, Director Chen!"

Without saying another word, she nods her head and walks around him, continuing down the hall and toward her office. Quickly falling into his new responsibilities, Dr. Burnheart proves himself to be a capable manager, as competent leading a lab as he is working in one. The new staff, who follow his every command, monitor the hybrid child around the clock. The ensure that she is healthy and perform the most basic of tests, as well as attending to the tens of thousands of creatures growing in the subterranean hangar.

This continues for nearly a week, with both the new and original staff attending to the newborn, especially Dr. Addis, who rarely leaves Harriet's side. To everyone's elation, Harriet is perfectly fine consuming copious amount of conventional baby formula, as well human-harvested milk, and seems as healthy as can be. As far as Harriet and the work at MiLab are concerned, everything is exceptional. Until one fateful day...

“Did you hear?!" A panting Avery exclaims as he barges into the lounge.

“Are you alright, Avery?!" Dr. Addis asks, sitting across from Dr. Burnheart and with a cheese sandwich in her hands.

“Hear what?!" Dr. Burnheart jumps up from his seat.

“Well... With Harriet's 'birth' a success, and her doing so well, they want... They want you to..." He hesitates to speak.

“What?! They want what?!" Dr. Addis becomes increasingly frantic.

“Use your words." Dr. Burnheart teases.

“They want you to..."

Avery motions with a hand as if he was cutting something.

“What do you mean?" Dr. Addis murmurs.

“They want us to vivisect her." Dr. Burnheart hangs his head.

Avery subtly nods.

“I caught a glimpse of a memo while updating one of the computers." He continues, taking a piece of folded paper from his pocket. “I took a few seconds to print a copy, just in case."

“WHAT?!?!" Dr. Addis shrieks in horror.

“Show us." Dr. Burnheart speaks in a soft, stunned voice.

Barging into the room with such force that the door slams into the wall and cracks the glass of the frosted window, Dr. Addis charges into the office. Director Chen jumps in her seat, slumping back as she sees the furious woman storming up to her desk.

“WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU SHRIMPY LITTLE WHORE?!?!"

“Huh?!"

“YOU THINK YOU CAN MAKE US CUT UP POOR LITTLE HARRIET?!?!?!" Dr. Addis screams so loudly that her voice cracks.

“I-I-I have my orders, doctor." The rattled Director tries to calm her nerves.

“FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR ORDERS, YOU BITCH!!!"

“Carol! Please!" Dr. Burnheart charges in and tries to calm her down.

“I WON'T LET YOU CHOP UP MY LITTLE GIRL, YOU FUCKING MONSTER! I'LL PUT YOU ON THAT TABLE LONG BEFORE I LET YOU HURT HER!" She roars and then lunges.

“Carol! Stop!" Dr. Burnheart grabs onto her, holding her from behind in a firm bearhug. “This isn't the way!"

“LET GO OF ME, KYLE!" She shrieks.

“Get her out of here!" Director Chen snarls.

“LET GO! SHE NEEDS TO PAY FOR THIS!"

Dr. Addis kicks a foot as she fights with her partner and lover, who tries to wrestle her into submission. During the struggle, her shoe slips off, flies across the room and smashes the glass of Director Chen's framed diploma, which hangs on the wall near her head. After a moment, Dr. Burnheart is able to drag her outside, just as other staff members begin to gather around the Director's opened door. Avery rushes around her desk, collecting the shoe from the floor.

“Sorry." He murmurs as he glances up at her.

“Get out..." The shaking woman grumbles.

As Avery leaves the office, he closes the door behind him. Glancing around the corridor, he witnesses Dr. Addis as she's led away by Dr. Burnheart. He pushes past the small crowd of onlookers and dashes to catch up to them, following them into a small storeroom.

“Here." He presents the woman with her lost shoe.

“Thanks, Avery." Dr. Burnheart collects it for her.

“Anytime."

“If that little bitch thinks she can get away with this just because she's in charge, she's got another thing coming." Dr. Addis continues to rant.

“She's the Director, Carol." Dr. Burnheart gently lifts her leg and slips her shoe back onto her foot. “What do you expect?"

“I expect you to help me..."

“Carol..."

“This is Harriet we're talking about! Do you really want to kill her so badly?!"

“You know I don't!"

“Then help me!" She whimpers.

“... How?"

“Refuse. Tell her to shove that scalpel right up her ass."

“I don't know if that'll work, Carol." Avery chimes in. “They've brought in a lot of new, young doctors, and they aren't attached to Harriet the way we are."

“Yeah. They'll probably just replace me and have someone else do it anyway." Dr. Burnheart adds.

“So, you're just giving up?!" A tear runs down Dr. Addis' cheek.

“I didn't say that..."

“We just need another plan." Avery remarks.

“Any suggestions?"

“What if... We take her and leave." Dr. Addis speaks softly.

“I'm sorry?!"

Dr. Burnheart blinks and his eyes grow wide, his brow raising in surprise. Avery is left speechless, lowering his head and running his fingers through his hair as he turns his back toward the pair.

“We take Harriet and we get the hell out of here, away from those butchers." Dr. Addis replies.

“Carol..."

“No! Don't you dare try to talk me out of this!" She snaps.

“She's not ours. She's not even human, Carol."

“But she's alive! She's a baby! An innocent! What does it matter that she isn't a human, huh?! I mean, we made her, so aren't we responsible for her well-being?!" Dr. Addis asks, her voice shaking.

“I suppose... What are we going to do then, though? She's not a human; we have no idea how she'll react to common illnesses, nor do we have any idea whatsoever on how to treat her. What if she gets chickenpox and keels over? What if she has a headache and aspirin is like cyanide to her?"

“I... I don't know... I just... I can't let those fuckers hurt her! It's not right!"

Tears stream down Dr. Addis' face as she thrusts herself into Dr. Burnheart's chest. Startled by the sight, his heart warmed beyond comprehension, he wraps his arms around her and embraces her.

“Please Kyle... We've grown so close over the past few months. If you really love me, you'll help me. Please, Kyle... Please don't let them kill Harriet."

As she lifts her head and looks up at him, the tears cascading down her precious cheeks, he cannot control himself. He brushes her tears away and leans in for a kiss before nuzzling her face. Avery glances back, watching the two for a moment. He takes a deep breath and sighs.

“She's right..."

The couple turns their attention toward the technician.

“This place... It's gone dark. I used to love coming to work but now? Sometimes this place feels downright evil. She's right, doc. You can't let them kill her. Harriet is probably the only good thing left in this hellhole."

Turning back and looking down, Dr. Burnheart stares into Dr. Addis' watery eyes. Her pain, and the attachment that he also feels to baby Harriet, pulls on his heartstrings like a MACK truck.

“I'm sorry, Carol. I'm so sorry. You're right." He says as he embraces her and slowly sways from side to side in an effort to comfort his lover. “We'll get Harriet out of here. Better she enjoys her life with us, for however long that might be, than be butchered for science tomorrow morning."

“Oh, thank you, Kyle! Thank you!"

“Do you need any help?" Avery steps closer.

As the trio conspire in the privacy of the storeroom, another person struggles with their own obstacle. Donnie Harper, who'd moved his computers out of his room and even removed the posters from his bedroom wall, has struggled to carry on after the murder of Old Mr. Hapcock. However, all throughout winter and spring, he's seemed distant, even depressed. No amount of time with his four friends has helped and his grades have even begun to slip. On the day of his fifteenth birthday, his father bought him a new Atari Jaguar, but even this only barely boosted his sullenness.

His friends and family, and even the staff at his school, have all begun to worry for the teenager, who seems perpetually disturbed. Though they inquire, he dares not reveal the truth behind his gloominess. Who would believe him if he did, and how long would they survive after sharing such information? As he sits on the couch, watching a TV airing of The Running Man, Donnie remains characteristically inexuberant. His mind races, as it does every single day. What's in that encrypted file?

The film ends and his parents hug and kiss him goodnight, but Donnie stays behind to watch another. As tomorrow isn't a school day, there's no reason for him to go to bed early. With the intro to another 80s action film starting in the background, Donnie thinks to himself.

“If only I could read that damned file... I just want to know why they think it's worth killing an innocent old man for it... Maybe I could see if anyone knows about encryption? I'd only be asking hypothetically. That's not so bad, is it? It's been long enough..."

His eyes shift toward his NeXTstation, which he hasn't even booted up since the last snow. Alone with his computer for the longest time in months, he can feel the desire to use the device. It beckons to him like a siren, silently pleading for him to come closer.

“Would it really hurt to just ask on a message board?" He thinks aloud.

With the curiosity slowly overpowering him, he turns his head and glances over his shoulder. Using the remote, he turns down the volume on the TV, then takes a moment to listen. The house is as quiet as can be, with only the sounds of the air from the vents breaking the silence. Rising to his feet, he enters the kitchen and heads for the fridge, collecting a Coca Cola from the top shelf. As he leans against the refrigerator door and cracks open the can, his eyes are almost magnetically drawn toward the small vent near the ceiling, just beyond the small, round dinner table.

He gulps, his pulse racing as he contemplates what to do. Taking his multitool from a pocket, he stands on a chair and unscrews the vent cover, quietly pulling it away and looking upon the dusty manila envelope that contains the floppy disks, three copies of the same file. He'd considered hiding the three disks in different places, as a precaution, but became so fearful of touching them that he left all three stuffed into the same packaging. Shaking his head, he returns the vent cover without even touching the envelope, before screwing it back into place.

“I'll just ask and see. No sense in bringing it out if I can't even read the damn thing." He murmurs to himself.

Returning to his living room, Donnie turns on his computer. The whirring of the cooling fans and the hum of the monitor is music to his ears, soothing him like a lullaby. After dialing in, Donnie accesses a message board he once used quite frequently. He cannot help but smirk as he finds old messages wondering where he's gone, calling out to him with his virtual pseudonym. The teenager was quite prolific before he went silent. He begins his work, typing away and asking a simple question.

“Does anyone know anything useful about encryption?"

He taps his fingers atop the desk and takes a sip of his soft drink, waiting for a reply. It doesn't take long.

“Hey! Haven't heard from you lately. Where have you been?" A familiar user of the message board replies.

“Family stuff." He replies.

“Figures. I might be able to help you. Creating or cracking?"

“Both." Donnie types out.

Knock, knock, knock! Donnie jumps and bangs a knee on his desk. Moving in a panic, he hastily disconnects and shuts down his computer. Knock, knock, knock!

“You think Donnie's even going to hang out?" Louis speaks to someone else on the other side of the door.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Donnie races for the door and yanks it open. To his surprise, his four closest friends stand before him.

“Hey!" Louis waves.

“Are you alright, Donnie?" Jack asks, furling his brow with worry.

“You look like you saw a ghost." Connor remarks.

“Did you get pictures?" Martin teases.

“Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that my parents went to bed." He replies.

“Already?! It's not quite eight o' clock!" Louis glances at his wristwatch.

“Mom was tired and dad has work tomorrow."

“Oh... So, did you want to come to the spot and play some DnD with us?" Louis asks.

“Uh..."

Donnie pauses and glances toward the computer. Perhaps staying home isn't the best idea?

“Sure." He murmurs. “Let me just get my keys."

As the two scientists and head technician leave the storeroom, they emerge to see an empty hall. Clearly, the other members of the staff were only interested in the near-fight that Dr. Addis brought to Director Chen. With their plan drafted and ready to be set into motion, they make their way through the lab. Avery breaks away and heads into his own, modest office, while the two doctors continue down the hall. They stop in their tracks as Agent Sharpe emerges from a computer lab, flanked by several more of his men. Their swift gait gives off an aura of determination.

“Where do you suppose they're going?" Dr. Addis asks in a soft voice as soon as the Agents turn a corner at the end of the hall.

“I don't know, but I think Jose would call this 'a sign'." Dr. Burnheart replies, a little grin spreading across his face. “Come on. We'd better hurry."

As the doctors carry out their plan, the Agents make their way into town, toward the home of Mr. and Mrs. Harper. While they drive, Agent Sharpe reviews the information they'd gleaned from their various sources, including a brief financial history of both parents and a particularly interesting document from the Michigan State Police. Reaching the multi-story home, the Agents walk casually toward the front door. One agent removes a lockpick kit from the breast pocket of his suit-jacket and works on the front door, unlocking it almost as quickly as if he had the key. It swings open and they step inside of the home.

“Well now... I think this is the place we've been looking for." Agent Sharpe says as he stares at the NeXTstation in the corner of the living room. “MSP records indicate that Mr. Harper owns a Beretta 81BB. Find it."

“Yes, sir." The Agents reply, before spreading throughout the house like roaches.

Stepping further into the house, Agent Sharpe glances at a family photo handing on the wall.

“Hm... That boy looks oddly familiar." He thinks aloud.

The Agents move quietly throughout the home, searching every room as they make their way toward the upstairs bedrooms. Peeking into an empty bedroom, it appears to belong to the teenage boy seen in the photo; clothes are strewn about the floor and mattress and a video game console sits in front of a TV near the bed, next to a stack of cassette tapes and a handful of CDs. Moving to the final room, the Agents prepare their tools. As the couple awaken from strange thumping sounds in the darkness, they're understandably shocked to find pale men wearing sunglasses and black suits in their bedroom.

Before they can cry out, however, Agent Sharpe turns to Agent Grey, who holds a small aerosol can. He nods, and Agent Grey quickly sprays the couple's faces with the clear, odorless and tasteless substance. They swiftly succumb to paralysis. Agent Sharpe waves a hand and the men spread out. The couple's eyes shift, following the strangers as they move about. They're clearly searching for something.

“Anything in the closet?" Agent Sharpe asks.

“No, sir."

“Check shoe boxes, hat boxes and between folded sheets. Those are all common hiding places." He instructs.

“Yes, sir."

“Sir!" An Agent chirps.

“Yes, Agent Carter?"

Taking a wooden box from beneath the couple's bed, the Agent points to a small padlock.

“Promising." Agent Sharpe flashes a little grin.

Using the same lockpick set he'd used to enter the home, Agent Carter quickly opens the box to reveal the firearm they've been searching for. Agent Sharpe removes the weapon and checks it. It's fully loaded.

“Where is your son, Mr. Harper?" Agent Sharpe asks, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed. “

“They won't be able to speak, sir. It's a newer, more potent formula." Agent Grey remarks.

“That's a shame. I suppose it doesn't matter. It's best if he comes home and discovers them."

Agent Sharpe slips on a pair of black, latex gloves taken from a pocket and cocks his head to one side, the pistol sitting atop a thigh. His neck pops as the Agent lets out a relaxed sigh. He collects the weapon and flexes his fingers around the grip. It's as if he's taking the time to savor the moment. Rising to his feet, he turns and fires. Bang, bang, bang! Lance is horrified as he can see his wife, Jenny, being murdered in his peripheral vision.

“Pose her." Agent Sharpe instructs.

While Agent Carter moves Jenny's body to appear as though she were killed while sleeping comfortably on her back, stretching out her legs and folding an arm, Agent Sharpe and Agent Grey roll Lance onto his side, facing him toward his wife's corpse. Taking hold of Lance's right hand, Agent Sharpe slips the weapon in and forces him to squeeze the pistol. With his body being manipulated like an oversized doll by the strange, suit-wearing men, Lance's eyes bulge. He can feel the warm barrel pressing against his temple! Agent Sharpe's fingers press Lance's finger against the trigger, the metal guard protruding between the tips of his first and middle appendages. He begins to apply pressure. Why is he doing this?! Bang!

“Murder-suicide. And now, Mr. Harper, you drop your gun right here..."

Agent Sharpe allows Lance's hand to fall. It rests before his chest, nestled between the man and his wife. The Agent then drops the pistol loosely before his twitching fingers.

“Alright... Remove the computer, and do it carefully. Leave it clean." Agent Sharpe instructs, removing the gloves from his hands and slipping them into his suit-jacket pocket.

“I don't quite understand, sir. Wouldn't the missing computer point towards theft?" Agent Carter asks.

“Mr. and Mrs. Harper work very hard to maintain this home, in a rather well-to-do neighborhood. A brief glimpse of their financial records shows that they're straddling the line between comfort and bankruptcy. He nearly drained his checking account on a $300 purchase in April. The police, should they even investigate, will come to the conclusion that he sold it to cover his debts. A clean desk without a computer won't appear to be the result of a conventional burglary."

“Quite an expensive computer for a man with money troubles." Agent Grey remarks.

“Perhaps he bought it several years ago. Come on, Agents. I don't wish to stay long." Agent Sharpe says as he casually leaves the room.

Walking home from their favorite spot, an old shack near the woods by the edge of town, Donnie kicks a small stone on the sidewalk. Though he tried to focus on the game, it was a struggle, and barely two hours after he'd left his house, he decided to go home. Maybe a good night's sleep will help him clear his head? As he turns the corner and sees his home, he also finds a strange vehicle parked alongside the curb. Who on this street knows someone who drives a brand new, black Chevy Trailblazer? The front door of his house opens and men in plain black suits emerge. One of them carries his NeXTstation computer.

In a panic, Donnie dives behind a bush and lies prone, shivering with fear. He knows why they're there. They must have been waiting for someone to investigate encryption. Why couldn't he just leave it alone?! Peeking through the bushes, he uses his monocular to watch from several houses away. Even though it's dark, and there isn't a street light in front of his home, he witnesses the men loading his computer into the rear compartment before climbing in. The vehicle's engine hums to life and within seconds it drives away. It moves very casually, very slowly, as if it belonged there, though the lights never once turn on.

After waiting a for a few minutes, to make sure that they aren't returning, Donnie climbs up from the ground and races for the front door. He checks the frame. No damage. He turns the knob. It's locked. Using his key, he opens the house and steps inside. The computer is gone, but so are the cables. It wasn't ripped from the walls, but rather it was carefully packed. Even the desk was briefly cleaned of the dust marks. To an outsider, they'd never know it was there at all. Overcome with curiosity, he races toward the small tote near the desk and lifts the lid.

After only a moment of digging, he finds his PowerBook 180 and the accompanying cables and accessories, right where he'd left it months ago. Did they not even search the house? Moving into the kitchen, he climbs up onto a chair and peeks through the vent cover. With a pocket-sized flashlight to aid him, he sees a corner of the envelope containing the floppy disks. As he climbs down, he's hit with a horrifying realization. Donnie gulps, the tension building within his chest and forming a knot.

“Mom? ... Dad?"

He creeps down the hall, his body shivering. Why haven't they answered him? Perhaps they're in a deep sleep? Maybe the men in black merely wanted to steal the computer and left as soon as they'd collected it? He calls out again.

“Mom? Are you awake?"

Creeping up the stairs and heading for their room, he can hear a strange noise. Is that water dripping? He sniffs the air and smells something strange. What is that? Is something burning? Resting his hand on their bedroom door, he gently pushes it open.

“Mom? Dad? Are you alright?" He sheepishly calls out.

Their shadowy figures lie in bed, shrouded in the darkness of the room. As he flips on the light switch, however, he's met with a horrifying sight. Lying on her back, her eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, his mother bleeds from three gunshot wounds. Two bullets have pierced her chest, while the third bore a hole through her forehead, right between her eyes. Donnie stumbles back and falls.

“Mom!"

As he sits on the floor, he can see the origin of the strange sound. Her left arm dangles over the edge of the bed, and as the blood pools around her corpse, it drips over the edge, following gravity. After taking a moment to cry, sitting in the fetal position, Donnie manages to push himself up. He races toward the bed only to find his father with a single gunshot wound to his right temple. Between his parent's corpses is his dad's old, Beretta pistol. He'd seen it once before, as a little boy, but his mother, fearful that he would find it, compelled his father to keep it locked away.

Reaching between their bodies, he very slowly, very sheepishly, pulls the gun from its place. His father's hand, which the gun had rested near, protected the firearm from his parent's collectively pooled blood, which soaks into the mattress. The strange smell emanates from the firearm, and particularly the barrel. It's gun smoke.

“Oh, God... Oh, God. What the hell did I do?!" A crying Donnie asks himself.

Holding the pistol in his hand and pressing the side of the weapon against his head, he spins around, looking for any clues that might help him identify his parents' murderers. On the floor and nearest his father's body, Donnie finds a wooden box. Picking up the box and looking inside, he finds everything belonging to the pistol. A barrel brush, several spare magazines, and another full box of .32 ACP ammunition. Setting the box aside, he finds a framed picture lying beneath it. It must've fallen over when his parents' murderers moved his father's body.

Dropping to a knee and lifting the picture, he turns it over and begins to weep. It's a framed photo of himself as a much younger child, a memento of a camping trip he'd gone on years ago when he was a boy scout and his father a scout leader. As his tears drip onto the glass of the photo, he can see the pistol in his hand. His tortured soul urges him to use it, but how? Should he turn it on himself and end his pain? As he listens to the pooling of his parent's blood on the floor, he's overcome with rage.

“I'm going to get those sons of bitches... I don't know how, but I'll make them pay."

Collecting the box and saving the photograph, Donnie suddenly has an idea. Racing into his room, he collects a backpack, a duffel bag, some clothes and a few meager belongings. He then ransacks the house, taking all of the cash and jewelry he can find, as well as other valuables, like his game console, and the keys to his father's Chevy S-10. Donnie does his best to make the house as messy as possible. He stuffs his PowerBook and accessories into the backpack and collects the floppy disks from their hiding spot before putting the vent cover back into place.

Heading into the garage, he loads the valuables and his belongings into the passenger seat, then spends twenty minutes with a wooden ramp, struggling to shove his Honda XR200 into the bed of the pickup. With the motorcycle lying in the bed, he climbs out and wipes the sweat from his brow.

“One last thing..."

Returning to the house, Donnie moves quickly, dashing up the stairs and into his bedroom. He takes a few deep breaths as he prepares himself, slowly removing the multitool from his pocket. Opening the knife, he balls a fist and lifts an arm. It takes him a few tries before he finds the nerve, the vision of his parents' corpses giving him the strength he needs. Making a long cut on his forearm, he allows his blood to drip from his arm and onto the floor. After stowing his knife, he bloodies a palm and presses his hand against the door frame, before using the nearest shirt to cover his arm.

Retreating to the bathroom, he cleans the wound, doing his best to leave no trace of this in the sink or hallway. He bites onto a clean piece of the shirt as he pours hydrogen peroxide onto the wound, which he then bandages. The box of gauze and the roll of medical tape come with him rather than in the trash, as does the bloody shirt. Using a knife from the kitchen, he pokes a hole through the shirt and then heads for his father's truck. As he sits in the driver's seat, only the second time he's ever done so, he turns on the truck and prepares himself. Pushing the button on the remote, the garage door creeps open.

“I'm going to find out what's on that file..." He says as he adjusts the rear-view mirror. “And then I'm going to expose their dark secrets to the world... If they're willing to kill to keep it a secret, then their failure..."

He pauses and glances at the box, which contains his father's pistol. Oh, how he'd love to use it on the men who've destroyed his family, but he understands the power he's up against. He may never see those men again; the best he can hope for is to ensure their own demise by causing them to fail their masters. Backing out of the driveway, he shifts into drive and moves down the dark, quiet road of his suburban neighborhood. As he turns a corner, he makes it to a main road. Taking the bloody shirt, he tosses it out of a window. His next stop? The spot. He'll need his friends' help to carry out his plan. A car speeds by him, driving in the opposite direction.

“Was that the Beamer?" He furls his brow and looks into a mirror.

Sitting in the driver's seat of his '93 BMW M3, Dr. Burnheart looks to his right. Sitting in the passenger seat, Dr. Addis cradles Harriet, whom they've successfully stolen from MiLab.

“Shh... There, there, button. It's going to be alright." Carol coos.