"Science, my lad, is made up of mistakes, but they are mistakes which it is useful to make, because they lead little by little to the truth." ~ Jules Verne
The next day, bright and early, V.C. and Jack drove up the steep, steep mountain to SuperNova Headquarters.
Actually, correction: Jack drove.
V.C. sat patiently in the passenger's seat.
Even though it was her car.
And her gas.
Which she had paid for herself.
Well, with Kingmaker's corporate card, but it still was technically her own money.
Even though showing up at the company undercover while driving a government issued car would raise some eyebrows and she fundamentally understood that this was the best plan, V.C. was a little irked that she couldn't even drive her own car.
According to Jack, if she drove any way like the way she conducted her investigations, they would both die in a fiery crash.
There was no way- not in a million, billion, trillion, bazillion years that the thing that was going to kill her was going be a fiery crash.
Nope, not one bit.
If ever presented with such a circumstance, she would just refuse to allow the Grim Reaper to take her soul. Just straight up refuse.
That usually worked with past events, why would Death be any different?
V.C. could be very persuasive when she wanted to be.
However, regardless of who was driving, the guard at the gate refused them entry.
Then Jack shot him a sharp glare, whipped out his brand-spanking-new fake ID (courtesy of Pager) and ordered the man to open the gate.
Disgruntled, the man slowly lifted the guardrail, grumbling under his breath the entire time. As they pulled away, V.C. swore that she heard the man curse aloud.
Obviously, someone wasn't too happy that OSHA was on the premises. V.C. felt sorry for the man. She absolutely hated it when they showed up at her lab.
Luckily, that tiny problem could be rectified with a little bit of money paid under the table to the government.
Works like a charm everything.
No wonder the government was so corrupt. . .
The wheels of the Charger slipped on the unpaved roof, sending dirt and gravel shooting up into the air. Climbing the steep incline to the main building of SuperNova, the car's engine revved as it mounted the last hill.
Jack shifted the car into park just as a door from the main building swung open and a woman wearing a startlingly bright lab-coat dashed out.
Jack barely had time to toss a glare at V.C. and whisper 'behave' before the woman was in their midst.
The name embroidered into the lapel of her lab-coat labeled her as Director Ngo. Short, straight black hair framed her face and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses rested evenly on her nose.
Taking in her appearance and the pair of wooden clogs protecting her feet, V.C. approximately the woman's age to be in the middle 50's or early 60's.
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