Someone walks by the office Flynn and NK are sitting in, sees them, then sprints away.

“Hmm, word is getting around.”

“I am not talking to you.”

Flynn looks over at NK, who is staring off, away from Flynn.

Sitting in wooden chairs, in front of an adorned mahogany desk. Both ordered to stay here and not move after Flynn’s polygraph prank, during which he stole NK’s notebook, and the… subsequent aftermath...

“You’re still mad at me, NK? That was seven whole minutes ago!”

NK tilts his head further away, crosses his arms and pouts.

“We were different people then!”

NK turns his face completely away from Flynn.

Flynn strokes his chin.

“I… ah…”

Flynn chews on his tongue to tenderize it… It feels like it’s fighting him.

“I aaaaaaaaaaa… pah pah pah pah…PahPah PahPah PahPah PahPah PAH PAH!” Flynn scats in a low whisper, then coughs to stop himself.

NK neglects the former XWF title holder breaking into jazzy freeform nonsense.

Flynn checks his six, out the door behind him. People still scattering and speaking in hushed tones.

“What’s the big deal, anyway? They already shut off the fire alarm. Get back to work, right?”

NK turns his chair at a ninety degree angle away from Flynn.

“Oh c’mon, NK. This is…”

Every word Flynn says, NK scoots another inch further away.

“Hang on!”

Flynn exhales.

“I’m… S-”

A knock on the inside of the doorframe.

A man in a gray suit, blue tie and an excess of aftershave. Notable only in how mundane and everyday he looks.

“Mr. Flynn, Mr. ...War Criminal. Davenport wanted me to update you, the 3 o’clock briefing just wrapped. You’re next on the agenda.”

GI types need to blend into the crowd. It’d be espionage poison to have any distinguishing features.

But, god dammit, at least IN the office, could they wear name tags?

Flynn squints his eyes for a single notable feature that might help him recognize this human being.

None. Not a pimple or odd mole, a face neither handsome nor asymmetrical.

“Anything else?”

“No. Thank you…” Flynn snaps, points and smiles. “My man!”

The man, taken aback by surprise friendliness, smiles politely, before taking his leave.

Flynn swivels back to NK, still fussy.

Flynn reaches into his pocket and retrieves NK’s notebook.

“Here, I didn-”

In a flash, NK’s hand snaps down on it. In a half-of-a-split-fucking-second, he’s turned 180 degrees and locked a vice-grip on the log.

Flynn can feel him tugging with every ounce of his strength.

“Hang on, let me...”

NK and Flynn intensely one-handed-tug-of-war over the notebook.

“Look, I’m trying to give it back, just, I want to say… Let go for a… FINE!”

Flynn releases it. NK does a full backwards roll onto the floor, into the chair he’d most recently been sitting in. The chair skitters backwards against a wall. NK seems unbothered by the clatter of wood on tile, instead flipping through every page, visually scanning it line-by-line, then moving onto the next one.

Flynn sighs.

“Look, I’m trying to say... I’m sorry.”

Flynn rubs his temple, frustrated that he’s here again. The last time he had to apologize to a teammate, Theo and Luca had asked him to bring bail to a Colorado jail and he brought 110 pounds of Colombian cocaine.

They don’t write cards for this shit.

“I could spout off for a while about my past experiences and how I don’t trust people because I kept getting maimed or betrayed by partners. I have been left bleeding, gripping consciousness by its last threads more times than I count.”

Flynn shakes his head.

“Also, I don’t know if I brought this up before, but in a tag-team match, a clown woman BIT OFF my penis!”

NK still hasn’t looked up. The notebook has 300 pages. He’s barely on page 8, verifying everything is in order down to the chemical composition of the page.

“My point is… I’ve been accused of playing people. Manipulating them. Twisting words and actions, irritating and discomforting with specific phrases and arguments... to get the slightest mental edge when we face-off in the ring.”

“...And I do.”

“I’ve been accused of that. Because I do that.”

Flynn chews on his last few thoughts.

“This apology sucks. I’m sorry.”

That part feels right. Flynn nods to himself and repeats it.

“I’M SORRY... That I stole your notebook. I’m sorry that I misled you into giving me YOUR notebook, then returned to you MY notebook, which I had purchased to appear exactly like yours. I’m sorry I planned this all out a week ago. I’m sorry that my communication was designed to manipulate you to achieve my objective.”

“A good partner doesn’t do those things...”

“...And I’m sorry.”

Flynn leans his head toward the floor, squeezing his fists tight.

“Don’t do it again.”

Flynn glances up. NK is finally looking at him, his notebook carefully tucked back into his coat.

“We’re good?”

“DON’T do it again.”

NK stands, retrieves the chair from the floor, then takes a seat beside Flynn.

Flynn nods.

“Yeah, I won’t. Trust me. From this point forward, we’re on the same page. Working with the same info.”

Flynn takes one more glance at the door, then leans in.

“And, in that spirit, let me take the lead on this one. It’s your first day on the job. I know how to spin all this into a positive. Trust me.”

NK scoffs.

“More manipulation. More trickery.”

Flynn gets defensive, then hesitates.

“No. Well, yes, actually, exactly. But to our mutual benefit, NK. Everything I’ve done is to accomplish our mutual goals. We stand at the precipice of reaching success or being cast out and failing. And to succeed…”

“We must work together.”

Flynn bites his lip.

NK stands his ground.

“If we are going to succeed, we must work together. Not against each other, not carrying each other. Together.”

“Okay, I understand IN THEORY, but in practice, this instance, I think it’s in OUR best interest to let ME...”

Flynn eyeballs NK with another heaping helping of full-focus. And sees in him... someone looking for an equal stake.

Equal partnership.

Flynn sighs.

“Fine. Together.”

“FLYNN!”

A gruff man with buzz-cut white hair swings into the room, full of piss and vinegar. Black suit, black tie. Built like a comic book artist drew the perfect linebacker… And then that linebacker drawing had let himself go.

He steps behind the desk and takes a seat, lobbing a file at Flynn. It bounces off Flynn’s chest and falls to the floor.

“You want to explain to me why the interrogation room you checked out ended up ON FIRE?”

“Not really. I was told I’d be speaking to someone who matters around here.”

NK stands with his hand extended. It’s almost organic-looking, he’s been practicing his cordial handshakes.

“We have not met. You may call me North Kor-”

“I’m familiar, bulgogi, sit the fuck down.”

NK glowers before retaking his seat.

“Don’t worry, NK, you don’t have to listen to this asshole. He’s from another department. He works in… Sales.”

Flynn winks. Spahtz steams angrily at this comment.

Flynn points from NK to the man furiously glaring from behind the desk.

“NK, this is Agent Redd Spahtz. Asshole, meet North Korean War Criminal.”

“Last chance, Flynn. Tell me just what was going through that sick organ you call a brain before I shove you back in the icebox myself.”

“Redd, if I had to explain myself to you, I would. But you’re not on the investigation, so I’d be wasting my time, filling you in on project info that might distract you from… Whatever it is you do.”

“From appearances, it looks like he sunburns at the beach and then asks to speak to the beach’s manager.”

Flynn can’t resist a laugh. He glances at NK, who gives him a wink.

“Oh, don’t get me started, kimchi. If it was my call, you’d have a one-way ticket to the Hague to get the hanging you deserve.”

“I will pass. Getting hung once was enough.”

“And Flynn, you’d still be in that storage unit. In an 8 by 8 by 8 metal cube, locked up, key thrown away, muscles waning to tissue and mush until your decrepit body fails and your old diseased brain can be dissected by CTE scientists.”

“...How would the scientists even dissect my brain if you locked up the box and threw away the key?”

“They’d need very long tools to dissect a corpse from the outside of the box. They would lose necessary degrees of surgical precision, wasting Mark Flynn’s CTE-addled mind.”

“Sounds like those scientists are lucky you don’t make decisions around here.”

“Sounds like AMERICA is lucky you don’t make decisions around here.”

Flynn and NK both grin mischievously, glancing around like ‘whoa, who said THAT?’

“Listen here, you f-”

“Spahtz.”

Spahtz immediately stands at attention.

“Agent Davenport, I was just-”

“Out of my chair.”

Spahtz stands like the chair is lava.

“I apolo-”

“Dismissed.”

Spahtz angrily scowls at Flynn and NK. Both give him a ‘oooooooooooh’ like someone got sent to the principal’s office.

“I...”

“Diss...Missed.”

Spahtz moves out the door. He hangs in the doorway looking at the source of this command, searching for words… But finds none. He exits in a huff.

From the side of the door steps a very tall black woman. Navy blue suit and pants. Her face is emotionless and intense. Her hair short, her nails trimmed, her eyes gold and piercing.

“Flynn.”

Flynn stands and holds eye contact with her. NK also stands, since everyone is standing.

“Marie.”

“Absolutely not.”

“...Agent Davenport.”

She takes a seat at her desk. Flynn & NK sit.

“I assume you’d like a chance to explain yourself.”

“With your permission.”

Davenport silently nods once.

Flynn checks with NK.

NK nods.

“The interview, as described to me, had two objectives.”

“One, to gather definitive intel about our applicant’s background, heretofore referred to as ‘North Korean War Criminal’...”

Flynn leans into NK.

“Unless I have permission to refer to him as ‘NK’.”

NK side-eyes Flynn.

“For brevity.”

NK waves a hand.

“It will suffice.”

“Two, to verify NK met necessary department values including: teamwork, critical thinking, the ability to improvise and the ability to withhold high-value information.”

“The average interview for a position in this department could take multiple sessions over several weeks. We don’t have that time. We’re already in the field. Paperwork processing is eating into a very limited window of time we have to act.”

“Logically, I combined two steps into one exercise. I gave NK a polygraph, which he'd circumvented, thus proving his ability to withhold top-secret information. He’d consider this option based on non-obvious inferences, thus demonstrating his critical thinking skills.”

“And the fire?”

Flynn hesitates.

“Mark Flynn, if I may?”

NK draws Davenport’s attention with a wave.

“Mark Flynn took my notebook, which was the real method of my background check. The polygraph was a smokescreen.”

NK leans back in his chair.

“From there, he locked the door. Knowing that my primary objective would be to retrieve the notebook at any-and-all-costs, he tested my ability to improvise in an unfamiliar environment.”

Flynn taps his nose excitedly.

“And how impressive his improvisation was! He overturned a hallway vending machine, scavenged mechanical components and built a makeshift explosive to blow down the door. Honestly, if the sprinkler system hadn’t gone off, he would have either smoked me out or guaranteed I’d burnt to death with the notebook! That’s an A+ if I’ve ever heard one.”

Davenport doesn’t bat an eyelash.

“Teamwork?”

“...Would you believe we didn’t practice this bit where we’re supporting each other’s bullshit?”

Davenport looks back and forth between Flynn and NK.

“You want me to believe this was a standard interview exercise. Including this bit where you beg me to believe you?”

“Yes, if you could believe that, that’d be great.”

“I will pay for the vending machine. Take it out of my... paaaaay?”

Davenport stares a hole into Flynn’s eyes.

Finally, she relaxes her stare.

“He’s hired.”

Flynn exhales.

“Great.”

“A wise choice!”

“But, that’s not what I meant, Flynn.”

Flynn’s eye twitches.

“Oh?”

Davenport indicates toward the file on the floor that Sphatz threw at Flynn.

“Pick that up for me.”

Without hesitation, Flynn scoops up the papers and deposits them gently onto the desk.

Davenport gently opens the folder without losing eye contact with Flynn.

“Why did you look up the records for Agent Richard Small?”

Flynn… exhales.

“...Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You knew you were going to get caught querying our servers. I just want to know why. You. Did. It.”

“May I interrupt?”

Davenport glares at NK.

“...New job. First day. Who is this ‘Agent Richard Small’?”

“Classified. All you need to know is he works for Agent Spahtz and he’s outside your jurisdiction.”

“What you need to know… Is he just brokered the deal for the United States to sell Thaddeus Duke a fleet of decommissioned naval warcraft…”

“Flynn”

“For one dollar.”

...Flynn and Davenport stare each other down.

“...Are you having a ‘garaged sale’? I will call my guy. If America is selling naval craft, North Korea will buy.”

“No. We’re not selling decommissioned naval craft to North Korea.”

“But we GAVE it to Thaddeus Duke?”

“Flynn.”

“And we’ll just take his word for it that he’ll trash them… AFTER he’s done with them?”

“I’m not interested in debate.”

“We’re secretly supplying weapons to foreign governments that we publicly don’t recognize as legitimate.”

“America is?!? Wow, what else is new?” NK peppers in with clearly rehearsed sarcasm.

“Flynn, I won’t tolerate you whining to me about policy decisions miles above both of our heads.”

“We want to maintain a theocratic dictatorship.”

“His people want him in power. And McGovern wants religious genocide.”

“Thaddeus Duke is a war criminal.”

Flynn leans into NK’s shoulder.

“No offense.”

“None taken.”

“He killed captured US troops. They had surrendered.”

“Correction. Ex-US troops. Active terrorists. Acting on behalf of General McGovern, completely independent of the American government. The second they followed McGovern, they stopped being American military.”

“Sure, McGovern acted independently. Except that whole year where he took orders directly from the president.”

“Never happened. #FakeNews.”

“Ooh, she just #FakeNews’d you, Flynn.”

“That’s the story you’re sticking with? A four-star career general woke up one day in 2018, launched American troops in Connecticut and it slid under leadership’s radar until the day of the siege?”

“You’d prefer we sided against Duke? Waged war on the UN? Started World War 3? You know better than anyone, when you’ve only got bad choices, you play the least bad choice you’ve got. Thaddeus Duke is a better choice than McGovern.”

“McGovern’s an alt-right toad. He can die in several holes. But he didn’t pop-up overnight. You created him. He’s the fall guy. He followed your orders to the letter until his boss lost an election and overnight, he retroactively became a war criminal. His instructions were delivered to him on letterhead from the Oval fucking Office. There was military conflict in fucking Connecticut and you’re selling arms to a dictator to sweep your involvement under the rug.”

“Flynn, ‘I’ didn’t do shit. Don’t target me with your anti-establishment paranoia. None of this is NEAR your investigation.”

“Duke’s an XWF superstar. He’s in my jurisdiction.”

“Kim Jong Un golfs on the weekends. When he steps out of line, they don’t call the Professional Golfer’s Association.”

“Please don’t. Something might get done if you did that.”

NK grins at Flynn who waves hands across his neck. Flynn mouths ‘not to her’. NK puckers, but nods.

“Flynn… and NK... your job is to investigate the XWF and determine the location and nature of the beacon. Neither of you have free rein to harass every, or ANY, XWF employee.”

Flynn slams his fists on the desk.

“It’s ALL CONNECTED.”

“The nation-states emerging from within America’s borders. The Illuminatus State, Coreytopia…”

“Corey Smith’s adorable hippie commune?”

“It’s all… Something!”

“SOMEthing?”

“SomeTHING?”

“SOMETHING!”

“...You’re suggesting either the Illuminatus State… or the Ares Project... is acting on XWF orders?”

“No… I don’t know... But I’m telling you. Eliminating the XWF as a player in the Ares-Illuminatus conflict is like eliminating the spouse as a suspect in a domestic violence case before you’ve even examined the crime scene. And the solution isn’t buying the battered wife a NAVAL WARCRAFT.”

“Couldn’t hurt, though.”

Flynn and Davenport both eye NK.

“In this metaphor, he might stop hitting her if she had a battleship.”

In a flash, Davenport steps out of her desk, gliding over Flynn.

“I’ll say this once. Unless investigating Agent Richard Small gets you closer to the beacon, drop it.”

Davenport grasps Flynn’s shoulder… And squeezes it.

Flynn looks up, surprised.

“You’ve got a gut feeling. But we need evidence.”

***

Flynn and NK close Davenport’s office door behind them.

“Good work back there.”

NK looks up from his notebook, jotting down some notes about this experience.

“Thank you, Mark Flynn.”

“So… we’ve got a few days until the match. Hit the gym? Learn technique? You’ve earned some coaching.”

“...Do you truly believe Thaddeus Duke has a role in your investigation?”

Flynn pauses.

“I don’t know. Maybe ignore what I said back there. Every third idea I have feels like a morphine flashback.”

“Mark Flynn.”

NK, for only the second time, gives Flynn a taste of his own full-focus glare.

“Would insight into Illuminatus aid your investigation?”

Flynn doesn’t flinch.

“It could.”

NK reaches into his pocket and retrieves his Motorola Razr. He dials...

“I might have an ‘in’…”

“To Illuminatus?”

“No… But perhaps to valuable insight.”

Flynn squints.

“Why would you do that?”

“Don’t get twisted, Mark Flynn. I wouldn’t provide aid if we hadn’t agreed to work jointly from this point forward. And you want to follow this lead.”

The phone connects.

“Kato? Pull the limo around.”

“We’re making another diplomatic visit…

To Coreytopia…”