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Incognito was being commanded without a leader.
In the technical, practical, and theoretical— anonymously (except from all their employees and collaborators)—Reagan was the boss. She was in charge of the whole organization. She dictates the rules, hired and fired. She dispatches missions and chooses where investment funds would be applied.
But, after her father was arrested, and she gave up on having a happily-ever-after with Ron, aka the love of her life, Reagan had accepted to be part of a greater group of leaders. A select team of non-humans dressed in black robes that has being ruling the world since God-knows-when, and that means she can't have contractual bonds to her job at Incognito anymore.
So, on paper ? Well... She needed someone trustworthy to sign them.
Brett Hand, barely above his 32y/o, went from an unpaid contributor, to “ manager ” of the largest media control and global conspiracies company, because he follows Reagan’s words without batting an eye.
And because he was a great friend.
“Heeeeyooo~” Appearing through the open door, Brett cheered, showing up two cups in hand. “I brought you Breakfast!” And then, stepping farther inside the main office, four mechanical arms showed up, from his back, carrying either: a bowl full of bread and toast, a basket of fruits, a box of Donuts, or Tequila. “The feasting kind!”
Reagan looked up at him with a weak but pleased smile on her face.
“‘Morning, Brett.” Lowering the papers onto the table, she squeezed the joint of her eyes and stood up. “Good to see you learned how to use my pack.”
Brett laid all the goods like a picnic set up over a nearby table, replying to her with a big smile on his face.
“Now I get why you hide these guys under your clothes all the time. They can always come in handy .” He joked, playfully, sticking his and a mechanical-arm’s hand out.
Reagan reached out for the second cup of coffee he brought, leveling it to her lips. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by the blond guy.
“You can’t live on that, you know…” Remarked the man, picking up the bowl of toasts. “Here, try something else too.”
“Nah, I’m fine.” Reagan ignored him, going back to the table to pick up a pen drive and a few papers. “My headache isn’t killing me and I even slept three hours today— hurray .”
“I bet you haven't eaten since that slice of pizza yesterday afternoon.” Brett gave her a face, taking a buttered toast up and leveling it to Reagan’s mouth. “Last time I checked, you were still human.”
Reagan sent him back a bitchy face.
“Seriously? Are you gonna mother me now?”
Brett arched one eyebrow and frowned the other, waving the buttered toast.
“I could answer that in a very sad way that involves my lack of knowledge on healthy mothering, but I’m gonna go with: Hey —can’t I just care for a friend’s health now?" He argued.
Reagan sipped her coffee, mimicking his facial expression.
“Coffee is just fine. I'm not hungry.” She lied.
“Pff, of course you are. And I'm not going to let my best friend starve to death .” Brett insisted.
She gave him a poker-face.
In reply, he did his best on a begging-dog stare.
It caught her off guard, and she laughed, rolling her eyes.
“Urgh, Fine. ” She assumed her defeat, eating the toast.
Brett gave her one of his most sweet smiles and bit into another toast, proud of his success.
They soon left through the front door together, to meet the rest of the team in the meeting room.
“Talking about mothers, I read a file about all of humanity being linked to one of these three primordial family trees or something. Does it mean I might be your cousin ?”
Reagan finished her slice of toasted bread and grinned around the cup of coffee, shoulders shaking from restrained laughing at his silly questions.
She could clarify that that wasn't quite how things worked, but then she looked into the older man's clear blue eyes and lied (just to play with his gullible persona).
“ Of course . You are my twelfth degree cousin from my father's side and ninth on mother's one.”
Whether Brett tried to mentally calculate it or not, he didn't do it out loud.
Down the hall, as they walked, both were greeted by the other employees who showed up for work—and entering the meeting room, all the other four were already present, waiting for them at the table.
“Oh my, arriving together, hm ?” Myc joked. “Brett, you sly cow .”
“Nah, I doubt it .” Gigi replied, putting down her phone. “Reagan doesn’t look relaxed at all.”
“Guys, come’on .” Brett tried to scold them, even though it never works.
“Maybe Brett is just bad at it.” Glenn commented, yawning because of how early it was. He still had some pent-up anger over what happened with his wife, but they never got around to discussing it (thank god).
Andre just chuckled, looking at the blonde's embarrassed face as he puffed on his e-cigarette—Incognito was doing miracles in turning that into something more consumed by teenagers than drugs.
“Can you all shut up already?” Reagan replied, with zero patience for that kind of humor.
She was still sore about any kind of humor, to be honest. Ever since she left Ron.
And it had been months already…
"We're having a potential trespasser problem at Ratanaba's rubbles so get those repellents leech-proof—you are going on a mission."
And with that, she opened a box tucked in the corner. Full of sprays against bloodsucking insects and annelids.
“That one is new to me! Sounds like a minion word.” Brett smiled, excitedly. “What is it?”
It’s been a while since they all did a mission together. Reagan was too busy mourning and locked in her lab, and the rest of the guys were also busy doing their own jobs. He, on the other hand, was the only one who didn’t actually have a job other than helping people out .
Which meant one of two things: Either people took advantage of it, or they completely ignored him.
And Brett was tired of both…
“The rubbles of Ratanaba are just a bunch of old stone infrastructure in the middle of South America wildlife.” Explained Andre, visibly relaxed because of the pot in his e-gadget (of course he‘d find a way to optimize his drug use with vapers).
“It’s the leftovers of an ancient civilization.” Reagan added, preparing the slideshow with the pendrive she brought. “You’re gonna track the trespassers, take down whatever they are planning, get info about how they found the place, and erase their memories.”
The memory erase mention made the scientist feel a tightness in her chest. She clenched a hand against it. Few noticed. Brett was one of them.
"Erh..." He thought, nervously, about something to say. To try to lighten the mood. For several reasons, he hated to see her with that expression of suppressed sadness. “Sounds like a good plan to me!" He forced a positive vibe. “You call the shots, boss.”
Reagan, ripped out of her inner conflict, looked at him and tried to smile. She knew what he was doing. And she was grateful for that.
"No, Brett. You call it now, remember?” The leader replied, looking at him with a cheeky grin. “I'm not going with you guys anymore unless it's absolutely necessary."
Brett’s eyes widened. She was right, but he had never realized what it meant to be in charge.
"Wait… Really ?” He asked, with a huge smile on his face.
“Yeah man.”
“Yeees!” He pulled his arm inward, in a victorious gesture. “Did you guys hear it? I will be Reagan from now on!!”
Andre, Myc, Glenn, and Gigi just looked at each other, skeptical.
Sure, they all were reporting directly to Reagan since they knew she was the one who still ran the whole fucking thing. But even if she did put Brett in that position of being the second-in-command—the new “Reagan” of the team—well… nobody took it seriously up to now.
"Reagan, honey. Are you sure you want to leave Brett in charge of a mission to Ratanaba? I mean, he looks like he's going to lose his mind when the humidity destroys his perfect hairstyle." Gigi asked, looking at Reagan as the scientist opened her laptop to prepare the presentation slide.
"Well, that's his role now, so he has to learn to deal with it eventually." She replied, not even looking at her or the aforementioned man. "Working here takes... guts , right? And that's the fastest way to get some."
Brett, looking at her best friend, lost his smile a little, but still tried to keep it up.
"Hey guys, relax, I can run you. I did it once, remember? It'll be alright!"
"Yeah, and it ended up glitching dogs to evolve thumbs ." Myc retorted.
"No offense, sweetheart, but it's one thing to lead one mission, another thing is to take care of them all." Gigi commented.
“Yeah, man. You wouldn't last a week. The pressure would sap your willpower.” Included Andre, reading the label on the can of repellent to check its chemical compounds.
Brett stared at everyone in disbelief as he answered.
“You guys are totally underestimating me. I can be tough.” He tried to defend himself. It was very annoying (and painful) having to hear from everyone how weak and inadequate he seemed for that job—well, okay, of course it made sense since he fell in that chair, by JR, without much clarification from day one, but he wasn't useless . And his companions should know that. "Tell them, Reagan!"
The brilliant scientist, previously busy with her laptop, looked at Brett over the top of the prescription glasses she was wearing and then looked at each of them, answering very slowly.
“Arn…Well... I have faith that you can run the team without me, but they're right.” Brett was stunned by such a lack of trust from his best friend. Everyone could see in his eyes how much that hurted. Reagan took the glasses out, trying to clarify. “I’m not saying you can’t do it, Brett. I’m just saying the pressure will wear you down in a week. That's why you're going to start with simpler missions.”
Myc then began the betting.
"You say a week, but I bet 4 days."
Andre chuckled, pulling his credit card out of his pocket and slamming it into the table.
"I'm in!"
“Hey!” Brett grunted offendedly. “I'm sure I can last a lot longer than that!”
Gigi hid a smile behind one hand, lifting her own credit card in the air with the other.
“You're right, your therapist is great . So I'll bet on a week and a half .”
The blond man slumped in the chair, hitting his head on the table and mumbling sadly.
Reagan looked up at him with a weary smile—that's how she felt, inside and out, an exhausted person with a lot of emotional baggage to deal with—putting a hand on Brett's shoulder.
She barely had the strength to even try cheering herself up in the morning, so she didn't know how to try to cheer up the most naturally “cheered-up” guy she knew.
“Hey, man… Don't get discouraged, this is your opportunity to prove us all wrong.” She said, shrugging, really trying her best.
Brett gave her a smile back. Liking the emotional support she was trying to do.
“Thanks.” He whispered in a pout, with his cheek still pressed against the surface of the table. Reagan pinched his cheek. Damned be his too-normal and too-adorable mixed-up genes.
With the reassurance their friendship was still intact, Reagan tapped on Brett’s shoulder—She's not in her best days to be sentimental or friendly, so she was really glad to have a best friend who understood that.
Then, the real leader stood and began the Slideshow.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
"DIDN'T YOU SAY YOU KNEW HOW TO FLY A PLANE?" Brett screamed desperately, clinging to one of the benches.
The plane was being piloted by Glenn, it was an air fighter he insisted on knowing how to fly because he was a war veteran and apparently it was in his blood. And Brett believed.
André pushed him out of the cockpit and took the controls.
"I'M GONNA TRY TO LAND US, CALL REAGAN!" He yelled at the blonde.
"I WILL NOT CALL HER!!" Brett answered, even though his eyes were brimming with fear. "WE CAN DEAL WITH THE SITUATION ALONE!!"
Gigi grumbled irritably, pulling the ropes on the side compartments to find the parachutes, already anticipating disaster.
Taking a breath, Brett began to think about what Reagan would do in this situation.
Ratanaba is in the middle of the Amazon rainforest, if you can't land safely inside it, look for another place.
If it is necessary to separate, do it with caution.
And don't forget the repellent.
It wasn’t exactly what she would do, more like what she told them all before leaving Incognito Inc, but it helped Brett to feel more confident about his leadership.
"Andre, you and Glenn stay on the plane, try to land safely when it stabilizes—The three of us will go down first." Brett ordered.
Gigi, Myc and him started to don the security gear.
As a last thought, Brett decided that he wouldn't call Reagan until the end of the mission—that he wouldn't give up and that he would show everyone that he was someone worthy of being called the chief scientist's "right hand."
And then he opened the door and the three of them jumped out.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Reagan opened her eyes and noticed that she was in her office. She had laid her head on her arms and must have fainted.
She barely slept these last few days...
Propping her face with her elbow on the table, she looked at the papers strewn across the surface of the table, and the made-up breakfast-picnic table with a very attractive box of donuts over it.
Maybe she should have gone along with them... at least for the first time?
That way she doesn't have to focus on all her personal problems.
Not that she had any regrets for what she'd done. Especially in relation to Ron. But it was hard to let go of the hand of the person she wanted to create a life with—even though she knew it was for the best, and that she could never make him happy the way he wanted.
She stood from her chair, going for the box of deep-fried sweet doughs.
“Dating comes and goes…right?” She tells herself. “I can still be happy with someone else, the same way Ron will be with his new woman. No big deal…”
Opening up the box of donuts, she noticed a silly pen scribble that Brett must have done previously from leaving it in her office.
Reading what was written and drawn, she laughed out loud.
It was the puppet, the one that looked like Brett, open-mouthed, furrowed brows, and a communication bubble saying [AH-HA! I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO BE HUNGRY!!!]
She’s so glad to still have a business best friend.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
“We are gonna DIE here!” Myc complained in a loud voice. “It's awful to slide on this ground, my tentacles are being devoured by ants and that's not pleasant at all ."
"I'm with Myc on this one, Brett." Gigi nodded, slapping her arms. "The repellant doesn't seem to be helping much, maybe we really should call Reagan."
"Calm down guys, I have everything under control!!” Brett replied, suddenly a tad more worried that Gigi mentioned about calling her. “According to Reag's coordinates, we just arrived at the wreckage." Taking the lead and trying to ignore the absurd amount of mosquitoes that were flying over his skin, he kept going a little faster. "She said that by getting into this zone we’d be safe from any kind of plague, didn't she?"
Pushing some branches and bushes out of the way, the blonde then managed to find a clearing. He took the first step out from the middle of the dense forest, and then, suddenly, all of the insects around him were gone.
Surprised at himself, he smiled excitedly, turning back to wave his hands.
"Ah-ha! See? It worked!"
Gigi then also entered the clearing, very relieved that Brett was right. Myc, close behind, groaned with even more relief.
"Amen!" He started rubbing his tentacles against each other. "I hope I haven't lost any sensibilities, or you're dead , man."
Brett, obviously much more interested in looking at the beautiful works of ancient architecture, marveled, just ignored him and walked towards the first-ever signs of civilization.
"Wow, this place is real?” he asked, amazed. "I thought Atlantis was the first civilization." He commented to Gigi.
"They were the first metropolis. But, well, historically speaking, these guys put up some stone walls here, half-assed houses there, and they started raising goats first, so yeah ." She answered.
“Why is this even a history book secret?” He asked, out of curiosity, walking down the hill to reach the place.
“Because of how everything here died overnight.” The woman took out the repellent from her purse again, spraying it out on herself like perfume.
“It’s partly our fault, though.” Myc, reaching them, explained it better to Brett. “It was an alien worm that appeared with the first UFOs. But they've been fumigated by all I know.”
“Frankly, I suspect not .” Gigi replayed. “If so JR would have already turned this place into a prison, or a vacation inn.”
They all were already inside the walls by now. Brett took out the locator.
“Reagen said they were trespassers right? So how about we split up and look for them?”
Gigi and Myc looked at each other, smiling.
"You decide, Captain ." The sentient mushroom replied, obviously cynical and ironic—but of course Brett just cracked a huge smile in response.
"Oooh yeah ! Time to split up and look for clues!" He raised a hand in the air, using a slightly distorted version of a phrase he loved from the 90s. He jumped and started running in one random direction. “GOOO TEAM!”
“What a dolt…” Myc joked in a whisper, wickedly.
And as he disappeared inside some old stone structure that could easily be deadly, Gigi just shrugged.
"Let him be happy." She commented, checking her nails. “If not for him, then for Reagan.”
“Why?” Asked the mushroom, waving one of his tentacles around. “Are they fucking?”
Gigi rolled her eyes.
" No .” She replied, as if it were obvious. “Because he looks cuter like that, duh ."
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Asked the robot president, Alpha-Beta. Still in the cylinder.
He's been well-behaved lately, still sentimental from his sexual experience with his creator's mother, and relatively friendly after Reagan let him finally watch Season 10 of Friends.
"What do you mean by that?" Reagan asked, confused, as she poured her cup with some more coffee.
"It's your seventh cup in less than 3 hours..."
" And ?" She snapped, complaining.
Alpha-Beta looked at the pile of papers on the table, the vibrating phone, and the clock on top of the wall.
"You skipped lunch... And as far as I know, human beings don't survive on caffeine."
Urgh, what's going on with people wanting to intervene in her health? Seriously? She doesn't have an eating disorder. She's just not hungry .
The scientist sighed, wishing she could ignore the robot but ended up mumbling an explanation all the same.
"I want to occupy my head, okay?" She answered, begrudgingly. "I just don't…want to be alone with my thoughts. That's all."
Sitting back down at her desk, Reagan sipped some more coffee to keep her spirits up as she continued.
She glanced at her watch, doing a quick mental calculation.
If all goes well, the team will return before the end of service hours, then everyone could go for drinks to celebrate.
And if something went wrong , he knew Brett would call her.
Until then, she believed in her friend. He knew he would be able to complete the mission.
It wasn't anything flashy, dangerous, or laborious. It was something she could have done on her own—so it was the perfect opportunity to give Brett the opportunity to lead a mission with the team again, and start to get used to the stresses of everyday life.
She wanted him to get used to it.
She needed him to get used to it.
Because if he resigns and leaves Incognito Inc. she would have to erase his memory, and turning her best friend into one more important person she has to cut out of her life... would be twice as painful.
And she won't let that happen.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Brett, alone, was playing spy (Whistling some themed music, obviously).
Using the repellant like a weapon in hand, he pressed himself against the old stone walls and pretended to be on a top-secret mission.
Not that his mission wasn't top secret perhaps—since everything they did at Incognito was confidential—but he liked how "secret mission" sounded more... adventurous .
Searching for invaders in an abandoned city was relatively simple. It was nothing like stopping a lunatic from moving the moon or destroying the planet, but it was something.
He was silly, but he wasn't stupid. He knew Reagan was helping him adjust to his new leadership position.
It was very kind of her.
“ I can hear you ~” He said, hearing his voice echoing over the walls.
I can hear you~ —The echo sounded back to him.
He started laughing. Raising a hand to his lips, he faked a feminine voice, and used the side of his mouth to speak, like he would do a puppet.
“ Brett is such a cool guy~ ”
Brett is such a cool guy~ —The echo replied.
“ Is he single?~ " He playfully spoke again, feeling cheerful. " Maybe I should ask for his number.~ ”
As the echo finished copying his words, Brett broke his smile.
He felt a tightness in his chest and looked down at his hands.
"Dude…why am I like this?" He covered his face, muttering to himself. "That's so childish..."
Bracing his back against the stone wall, he slipped and finally sat on the floor with his legs bent. He rested both arms on his knees and looked up at the ceiling.
He was in a dimly lit hallway—he thought, maybe, that someone could be hiding there, but no such luck. He was never good at hide and seek...
(Today he understands that staying hidden for hours didn't necessarily mean he was good at it...)
Perhaps Gigi and Myc had already found the invaders and he was there, playing . Talking to the echoes of the walls of an ancient civilization like some fifth grader.
Frowning his brows, he grumbled in a thick voice. An older and more adult one. A voice that reminded him a lot of his father.
"That's why no one takes you seriously, Brett!"
Those were hard words. So hard that they were engraved in his memory.
That's why nobody takes you seriously, Brett!~ —The echo replied.
"You're a nuisance, get out of my way!" He continued, in another voice. Possibly his brother's.
You're a nuisance, get out of my way!~
It thinned out, becoming slightly feminine again.
"What a disgrace, coming to your brother's wedding without a date? Still haven't gotten into a serious relationship?" He squinted, the memory of his mother berating him in public that day was humbling.
Brett then took a deep breath, grimacing and screaming at the top of his lungs.
"HOW AM I GOING TO BE SOMEONE DECENT TO YOU, IF NOBODY TAUGHT ME HOW TO BE ONE?!"
And as the echo answered him back, loud and clear, Brett banged the back of his head against the wall, out of rage, perhaps pent-up despair. He saw stars from the action, from the force with which he hit. He let out a breath, dropping his shoulders and trying to relax his body.
Finally, he felt something strange, gooey, entering his ear. He quickly stuck a finger in, trying to clear whatever could have caused that bizarre sensation, but found nothing.
"Uh..." He stood up, tapping the opposite ear. "That's weird..." Nothing came out.
He could have sworn something had gotten in. But the feeling had completely disappeared.
Maybe it was just his imagination after hitting the head.
The place was full of dust after all.
Giving up on the self-criticism session, he sighed. Then, the positive personality he wears like a shield since he was 14y/o returned.
No more playing around and wasting time having emotional meltdowns! He hadn't come here to cry , he was on a mission!
It was work !
Shaking his head, he decided to continue with the search.
He couldn't go back to Incognito Inc. without having completed the mission Reagan gave him, it would be a tremendous shame…
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
"Hmm, that's weird..." Andre commented, looking at the sole of his shoe.
They had landed the plane a few kilometers ahead and were now finally entering the Ratanaba debris zone. Looking for signs of the rest of the team.
"What is?" Glenn asked, fighting off an infestation of blowflies that seemed to be trying to get into the holes in his skin. And then, as he entered the zone, he felt that they had all stopped chasing him, and fled. "Look at that! A magic barrier?"
"There is no such thing as magic, not like that at least." The chemist replied, crouching down and scooping up some of the silt and clay in one hand. "A barrier is possible, but this does not appear to be the case. It's more like the soil ." He spat, stirring it with his fingertip and looking at the gooey mixture he had made. "Weird... it looks wet but it's sandy and infertile."
He tried to smell the air, but it wasn't a dog or any kind of animal that could have the ability to identify something other than the common odors of nature: wood, decaying organic matter, and wet earth.
"Hey, I think I see Myc." Glenn replied, walking down the hill.
Andre then looked down at the debris of civilization and noticed a purple and blue dot in the middle of all that green and yellow, waving at them.
He followed the former military man.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Brett didn't know anything about archeology, or scribbling on walls. He was also never good at history in high school. But he could admire the simplicity of geometric shapes fitting together and cave-like drawings in ancient rocks.
The wreckage was all very interesting in itself, and before he realized it he had started exploring the place while looking for clues.
He found a tiny battery lying on the floor. And then some cables.
With the neurons he had, he connected the dots and understood that the invaders had passed through there, that they brought equipment with them, and were possibly recording something inside the place.
He felt proud of himself for the find. He cracked a huge smile—maybe he wasn't so useless after all, hm?
That excited him enough to run off and look for more clues!
He didn't remember exactly where he was, as he had taken several turns, but he found a ladder.
He climbed several feet off the ground, reaching the third or fourth floor of some ancient infrastructure.
The rubble was too old, he shouldn't have gone up there, but he believed he would find more clues if he dug deeper (higher?). Also, he thought the invaders might even be hiding somewhere above them, looking down for a better angle.
If he were to film the place, it would certainly look nicer up above.
The floor he arrived on, after the last step, had no walls. On the ground, Brett could see Myc waving at the horizon, and Glenn and Andre closing in on him.
He spotted Gigi, supervising a total of four or five people tied up, with camera equipment, a little further north.
His smile broke down. It disappeared as he realized what that meant.
"Oh... So they already found them." It was quite painful to see the others completing the mission so quickly without him. "They're so good at this..." He thought to himself, uneasy. "So professional… and here I am, playing explorer , urgh .”
He looked down at the battery and cable he'd found in his hand. He frowned, clenching them in a fist.
“What rubbish ." He said. Talking about the trash just as much as himself.
Something inside him burned. His vision suddenly blurred and he started to feel dizzy, he tried to lean on something, and then he remembered this floor had no walls.
His body fell.
His eyes widened as he watched the ground approach.
He tried to scream, but his voice was slurred. Something inside him started to boil even more strongly, and the next thing he knew, he wasn’t afraid anymore. He activated the mechanical arms and used them as support on one of the rocks suspended from the wreckage.
This eased his fall.
He landed completely intact. Unscattered.
His breathing was ragged, still mildly panicked, but totally unharmed, standing on the floor.
After a second, a laugh crawled out of his throat.
It was a mixture of relief and awe.
“I…” He looked at his own hands. Then, he looked up at the point from where he had fallen. “I knew what to do.”
He crouched down, testing the damage of the fall (to be certain he didn’t snap any joints), then he stood up again. His legs weren't wobbly, they were firm.
"Wow..." He said, amazed, strangely pleased, and excited. “Is this place magical…? Or does commanding a mission really bring this much confidence?”
Grinning, he tried jumping from one leg to another. Not knowing what to expect, just, who knows —
“Yeah, no superpower.” He placed both hands on his hips when he noticed nothing happening. “But what else could I ask more? I feel great!” He laughed at himself. Something seemed to bubble up inside his belly because of the emotion of experiencing it. “I need to tell Reagan!”
He took his phone out of his pocket, but then froze, smiling face melting.
He tucked it back.
If she sees he’s the one calling, she will think he’s calling for help . And he didn’t want that…
“That’s fine, I’ll tell her when we get back.” He reassured himself, shrugging.
And so, to enjoy the new interesting experience, he started testing how far that new confidence could go—if he could do things he was too afraid to try before—while looking for the rest of the team.
Starting from acrobatics .
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
“Why are they taking so long ?” Reagan asked, grumbling, her finger impatiently tapping the surface of the table.
Maybe she really did drink too much coffee…
A loud laugh caught her attention.
When she opened the office door and followed the noise, she found the company entrance hall.
About twenty people were milling around the central hall, as they saw, in the center, Brett, the friendliest, most good-natured human any of them had ever met, and Grassy Noel Atkinson making a little target-shooting bet.
And most bizarre of all: the scoreboard, being held by Myc beside them, said Brett was winning.
"What's going on here?" Reagan asked aloud from the top floor as he looked down.
Simultaneously, everyone looked back at her.
"We have no idea, but Glenn is about to win a bet for the first time in his life!" Andre chuckled, pointing at his co-worker, who was in high spirits, massaging the well-dressed blonde's back.
"I've never made so much money at once." He agreed.
"Hi Reag!" Brett waved, ignoring whatever the others had just said.
Squeezing the crease of her eyebrows, the scientist groaned, heading down the stairs.
As she got closer to them, she noticed an additional point on the scoreboard. In favor of her best friend, to boot.
"Since when are you good at this?" She asked suspiciously, approaching Brett.
Brett threw an arm around her shoulders, smiling and hiding his mouth with a hand so no one could read his lips.
"Since three hours ago." He whispered secretly at her, laughing.
Reagan felt herself blush at the way his breath hit her ear. She waved it off and shared a sincere smile at her colleague's excitement over this, but then decided to call it quits.
"Okay, that's enough. Playtime is over.” She clapped her hands to call from everybody’s attention. “If you're done with your services, you can clock out."
Several people complained loud and clear, and were promptly ignored. As the other employees returned to their jobs, the leader turned her attention back to the main team.
"Did you four complete the mission? Why didn't you report it to me?" she asked, mostly to Brett. "I've been waiting for your call all day.”
The blonde briefly undid the smile, but then came up with another one. Less...honest and 'Brett', and more that shady and nonchalant kind of smile.
"Everything went well." He explained, shrugging one shoulder up as they all headed upstairs to the office. "Gigi and Myc found all the invaders pretty quickly. Glenn and Andre flew the plane with no major problems. And I…" Brett trailed off, weighing what to explain.
Gigi then stepped in, stroking his arm gently.
"Did a great job of providing moral support." And then she winked. “And he learned parkour , somehow.”
Reagan looked at both, unconvinced. Gigi’s flirty words weren’t the weirdness of it all, but Brett doing parkour ? Really?
In the end, Reagan deemed that to be a joke, and possibly a consequence of the exhaustion taking over her.
Once they all arrived at the main office, the scientist made them all explain what happened in detail and how things worked out.
Everyone shared the basic information pretty quickly.
“And how the heck came the extra-energy boost?” She asked, pointing to the hyperactive man.
Brett had grabbed a decorative gold globe from the corner whilst talking and began trying to balance it on his finger like a basketball—and was now realizing he really sucked at it.
“Oh, I almost died.” He explained, putting the globe down in its place.
“What?!” Reagan asked.
“No big deal. We split up, I climbed some rocks, ended up falling from, like, 30 or so feet, and then mid falling— Boom! ” He mimicked an explosion with his hands. “Reborned into a new man. I felt great!”
“You sure, buddy?”
“Absolutely!”
Of course, the story had her slightly worried, but she knew Brett and if he said he was fine…well, she believed him.
In the end, Reagan seemed pleased about the team’s mission and decided it was a good opportunity to brag about Brett’s proven successful leadership.
She opened the minifridge and took out some champagne. It was a silly gesture, but she knew he would appreciate it.
“I personally would have hated it, but I know you love these public displays of affection. So congratulations , my friend.” She offered, giving the man a bottle. “Do the honors.”
Brett’s sweet personality took over as he stood, surprised, pleased, blushing, and held the bottle in his hands.
“O- oh , Reagan… Thanks . I-I mean, it's not a big deal —the team did most of the mission themselves. I didn’t… ” That personality that always craved and yearned for recognition seemed speechless, stuttering even, then, another kind of personality seemed to take over. He stopped. Frozen in place. And then another kind of smile showed up on his lips like a switch. “I wasn’t useful yet.” Brett straightened his back and looked at his best friend with a more serious expression. “Thanks for the opportunity, Rea, but this mission wasn't proof that I'm efficient enough to work here.”
With one hand gripping the champagne bottle, Brett reached out and grabbed Reagan's arm with the other.
He pressed the bottle against her palm and stared back at her astonished expression.
“Brett? What—”
“Is still too soon . I want to prove to you I’m better first. Make this moment count.” He affirmed, emphasizing the word, looking deep into her eyes. “I am confident that I can, now, Rea.” The nickname sounded strange in that voice, slightly different from the previous awkward-but-soft tone he used. “I’ve never been more confident.”
All of them were looking at the scene with bewilderment.
Reagan was confused. What does he want her to say?
“That’s weird…” Myc was the one to point it all out, even though all of them were thinking similar things. “I can’t read Brett’s mind…”
The man looked at the ancient mushroom, and then back at all of them. He looked at the way he was holding Reagan’s arm, in a firm grip, and let it go like burning wood.
“S-sorry… I don’t know what got me.” He apologized, laughing awkwardly, stepping back and rubbing at his noose—he was bleeding. “Oh crap .” He groaned, leaving the conference room right after.
“What was that?” Gigi asked.
Reagan could formulate a slightly better question:
What the fuck was that?