Thanks for all the reviews, guys, please keep them coming. If you're new, well, welcome aboard. Dive right in, s'aaaaaall good. ;)

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Title: IQ : Unbeatable

Summary: Matt and Mello are stumbled upon by a group of geniuses who for one reason or another weren't good enough to succeed L. An unlikely and uncomfortable alliance forms in time, as Matt and Mello observe behaviours more common place in the family home than super genius headquarters. And, unwillingly or not, they're getting pulled in one way or another.

Pairings: ... That depends, now, doesn't it? You tell me. Either Matt or Mello will get a girl, but I don't know which girl, or which boy. You have to give me your thoughts. ;) Could be some slash in here, too, but it won't be any canon characters. I'll keep you warned.

Rating: T. Just for language at the moment. It's Mello, you know.

Length: ... who knows?

Songs: You can get the actual playlist for this fic as I update it at the address found on my home page ... but the songs for this are: The Mission Impossible Theme, and Secret Agent Man. ;)

PLEASE HELP ME, I CAN'T ENCODE THE ADDRESS ONTO MY NOTES. Someone tell me how, and I swear to God, I'll give you a cameo. :0)

Shout out to: Hmmm ... well, P.T. still because she actually towed me through the Irish Sea and a pitch black tunnel that was three feet tall. I seriously owe that child. I clawed you onto the thirty foot in the air pizza box, though, and you're very welcome to my wellies ... but I have your swimsuit ... gah! I'll make it up to you. ;) Also to Lexy because I just read all 25 chapters of her fiction and was then inspired to write my own Mello story. Thanks hun. And I totally stole your end quote idea, I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you too, I SWEAR! Also, to you, reader! PLEASE REVIEW! Enjoy.

IF YOU WANT TO READ MORE, REVIEW IT. SIMPLE AS. ENJOY!

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Phase 1 : Execution

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Failure is not an Option.

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Carpal tunnel. Carpal tunnel. Carpal tun-

Six years. She had been basically typing non-stop for six years, and the novelty had worn off long ago. But really, there wasn't much else you could do when you were a super-genius who found crossing short distances difficult. Sure, you could sit safe at home, and you didn't need to go and risk your life all of the time as a walking operative, but you didn't have to kill the nerves in your hands by typing for four hours at a go. Or meticulously copying handwriting. Or forging legal documents.

Didn't have to kill the brain with boredom, either.

Sigh.

Charlise leaned back in her chair and stretched luxuriously. And rather painfully, she had to admit with a stab of guilt. She had missed her physiotherapy session again. That was … three … four times, now. But this time, for a good cause, at least.

She was alone in the headquarters for once, with all of her associates embroiled in various nefarious deeds … well, rather this one heist.

Technically, she was too. But Crash was supposedly in charge, this time. Ha. She was awaiting the call to tell her he was getting bored … But she still appreciated his offer of co-ordination. It got tiring having to be on top of things at all times. And very, very stressful, especially when you were trying to simultaneously run two very different projects and maintain guardianship of one troubled French boy into the bargain.

She was still doing her part, though, bringing down a few necessary systems and firewalls, easy stuff, but she couldn't start the hard part of her plan yet. Apparently one of the fellows they were trying to get on board was a skilled hacker; no doubt exceptionally more skilled than she was; her knowledge rudimentary at best, ineptitude otherwise. She couldn't start the serious hacking because he'd just counter hack and infiltrate their systems in a few seconds. She just had to confuse him, give the illusion of something being awry just enough to make him puzzle, and then everyone else came in. Hopefully. Fingers crossed.

The screen to her right, with it's large cartooned sheep background flashed suddenly, and her contact page came up.

A simple blue background with 'Les Insurmontables!' emblazoned on it in a bold grafitti font flared up, and Charlise barely had time to scoot her chair over to it before Crash started talking.

'Charlise, do you copy?'

The red-haired girl sitting in the quiet and classy headquarters of Operation IQ in New York City took a moment to remember how to speak English before replying.

'Roger, Crash, I read you loud and clear.'

'Great. Just so you know, this is going to be a total bitch of a mission.'

'Oh, no. Why?'

'Well, I'm bored, and suck at co-ordination. Cheshire has lost the charges –'

'You're not serious.'

'Deadly serious. She's lost the charges, Austin is having issues with the security system, and Twix is hanging outside the window as we speak, trying to figure out how to get in without the charges.'

'… oh.'

'Yeah.'

'So … what do you do now?'

'Well, the God's honest, Charlise, is that you're in charge, now. As usual. Sorry, but seriously? This is just going to fail epically if I try to run things. So, really, we're all just waiting on you to tell us what to do. To direct, as it were.'

'… right.'

Charlise slumped back over her computer chair feeling tired, fed-up and like swearing loudly and violently in French for a while would be a thoroughly exciting prospect.

'Yeah. Don't worry, me and Paris are fine, at least. He's outside the building right now, and the one called Matt's already walked past him without batting an eyelid.'

'Oh, well that's just great.'

'Yeah. I'm good too, though.'

'Thanks, Crash. That makes things hella easier.'

Crash laughed, a long booming laugh, as Charlise feverishly spun her chair over to her desk, and starting bringing up the cameras and info all the five member of her force, making short noises of distress as she did so much to Crash's amusement.

'Oh, come on, Charlise. We all knew that things were going to be tough. And … really. You knew you were going to have to take over at some point.'

'Yes, yes, but Crash, seriously … you're doing surveillance. So you're kind of supposed to tell me when things are about to go very wrong. Actually, you're supposed to tell me before things go wrong so I can fix them. Oh, you're right. I should have known. Silly girl that I am.'

She worked furiously as she spoke, and had now a lock on everyone's position and status. Without giving Crash a chance to respond, she smacked the speaker button in the middle of her keyboard, and saw everyone on screen move slightly as the three beeps sounded in their ear to warn them of the incoming broadcast.

'Crash, copy,' she said, bringing up the tab of her hacking into the apartment's access, and glancing at the window showing Crash. He was sitting hunched in the dark surveillance van surrounded by screens, leaving an unnaturally pale glow on his dark skin.

'Copy.'

'Cheshire, copy.'

The slight Japanese girl was sitting demurely in the passenger seat of a mind-blowingly expensive car that still managed to convey subtlety. Her hands were folded over her lap, and her dark glasses had a tasteful label running up the rims.

'Copy!'

'Austin, copy.'

Blonde-haired Austin was sitting in the lobby of the apartment block, his eyes closed, and Charlise knew he was running a map of the place through his mind.

'Copy.'

'Twix, copy.'

'Copy,' she whispered, and Charlise could see the blonde twin girl crouching under a window sill of the apartment, ten stories off the ground, looking rather at home.

'Paris, copy.'

The dark artsy-looking man was loitering casually just outside the block, surveying all who passed by leisurely. He ran a hand through his silky dark hair, and winked in the direction of the camera.

'Copy.'

Charlise felt slightly more relaxed.

'Okay. Crash, time.'

'Eleven fifty-one,' he stated clearly, turning to address the camera feeding back to Charlise.

'Twelve's still the target time, kid.'

A knot of anxiety churned the red headed girl's stomach, and she let out a shaky breath.

'Okay. We have nine minutes, if we want to keep this thing on schedule. Okay, well, we have our plan … and then there's our forty percent margin of error that we have to work around. Because Murphy's law is being cruel to us … Alright. The maximum formulation won't add to more than seventy percent, so be prepared to endure a thirty percent margin of improvisation, mes amies.'

All five faces flickered into a smile at her peevish tone and suddenly dip into colloquial speech.

'Austin. Weakest entrance.'

'Balcony, no question. Three glass doors.'

'Too obvious. Second weakest.'

'West bathroom. The least likely to be noticed.'

Charlise thought for a moment.

'Cheshire.'

'Hai!'

'The charges?'

'They're in my hand …'

'What? Crash, what the hell?'

'Wait, wait, I thought you lost them!'

Cheshire looked annoyed, and began lecturing. Charlise briefly entertained the thought that anyone passing her car would be gifted with the sight of a small blind Japanese girl making angry conversation with empty air.

'No, no, someone placed them in excess of six centimetres from where I thought they were, further than my hand reached in searching, so I thought they were gone. People should not move my stuff.'

'But you have them?'

'Yes,' she confirmed, holding them out for inspection. Charlise glanced down at the screens, selecting an appropriate messenger. Her gaze rested on the handsome man still standing benignly outside the block

'Paris. Run to Cheshire. She's right, straight, first right, left side of the road.'

'I'm on it.'

She watched the slim man sprint elegantly down the road, and her gaze travelled to the screen below him, where Austin, the flaxen-haired Alaskan twin of Twix was filing magazines into categories on the coffee table of the apartment lobby. She shook her head in disbelieving silence. Geniuses were so weird.

Mon Dieu.

'Austin, relocate, tenth floor, now.'

'Charlise, Mello just walked in,' he informed her, glancing up and speaking in a low voice.

Charlise's stomach dropped, before she rallied.

'Okay, okay, fine. Get into the lift with him, now. Go to the tenth floor. Walk to your left when you get out. Go.'

'Roger.'

She watched Austin stand and stride towards the elevator, and let her gaze rest for a moment on the strangely dressed young man, the Second, as she had been informed by the new Watari, no less. Wasn't made of such steel as the old one, apparently. But then again, Chalise was far too gifted a liar for anyone's good, really.

The leather-wearing man stepped into the elevator and pressed the up button quickly. An idea hit Charlise. Anything to buy time.

Scooting quickly to her hacking window, it only took a few seconds to disconnect the signals from the elevator leaving the two blondes trapped at level two, with no choice but to call for assistance. Austin took a moment to wink into the surveillance camera to show he was on board with Charlise, even as he ranted bitterly in agreement with the Second.

'Paris?'

'Copy.'

'Position.'

'Lobby.'

Charlise glanced over to his panel on her screen and saw him standing perfectly at his ease against a wall, looking absolutely collected. For a moment, she envied him. He was easily the most suave person she had ever met. And he had also sprinted to Cheshire and back in under two minutes.

'Got the charges?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Fifth floor fire escape. Run like hell.'

'On it.'

Paris took off again, and Charlise wiped her forehead.

'Crash, time.'

'Eleven fifty-three.'

'Oh, Jesus. Cheshire.'

'Hai.'

'Probability of this failing?'

'Fifty-two percent.'

'Oh, crap.'

'And falling! Be positive.'

'Thanks. Twix?'

'Charlie?' the girl whispered.

'Twix, abseil five stories down. Get the charges from Paris, and bring him up with you.'

'Got it.'

'Paris, progress?'

'Third floor.'

Charlise glanced over to check on Austin, just as the Second wrenched the door open furiously, and stalked out to use to stairs. Charlise jumped.

'Austin, fire escape, fire escape, do you copy? Use the fire escape to level seven, and I'll get the elevator back online.'

'Copy,' the blonde said, quietly, racing stealthily down the corridor.

'Paris?'

'Twix sighted!'

Charlise watched as the blonde girl grabbed Paris, and the two winched themselves upwards.

'Crash, time!'

'Eleven fifty-six.'

'Abandon vehicle, make for the lobby.'

'Roger.'

Charlise rubbed her nose and aching eyes. She had stayed up way too late last night to be dealing with this. This was definitely a job for someone more chipper and caffeinated that she was.

Twix sprang to mind. With the possible exception of a very drunk Paprika, who was currently infiltrating the good old Special Provision force for Kira, Twix was hands-down the happiest person Charlise had ever known.

'Okay, okay. Paris, head for the west side. Take the laptop. Twix, keep half the charges. Go towards the balcony.'

Charlise tapped at the keyboard for a moment, bringing the elevator back online in time for Austin to catch it.

'Hold it at level 10, Austin.'

'Roger,' he said, climbing in.

'Cheshire. Arm the explosives, and pull up outside the apartment.'

'Hai.'

'Crash? Time.'

Sip. 'Eleven fifty-eight.'

Crash was sitting down in the lobby, drinking a cup of coffee, looking very at home, as the woman sitting opposite him cocked her head in askance. Charlise sighed. If only she had time to berate him.

She quickly entered the code to run her hacking program and set it off to do it's work. Having been unable to place cameras inside the apartment, she had to rely on chance too much for her liking. Especially when not five seconds had passed before she was being counter-hacked.

'Damn it!'

She quickly terminated the program, and sent up her own firewalls and protections, but she knew well enough they wouldn't stand for long.

A damned shame, she thought, wistfully. That hacking program had cost her days to design, and he had gotten in a second or two after he realised what was happening.

Charlise watched the Second slam into the apartment and knew her time had come to act.

'Cheshire, are you armed?'

'And ready.'

'Okay … fire!'

The flare shot straight up, exploding outside the kitchen window of the apartment. She knew both would be running to see what it was. As was wise, really. These were dangerous times. No thanks to her.

'Paris, get in there.'

'On it, chief,' he said, and she watched through his personal surveillance camera as he deftly popped the glass out and slithered through, carefully replacing it behind himself.

Such a cat-burglar.

Him and Twix. Charlise thought for a moment what a crying shame it was that so many super-geniuses turned to a life of crime instead of putting their prodigious talents to good use, saving lives, or something.

'Place the laptop on the main table. Twix, get in there now. Paris, hide to the right of the door.'

'Roger!'

'Roger.'

Twix set her explosives at the balcony as she had planned, and raced to climb into a bedroom, placing charges beside an important computer, sheaf of documents, under a desk and on the door handle, before racing through the rest of the apartment to booby trap almost everything within. Twix was fast, deft, precise and sharp as razor blades. Nothing fazed her, and she was an invaluable member of their team.

'Paris? Progress.'

'Both of them are trying to figure out what's going on, a little panicked. Red head is hacking. Blondie is looking around. I just saw Twix, but they missed her …'

'Cool. Crash, time?'

'Twelve.'

'Excellent. Twix, terminate setting of explosives.'

Her own personal surveillance camera showed her hand reaching forward to smack a glob of C4 onto a pillow before turning to leave the room.

'Sounds good, captain.'

'And hide. Paris, get ready.'

'Roger.'

'Austin, remain in position.'

'Roger.'

'Crash, same to you.'

'Roger.'

Charlise sighed. She hated this part. If someone was to come in and start blowing her headquarters … well, actually, if they did, she'd probably die, being incapable of dodging debris or fleeing … at all.

Still. Failure was not an option.

'Cheshire, set off explosives, level E.'

'Roger. With pleasure.'

Crash.

She watched through Paris's personal camera as a vase, clock, and chair exploded, thanks to Twix's swiftly places plastic explosives, and for the first time, heard the voices of the Second and Third clearly.

Well. The Second, really.

'What the fuck is happening?'

Aaaand … she had to admit, she was very impressed. His gun was already out, and she hadn't even been positive he was wearing one. And he was already hiding his face in shades. Bit late, though.

She swiped a few keys to start the programme on the laptop lying inauspiciously on the table.

The opening notes of the simple theme (thanks, Dixon, she thought proudly. He was a talented boy, that much was certain) played their few seconds of gentle melody; just enough to grab the attention of the two men, who turned silently to stare at it, both likely wondering how the hell they hadn't noticed it before.

A deep, empowering feeling of peace washed over Charlise, as she hit another key on her keyboard, popping the screen of the laptop open slowly, and starting up the contact program for which she had paid an exorbitant amount of money. The creator had been talented; a friend of Dixon's, in fact. Talented … but not as talented as this guy. He was sort of in a league of his own.

A league she wanted to have on her side.

The lingering notes faded, and she knew her self-designed background must have popped onscreen; the large and not exceptionally original 'C' in an elaborate font. Good old Microsoft word's Old English Text. L, Watari, Near … as far as she was aware, they were forming their very own unofficial fan club of this particular font.

A moment, to let the uncertainty set in …

She smiled, leaning forward. This was by far her favourite part of the operation. The part where she was in control. When she got to negotiate, communicate. The part where she didn't have to blow things up.

'Greetings, gentlemen. It's nice to finally meet you.'

The part where she could watch their faces drop.

xXx

There's a man who leads a life of danger
To everyone he meets he stays a stranger
With every move he makes another chance he takes
Odds are he won't live to see tomorrow …
- Secret Agent Man, Johnny Rivers

A/N: Hope you liked it. Do tell. I'm simply dying to hear.

- Wraithlike xxx