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A/N: Absolute nonsense ensues as I rewrite the entire Africa section in World Edition to be tailor fit for an excuse for Brice and Jack to be stuck together! It's not going to make a lick of sense but I'm letting the auto-pilot in me write it and I'm enjoying it! Let's get on this wild ride!


This can't be happening.

Jack Archer utters these four words over and over as if somehow convincing himself could lift this ridiculous event. Trailing SOMBRA's sleeper agents in Africa was a tall order, but the company the Bureau were keeping these days makes Jack's faith waver. An exploding island, a shipload of next level recruits and keeping bad company; surely things couldn't get more ridiculous.

A swift shot disturbs all negative thoughts.

The manic mayhem echos.

Words are no longer coherent, panic stealing it.

Kenya seemed so far away.

Scuffs and bruises adorn all the Bureau in the wake of a plane crash, the journey swinging into violent disarray. The infant steps to drag the sleeper agents by their tails were frozen in indefinite delay, a less than stellar start. Jack groans, the throbbing at his temple banging like a score of drums, fingertips grazing along specks of red. The pilot and co-pilot had been some time getting help, casting a hopeless sheen on the situation.

The wilderness of Madagascar in all its majesty is immediately sullied, their pilot slumped with bulging eyes and a slashed throat to match. An outcry of horror and revulsion bursts in the Bureau members, severed by Brice's severe nonchalance. "Quelle horreur," he shrugs, "What a mess."

Jack frowns.

"You can't go five minutes without another body, non?" Brice breezily breathes into Jack's ear, "Quelle surprise." Unbelievable. Jack glowers at his coldness, watching such calm light a cigarette. "D'accord, looks like a clean sweep across his neck."
Jack reddens with mortification on the plane at the mere sight of him, refusing to even give him the satisfaction of eye contact. Keeping a stiff upper lip to conjure up the focus to work on the bigger picture was proving a struggle, cocoa-colored orbs suddenly caught by Brice and a sly all knowing smile, reigning firmly in the wastes of amused silence between puffs. The Chief had given some half-baked tale about communication being down and not having enough time to ship him back to France, though Jack knows the real reason why.

Michelle, I get why she's with us. She can't be trusted but...

"Take me with you," Brice had insisted with deadpan grace, "I believe I have something that could help." The agent wants to scream baloney at his astute attempts to delay the inevitable, but what if what he knew could help? If there was no time to extradite him immediately...then what? A promise of a more lenient sentence entices the Frenchman, albeit with restraint and the perils of being in custody. Hawk-eyed Jack cannot shake off distrust, arms folded firmly at the sight of that smug, arrogant little...

"Looks like we got a murder to solve!" Carmen says with a sigh, "And we're stuck here..."

Brice casts a deadpan glance upon the body, "You know, I have never been to Africa before. I have a feeling..." he turns his attention to Jack with a sly wink and pauses thoughtfully, prompting a silent shudder inside Jack, not sure whether to be more disturbed by the body or Brice's bizarre behavior.

"...I have a feeling zis will be a trip to remember."

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