Agent Derek Callahan's office smelled of menthol. The scent made Henri's nose itch. He couldn't tell if it was because of the gum in the man's mouth or the cigarette stubs smushed into a glass ashtray sitting on the edge of his desk. Either way, he tried his best not to breathe too much.
He sat beside Thea in front of the agent's desk. Callahan only had two chairs—not counting his own—which meant Malik was forced to stand off to the side. He stuck his hands deep into his pockets and kept his head down. Henri watched silently as the boy's eyes darted about the stuffy office. Since the moment they'd stepped foot in the Edgar J. Hoover Building, he'd been on edge.
Granted, it was the FBI's headquarters, but they were there looking for help. Arkangel wouldn't be chasing them within the building's halls either. They were safe. So why was he still so high-strung?
Before Henri could dwell in that house, the special agent sitting across from him smacked his gum for what must've been the hundredth time.
"Will you cut that out?" he snapped.
"Let me get this straight." The man leaned back in his seat, the wheels and springs creaking under his weight. "Your billionaire archaeologist parents were kidnapped, a supposed map to the Library of Alexandria was stolen, and you think Arkangel Industries is behind it all?"
"Yep, that's pretty much everything."
"Don't forget about the mercenaries who burned our house down," Thea added.
"Right. Can't forget about those guys."
A wary look passed over Callahan's face. "I don't know. It just doesn't make sense why a company like that would risk the implications of doing such a thing. I mean, you know the type of stuff Arkangel is into, right? Worldwide vaccination relief, cutting edge technological advancements, and—"
Henri rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, we know how absurd it sounds. But it's the truth. My parents knew it was them. They said so themselves before they were taken."
"Right, right." Callahan's eyes flickered over to his computer's bright display. After typing on his obnoxiously loud keyboard, he squinted at something on the screen. "And you said one of the mercenary's names is Sergei?"
"That's right."
"Got a last name by any chance?"
"Er...no. We haven't exactly gotten the chance to have a conversation, all things considered."
"Right, right." Callahan turned his screen toward the three teens in his office. A mugshot had been plastered smacked dab in the center of the display. Staring back at Henri was the familiar mean mug of the hired killer who'd been hunting him for the past twenty-four hours. The man's jagged face scar, icy stare, and nefarious scowl were the stuff of nightmares. "This is him, correct?"
Henri swallowed hard. "That's him."
"Sergei Darković. Wanted in seventeen different countries. Former member of the Serbian military. Dishonorably discharged and later joined the bio-terrorist cell Kismet. He now helms his own splinter cell mercenary group carrying out jobs across the globe."
Kismet... Henri's eyes widened. They were the bioterrorist cell that changed the world forever. Led by a genocidal geneticist, they created the machine that gave the world Primes—superpowered individuals. That was years ago, though. Nowadays, no one batted an eye when superheroes came to town.
Sergei used to work for those guys? Henri shifted in his seat.
"We've been tracking him and his boys for months now," Callahan continued. He swapped Sergei's mugshot for a few hazy night images of a desert. Armed men dressed in clothes so dark they blended in with the black sky behind them filled the photos. "We lost track of them in Egypt some time ago. And now they've popped back up on our radar."
"Egypt." Thea nodded. "That can't be a coincidence."
"I agree," Callahan said. "But I still can't see why Arkangel would hire them to kidnap your parents. I mean, why not just work together to find this library?"
"Because my father didn't want to," Henri revealed. "An offer from Monet Delacroix was on the table, but he declined it."
The agent stroked his chin. "Right, right."
Henri shared a look with his sister. They sported the same skeptical look on their faces. Behind them, Malik found himself snooping through the agent's stack of magazines on a nearby coffee table.
"So, are you going to help us with this?" Thea asked.
Callahan popped his gum. "Help you with what exactly?"
"Rescuing our parents for starters." Thea squinted at the agent. "And maybe, oh I don't know, prosecute Arkangel for hiring mercenaries to kidnap people?"
"You don't even have proof it was them who hired Sergei."
Henri frowned. He had a point. This entire time, they'd been operating under the theory Monet Delacroix was involved. But what if she wasn't? Then what? And, even if she was, how were they to obtain enough evidence to legally go after her? The woman was the figurehead of an international company—he was willing to bet she knew enough to cover her tracks.
Beside him, Thea leaned forward in her seat. "Our parents were kidnapped by someone. That happened. They need to be rescued."
"Ma'am—"
"My name's Thea. Jeez, dude, I'm only twenty."
"Thea." Callahan pinched the bridge of his nose before letting out a tired sigh. "We don't even have any leads—"
"Have you not been listening this entire time? Or are you FBI agents just as useless as the rest of this country's law enforcement?"
Henri suppressed a grin. His sister's mouth was akin to a sawed-off shotgun at times. At least he wasn't on the other side of it this time.
"For someone who needs my help, you sure are disrespectful," the agent grumbled.
"I'd be more than happy to be proved wrong."
"Alright, alright." The man muttered something under his breath. "Look, as much as I look like the boss around here, I don't call the shots. My boss does. He'll want to hear about something like this before I can promise you anything. She's in a meeting right now, but I'll see if I can get a message to them."
"I don't think any of us thought you were the boss," Thea told him. Henri and Malik murmured in agreement.
"Aren't you a delight?" The special agent flashed her a sarcastic smile. "Look, just sit tight in here. I'll be back shortly. Also, I've got some spare clothes in that drawer over there. You guys look like a dumpster fire." He pointed at one of the drawers in his desk. Then he turned to Malik, who was now roaming around the room examining all the little knick-knacks Callahan had stashed about. "And, please, stop touching my stuff."
Malik held his hands up. "Sorry."
Rubbing his forehead and grumbling, Callahan slipped out of the room. The door to this office closed with a quiet click. The trio sat in silence for a few moments.
"Well..." Malik had picked up a snow globe from the agent's coffee table. "Do you think the guy can help?"
Henri sighed. "I hope so."
"Oh, he better. I'm not leaving here otherwise."
As much as he admired her determination, if they wanted her gone, she couldn't exactly stop them. All they could do now was wait and hope Agent Callahan came through. Until then, though, Henri decided to take a look at the spare clothes he mentioned earlier. To his dismay, it was nothing but FBI-branded sweats and t-shirts. Anything was better than what he currently had on. He reeked of smoke and sweat and looked like it too.
He grabbed a shirt and a pair of shorts. Just as he grabbed the bottom of his own singed shirt, he froze. His face went red as he realized Malik was standing right behind him.
"Er, would you mind turning around please?"
"Seriously? You're not getting naked, are you?"
"Turn around!"
"Fine, alright." He turned around with a small smile playing on his lips.
Face burning, Henri quickly changed out of his burnt garments and into the new set of clothes. They were a size too big, but they'd do for now. Once he finished, Malik brushed past him and grabbed a pair of sweats and a shirt himself. Without hesitation, he peeled off his top, revealing his statuesque body.
Henri tried his best not to stare.
"Alright, show off," Thea said while rolling her eyes. "Do you live in the gym or something? That's a sign of narcissism, you know."
"Oh yeah?" Malik stepped out of his pants. His dark, sculpted legs nearly made Henri faint. "Who told you that? The internet?"
Thea simply crossed her arms. Once Malik finished changing, Thea went next. The two boys both turned their backs toward her without a word needed from her. As she noisily swapped out her clothes for the ones Callahan offered, Henri and Malik stood side-to-side with their gazes pointed elsewhere.
"Hey," Henri whispered.
Malik lifted a brow at him.
"I just wanted to say thank you...again. You know, for coming back and saving our asses. You've got a talent for it, you know."
"Couldn't just let those guys kidnap you, you know? I was always taught to do something when I can. So, I guess that was me doing something."
"We owe you one, seriously. As soon as this is all over—"
"Let's just focus on that part, yeah? Don't wanna get too ahead of ourselves, know what I mean?"
Henri nodded. Malik was right. Rescuing his parents was the only thing that should've been on his mind. Yet, as he gazed at the boy standing right beside him, it wasn't. Something else was. Someone else was.
As they stood there, he recalled the strange interaction they had with Malik's friend Taj. He'd wanted to ask him about it when it happened, but the opportunity never presented itself. Even more questions spawned in his head after the receptionist recognized the boy earlier. Despite Henri and Thea having world-famous parents, Malik seemed to be the celebrity around this city.
They had nothing but time to kill until Agent Callahan returned. He figured if he wanted to learn more about his new friend, now was the best time.
He awkwardly cleared his throat before nudging the boy.
"Yeah?" Malik said.
"You never told me you played basketball."
"I didn't think I needed to bring it up."
"By the sound of it," Henri continued, "you were pretty good. Why'd you stop playing?"
The muscles in Malik's face tensed. He shifted his feet, his eyes moving away from the other boy. "It's a long story."
"Can't be too long. Besides, we've got nothing but time."
"I'd rather not talk about that."
Henri pursed his lips. "Aw, come on. How am I supposed to learn anything about you if you don't share?"
"I think you should drop it."
"You know what." Henri grinned. "I'll tell you a secret of mine so that we're even."
"Henri, you don't—"
He waved Malik's protests off. "Hold on, let me think of one. Wait! Okay, I got one." He could feel the embarrassment rushing through him already and he hadn't even revealed the secret. "I used to wet the bed a lot as a kid."
"A lot!" Thea chirped from the other side of the room. "We had to change his sheets all the time."
Henri cut his eyes to his sister. "No one asked you."
Malik stifled a laugh. "Seriously?"
"But I don't do it anymore!" he insisted. He fluttered his eyelashes at him. "Now it's your turn."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I dunno..."
Henri turned to Thea. "You tell him something. Something embarrassing."
"I hear voices in my head," Thea said.
Both boys exchanged wary glances before laughing nervously.
"She's joking, right?" Malik asked.
"Yeah, totally."
Henri wasn't sure she was, but he wasn't going to tell him that. His sister had always been a peculiar child. From the strange nightmares she got to the weird symbols he caught her painting on her canvasses in the dead of the night before he left for school. He often attributed it to some past trauma she inherited before their parents adopted her. The circumstances of her adoption were hazy at best. Henri hadn't even been alive then, and his parents rarely talked about it. Thea never asked too many questions. Most days, she seemed happy enough to be a part of the family.
But before he left for school, he remembered how she floated the idea of finding her biological parents to him. He wondered if she ever told Mom and Dad...
"Alright!" Thea clapped her hands together, the sharp sound yanking Henri out of his thoughts. "I'm bored. You guys want to help me find something to eat? I'm starving."
"We're supposed to stay here," Henri told her.
"Relax, little brother. Callahan probably won't be back for ages. We'll be back before he even realizes we were gone."
He turned to Malik. The boy simply shrugged. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled.
"I guess I could do with a snack," Henri mumbled.
"It's settled then." Thea moved toward the door. After pulling it open, she beckoned the two boys forward.
#
The corridor that housed Agent Callahan's office eventually led to an area populated by vending machines, a water fountain, and a contraption that prepared coffee. A few other FBI agents were huddled around, speaking in hushed tones, likely about things Henri and his companions shouldn't hear.
When the trio emerged into the snack station, they immediately received strange looks.
"Relax," Thea told them. "We're supposed to be here. Agent Callahan? He's helping us with something."
They said nothing before walking off, leaving the three of them alone with the plethora of vending machines. She waved sarcastically at them before flipping them off.
"Has she always been that confrontational?" Malik asked.
Henri nodded. "You just get used to it after a while."
"Must be nice being able to navigate life like that."
He tilted his head at the boy. "I'm not following."
"I'm just saying," Malik began with a nonchalant shrug, "people like me and you don't get the luxury to do what Thea can."
Henri pursed his lips. Now he was following. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He was under no illusions of what different privileges Thea possessed because of what she looked like compared to himself, but he refused to live life as if he was a victim. Thea might've been more accepted by society, but Henri's family was ingrained into it. The way others felt about his skin color did little against the influence of the Beck name.
He kept his feelings to himself, though. They both might've been Black, but they came from different worlds.
"Henri, can you get me some Skittles?" Thea asked. "I'm gonna go find the bathroom."
"Yeah, what kind—"
She was already halfway down the hall before he could finish his sentence. Shrugging, Henri stepped in front of the vending machine and assessed his options. Malik stood behind him with his hands in the pockets of his new sweats. He had to admit, the boy looked good in them. Then again, he could've made the most boring outfit seem like high fashion. Had everything in his closet not been burned to embers, Henri would've offered to style him one day.
After a few minutes of careful consideration, he decided on a jumbo honey bun and Skittles for his sister. Honey buns were a guilty pleasure of his. Wildly unhealthy, but so good. He could never find them in London, though. Instead, the British enjoyed crumpets and a strange desert called "spotted dick". When Henri first heard of it, he'd been expecting something different.
He dug his hands into his pockets in search of his wallet. His eyes widened as he was met with nothing but lint. He had new pants on. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd still been dressed in his pajamas either, as he'd left all his valuables at the Beck Estate.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned to Malik. "You wouldn't happen to have any money on you, would you?"
He grinned. "Wow, the son of a millionaire asking me for money? Who would've thought?"
"Forget I asked."
"Relax, I'm just messing with you." Malik fished his wallet out of his pocket, which he'd managed to hang onto somehow, and handed Henri a five-dollar bill. "Don't spend it all at once now."
"I'll try not to."
He fed the bill into the vending machine. It beeped twice before spitting out the two items he'd previously selected. They hit the bottom of the machine's cache with a thud. He retrieved them and smiled. Just as he went to rip open the wrapper to his honey bun, the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching filled his ears. He turned toward the hallway behind him to see Thea sprinting right for them.
Fear was etched into her sharp features.
Dread trickled into his veins as if he were attached to an IV drip.
"Relax, I didn't forget your Skittles," he told her as she skidded to a stop in front of him.
"What?" She slapped the candy out of his hand. He winced, holding his stinging palm. "I don't care about the Skittles!"
"What's the matter then?"
Malik stepped forward. "Yeah, you look like you've seen a ghost."
"Not a ghost." Her green eyes were wild like a cornered animal's. She lowered her voice before speaking again. "One of the mercenaries...they're here."
"Here? Like...in this building?"
"More like on this floor." She checked over her shoulder. "He's wearing a janitor's uniform. He didn't see me, but he's on his way here."
Henri frowned at her. His nervousness subsided a bit. This was likely a false alarm. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility for one of the janitors to resemble one of the men who'd been chasing them. Besides, it wouldn't have been the first time something like this happened. For a whole year, Thea thought she was being stalked by something no one else could see but her.
"Thea, come on," he told her. "You're being paranoid."
"God, you sound like Dad."
He grit his teeth. "We're in the FBI headquarters. There's no way one of them made it in here disguised as a janitor."
"Fine." She stepped aside and gestured at the person who'd stepped into view at the other end of the hall. "See for yourself."
Shaking his head, Henri followed her vision. A janitor had entered the hall with a mop and a rolling bucket of dirty water. The wheel of the bucket squeaked noisily as it moved across the tile. A dark blue cap covered the janitor's head, the brim hanging over their face. They kept their head down as they mopped the floor.
Henri stiffened. "It's just a janitor, Thea."
"I'm telling you it's—"
The janitor in question lifted their head slightly. Henri nearly fainted. His trembling fingers tightened around the honey bun in his hand.
"See," his sister hissed. "I told you."
"We should get someone," Malik whispered.
Henri agreed. But who could they get? Nobody else was around at the moment, and it wasn't like they knew their way around the building. Perhaps Agent Callahan had returned to his office after speaking with his supervisor. They needed to head back.
"We should get back to Callahan's office," he suggested.
Thea and Malik nodded. Trying their best to masquerade as employees, they emerged from the snack station and walked briskly in the direction of the special agent's office. Henri did his best to keep his gaze lowered, but as they passed by the not-janitor, his curiosity got the best of him.
He glanced at them. Just for a second. But even that was too long.
The man caught his gaze. He seized it, holding it hostage even as Henri's shaky legs propelled him forward. A lump formed in the boy's throat as they passed each other. The man lifted his wrist to his mouth to relay an unknown message to whoever resided on the other line.
Henri gulped. They needed to find Agent Callahan. Now.
He and his companions turned the corner to the man's office. As they approached the door, he noticed it'd been left slightly cracked open. He turned to Malik, his face slightly scrunched.
"Didn't we close the door?" the boy asked.
Henri nodded. They did.
Thea's steps faltered. He turned to shoot her a confused glance.
"You want me to walk in there first?" she asked, bewildered. "Me? A woman?"
"What're you talking about? You're tougher than me! Besides, what happened to that equality you're always preaching about?"
"Screw gender roles," she replied sharply. Gulping, she pointed a finger at the unclosed door. "Still...you two need to go in first. Who knows what's behind that door?"
Gee, thanks.
He could always count on her to be ridiculous no matter the situation. Rolling his eyes, he approached the entry to the office with Malik at his side. They shared a quiet look of understanding before nodding. Exhaling, he placed a hand on the cool metal of the door. Then he pushed it open.
Agent Callahan sat in his chair. A hulking man sat on the edge of his desk. His back might've been facing Henri, but he knew who it was.
"Sergei," he managed to get out.
The mercenary turned and revealed the devious smirk stretching his lips. As he moved, the boy noticed the pistol equipped with a suppressor pointed at the secret agent. Callahan's nervous eyes bounced between the gun and the man holding it.
"Guys, I—"
Sergei's index finger inched dangerously close to the trigger of his firearm. Callahan swallowed his words before sinking into his seat. Henri pursed his lips at the special agent. How'd Sergei even get into his office? How'd he and his men even get in the building? A dizzying amount of questions swirled around in his head.
The mercenary beckoned the trio inside with a bent finger. They weren't exactly in the position to decline. Henri thought about turning and running, but he shot his idea down quickly—much like what would've happened to him if he tried to flee. He wouldn't have made it halfway down that corridor before a bullet hit his spine. The same went for Thea and Malik.
And no one was getting shot on his watch.
For now, they'd cooperate with Sergei.
"Close the door," the man barked.
Grumbling curses, Thea did as she was told before filing into the room behind Henri and Malik. The trio stood at the front of the room with concern, hesitation, and fear painted across their faces.
Sergei lifted his gaze from the nervous Agent Callahan to the trio for a moment. A hint of annoyance swam in his irises. "You give good chase," he said with a congratulatory nod. The dropped the grin from his lips. His new expression was steelier than a metalworking factory.
Henri fought off the shudder rippling through him.
"But not good enough," the mercenary added. "Sergei always captures his prey."