"Why are we doing this again?"

"To save the world. Now shut it, or we'll both get caught."

"Don't you tell me to shut it!"

A hand reaches out and smothers the boy's mouth in response.

"Do you want to get us killed?" an angry voice hisses in his ear.

He squirms, trying to break free from his older counterpart's grasp, only resulting in a tightened hold. Angrily, the boy opens his mouth and brings down his jaw as hard as he can on two black-gloved fingers.

"Ow!" comes a muffled cry. Instantly, the hand releases its grasp, and he wipes his hand over his mouth.

"You bit me, you little animal!"

"And you were suffocating me, Cobra."

The two stare coldly at one another, their glares as frigid as ice-cold glacier water. Ian's dark eyes flash, but Dan's gaze does not waver. The pitch dark blankets them like a thick cover, but Dan can still see the menacing glint in his adversary's amber eyes. His own jade-green ones flicker in response. Clothed in stealth suits of black, they all but blend into the night. It makes Dan feel like a ninja, silent and deadly. But as much as he hates to admit it, the camouflage is even more effective on Ian. With his dark skin, he is almost invisible, the glimmering yellow in his eyes the only sure sign of his presence.

Thump.

Both pairs of eyes stare into the darkness, their confrontation momentarily forgotten. Ian's tall, black silhouette silently slips behind the marble statue with Dan's close behind. A beam of light pierces the black night and swivels across the arid room, illuminating all secrets cloaked in anonymity. The two figures slink back into the shadows and push themselves as close to the ground as possible. Dan holds his breath, adrenaline coursing through his body, and finds himself staring straight into Ian's cool, collected features. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he fears that it is loud enough to give their precarious hiding place away. Ian, on the other hand, looks undaunted, bored even, as the guard scours the gallery.

The sound of footsteps echoes in the almost empty room, and the beam of light grows fainter as its distance increases. Dan finally exhales, daring to breathe as signs of the man's presence slowly begin to dwindle. For a few more moments, they wait, lingering in ear-piercing silence until the footsteps have long faded away.

Ian glances at his watch. "It's time."

Dan gives an almost imperceptible nod and begins to rise from his position on the floor.

"Get down!" Ian hisses, yanking Dan back onto the floor.

"Keep your dirty paws off me!" Dan responds irritably, pulling his arm free of Ian's grasp.

Ian rolls his eyes. "My 'paws,' as you put it, are certainly not dirty," he retorts. "And I'd love to never touch your grubby little arm ever again, but if you keep endangering our mission, mark my word, I will pin you to a wall."

"My super awesome ninja skills would stop you," Dan shoots back.

Ian snickers. "Good luck with that, Daniel."

"And for the last time, it's Dan, not Daniel! D-A-N. Daaaan."

"Sure, whatever, Daniel."

"Fine, then. If I'm Daniel, then you're Ianiel."

"That doesn't even make any sense."

"It doesn't have to – I have a monster truck!"

Ian stares. He opens his mouth, but obviously thinks better of it, and quickly shuts it again. He shakes his head. "I'm not even going to ask."

Dan smirks triumphantly, but his victory is short-lived as Ian slips around the corner of the statue. Dan gazes up at the sparkling white figure that looms above and frowns. Its arms are missing, yet here it is, being glorified in a world-famous art museum, surrounded by guards with guns. People can be so weird.

He stands impatiently as he waits for Ian to return. This is ridiculous – the whole situation is. Breaking into a billion-dollar art gallery is one thing, but with a Cobra? That is an entirely different matter.

Ian slips around the corner, moving as stealthily as a snake, and motions for Dan to follow. He gives Dan a pointed glare and puts a finger to his lips before drawing a finger across his throat. Dan narrows his eyes and sticks out his tongue defiantly. Ian rolls his eyes and turns his back to Dan, taking a tentative step forward. They inch their way onward, one step at a time, Dan only millimeters from Ian's heels. He suddenly freezes, and Dan instantly smashes into him. Ian whirls around and glares at Dan, who is returning his venomous stare with one of his own. Their eyes hold a silent conversation.

Watch where you're going!

It's not my fault! You stopped.

Ian grits his teeth, his handsome features darkening dangerously.

"What?" The word is out of Dan's mouth before he can stop it, before he can clamp a hand over his mouth.

Ian's eyes widen, and Dan can feel his heart thumping wildly.

All is silent.

They wait to ensure they have not been overheard for what seems like an eternity before finally daring to blink. Ian instantly shoots daggers at Dan and pulls his fingers across his lips, telling him to zip it up.

Dan rolls his eyes but reluctantly does the same, even pretending to throw away the key. A mischievous smile lights up his face, and he proceeds to put his hands in the air, pushing outwards as though trapped in a box. He pushes harder and harder, his face contorting with the "strain," before finally giving up. He pretends to wipe his brow in exhaustion and breaks into a goofy mime smile, bringing his hand up and down like a window as a new emotion plays across his face. Ian face palms himself.

Thump.

They freeze, Ian's head still in the palm of his hand and Dan stuck in a mime position, his head under his chin and his face mimicking a weeping clown. The sound has come from behind them, and it is too close for comfort. Ian wastes no time. He grabs Dan's arm, ripping him out of his mime-like pose, and dives across the marble floor, ducking between statues as they go. They dash down hallways, between galleries, with Ian periodically checking his glowing watch for directions. Countless paintings they whiz by, ones Dan knows are just begging to be defaced. Elegant columns rise up around them, but only glimpses of this magnificent structure can be observed in their haste.

This is no pleasure trip.

Dan's feet thud softly against the polished floor, but every step feels like a gunshot going off, screaming their intentions to the sky. He glances at Ian's face, which portrays a look of pure determination. It reveals the confidence of someone who has prepared for this moment all of their life. Unlike him. Dan swallows hard and pushes back the fear that is gnawing at his mind. He has trained for this. For two years, he has prepared for this moment. He sneaks another glance at Ian's face, noting his calm assurance in stark contrast with Dan's own. Maybe two years wasn't enough.

At last, as they arrive in front of a small side door, they come to an abrupt halt. Ian steps forward, and Dan watches him with curiosity. Ian flicks his watch arm to get a better view and presses several buttons. He directs his attention to the door and studies it, analyzing its security system. He reaches out, swipes an access card, one they have stolen from the guard on their way in, and waits for the door to slide open.

It doesn't.

Ian frowns and swipes it again, but nothing happens. He glances at the card and flips it over in his hand, running his thumb along its edge.

"It's a fake," he whispers. "Our guard friend is a phony."

A shiver runs down Dan's spine, and he glances nervously at Ian. They exchange a knowing glance. They are being watched. By them.

"What do we do now?" Dan asks softly.

"Just give me a minute," Ian responds. He slips a small pin out of his pocket and inserts it into the slot. He jiggles it for a few seconds, his brow furrowed in concentration, before a green light flickers and the door beeps open.

Dan shoots Ian a look of surprise, one that borders on impressed. Ian flashes Dan a sly grin. "After you."

Dan steps forward and cautiously pushes the door open. He peeks inside, and Ian does the same.

This is the room they have come for. A small safe sits in the back corner, but everything else is bare, except for a small table and chair sitting in the corner with a half-empty water bottle balanced precariously on top.

Dan takes a tentative step forward, but Ian instantly pulls him back.

"Not yet," he murmurs. "It could be a trap." He pushes past Dan. "I'll go first."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

Ian steps forward, pulling Dan aside, and carefully makes his way across the room.

"Ahem."

Ian glances up at Dan, who is waiting impatiently by the door. "Can I come in now?" The words are sarcastic, and Ian rolls his eyes in response.

"Yes, you can come in now, Daniel. But close the door behind you."

"Whatever you say, Ianiel," Dan replies, his voice sugar-coated with sarcastic sweetness.

Ian rolls his eyes again. "Hilarious, Daniel."

Dan, who is slowly pushing the door closed, suddenly freezes. "Wait – why are we closing the door? Don't we want to get back out?"

"We're not going out the same way," Ian replies matter-of-factly. "And we wouldn't want anyone – namely our little guard friend – seeing the door wide open and walking in on us now, would we, Daniel?"

Wisely, Dan decides to keep his mouth shut, but that doesn't stop him from shooting venomous looks over his shoulder as he gives the door one final shove.

"Now," Ian begins as the door clicks shut, "we must-"

"Dude," Dan interrupts, his voice keenly portraying his irritation, "keep it down. You were the one who kept telling me to shut it. Follow your own advice."

A self-satisfied smile plays at the corners of Ian's mouth, and Dan feels the urge to wipe the smug look right off his face.

"I'm not stupid, Daniel. The room is soundproof. Another good reason not to keep the door shut."

A vein in Dan's neck twitches, but he keep his composure. "I knew that. I was just testing you."

"Right."

The vault at the far side of the room emits a sudden sound, drawing both of their attention towards it.

"What was that?" Dan hisses vehemently, forgetting that he is no longer required to whisper.

"I'm not sure." Ian cocks his head to the side, and Dan can almost see the gears in his head turning.

"You look like an old guy with a hearing aid."

"Pardon?"

"The way you're angling your head. It looks like one of those old guys trying to hear." Dan puckers up his face and cups a hand around his ear. "Eh? What's that, sonny boy? Speak up! I can't hear you."

Ian's nose wrinkles in distaste. "Har, har. Quite the comedian you are, Daniel. So funny I forgot to laugh."

Dan shrugs. "Not my fault you were born without a sense of humor, Ianiel."

"Stop calling me that."

"Ianiel."

"Daniel."

"Ianiel."

He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Your sister's right. You are a dweeb."

"Hey, don't bring my sister into this!"

"Gladly."

The two keep their mouths shut, Ian relishing the silence and Dan wishing he is anywhere but here. All of a sudden a low buzzing sound catches Dan's ear, coming closer and closer, and he glances around wildly in alarm.

"Do you hear that?"

"Do I hear what?"

"That buzzing?"

"What buzzing?"

"You mean you don't hear it?"

"I think that's what I implied when I said 'What buzzing?'"

"But how can you not hear it? It's so loud!" Dan eyes Ian skeptically. "Maybe you really are deaf."

"And maybe you have tinnitus."

"No way, dude. I got that shot last year, and believe me, I'd remember, 'cause it pinched."

Ian rolls his eyes. "Not tetanus, you dimwit. Tinnitus. It's a loud ringing that one gets in the ears, often a sign of internal ear damage."

"Dude. You sound just like Amy."

"I highly doubt that."

"You're right – you're way more obnoxious."

"Thank you, Daniel."

"Anytime, Ianiel."

"You know, that's really getting on my nerves."

"I know." Dan pauses before a sudden realization crashes down upon him. "The buzzing – it's stopped!"

Ian's eyes widen as he stares at Dan. "And I think I know why. Hold still." He raises an arm, slowly inching it above Dan's head, and Dan's eyes bug out in alarm.

"What are you doing?"

"There's a wasp the size of a lollipop on your head."

It only takes a second for Dan to plunge into full-scale panic mode.

"Get it off, get it off, get it off!" he shrieks, running maniacally around the room while shaking his head violently from side to side. He flips his hair vigorously, but doesn't touch it for fear of a close encounter with the buzzing wonder.

Ian watches with mild amusement, standing silently on the side, as Dan traverses the circumference of the room.

"Get it off, get it off, get it o-"

Ian's eyes widen as he realizes what is about to happen. Dan is running blindly towards the vault without anything to prevent him from colliding.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Fear flashes across Ian's face, and instantly he lunges towards Dan. "Dan! Watch out!"

But Dan is already too far ahead and doesn't hear Ian's warning above his own panicked cries. With what seems like a superhuman effort, Ian throws himself at Dan, knocking him over milliseconds after he has run into the front of the vault. They tumble to the ground and roll, Ian shielding Dan with his body.

Boom.

A brilliant flash of yellow and orange instantaneously blinds them, and they turn their faces away from the light – and debris. Several large, haggard pieces of metal have been flung outwards and into the walls, sticking there like a yakuza's shuriken. Dan and Ian curl themselves into balls, shielding themselves as they wait for the worst to pass. There is a sizzling sound, and after a moment Ian cautiously raises his head to inspect the damage.

The explosion, despite first appearances, is not extreme. It has inflicted little damage, and only a small hole marks the epicenter of the explosion.

It was a warning.

This explosion was not meant to kill – it could have been so much worse – but it must have been a premonition, a test of some sort, something to say, "We are in control." Ian knows this strategy all too well.

Dan sits up, propping himself up on one arm, and gingerly touches his head. "Is it gone?"

Ian narrows his eyes. "Yes," he responds through gritted teeth. "It's gone."

"Phew." Dan wipes his brow with a grimy gloved hand. "That was a close one."

Ian studies Dan's face, trying to discern whether he is being serious or not. "Which one – the wasp or the bomb?"

"Both."

Dan sits silently for a moment before a sudden realization dawns on him. His eyes widen, and he turns to Ian. "You just saved my life."

Ian reaches up and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yes, well, it was a one-time thing." He glares at Dan. "But don't count on it ever happening again."

Dan smirks, and Ian looks away, directing his gaze towards Dan's shoes. His eyes sudden widen, and he turns back to Dan.

"Dan, you're on fire."

"Uh, thanks?"

"No, literally," he repeats urgently, pointing at the leg of Dan's pants, "you are on fire."

Dan glances at his feet and is horrified to discover a small spark working its way up his right pant leg.

"Ayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

He bolts upright and glances wildly about for the nearest fire extinguisher.

There is none.

"What happened to the fire extinguisher?"

"They don't have one!"

"What? How on earth did they pass fire-safety regulations?"

A tingling sensation is beginning to work its way up his leg, and he can feel the hair on his leg beginning to prickle as it singes. He pulls at his pant leg and shifts his weight onto his other foot, hopping up and down like a pogo stick. He catches sight of the water bottle in the far corner and scrambles to reach it.

"What are you doing?"

"Ayeeee!" Dan screams again as the flames ignite, his running causing them to flare up faster and more furiously than before. He lunges at the water bottle and tries desperately to pull the cap off with his thick gloves.

"Why… won't… you… come off?" he pants.

"That's not going to work, you idiot!"

Dan ignores Ian and finally rips the cap off with his teeth, immediately squirting the water onto the flickering flames. But it doesn't work. The orange flames dance undauntedly across his flammable pant leg, completely unaffected by the small trickle of water, and even appearing to gain ferocity.

"It's not working!" Dan shrieks as he, once again, begins to race across the room.

"Stop, drop, and roll, you fool!" Ian yells. "Stop, drop, and roll!" He bounds towards Dan, quickly closing the distance between them, and tackles him as he runs in circles while screaming with a trail of flames flickering behind him into the nearest wall.

"Get down!" Ian commands, shoving Dan to the ground. "Now roll!"

Dan obediently complies and turns on his side, smothering the flames, as Ian tramples on the blazing pant leg. And within a minute, the flames have subsided, leaving only a hazy cloud of smoke in its place. Dan rolls onto his back, his chest rising and falling heavily, as he stares up at Ian's soot-stained face.

"Man, this place better be soundproof."

"We'd be dead if it wasn't."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Dan props himself up on one elbow. "Hey," he remarks, cocking his head to the side. "I thought you said saving me was only a 'one time' thing.'"

Ian frowns. "You got lucky," he mumbles.

"Well… thanks."

A harrumph comes from Ian, and he gives Dan a stern look. "Just don't get any ideas about telling anyone. I have a reputation to maintain, after all."

Dan rolls his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Because I was planning on announcing to the whole world that Ian Cobra saved me from a killer wasp and fiery pants."

Ian smirks. "It was actually a bomb, but if a killer wasp makes me look more heroic-"

"Forget it, Cobra."

A small beep sounds in the silence, interrupting them, and Ian glances at his illuminated watch face. When he looks up, his features display a deadly seriousness.

"We have to move."

No more words are required – the graveness on his face is enough. They have wasted too much time. Five minutes may not seem like much, but in a situation such as this, it can mean the difference between life and death.

Dan pushes himself off the ground and gets to his feet, brushing off what he can from his badly dismembered pants. Ian steps towards the vault, but Dan calls him back.

"What if there's another bomb?"

Ian glances back at Dan. "There isn't."

"But how do you know?"

"I just do. Trust me." And the look on Ian's face is enough to keep Dan from asking anymore questions. Somehow Ian knows. Maybe it's his Lucian-sixth sense, maybe his inner cobra, but whatever the reason, Dan knows better than to question Ian. Somehow, Ian always knows.

They proceed to the front of the vault and stare through the gaping hole where the bomb was activated. Smoke is still sizzling, clouding the putrid air, but nothing is on the other side.

"Dude. Who puts a bomb in a vault, anyway?" Dan asks, giving Ian a questioning look.

"Someone who wants to intimidate us."

Dan glances back at the hole. "But it could have killed us!"

Ian raises an eyebrow. "They apparently didn't think so. They assume that we are skilled and smart enough to avoid these little setbacks." He eyes Dan accusingly. "Unfortunately for them, they didn't foresee the killer wasp."

A small flush of red warms Dan's cheeks, and he has the grace to stare at the floor shamefacedly.

"You've acquired quite the presence in the Cahill world," Ian continues as he begins to fiddle with the vault's lock, "and I have a feeling the Vespers are unaware of just how little experience you and your sister really have."

"Hey!" Dan counters defensively. "Amy and I know what we're doing! We just spent the past two years preparing for this."

"Maybe." Ian clicks open the first lock easily and turns back to Dan. "But have you spent your entire life in training? Did you learn how to avoid bombs and build booby traps when you were three?"

Dan stares down at his scuffed shoes.

"I didn't think so." Ian reaches for the second lock and discards the first. There are three locks, ones that require a simple combination, and an electronic one, which will require a bit more work.

Dan watches Ian curiously, marveling over the masterful skill with which he so easily manipulates them. This is Ian's part of the mission, and all Dan is required to do is watch. But he will soon be needed. His marvelous photographic memory will come into play. That is why they are working together. Ian's Lucian, code-cracking skills and Dan's systematic mind are mandatory for the success of this endeavor. Not that it makes it anymore pleasant.

"How do you do that?" Dan inquires curiously as Ian pops the last lock off. "It's like a Criss Angel trick."

Ian smirks. "Lucian secret."

"Can you show me sometime?" Dan asks hopefully.

"Not a chance."

"Why not?"

Ian raises an eyebrow. "Well, first of all, you're not a Lucian. And secondly, you with a knowledge of breaking through locks? That would be like handing the Vespers Gideon's ring and world domination on a silver platter."

"Really." Dan eyes Ian skeptically. "But I thought you just said I wasn't 'good enough.'"

"No," Ian replies as he inspects the electronic security system presently demanding a code. "I was making it clear that two years of experience does not automatically make you capable of fighting the Vespers." He doesn't look up. "But that doesn't mean you and your sister aren't talented."

"Well, duh. How else would we have kicked your butt in the Clue hunt?"

Ian straightens, pulling himself up to his full sixteen-year-old height and glowers down at Dan. "Don't push it."

Dan swallows hard and takes a small step back. Ian may not be a Holt, but still, he's not a fellow Dan would particularly desire to trifle with.

Ian smiles, satisfied, and turns back to cracking the system's code.

"How are you gonna get through that?" Dan can't help his curiosity; the question is begging to be asked, no matter how stupid it makes him look.

"Elementary," Ian replies without taking his eyes off the screen that is demanding a password combination.

"What are you – Sherlock Holmes?"

Ian rolls his eyes. "Hardly. Holmes had it easy. He wasn't stuck with a thirteen-year-old ninja lord for a sidekick."

"What?" Dan gawks. "Sidekick? You've got to be kidding me. I mean, come one, you're job isn't that special. 'Oh, look at me – I'm Ian, and I can break into a vault!' Big whoop."

Ian raises an eyebrow. "All right, then. If it's so easy, then why don't you do it?" He steps aside and beckons for Dan to take the lead.

The vault is large, a state-of-the-art model with a mixture of classical locks and modern electronic equipment. Bright blue lights blink at Dan, demanding an access code, one he has no idea how to attain. He gives Ian a sideways glance and notices the hidden challenge in his eyes. Tentatively, Dan puts his hand forward but pulls it back mere millimeters from the screen. It's not worth it. One wrong move could cost them everything.

"Okay, I admit it. I don't know how."

Dan winces as soon as the words are out, waiting for the "I told you so" that is sure to come, but surprisingly, it never does. He dares to open one eye and glances hesitantly at Ian.

"You finally ready to trust me?"

Dan scowls, his eyes narrowed into little slits. "Never, Cobra," he hisses, "but it looks like I don't have much of a choice now, do I?'

"I suppose not." Ian's reply is distant, as though he is fully aware of just how slim the chances are that Dan will ever trust him again.

"Why are you really here, Cobra?" He needs to know the truth before they go any further. It is now or never.

"Well, I suppose 'Cobra' is better than 'Ianiel,'" Ian says wryly.

"Just answer the question," Dan snaps.

Ian raises his chin, a mixture of defiance and thoughtfulness, and his thick black hair falls onto his forehead, his eyes as unreadable as a sign written in Arabic. He purses his lips and looks down for a moment before squarely meeting Dan's gaze.

"I want my sister back."

The reply is direct, leaving no room for questions, but Dan is still not satisfied.

"And that's all?"

In that oh-so-familiar way, Ian cocks his head to the side, deeply pondering the question.

"I think my answer should be sufficient. My only family member has been kidnapped, and I will do anything to get her back, just as you would for your uncle and nanny." He pauses, carefully choosing his next words. "But if you must know, I have a few… scores to settle, a few wrongs to right." He shrugs carelessly. "I have my reasons, ones I don't think you are entitled to know about."

Dan's head nods slowly, deciding to accept Ian's cryptic answer.

"Now then," Ian interjects, "if we've successfully put aside our differences for the moment, then I believe we should get going."

Dan steps aside and makes room for Ian to step back in front of the screen. Ian swiftly replaces him and begins his work, pressing buttons so fast that Dan cannot keep track. He studies Ian's face, frozen in concentration. Who is this treacherous teenager? A backstabber? A deceiver? Or are his motives more… noble than that? He wants Natalie back, that is plain to see, just as Dan longs for Fiske and Nellie to return, but what about these ulterior motives? Could they somehow be something to compensate for feelings of guilt? Does a Lucian even feel guilt or have a conscience for that matter?

A small beep goes off, and Ian smiles triumphantly. The dim blue glow becomes an emerald green, and the door slowly begins to hiss open. Ian's amber eyes flicker in the glowing light, and Dan squints in the sudden flash. Whatever the truth is, he knows only one thing: Ian Kabra is an enigma, a complete mystery, with more layers than even an onion. Without a doubt, there is more than meets the eye to Ian Kabra.

Dan's eyebrow raises, and Ian waves him forward, a smug smile plastered across his face.

"Your turn."

Biting his lip, Dan takes a hesitant step forward. It was Ian's job to crack the security codes, and now it is his turn to memorize a message. A hidden message, one given hundreds of years before, but guarded from the rest of the world. Their mission is a simple one, but odd. While they have been instructed to steal artifacts worth more than both Ian and Natalie Kabra put together, this time it is different. The instructions were crystal clear: Deliver the message, but don't steal the artifact. Why? It's anyone's guess. It would be just as easy for them to use one of their inside men, such as the guard, to steal it themselves.

But it has to be a Cahill.

Their instructions, their words, and with seven hostages at their disposal, no one is about to make any objections.

Pushing past the door, Dan steps into the large vault. It is narrow, a claustrophobic's worst nightmare, but tall. Even Ian could stand straight in this rectangle box. He glances from side to side but can't see a thing.

"How am I supposed to see in here? It's pitch black."

"Here, take this." A hand reaches out through the door, barely visible in the dim light seeping in from outside.

Dan reaches out, but with his eyes still adjusting to the lighting, he miscalculates the distance and bumps the object in Ian's hand onto the floor.

"Oops."

"You klutz!" Ian hisses. "That was our only flashlight!"

"Oops."

"Here – let me," he says, stepping through the door. "Where did it fall?"

"Over here, I think."

"Over where? I can't see you!"

"To the right."

"My right or your right?"

"My right. No, wait. Your right. No, no. It was counterclockwise right."

"What?"

"I have no idea. Just get on your knees and help me search."

"Fine. But if my pants get ruined, you're paying."

Dan falls to his knees and begins to feel the floor.

Dirt, tile, something I don't want to know about.

He turns and suddenly, a crack splits the silence as two heads collide like a baseball bat connecting with a softball in a home-run hit.

"Oww!" their voices cry out simultaneously.

"That was my head!"

"What do you think your head hit?"

Dan rubs his sore temples carefully before a light bulb goes off in his head. "Wait a minute. No one's out there, right?"

"Right."

"So, it wouldn't hurt if we opened the door all the way, right?"

There is a painful silence before Ian finally responds. "Good point."

They both attempt to stand, colliding once again, much to their frustration. Ian rubs his arm protectively and pulls Dan to the side.

"Allow me."

He pulls the door open as wide as possible, and a flood of light instantly rushes into the vault. Dan blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust, and he quickly looks down, immediately spotting the tiny flashlight right by his foot.

"Found it!" he declares as he stoops down to pick it up.

"Perfect. Just when we don't need it anymore."

"I don't know about that," Dan responds. "It's still pretty dark in here."

The room outside the vault has little light, its only source being a dim florescent bulb, so there is not much to stream into the vault to begin with. Dan squints in the faint light and is finally able to make out the object on the other side.

"I can see it!" he exclaims.

"Good for you. Now what does it say?"

Dan shoots Ian a dirty look before proceeding forward. Shadows play across the object's surface, but he can still make out its faint outline.

"It's a cup!" Dan declares. He takes a closer look and wrinkles his nose. "An ugly cup."

Ian comes up beside Dan and inspects it. "I'd say it's more of a chalice." He picks it up and turns it in his hand. "Quite old – valuable in that respect – but definitely not up to par with the other objects we've acquired."

"Well, that's lame," Dan grumbles. "A state-of-the-art security system for a rusty cup? It's not even gold."

Ian gives Dan a sideways glance. "Bronze, I'd say. Definitely not top quality, but there must be a reason it's so important." He turns the chalice slowly in his hands, feeling all its cracks and etchings. "In remarkable shape for its age, though," he mumbles to himself.

"Anything else?" Dan asks hopefully.

"There are some etchings in the metal, but I can't make them out," Ian responds. "Here – give me the flashlight."

Dan hands it to him, and Ian flicks the switch on, illuminating the bronze chalice in a warm myriad of yellow light. The chalice glows, its ancient carvings all but coming to life.

"Look!" Dan breathes. "The symbols!"

Strange cryptographs and letters decorate the artifact. Some are recognizable; others are as alien to Dan as Chinese. They form a mesmerizing pattern, one that Dan knows has already been engraved into his mind.

"It looks like… several languages all meshed together," Ian observes.

Dan takes a closer look and realizes that he is right. Some of the characters resemble the Japanese that Dan encountered two years earlier, and others resemble mixtures of European alphabets, maybe even some Greek. Or is that alchemy?

"Do you have it?"

Dan nods, and Ian carefully places the chalice back on its exquisitely-crafted pedestal.

"Let's go."

Dan silently slips out the door with Ian close behind, who makes sure to shut it after them. Ian presses a few buttons and twists a few locks, erasing all signs of their presence, just as a sudden movement causes them both to freeze. The ground has buckled, emitting a small tremor, and a low thunder sounds.

Dan glances nervously at Ian. "I-I thought you said this room was soundproof."

Ian returns Dan's look, his eyes revealing a look of panic. "It is."

Their look exchanges unspoken words of fear. If sound has passed through those impenetrable walls, then what could possibly be going on outside?

"Those wretched Holts are probably bringing the whole museum down," Ian muses. "We need to get out of here before guards start scouring the place."

Dan's glance is still fearful. "How?"

Ian jerks his head towards the corner of the room. "The vent."

Dan's gaze wanders to the edge of the room. "You've got a screwdriver handy?"

"No, even better." Ian flashes Dan a grin. "Bobby pins."

"Well, that's a great improvement," Dan retorts with a roll of his eyes.

"Just watch." Ian steps forward, pulls out a small brown pin, and inserts it in the vent's closest screw. A few quick twists, and it pops right off in his hand. Swiftly, Ian moves on to the next and the next, forced onto his tiptoes to reach the very top ones. All screws are off within a minute, upon which Ian returns back to Dan. But he is not impressed.

"Dude, why do you even have bobby pins?"

Ian's smirk instantly transforms into a scowl. "Because it's so much more convenient than a screwdriver. Now hurry up. We don't have all day." He glances nervously at his watch as Dan approaches him.

"Okay, I'm ready. Let's blow this popsicle stand." He eyes the bottom of the vent and rubs his hands together eagerly before making his first attempt. He reaches out, grabbing the edge, but his gloved palms slip, causing him to fall to the ground. He shoots Ian an embarrassed glance, but quickly gets to his feet, determined to give it another go. Swinging his arms, he crouches down low before giving himself a great surge of power and lunging for the vent. His fingers slip again, and gravity pulls him to the ground once again.

"Need help?"

Sighing heavily, Dan gives Ian a despairing look. "I'm thirteen, okay? I haven't hit my growth spurt yet."

Ian smirks. "I know."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

Dan glares at him. "I hate you."

"I know."

"Fine, then," Dan surrenders. "Kill my pride, help me up."

Ian nods but raises a finger in warning. "But I refuse to carry you."

"Hey, we actually agree on something for once!"

"Frightening, isn't it?"

Dan gives Ian a questioning look. "So, how am I going to get up?"

Ian cringes but folds his hands together and places them under the vent like a booster. "Step up. And hurry – we don't have all day."

Cautiously, Dan approaches Ian and lifts his right foot onto Ian's hands, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady himself. Dan feels Ian's muscles tense, but he doesn't waver. Reaching up, Dan grabs the side of the vent and pulls up his other leg, accidently nicking Ian as he goes.

"Ow! You just kicked me in the eye!"

"Oops! Sorry," Dan replies with a smirk, not sounding very apologetic at all as he watches Ian struggle to hold his weight with a foot balancing on his head. After a moment, when he has decided that Ian has suffered enough, he pulls himself forward all the way into the vent. He turns around and peeks down at Ian, flashing him an infuriating grin.

Ian glares up at him from beneath furrowed eyebrows. "You'll pay for that, Cahill," he vows, launching himself easily into the vent.

Dan's smile disappears, and he shuffles to the side, making room for Ian, who lands precisely beside him.

"You are a royal pain, Daniel."

"Takes one to know one."

Ian opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by Dan. "Do you hear a buzzing sound?"

"Oh, no," Ian snaps vehemently. "Not again."

"No, really," Dan insists. "It's not a wasp this time. Listen."

They fall silent, both straining to hear, and suddenly, Ian's eyes light up in recognition. "I hear it, too," he whispers.

The buzzing becomes louder, its intensity increasing, and is suddenly replaced by a low hissing. Ian's eyes dart to the door just in time to see it starting to crack open. He whirls on Dan. "Move."

Without question, Dan obeys, immediately darting into the voidless tunnel as fast as he can on his hands and knees. A quick glance backwards reveals Ian close on his heels. Low voices suddenly echo in the tunnel, propelling them even faster than before.

That way… the vent!

"Vent" echoes longer than the others, lingering in the air and acting as a constant reminder of the ever-present danger. They proceed in silence, crawling to the rhythm of their knees against metal.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The repetitiveness is mind-numbing, keeping their thoughts away from the fact that at any moment, they could be caught, found, discovered.

They've found the vent, that much is sure, but how far have they gotten? How long will it take?

Dan swallows hard and risks another peek at Ian, reassuring himself that he is not alone. Ian's dark eyes are staring downward, his movements every bit as repetitive as Dan's. Dan opens his mouth, wanting to ask "How much longer?" but knows it's pointless. Ian doesn't know any better than he does. He turns to once again face the front and suddenly finds himself parading through a giant cobweb.

"Pwww! Plech!" he exclaims, spitting the cobweb from his mouth as he wipes away the remainder from his face. "Next time, Cobra," he sputters, "you're leading."

But Ian remains conspicuously silent, causing Dan to glance sharply back at him. "Are we safe?" he whispers, his voice barely audible.

There. The dreaded question is out.

Ian raises his eyebrows. "Safe? You should know better than that, Dan. We're never safe."

Looking down, the truth suddenly hits him. "Did you just call me Dan?"

Ian clears his throat. "Just keep moving, Daniel. They could be gaining on us."

A smug smile plays at the corners of Dan's mouth as he resumes his repetitious thumping. "Whatever you say, Ianiel."

"Good heavens, grow up already!"

Dan lets out a sigh as the two continue to press onward. "You know, I'd really like to know what genius decided to team us up. 'Cause of all the Cahills I had to get stuck with, it had to be you."

"That genius," Ian points out, "was your sister."

Dan snorts. "She just wanted me to protect you."

A sudden burst of laughter flutters throughout the many passageways, bouncing off the walls, and Dan shoots daggers over his shoulder.

"You protect me?" Ian asks incredulously with another burst of laughter. "In your dreams, Daniel. If anything, I'm the one looking after you."

"Excuse me?"

"The wasp, bomb, fire – I don't think I need to say anymore."

"Good. I can't stand the sound of your ugly voice, anyway."

"I think you meant 'sophisticated,' Daniel," Ian objects.

"Yeah," Dan snorts. "Right. So," he continues, changing the subject, "you actually know where we're going?"

"Don't I always?"

Dan flashes Ian an irritated look. "In your dreams, yeah."

For the umpteenth time, Ian rolls his eyes. "We're coming up to a crossroad," he says, "and when we do, take the right passageway."

"You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Of course, oh ye of little faith."

"Dude. Don't call me that, like, ever."

"Ye of little faith?"

"No, Faith."

"And why would I call you Faith?"

"I don't know! Cruel irony, maybe?"

"You're overreacting, Dan."

"Hardly. I've been publicly embarrassed multiple times by humiliating nicknames. Take last month, for example. Nellie was dropping me off at school, and – "

A beep from Ian's watch interrupts their delightful conversation, and Ian instantly presses a few buttons to quiet it. "Fascinating story, Daniel, but if my calculations are correct, then we should be making a right turn right about… now."

"Whoa."

"What?"

"That watch is freakishly accurate. My nose is almost touching the wall."

"You weren't watching where you were going?"

"No, my night vision just sucks."

"Perhaps I should take the lead," Ian offers.

"Be my guest," Dan retorts. "I've swallowed enough spider webs for the day."

They quickly shuffle to the side, and Ian once again resumes the lead.

"How very Lucian of you," Dan remarks sarcastically.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just saying how Lucian-like it is of you to just take command like that."

Ian snorts but doesn't respond.

"Ah, that's right," Dan continues as he inches his way forward, "I almost forgot. You and the Lucians haven't been very 'chummy' lately, huh?" He means to say it arrogantly, but his last words come out sounding somewhat sympathetic.

Ian is silent for a moment before finally responding. "Not particularly. The ones that haven't gone into hiding have barely acknowledged our presence ever since the gauntlet."

"But aren't you the new leaders?" Dan asks confusedly.

Ian glances back at Dan. "That's the problem."

A light bulb goes off in Dan's head. "So, then who's leading them?"

"No one. Or rather, everyone. They're Lucians," Ian states wryly. "They all want to lead."

"That is a problem."

"Yes, well, at least they're so busy fighting each other that they don't have time to fight anyone else."

"Bummer, dude. Looks like you're the one who got the raw end of the deal after the hunt." Dan gives a satisfied smile. "I got rich."

"Not that it's made much of a difference," Ian mutters.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing."

Oh, yeah? Well, two can play at that game.

"Yeah, well, I am rich, even if I don't wear stuffy Armani suits. But poor wittle Ian's bwanch doesn't like him no more."

"Stuff it, Dan. You sound like a challenged two-year-old."

"Ian doesn't wike baby talk?"

"No, Ian doesn- No, I don't."

"Hah!" Dan laughs. "I almost got you doing it, too!"

"Seriously, Dan, I thought you would have matured at least a little in two years."

"And so did Amy. Looks like you're both wrong."

"I pity your sister."

"Why?"

"For having a brother like you."

"Well," Dan retorts, "I pity Natalie for having a brother like you."

"Please," Ian scoffs. "Natalie is lucky to have me for a brother. I let her shop all she wants, and I don't read her diary." He gives Dan what appears to be a pointed look, although it's hard to tell in the dark.

"Yeah. I bet she reads yours," he counters.

"It's a journal."

Dan lets out a cheesy laugh. "Haha! You actually have one! That's hilarious!"

"It's not a 'Dear Diary' sort of thing," Ian replies defensively. "I jot down thoughts, plans, and schemes in it, not my love life."

"That must be a boring diary."

"Journal," Ian instantly corrects him.

"Whatever," Dan responds passively. "But Amy's diary is a goldmine."

"You read it often?"

"Oh, yeah. She keeps it in the back of her underwear drawer, probably because she thinks I'd never go there."

"Too much information, Dan."

"And there's tons of blackmail material," he continues oblivious to Ian's protests. "Crushes, embarrassing moments – I'm not even there, and I can still feel the drama."

"Fabulous," Ian replies, rolling his eyes.

"And you know what else?" Dan asks, his voice on the borderline of teasing. "Your name is in there a lot."

Ian glances back sharply without slowing down. "And what precisely does it say?"

"Let me see if I can get it right." He squints dramatically as though racking his brain for her exact words. "Ian Cobra is a lying, two-timing, self-righteous jerk."

Ian's head nods slightly. "That sounds about right."

"She talks a lot about Evan, too," Dan adds as an afterthought.

"Evan?"

"Mmm-hmm. Evan Tolliver, aka, Mr. Perfect. She's been after him since freshman year."

"My life wouldn't have been complete without that knowledge."

"You like sarcasm, don't you?"

"How ever could you tell?"

"Okay, cut it out already."

"Fine. But I suppose your sister will be tickled pink to know that her secret is out."

"Secret? Evan? No way, dude. It's been public knowledge since I posted it on her CliqueMe page."

"Ah, Natalie did that to me once," Ian remarks bitterly.

"Announced your crush to the world?"

"Not quite. She changed my interests to-" He pauses, suddenly realizing that he has said too much. He is saying too much.

"Never mind."

"Oh, come on! I want to hear what it was," Dan begs pleadingly.

"Forget it. And besides, it's just about time to make our escape."

"Finally!" Dan exclaims gleefully. "I don't even want to know what we've been crawling through. I'm almost glad it's so dark in here."

Ian pauses momentarily and flicks a button on his watch, causing an eerie green glow to illuminate the cold, grey metal walls and their faces. The light makes Dan's pale face appear somewhat sickly, but it blends easily with his matching eyes. Ian's face, however, appears almost supernatural, and his eyes seem to glow, resembling a cat in the dark.

"Whoa, Ian. You look kinda freaky," Dan observes nervously.

A corner of Ian's mouth lifts, pulling it into a half-smile, giving him an almost demonic appearance as his eyes continue to glow unnaturally. "And you, Daniel, look like you're suffering from air turbulence."

"Touché."

He glances back at his watch and clicks it off, once again submerging them in utter darkness, and Dan suddenly feels a strange pattering in his stomach, one easily resembling a butterfly's wing beat.

"Do you think they followed us?"

The conversation has finally turned serious. Dan's voice is low, his question urgent. Humor is his way of ignoring the danger; lightening the mood is how he copes. But it cannot be ignored any longer.

In the dark, Ian lifts his chin and meets Dan's gaze as squarely as he can. "Possibly. But if they did, they are quite a ways behind, which is precisely why we need to keep moving. They can't catch up."

Dan nods wordlessly, and Ian returns to facing the front. They proceed in utter silence, just as before, both immersed in their own thoughts, lost in worlds of their own.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The familiar pattern of knees pounding against metal fills Dan's ears, and he allows it to numb away all of his anxieties. He may have done this sort of thing many a time before, but no matter how many times he does it, it never gets any easier. No less is at stake. One slip-up could cost any one of them their lives, the lives of the ones he loves. He doesn't trust the Cobra – what happened in Korea will never change – but he does know that they are all in the same boat. One wrong move could cost Natalie, the one person Ian has left, her life. For another minute, they march in solemn procession before the dark cloud enveloping them begins to lift.

"I see light!" Dan declares joyfully.

"We're almost there."

They come closer and closer, the light growing stronger with every passing second, until at last, they reach the end of the tunnel. Light leaks in from another vent covering, the obvious way out. Ian reaches out and carefully slides the cover off, using the bobby pin of course, pushing it outwards. He does not allow it to drop to the ground, but instead he crawls to the entrance, swings his legs over, and silently drops to the ground. Dan is right behind him, although his drop is quite a bit less graceful. An elegant tile floor is now beneath his feet. His gaze sweeps the room, and he finds himself staring at polished marble countertops with automatic sinks, floral wallpaper, and whitewashed bathroom stalls.

"Where are we?"

"The women's restroom."

Dan gives a sniff, taking in a whiff of strawberry-scented candle. Every inch of the place is spotless, and the floor is so clean that someone could eat off it.

"Dude."

The place is luxurious, and it is hard to believe that this is simply another bathroom with toilets and stalls, just like any other.

"Just one question: Why aren't the guys' bathrooms anything like this?"

Ian's back is to Dan as he swiftly replaces the vent covering to expunge any evidence of their presence. He looks over his shoulder and gives Dan an exasperated look. "Because there aren't any thirteen-year-old boys using it."

And it's true, as much as Dan hates to admit it. His washroom back at school is a living nightmare, even with the janitor. Gum and graffiti in the stalls, paper towels clogging the sinks – it isn't pretty. And even if the girls' washroom isn't as fancy as this, he's never heard any horror stories coming from there as of yet.

"All right," Ian says, turning back to Dan. "Let's go."

A sudden flash of gold catches Dan's eye. "Whoa! No, way! Complimentary chocolates!" He rushes over to the bowl placed on the far end of the counter. "Just a minute, Ian. I'm stockin' up big time." He grabs a huge handful of chocolates and begins stuffing them in his pockets. "Forget Halloween, man! Now this is livin' large!" He holds up a handful and glances at Ian. "Want some?"

"No, thank you," Ian replies flatly. "My bathroom has better ones."

Dan shrugs and continues to shove them in his pants. "Suit yourself. More for me!"

A sudden shadow flutters across the room, and Ian glances up in alarm. All along the wall there are candles, providing a soft lighting effect, but each of the flames has moved; the candles are flickering. Dan remains oblivious to it all, but Ian directs his gaze in the direction that the breeze is coming from. And to his horror, he sees the far door beginning to open.

"Dan!" he hisses.

Dan instantly freezes and slowly turns around, finding himself face-to-face with two elderly, grey-haired ladies. Their eyes widen to the size of loonies, and Dan returns their fearful stare with an equally frightened one.

All is deathly silent.

But in a flash, Dan can see what is coming. The smaller lady's mouth opens, and he has his hands over his ears even before the sound is out.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The woman has lungs. This is the first thought to cross his mind, the second being how strange a sight they must look. Two old women, walking through a washroom door to find two teenage boys all dressed in robber's black, one stuffing chocolates in his pants. No wonder the women are scared to death.

Dan glances at Ian to see him also covering his ears. The woman's been at it for a good ten seconds now, and her face is finally starting to turn an unusual shade of pinkish-purple. At last, her eyelids flutter slightly before her eyes roll back and she tumbles ungracefully to the floor. Dan stares appalled at the woman's crumpled form as the other woman whirls on him.

"You naughty boy!" She grabs her gigantic purple purse and swings it at Dan.

"Ow!" he cries as the thing slams into his arms. "What's in there – bricks?"

"We don't need any peeping Toms in here, you bad little boys," she scolds angrily, giving the purse another swing.

Dan ducks, barely dodging the purse, and flings himself away from the woman's reach. The purse, though missing Dan, continues to fly full velocity at the bowl of chocolates, launching the remaining ones straight into the air as the empty bowl clatters into the sink.

"Dan, this way!"

He responds to Ian's call and rushes to the sound of his voice. Ian is prying open a tiny window at the far end of the washroom.

"No so fast, you!" the woman shrieks. "You're not going to get away that easily!"

Her voice pushes him faster, and he propels his feet as fast as his legs can carry him. He risks a small peek over his shoulder, and to his complete dismay, the monstrous purple purse is flying straight towards him. He hits the ground, his body sliding on the slick tile, as the bag sails straight over his head, crashing directly into one of the candles hanging on the wall. It dangles precariously, its flame dancing from side to side, shadows playing dangerously behind it, before it topples elegantly to the ground – right on a padded Persian rug. The flame flickers, apparently smothered, but suddenly picks up, rapidly gaining ground as it devours the rug's colorful threads.

"Oh, no!" Dan moans. "Not again!"

"Hurry, Dan!"

He heaves himself off the ground and throws himself towards the window, feeling the granny's ever-lingering presence close behind. But suddenly, something strikes him the back. It's a small hit, but it sends a jolt of electricity through his body, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

He is on fire again.

Another one hits and then another. He throws himself to the ground, rolling his arms and legs from side to side in desperation, determined to stamp out any flames spreading across his body.

"DAN!"

"I know, I know!" he calls back. "Stop, drop, and roll! Stop droll, and roll!"

"But Dan!" Ian's voice calls out urgently. "You're not on fire!"

"WHAT?"

Dan springs to his feet and gives his body a once over. Ian is right. He is not on fire. He glances over his shoulder and spots the older woman charging directly towards him.

"Quick, Dan – grab my hand!"

He whirls around and immediately spots Ian crouched outside the window, reaching through for Dan to hold on. Dan lunges and makes a grab at Ian's arms. Ian grunts under the strain but doesn't let go. He gives a massive yank, pulling Dan almost all the way through. The only thing left hanging in the bathroom are Dan's feet, which the old lady happens to latch on to.

"She's got my feet, Ian! Pull harder!"

"I am!" Ian gives anther yank, but still, the woman refuses to let go. "Drop your shoes!" he orders when all else fails.

Dan glances back at his war-torn sneakers and flashes the woman a sly smile. "Smell my socks, grandma!" He kicks off his shoes as Ian pulls on his arms, launching him forward onto the dewy morning grass. They tumble into each other, a mess of fingers in eyes and colliding heads, but finally come to a halt. They are panting heavily, adrenaline coursing through their veins, and Dan props himself up on one arm.

"If anyone asks," he starts, his breathing still heavy as he gasps for air, "there were twenty of them, and they were… bodybuilders."

Ian eyes Dan skeptically. "Stop, drop, and roll, Dan? Really?"

"I thought I was on fire, okay?" he exclaims defensively. "My back was being pelted in sparks!"

"They were chocolates, Dan. She was pelting you with chocolates."

"Oh." A tint of red touches his cheeks. "But what on earth were they doing there, anyway? It's the middle of the night! The museum's closed!"

Ian opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted as a shoe whizzes in between their heads. Their eyes widen, and they glance towards the still open window.

"She has got one wicked arm." Dan leaps to his feet and grabs his discarded shoe. "I don't know about you, but I'm outta here."

Ian jumps to his feet. "And I am right behind you."

They duck behind a nearby tree and dodge past various assortments of landscaping.

"Where are they meeting us?" Dan whispers in Ian's ear.

Ian glances down at him. "Right here. They'll keep driving the van around the block until they spot us."

Dan lets out a sigh of relief, his heartbeat suddenly dropping down a notch. "You know, we make a pretty good team." He glances up at Ian. "This could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

Ian looks down at him, and they stare at each other for a moment before breaking out into uncontrollable laughter.

"Good one, Daniel," he says through his laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. "You're a first-class comedian."

"I am, aren't I?" Dan responds with a grin before abruptly sobering. "But seriously," he says, giving Ian a rough pat on the shoulder, "we'll always have Korea."

"Right," Ian replies dryly, pushing Dan's hand away. "We'll always have Korea."

They fall silent, awkwardly turning back to their positions, scouting for the van. Pine needles poke Dan in the back, but he ignores them, eagerly awaiting their getaway's arrival. Bright lights suddenly cut through the heavy darkness, and Dan's eyes widen in excitement.

"It's them!"

But Ian pulls him back. "Just wait a moment."

The headlights approach, coming closer and closer, until they are right in front of the museum. It slows slightly, the passengers inside no doubt scouring for signs of life outside.

"Now!" Ian orders, and the two instantly dart out from behind the shrubbery towards the van. They stay low to the ground, blending into the night, before barreling towards the back of the van, which is labeled "Al's Plumbing." The doors instantly burst open, and they jump inside, the van immediately speeding away.

"What took you guys so long? We were starting to get worried!"

Dan looks up to find himself staring into two anxious green eyes that so perfectly match his own.

"Three words: shoe-flinging granny."

"What?" Her face has contorted into a mass of confusion, and she turns to Ian for help.

He flashes her a charming pearly-white smile as Dan attempts to stand and brush himself off amidst the violent swaying of the van. "Amy, let me be the first to tell you, your brother needs two things: a fire safety course and new pants."

Dan glances down sharply at this raven-black ninja pants. "Aww, man!" He turns around and Amy cringes.

Ninja-turtle boxers stare back at her, and she sighs. "I don't even want to know."

What started off as a simple idea for some suspense/humor with Dan and Ian became my longest one-shot ever. Had no intention of doing that, but anyway…

In this particular story, I tried to capture a somewhat similar style to that in Never Apart but with Dan and Ian bantering included. I figured those two would be a comedic goldmine if forced to work together (which I do hope happens at some point), so I decided to write a possible scenario in which that happens.

My apologies for making it so long (believe me, I never intended it), but I sincerely hope it was worth it. : )