*Dining Room*
The dining room was filled with chairs arranged around a long, golden-brown table, perfect for feasting on grand occasions. A single light bulb hung above, casting a warm glow over the room. A passageway led to the kitchen, where shadows danced along the walls. Everyone stood behind Nelson, who was seated at the table, devouring food like a man possessed.
"Pass me more food. I haven't eaten in two days," Nelson grumbled, his voice tinged with irritation.
"So, you're awake? Hmph, why aren't you dead?" A figure emerged from the shadows of the kitchen, his voice dripping with sarcasm. It was Vince, a 5'4" male with short hair and the demeanor of an assassin.
"Vince, stop being rude," Curl scolded, his tone firm.
"He's a cool dude with a bad 'tude," Thando chimed in, grinning.
"Heck yeah! Thando gets it," Vince smirked, clearly enjoying the banter.
"In your dreams, boy," Nelson shot back, not even looking up from his plate.
"Okay, stop it!" Nasiphi's voice cut through the room like a whip. Everyone fell silent, their eyes turning to her.
"What's this about?" Vince asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
"Your brotherly toxicity is annoying everyone," Nasiphi retorted, crossing her arms.
"Really? I don't think so," Vince leaned forward, his face inches from hers.
"Well, it kinda is," the group chorused in unison.
"Oh?" Vince's smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Well, I've got to say—" He paused dramatically, then declared, "I'm off to a secret location."
"Where?" Curl raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with suspicion.
"It's confidential. I can't reveal it," Vince replied, his tone teasing.
"Vince! As your boss and your guardian, I command you to tell us where you're headed!" Curl's voice rose, his authority undeniable.
"Calm down. It's confidential, but I'll be wearing my suit, which has a tracker. You can track me if you're so worried. Chill," Vince said, waving a hand dismissively. Without another word, he turned and walked out.
Silence filled the room as Vince's figure disappeared into the misty air. His departure left behind an aura of confusion, tension, and curiosity that lingered in the empty space.
"Hmm, Nelson?" Curl muttered, breaking the silence.
"What?" Nelson glanced up from his plate, his mouth full.
"Time to put this chip to the test," Curl said, a sly smirk playing on his lips.
"Whatever. I'm still eating. I'll do it when I'm done," Nelson replied, turning his attention back to his food.
***
*Vince and Nasiphi's Room*
Vince opened the wardrobe and pulled out his suit: cap, blazer, shorts, pants, socks, and shoes. He dressed quickly, his movements precise and efficient.
"Time to hit the road," he muttered to himself.
After spritzing on some fragrance, he left the building and took one of the organization's cars. Driving down the highway, he eventually pulled over to the side, where a dense line of trees stood. He stepped out of the car, stripped off his suit, and tossed it into a pile. Now dressed in a white shirt, grey shorts, and a cap, he entered the woods.
Using paraffin and a box of matches, he set the suit ablaze, watching as the flames consumed the fabric. As he returned to the car, he encountered a mysterious man passing by. The man was tall—6 feet—with hair that shimmered like a block of gold and brown eyes the color of beach sand. He was dressed casually, and Vince wasted no time approaching him.
"How much for your shoes?" Vince asked, pulling out a wad of cash.
The man hesitated but eventually agreed to the deal for R1000. Vince returned to the car, now wearing the stranger's shoes, and continued driving.
"Yeah, everything here has a tracker. Why are you so worked up, Curl? I'm not a baby anymore. They're going to be shocked when they see who I'm bringing back," Vince smirked to himself as he drove.
***
*Headquarters*
Nelson sat at the computer, his fingers flying across the keyboard. The rest of the team stood behind him, their eyes glued to the screen.
"Alright, let's see what this thing can do," Nelson said, cracking his knuckles.
He tried to track Vince's location, but something was off. No matter how many times he tried, the tracker refused to cooperate. Frustration began to creep into his expression.
"What's wrong?" Nasiphi asked, her curiosity piqued.
"Vince's suit tracker is off," Nelson exclaimed, slamming his hand on the desk.
"Then locate the car," Curl suggested, his voice calm but firm.
"You think I didn't try that?" Nelson snapped, turning to glare at Curl.
"This is quite fascinating," Thando said, a smirk playing on her lips as she rested her chin on her hand.
"What is it?" Curl and the others turned to her, their curiosity growing.
"Can't you see? Vince is an interesting person indeed. Let me explain how he did it," Thando began, her tone confident.
"Get to the point," Nelson interrupted, his patience wearing thin.
"Vince tampered with the chip on your neck and the trackers. He did it all under our noses. He started by—"
***
*Location: Highway*
Inside a black Golf, Vince chuckled to himself as he drove. He spoke to himself, as if breaking the fourth wall.
"Why is Nelson struggling to track me down? Well, let me explain. I'm a terrible narrator, but I hope you get the gist. Remember when I said I hoped Nelson would die, and then I left? I took one of the company's phones—the kind that keeps everything confidential and is nearly impossible to track. I texted an old I.T. contact and arranged a meeting. Sneaking out of the organization was easy; it's my home territory, after all. I burned my suit, changed into these clothes, and met a guy on the way back to the car. I bribed him for his shoes to avoid suspicion.
When I got to the location—confidential, of course—I met the I.T. guy. We had a little chat, and he gave me a fake chip. I returned to the organization, went straight to the lab, and switched the chips on Nelson. The chip on his neck is connected to the one inside him. The fake chip has the same data as the real one, but with one key difference: it has a third chip that sends data to the second chip, which then sends it to the first.
The difference? The fake chip doesn't track the car I'm driving. That's why Nelson can't find me. The third chip—small, circular, and the size of a pinky nail—transfers data to the second chip, which then sends it to the first. All of it was designed by me.
To simplify:
- Organization chips: Inside Nelson (A) real, outside (B) real.
- My chips: Inside Nelson (A) fake, outside (B) fake, plus the bonus chip (C) with me.
The C chip lets me tamper with the fake B chip. If it were the real one, I couldn't do that. Simple, right?"
Vince smirked, looking away from the blank space and eyes fixated on the road and drove off