IMPENDING DOOM

01

✥
ONE
Thief
____________

៚ AGENT STONE WAS ECSTATIC. He had a hard time keeping himself contained, smiling that handsome smile of his (probably like some huge dork) as he walked the halls of G.U.N. Headquarters, the wonderful Doctor in his ear and blinding all the cameras.

This was too easy. He wore a stolen uniform—left behind by some careless fool—and marched the white halls, invisible due to the Doctor's brilliant skill in technology. Headquarters had a camera every three feet, it seemed, but each camera—disgustingly expensive, the prettiest and newest model, cold and black, waterproof, fireproof, and all things impervious—was frozen briefly, hacked by the good Doctor, and Agent Stone was not seen, never recorded. Completely invisible.

His smile was becoming a grin, splitting his face.

"I can feel you smiling," Robotnik grumbled in his earpiece. "Stop it!"

"Yes, Doctor." And so he did.

"Turn left. By my calculations—which are always correct!—the Records Room should be the third door."

He was correct, of course. Very rarely was Robotnik wrong. Even rarer that he admitted a mistake, misstep, miscalculation. Agent Stone could count them on one hand.

Agent Stone entered the Records Room, carelessly unlocked and stupidly unguarded. Was it just Americans that were this stupid? Or did the government drink too deeply from its chalice of power that it laughed, thinking no one would ever break in? Too caught up in the glory upon the throne that it deemed itself invincible, having no need for locked doors and guards at every corner?

The Doctor was right, of course. People are just dumb.

Agent Stone did not need to be told what to do next. He'd been drilled many times before the heist, memorizing it like making lattes. As a thief, as a spy, he knew the best information, the grandest treasure, was hidden the deepest, darkest and most secret place.

He knew the files the Doctor required were locked in a safe. Hidden and separate from every other file in government history. The darkest and most secretive of all dark secrets—all locked in a metal box. A safe hidden behind a big, heavy, ridiculous bookshelf—because where else would a safe be? And this expensive safe—stainless steel, cold and dark like the annoying cameras—was the kind that sealed itself shut with steel bars if the glass inside was broken from attempted drilling. Might deter any amateur safecracker, this advanced safe, but luckily, Agent Stone had no need for a drill; he could crack a safe by touch. One of his few talents the Doctor needed him for.

This and lattes. And obedience. Made Agent Stone just a bit sad at the reminder. He wished he could be of more use to the Doctor. But despite how harsh he was treated, he stuck around. He knew the Doctor couldn't get far in life without him, though it hurt that Robotnik would rather die than admit it.

"Oooh~! I heard a click!" squealed Robotnik when Agent Stone opened the door. "Success?"

"Of course." Agent Stone smiled with pride . . . and at the cute squeal.

"Excellent!"

The files were many. The most paper and manilla he had ever seen, stamped "TOP SECRET" in faded red ink. There were a few floppy disks—who uses them anymore?—and some compact disks and old SD cards—all which were gently stuffed into Agent Stone's shoulder bag, protected by leather and safe between a zipper and a buckled flap. He left a gift in the safe, a simple index card-sized piece of paper with the emoji of the smiling devil—the Doctor's idea—and locked it as it originally was, returning the big, heavy, ridiculous bookshelf back to its original place.