Byte Back | 6 Underground

19. Charisma

July 9th, 6:12 a.m.
3 days before the Infiltration
Abandoned Airplane, California Desert

Being emotional was not One's thing. Not explicitly, at least. He always kept to himself when it came to some sensitive topics. He always let his charm mask his emotions.

On certain days, depending on his mood, he would shed a tear or two when remembering past experiences and relationships. One would never, however, fully let himself cry. He could not allow himself to go through the time-wasting activity that is crying. It showed weakness.

Disbelief and doubt were the main things One went through throughout his life. He was inexplicably intelligent when he was young. Immature creatures like kids could never be capable of grasping the concepts One was aiming for.

He looked at his old pictures. They were always the same, he never found anything new. Yet he could not get enough of them.

There was a picture in particular that brought him infinite memories. It was a young One with his old friend. They were both often laughed at when they were younger. One for his brains, and his friend for his weight. His friend had to go through many sleepless nights to accompany One while he conducted his experiments. He placed the picture on top of the file cabinets as he looked through other pictures.

"What are you doing?" Asked Five from the far corner of the aircraft.

One stuttered. "Going through my college essays," he repeated the same answer he gave Eight months ago.

"Why?"

"I felt like it," he simply answered. "Am I not allowed to?"

She walked toward him. "You are. Just not when you're being suspicious about it."

"Why are you here?"

"I was going on a run but decided to explore instead. And then I found you. And now I'm here."

"How lovely. Go away."

Five spotted the edge of a picture on top of the cabinets. She picked it up and looked at it closely. "Is that you?"

One snatched the picture out of her hands. "Please go."

She leaned against the drawers. "College essays, huh?" He said nothing. "Well, you might as well let me see it. I'm not gonna go until you do."

He groaned. "How stubborn can you be?"

"Honey, you don't even know." One gave in and handed her back the picture. "So you are an orphan."

"Well, I don't think it's much of a secret."

"We had our doubts," she honestly said as she pointed to the other kid. "Who's that?"

He sighed. "My friend."

"Let me guess, you won't tell me his name for safety reasons," she said as she handed him his picture.

One shook his head. "You'll never know my name either."

"I highly doubt that." Five sensed he was tense. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed."

"Thank you. Can you go now?"

She squinted his eyes at him. "Yeah, I guess."

While she walked away and exited the plane, One let out the breath he didn't know was holding. He took a quick look at a picture of his younger self, putting his hand up, revealing his palm.

One chuckled to himself. "God, I was weird."

July 9th, 8:53 a.m.
Haunted House, California Desert

One appreciated Eight's efforts to bring as much information as possible to the team. He liked her, he respected her, perhaps he even admired her. But whenever she tried to become the leader, oh he despised her. And of course, he masked his hatred with sarcasm.

"He has a meeting at the Sears Tower right after the party. It's in the middle of the night," Eight informed. "He'll most likely hide there if we do anything suspicious."

"Isn't it the Willis Tower?" One asked. "Last time I was there it was the Willis Tower."

"Yeah, whatever, Willis Tower. The point is, if he escapes, we'll have to chase him."

"How do you suggest we do that?" One expected a half-assed answer from the young woman.

However, Two, a much more experienced woman, decided to answer for Eight. "Well, we do the same thing we did in Hong Kong. Snatch-and-grab."

"Without the word snatch because they're the same thing," One answered.

"So what? Four puts the pod thingies on the windows and you play the THX sound? Is that it? And then the same thing again?" Seven asked.

"No," One answered. "Foxwell will most likely have a shit ton of guards with him. You somehow kill them and Four and Eight somehow get Foxwell."

"Doesn't he know boxing or judo or something?" Four asked. "How the fuck am I supposed to compete with that?"

One shrugged. "Shoot his leg. Just a flesh wound."

"Fine by me."

"Any other questions?" He looked at Three, Five, and Eight.

"What about Wolfe?" Five asked.

Eight got excited over an idea. "Oh my God, can we kill her? Please?"

"No. She might have valuable information. We need to humiliate Foxwell." One said.

"Are we gonna tie her up?" Three asked, clearly interested in the idea.

"If you want. I don't care. As long as she gives you information."

Seven raised his hand. "Just to clarify, if someone dies we leave them behind, right?"

"Yes. I'll pick up their body while you guys do what you're supposed to do."

"But no one is left behind if they get into a fight or if they get shot but not killed. Right?"

One exasperatedly sighed. "Yes. That's right. I thought we went over this already."

"We did. I just wanted to remind you of your new rules."

"I don't know if that's petty or not. Either way, don't be petty."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"We're going to Chicago in two days."

"What?!" Three worriedly asked.

"Yeah. I can't believe how afraid of planes you are," Eight remarked.

"I'm not afraid of planes. I'm afraid of One's nonexistent piloting skills."

"Okay, listen here you motherfucker—" One started but was stopped by Two.

"Get over yourself," she said.

He sighed as he approached the exit. "Pack up only the necessary. I'll take care of the guns."