Hello Fanfiction World... *Waves Sheepishly* How does writing a New Year oneshot in 2015 turn into not opening this account again until February 2017? O_o

It was never the right time anymore, and when I was free, writing didn't even cross my mind because I was so tired. I still am, it got worse.

But all of a sudden the inspiration came to me today to move my butt and face the music... I'm aware that you faithful original readers have probably moved on to a new fandom by now, and I'm really sorry that I became the one author I vowed never to be:

The one who disappears and leaves a story unfinished for years/forever...

This chapter was on my hard drive, so I thought "What's the harm?" Here it is, and I hope you guys don't hate me too much...

To new readers, hello! I promise I'm not a horrible person... ;)

Sam-

She suddenly jumped, pushing them both out of the entryway, waiting for what had to be an explosion.

But nothing happened. Breathing heavily, Sam finally realized she was lying on Scam's chest, and quickly rolled herself off, refusing to meet his gaze.

"If you wanted to touch me, I'm certain you could of found a better excuse, Sam." He smirked, brushing himself off, and picking up his discarded equipment easily.

"That was basic WOOHP training. You don't just open a door that's hiding a bomb that could blow up an entire city!" She snapped, her heart slowly starting to settle, before racing again at the sudden realization.

"You knew it wasn't rigged." It wasn't a question. "How?" He only smirked, eyes taunting.

"Because I built this submarine."

~oOo~

Mandy had thought that it would have been harder to fake her death. Yes, there was all the thinking of how to minimize other people getting hurt without doubt at her own passing over. But honestly, all she had to do was borrow a prototype or two from WOOHP, and get them off the crime scene before the police cars had pulled up.

Plus, she already had money that she had pulled from her bank account, leaving enough to blow up behind the car to make it look like it was all accounted for. It would look like she was running away from home before getting into an accident.

The hair dye, makeup tools, new clothing, and identity card were all waiting in the hotel room Jerry had rented for her, no questions asked.

Though, he undoubtedly knew what she had wanted it for now. It took five washes, some bleach, and the dye, as well as several different conditioners and hair masks to finish with decent looking hair.

It also took a call to the front desk to arrange an appointment with their hairdresser to seal the deal. But already, she looked a lot different.

And after the chatty woman had asked all sorts of personal questions, and complimented her on the lovely color of her tresses, offering all sorts of volumizing products for soft waves, she had a name.

Zoe Gardner. At first, she'd wanted to go for Alice, like her favorite character, but then again, Phoebe was sure to look for her under names with her initials.

Better off dead than back in her mother's cruel grasp.

~oOo~

"You built this submarine?" Sam laughed harshly, a hand going to push back her hair as she shook her head. "Why am I not surprised?" She paced for a moment, before facing him again.

"How did you know it wasn't rigged? Did you put it there?" Her accusation angered him.

"Oh yes Samantha. I made all the effort of spending this much time in woohp, and being stuck with you, just to kill us both off here." The anger in his voice was barely veiled by the sarcasm, but she wasn't fooled.

"Knowing you, you probably have a whole escape chute set up, and you're going to knock me out and leave me to explode." She snapped, crossing her arms.

"You really think I haven't learned by now that if I wanted to kill you I'd have to do much better than that!" For once, his face seemed to show what he was really thinking, but he quickly turned away, rubbing at his temple only a moment before his posture went rigid, and he entered the bomb room, without a glance backwards.

"What's wrong Scammie? Did I get under your skin?" She asked mockingly, taking a step closer.

"Please. You'll have to do better than insulting my intelligence. But see, I already know everything that makes you tick." He turned, leaning closer to her, his smirk almost convincing her that he had been playing her all along. He trailed a finger along her chin, and she began to lean into his touch, before pulling away in realisation.

"Here's the deal." He whispered it in her ear, his breath warm before stepping back. "You do your job, I do mine. We give the bomb to Jerry, and I go live somewhere in luxury while you go back to your cult." He waved his hand in dismissal. "It doesn't matter to me."

Sam didn't understand why those words seemed to cut into her. "Fine." She said, suddenly feeling much older and tired than only moments ago. She swept past him to the bomb, before getting frustrated at the fact that she had no clue on how to move it off of the pedestal it was on, or even if it was rigged.

She waited for Scam to jump in, but soon realized that he was waiting for her to admit that she needed help. Not happening. She leaned forward as if to pull one of the red wires.

"I wouldn't pull that if I was you." He didn't flinch, or even move from his relaxed position watching her.

"I'm trying to determine whether it's rigged."

"Really? Because your file said that you have little to no experience in disarming multi-nuclear toxic assortments." He studied a wrench as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

She scowled harder, her affections for him not even popping up in her head as he distracted her yet again from what should have been a by the book recovery mission. He didn't shift from his relaxed position even as her fingers came dangerously near to another red wire near the original one.

Scam rolled his eyes, his ocean gaze on the ceiling before flitting to her. "It seems little spy Sammie can't use her big girl words to ask for help... I have to say I expected a better tantrum from a redhead..."

"Just disarm it already so we can leave! I'm so done with this mission!" Another roll of his eyes as he stepped over and pulled a magenta wire barely an inch from the red one she'd been fondling.

He then used his wrench to remove the bolts holding the device to the pedestal ("It's a submarine, Samantha...) and slung it over his shoulder before turning to leave the room.

It was then the alarms went off.

I'm planning to try and finish this story and Infiltration, though I don't know how long it'll take considering I never have time to write anymore...

I'm sorry to those readers whose dreams I crushed... You all meant a lot to me... :)

~TheBookOfStories22