Hey, y'all! Ooh, another update in six days! Surely, I must be off hiatus. Well, I have a sad announcement - while I will go back to updating and I'll still be reading my fave fics, I won't ever go back to the way I used to be - on for six hours a day, PM options on 24/7 - besides my parents' tracking, I also have to pick up my life. So I'll be on here forever and always, but things won't go back to regular PMing. Before, I did more PMing than writing. So it's for my own self-control that I turn PMs off on weekdays as well. I'm sorry, guys. So while I won't be leaving , the PMs will be turned on for the weekends (may vary) and for holidays on weekdays (like Labor Day and Memorial Day).
But shout-out to MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul (the first guesser), DFTBAAIDLLTWBAP, daphrose, PhoenixRisingFromtheFire, BigTimeRusher12, and DisneyXDGirl! Y'all got the gist of the message - there is no possible way you could have interpreted the full meaning of the message, though. What full message, you ask? Oh, dear reader, read, and you'll see . . . Lots of math and logic in this chapter; please don't skip the boring sections! You'll need to read them to understand! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Lab Rats.
Chase was indignant, to say the least. This was inconvenient. Douglas had actually found someone?
Even more so, the hand in the river was unsettling. Douglas and Chase had gone downstairs to investigate a body (like this was totally government approved!) and Douglas had gotten upset with Chase because he'd wasted valuable time searching for some cadaver that they probably didn't even know…
Douglas had also seen something strange down by the riverside and paled visibly. Good. Chase thought maybe Douglas had seen the hand. To test Douglas and his ability, he asked Douglas the simplest question. "What's on your mind?"
Douglas had evaded it, but then changed the subject quickly.
"See, Chase," Douglas had smirked. "There's no one there. You hallucinate too much!"
"I am not hallucinatory! There was someone there."
"No one was there! Quit your whining. Maybe all this information is overloading your brain and the stress is ruining you, one by one…" Douglas wiggled his fingers in the air attempting to sound gruesome. "Ooh… ooh…" He continued to wave his hairy sausages in the air until they got back into the hotel room and collapsed each respectively to his comfort area.
Chase got back at Douglas for the "ghostly finger nightmare" by teleporting directly over Douglas about eight feet in the air—his spikey auburn tips gently grazing the ceiling—and then letting himself free-fall until he was exactly two inches from Douglas' "beautiful porcupine tips" and teleporting back onto the bed.
During the incident, Douglas had looked up at Chase with fear on his face until Chase disappeared, back on the bed again.
"Would you STOP DOING THAT?" Douglas snarled, embarrassed.
"I'd rather eat your ganache," Chase retorted.
Douglas placed a hand over his chest, looking wounded. "My ganache is delectable, thank you very much! And besides, it's not like I used frog legs for the cream in that dessert when I made dessert for my third date with Beryl—or fourth—or fifth—or… I lost count!"
Chase blinked. "Not even going to ask questions," he said, his eyelid twitching.
"Chase, I don't think you're okay," Douglas said, quickly changing the subject. "I knew you better than any of the three of you guys. You're thinking about things, aren't you?"
Chase lifted his eyes. "How would you know? You can't read my mind."
"But you can. It would make it a lot easier on me if it were reversed. Can you broadcast your thoughts?"
Chase scoffed. "There is a difference between broadcasting and telepathy!"
"And a minor difference, Boy Wonder. Like I said, your abilities are much more versatile now. Easily related bionics can be tweaked… if you'd be willing to let me. And think of how useful it would be to broadcast things in battle! After all, what if you needed to tell Bree some crucial information where, say, a station that received info from a satellite was caving in, and the comm sets were broken and you discovered that the arsonist was in the building, hunting you down?"
"Yeah, like the situation is totally realistic." Chase rolled his eyes as he rolled his fingers, knuckles to fingertips, against the wall parallel to the door.
"Let me finish! Anyways, say this did happen—your broadcasted thoughts would reach Bree, and she could receive it from you while you'd be on the other side of the building. And… get this!" He reached over and tapped Chase playfully on the shoulder. "It's like texting in school, but better. Because you don't get caught, you can 'text' as much as you want! Eh? Eh? No? Okay, never mind…" Douglas mumbled the end as Chase rolled his eyes again.
"Look, okay, it's useful, but a lot of things would have to happen to make that work. First of all, you'd have to adjust the radius of how far my thoughts can be broadcasted. What if Bree is too far away? We'd have failed a crucial, red-level status mission all because my bionics weren't adjusted properly. Plus, you would have to tweak how fast thoughts travel. The most logical formula, put in words, would be—if light travels 186,282 miles (or rounded to make it simpler, 186,000) per second, thought travels x number of times faster. If it takes y amount of time to reach Alpha Centauri and back at the speed of light, take that and then calculate the amount of time it would take for thought to travel to Alpha Centauri and back. I merely think the word 'thought,' and it's already 'traveled' to Alpha Centauri and back again. If that's x number of times more than y, which is, by the way, 4.37 light years (in other words, 26,220,000,000,000 miles) thought travels at about 7 times light does, therefore, 840,000 miles per second."
Douglas nodded thoughtfully. "Continue."
"So while theoretically if Bree was about one mile away, it would take 0.0007142857143 (plus) seconds to reach her; in other words, instantaneously."
"So what's your problem?" Douglas asked, already impatient.
"My problem," Chase pretty much spat, "is that something could glitch and she could get it before I sent it. Or she could get it too late. Most likely the former."
"Do you really want to talk about time travel right now?"
Chase lifted his eyebrows. "I don't know. Do I?" He spread his arms in a gesture that basically implied, 'I've got all day, and I may as well while I'm here.'
Douglas waved his hands. "Hurry up, we have things to do."
Chase rushed his words. "Okayokay soifweactuallydosend thethoughtthattravelsat 0.0007142857143secondsperonemile, weknowthatitwillgothroughtaking theriskthatallgoesright thereforeifsheknowsshewillreceiveit basedonwhatwe'vedoneinthefuture knowingthatwewillbesuccessfulinthesendingofit, thenhersystemwilloverloadand receivemythoughtbeforeIevensendit. Plusthere'salsotheglitchthatmybrainsendssomethinginstantaneousbeforeI'm evendonefinishingthemessage. Qualms like this are why trying to 'fix' my chip is incredibly risky."
Douglas blinked. Chase had spoken extraordinarily fast considering that he didn't even have super speed, and he hadn't caught half of the logistics. But he got the main idea.
He waved the ideas away. "Stop worrying, you'll be—"
"I don't worry!" Chase said petulantly, glaring at the wall—was he looking for something on it?—before glumly adding, "I think ahead! Unlike some people, anyways!"
"Okay, so mathy-math stuff, what else have you got against this idea? Because we have things to do, because I actually do think ahead…"
"No, you don't!"
"I do, too!"
"Please!"
"Name one time where I don't!"
"Well, first there was the time when you dive-bombed into a pool of water until Mr. Davenport told you that the sign on the swimming pool said the pool was contaminated with salmonella from a chicken that was dropped in…"
"I was four! I didn't know to think ahead, and I'm sure you didn't, either!"
"And then there was the time when you decided to kiss this girl you liked in third grade, and you gave her tiger-lilies and kissed her—smooch—on the cheek! And surprise, surprise! She socked you in the gut and you started crying!"
"I was in third grade! Tears are a natural human reflex!"
"And of course we can't forget—"
"Ah-uh-uh!" Douglas slapped a hand over Chase's mouth. "Stop right there! Someone could be listening."
Chase lifted both eyebrows (he hadn't mastered one eyebrow yet) and said, "Well, I'm sure it would amuse the listeners."
Douglas mumbled something about Chase being a stupid tomato ("?" thought Chase) and went to the door, whereupon as he opened it, someone fell right through.
Chase smirked. "Someone was listening. Quite an entertainment center, wouldn't you call it?"
Douglas tapped his foot. "Were you listening in on our conversation?"
The person, who had fallen in, was a girl—her hair was covering her face. "So what if I was?"
"You're an amateur spy," Chase remarked. "I could hear your footsteps as you came to the door. You used a rookie move—placing a glass against the wall. I could feel the vibrations of the glass as I put my hand against the wall."
"But… no one was supposed to be able to feel the glass…" The girl mumbled, her hair a curtain in front of her face.
"Well, my super senses could pick it up. Plus, the wall had your heat signature—something my eye could pick up." Chase's eye glowed a faint cerulean before disappearing.
While Chase and Douglas couldn't see it, the girl blinked. Clearly, she had underestimated her opponents. Her boss had told her not to underestimate them, but when she learned that it was a mere sixteen year old, she felt they would not be a threat.
Clearly, she was wrong.
"I would thank you to leave," Douglas said firmly.
"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you? I was there for a reason." With that, the girl leaped up but before she could even jump on Chase, she was suspended in midair.
"You'll have to learn to overestimate your opponents first," he said, staring straight at her.
Douglas stared at Chase. Normally, Chase had to use his hand to control his molecular-kinesis. When had he been able to do it almost psychokinetically?
And Chase answered, most likely reading his mind. "When you gave me the new abilities, you gave me the upgrade, too. And—I've been practicing." One corner of his upper lip lifted up before going back down.
"Who sent you?"
"Straight to the point, are we?" The girl said, quickly realizing she could not get out. Somehow, her hair still covered her eyes. Douglas could see the girl's lips—dry, cracked, and parched. She was most likely a spy, a mistreated one.
"Who's your master?" Douglas deduced as he verbalized his thoughts.
"I can't disclose that information here, sadly." The girl wiggled, but Chase's mental grip was stronger than it usually was.
"Then I'm afraid I can't let you go." Douglas responded just as calmly, and Chase's eyes flashed, just as the girl let loose a wail; she crumpled to the floor as Chase "dropped" her.
"What did you do? She's out cold."
"Slowed her heart. It won't hold for long. She'll be unconscious for about fifteen to thirty minutes."
"Chase… when did you…"
They're afraid of you, you know.
They say behind your back that you take things too far; you have an obsessive need to deal with things overreactively.
They say that you don't show mercy, not even when you should.
They say that you're—
"Later. I'm tracking this girl down."
"Chase, she could be dangerous—"
"I took her down in a mere minute. Dangerous? Please!" Chase's right eye glowed the same cerulean as he took in her information. Her employer was still unknown, but her trail was recorded on a piece of paper in her pocket. As his eye scanned her, he slowly glanced at her mind. Could his telepathic abilities work so far as to be able to see into an unconscious person's mind?
And as he stared at her, bright neon green words flashed in his head.
That was unnecessary. And don't bother trying to track me down. I'm stronger than I look…"
Chase's head jerked back. So he could do it.
"I know where to start," Chase practically yelped, and zipped out the door at a speed to rival Bree's.
Douglas sighed, before realizing Chase had just abandoned him. "Wait for me!" Douglas sprinted out after Chase.
"What's this?" A twenty-year-old Douglas was with Beryl as they both stared out at the open range.
"It's a flower, you idiot. Do you not have these things in Mission Creek?"
"It's an industrial city; we don't see much of anything beautiful. Except for you," as he smiled. Cheesy line; he could have done better than that. Beryl was affecting his brain. He'd made a crucial error in programming a computer yesterday causing it to crash; all because his mind had been occupied with Beryl's beauty.
Beryl rolled her eyes. "That all you got?"
Douglas smirked. "Roses are red, Valentine's Day is a lie; you're single because you're ugly when you cry."
He earned a smile.
"Roses are red, violets are red, trees are red, and grass is red. I set your garden on fire."
Douglas laughed. Leave it to Beryl to come up with a good retort.
"And this?" He picked up a plant that bore a resemblance similar to a dandelion puff, except it was red and had spikes.
Beryl smiled. Was she hiding something? There was a playful expression hiding behind the completely innocent-looking smile. "Oh, it's a special plant that has beans that are supposed to heal you. Crazy, right?"
Douglas smiled. "Maybe it would heal me of my lovesickness."
Beryl smiled smugly. "I bet it will. Why don't you give it a try?"
And, being the fool that he was, Douglas gave it a try.
It had been wholeheartedly embarrassing. He had given the raw seeds a try, and felt strange. Sick. He had felt sick. He honestly didn't remember anything; only that Beryl was laughing as she healed him from the poison.
It had been a castor bean, and the joke was on him. Everything—everything—that Beryl had said—was true. Castor oil came from castor beans—they healed certain sicknesses. It was indeed a special plant, and it had healed him of his lovesickness. For the following weeks, he was wary that Beryl would try another trick on him again.
It was embarrassing, like he said. A genius like him, not recognizing the castor bean—that was like saying the smartest person in the world didn't know the square root of twenty-five. Embarrassing!
While he was recovering, he read articles on the poisonous plant. They grew in California (obviously) and they contained some amounts of ricin. So that explained the poison. Beryl had given it to him as a practical joke; thankfully, she had planned it out all the way. She cured him by the time two months was over.
Most people would think that a girlfriend who poisoned you was poisonous for you. Douglas begged to differ. This showed that she was not head over heels for him, and he for her. He had loved her to the point where every waking minute was spent thinking about her, but now, after that castor bean incident, he learned that a wife and husband still need to have a break and have some fun…
And she did heal him, after all. It's not like she was trying to poison him or anything.
Chase knew this. He'd read Douglas' mind once after asking him down by the river, "What's on your mind?" Seeing Douglas' strange reaction to the spiky red puffball-like plant by the riverside, he'd read into Douglas' past and knew the whole story.
Thank God he didn't say it out loud; that strange longhaired chick would've heard the whole thing!
Leo had applied his knowledge of the code to the strange "hyperlink": 404ErrorL30/it5/b19D/1m/5tuck/1n/%5t0ra93/r00m5/5av3/m3/html . com.
Leo knew he could cross out the "404Error" and the "html . com" because that was probably there to make it look like a real hyperlink.
So, he would start with each section, assuming each backslash meant a space.
He composed a mental list of each "word."
1. L30
2. it5
3. b19D
4. 1m
5. 5tuck
6. 1n
7. %
8. 5st0ra93
9. r00m5
10. 5av3
11. m3
Something that seemed strange was #7, the percent sign. Maybe it was there as red herring? Or was it there for a purpose?
Leo composed a key on a scratch sheet of paper—the basic code for this kind of code.
1. 1 = I
2. 3 = E
3. 9 = G
4. 0 = O
5. 5 = S
6. % = ?
Now that he had the code, it was easy to deduce.
1. L30 = Leo
2. it5 = its, which (would become) = it's
3. b19D = Big D
4. 1m = Im, which (would become) = I'm
5. 5tuck = stuck
6. 1n = in
7. % = ?
8. 5st0ra93 = (the trickiest one of all) storage
9. r00m5 = rooms
10. 5av3 = save
11. m3 = me.
Now, the hyperlink's meaning was clear: Leo, it's Big D. I'm stuck in % (?) storage rooms. Save me!
The only question (besides that confusing percent sign) was: How had Big D been able to contact Leo if he was stuck in the storage room? Being stuck, there would be no technology access…
Unless, of course, being the genius he was, he had hacked into the system.
"Must ha' killed his joys of having a brand new lab…"
"So now, Big D is trapped and he was desperate enough to call for me," Leo mused out loud. "Desperate times do call for desperate measures.
Maybe the percent sign represented something. A map? A visual clue?
Leo toyed with the iPad's map. He tapped on the Storage Rooms grid.
Oddly enough, the storage rooms were clustered in strange arrangement (based on the map.)
There was clearly a cross-shaped line dividing the whole square-shaped space into four quartiles (similar to an x and y grid.)
It looked like a plus sign; (+); inside a box. []
Then each of the four squares had weirdly-shaped rooms in each of them.
The upper right quartile was divide diagonally into two triangles of storage rooms. The upper left quartile was divided into four equal squares. The lower left storage rooms was divide into two rectangles… and—aha!
The lower right quartile was divided into two diagonal triangles, but in each triangle was a circle—a perfect circle.
The percentage sign basically represented the lower right quartile: %. A slanted line with circles on either side.
Leo took a deep breath, and forced himself to admit that Big D was clever.
Sighing, he pressed some buttons on the iPad and dropped down to the lower level.
My thoughts: I had actually originally put the percentage sign just to make it look a little more realistic as a hyperlink, but then I decided to add some twists and make it actually helpful. What did you think? Did I do okay in making this a little more like a mystery story? The genre might change soon! And since this is a 'mystery' story, after all, prepare yourselves! And do you know what I hate? When a main character in a movie fails to realize the obvious. Leo fails to realize the obvious and I bet y'all were frustrated with him for taking so long because y'all guessed it in reviews! Oh, and please write the phrase "mystery plot twist" in your review if you're still reading/have read this far! PLEASE READ ALL A/Ns! Sometimes they include crucial info! Anyways, review as well, please, and I'll see y'all around for the next chapter! (Should be out in a week. If I get reviews, it'll go out on Saturday! Hopefully, at least!)
By the way, it seems some of you are very excited to meet Beryl... but I daresay you'll be shocked when you do meet her! And on that mysterious note, I'll see y'all on Saturday!
I apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors.