“Oh dear boy, you don’t even realize! I already have!”
Is that one shot, or two? wondered Elliot.
“Even now, the rocket is being prepared for launch, ready to start the process which will end with complete world domination!”
And drink!
Elliot felt Anthony tugging at the bonds; he himself was rather more interested in the words coming across the closest henchman’s wrist screen.
I DON’T KNOW, HIM AND THE ELITE SQUAD AND... OH, DAMMIT. HE’S MONOLOGUING. FUCK, THE DVMERS MUST HAVE BROKEN OUT OF CONTAINMENT SOMEHOW.
STALL THEM. I’M ON MY WAY.
“Just stay calm,” Anthony whispered to Elliot while Cicero continued to rant about his latest scheme. “I’m almost out of these bonds and then I can take care of him.”
“I am calm,” said Elliot, not entirely sure why it was true.
“Are either of you paying attention?” yelled Cicero. “I’m monologuing.”
“Right, sorry, carry on,” said Anthony. “Total world domination, disruption of the internet, collapse of the worldwide GPS systems, paper supplies, yadda yadda yadda...”
“Hold on, back up,” said Elliot, frowning. “GPS? I thought this was about Twitter.”
“Oh, please,” scoffed Cicero. “That was so last year. This is better. Do you know what humanity will do once they’ve lost their precious GPS?”
“Ask for directions?” guessed Elliot.
“Of course not! They will purchase maps from Cicero Paper. I’ll supply the world’s maps—which means I’ll be the sole authority in determining the new border lines! No one will even notice when I shift them one inch to the left for every single country in the world! Hahahahahahahahahahaha.” He paused. “Except Russia. Fuck Russia. They get less territory.”
“Naturally,” agreed Anthony.
“Hold on,” said Elliot. “What’s the point of moving all the borders one inch to the left?”
Cicero glared at Elliot before turning his angry gaze on Anthony. “Who is he?”
“Nobody,” said Anthony quickly. Too quickly, really; it was completely obvious as a bluff, the most obvious bluff in the history of bluffing. Even the guards seemed to know it was a bluff, the way they side-eyed each other. “He’s nobody. He’s nothing.”
“Okay, you can stop now,” said Elliot.
“Pay no attention to him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” continued Anthony.
“He’s got the idea, enough already,” said Elliot.
“I definitely don’t care if you kill him or not.”
“Oh my God, why did you even bring that up?!?!”
“In fact, go ahead and shoot him, makes no difference to me. La la la.”
“You actually said la la la?” asked Elliot, incredulous.
Cicero groaned and held his forehead in his hands. “Why do you always bring your love interests on missions? Seriously, man, it’s extremely unprofessional.”
“Tell me about it,” agreed Elliot.
“Don’t even get me started on Bucharest,” said Cicero.
“So uncalled for!” said Elliot. “Also, I’m not his love interest.”
“Oh, please,” scoffed Cicero. “I saw you kissing on the CCTV.”
Elliot swallowed the protesting squeak, which didn’t make it sound any better.
“Could we please get back on track here?” asked Anthony. “You were telling us your plans for world domination? Exactly what is your goal with changing all the borders in the world?”
“All the borders except Russia,” Cicero corrected him.
“And be as detailed as possible,” added Elliot.
“Nope, bored now,” said Cicero. He took a step back and waved at them. “Shoot them.”
The guards cocked their guns.
Elliot’s eyes widened. “ARE YOU INSANE? DO YOU SEE WHAT’S BEHIND US?”
“Ha-ha!” yelled Anthony—and jumped up out of his chair, the ropes falling to the floor. Elliot twisted in time to see Anthony dive behind a lab table. The shooting followed him, despite Elliot being a sitting duck, still tied to a chair.
“Huh,” said Elliot, wondering if he should feel insulted.
Then again, seeing as the alternative was being shot to pieces, he shrugged it off and glanced at the cooling units.
The temperature gauge still read 50 Celsius, when it should have already been descending to minus 70.
“Oh, shit,” groaned Elliot. Dammit—I must have accidentally stopped the program when Anthony shoved me up against the doors to kiss me. I should start it again before they notice!
Elliot tried to stand up—and immediately remembered the ropes still wrapped around his arms and legs.
“Um, a little help?” Elliot craned his neck, trying to find Anthony. Though the firing had stopped—apparently their guns weren’t self-loading—the fight had continued. Anthony single-handed fought each guard on the far side of the laboratory.
And single-handedly was an appropriate description, because the guards appeared perfectly content to wait their turn. They stood in line with bored expressions while Anthony punched, kicked, and knocked out their companions one by one.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Elliot aloud—and then waited for someone to notice him.
No one did.
“Uh, hello?”
One guard examined his nails. Another checked her wrist screen, scrolling as if she were on Facebook.
Elliot experimentally shuffled his chair a little closer to the coolers. Despite the horrific racket, no one noticed.
Elliot hopped in the chair, which was a much more productive method, though noisier. No one noticed that either. A few minutes of solid hopping later, he arrived at the panel.
There was only one problem. The control panel was two feet above his head, and he was still tied to the chair.
“Dammit!”
Out of sheer frustration, Elliot kicked the cooler as best he could, since his ankles were also tied to the chair.
Slam, as a panel suddenly popped open and bonked him on the head.
He’d engaged the wheelchair-accessibility panel. Elliot grinned.
“Fantastic.”
Elliot reached for it—and realized his hands were still tied to the chair.
Elliot studied the panel, glanced up at the thermometer. How am I going to get the temperature moving if I can’t use my hands?
“—I can explain, please don’t—!” shouted the woman as she raced into the lab, skidding to a halt as soon as she saw the commotion. She was flustered, her dark hair a curly halo around her head, and a loose headscarf draped over her shoulders, caught on the curls as if it’d slipped down in her rush to get there as quickly as possible. She wore a lab coat over a tailored pantsuit, and she had the same frenzied appearance the scientists at the DVM wore whenever someone unexpected was in their labs. Granted, she was younger and prettier than the average DVM scientist, but Elliot suspected the lab belonged to her.
As did the serum in the vials.
To their credit, Cicero’s minions stopped to stare back at her, somewhat affected by the sudden appearance of a pretty lady. A few of the guards stood up straighter, though Elliot noted that Anthony didn’t even give her a second glance.