Chapter Text
The message had surprised them all. The remaining members of the 7 had all been anxiously watching their comm units, waiting for news regarding their missing members. Just a month ago, their leader, the Fondation, had sent the Origin out to look for two of their members who had gone missing on a mission. It was just a simple little notification on the Scientist’s computer that almost went unnoticed until Paradigm pointed it out, catching both the Scientist’s and the Visitor’s attention. Eagerly opening the message, scared of whatever would await them, the three of them stared at the contents of the message, puzzled and perplexed by 4 text boxes, each a jumble of letters and numbers on the screen, followed by a blank box waiting patiently for a password. They’d seen messages like this before and frequently sent similar ones to each other all the time, this was just the first time someone from outside of their group had managed to send them one.
“Hey, Captain? Could you come take a look at this?” The Scientist called over his shoulder.
Raising his focus from the digital map spread out across the table where he was seated, the Foundation rises from his seat. Making his way over to the small group that stood huddled behind the Scientist. Curling his fingers around the back of the chair said man was sitting in, he leaned forward to study the screen for a moment.
“What am I looking at here?” he grunts softly, already tired and frustrated from the lack of progress they’d been making in their search for Geno, not to mention their missing members.
“We just got this sent into one of the private channels. None of the others recognized the contact and it looks like it’s encrypted. They’ve messaged us a few times today, each one just like this. I’m running the messages through our systems, but they’re coming back empty.”
Furrowing his brow, their leader stares at the scrambled mess of letters and numbers. The 7, mostly the Scientist and the Visitor, had made it a point to make contacting them a challenge. Their personal channels were private and mostly used between the group to communicate during missions. If any of those channels had been compromised, they’d have to pull the plug, shut them down, and waste precious time setting up new ones. Cursing softly, he leans forward, scanning the letters before pulling away once more.
“Just delete it…it could be a…” the Foundation’s voice cut off as four letters, placed suspiciously close together caught his attention, “Wait. Move over.”
Nudging the Scientist out of the chair, he digs out a pen and paper and starts writing down the letters on the screen. This person was either a genius or the biggest fool he had ever encountered. The more he worked, the more he was sure it was the latter.
“It’s not encrypted. The idiot just scrambled the text and added numbers in it to make it look pretty.”
He could hear the annoyed groan leaving the Scientist as he worked on unscrambling the text. It was a simple statement that didn’t quite make sense to him, [I can’t do much] so he decided to check the other messages this person had sent. Finally, the Foundation got all four messages deciphered.
???: [Would you like help dealing with the IO?]
???: [I can’t do much, too many eyes and ears here.]
???: [But maybe this can be of use to you.]
???: [The password is Geno.]
As he finished reading, he keyed in the password to the link their mysterious rat sent. After entering the simple code, another incredible length of text fills the chat, the letters and numbers blurring on the screen. A loud notification screeches to his right, a sign that the Scientist’s programs detected an encrypted message. Stepping back, the Foundation folds his arms over his chest, letting the Scientist take over. If anyone could crack that code, it would be him. A few minutes later, a video popped up with a satisfying final click. Whoever was filming sat in a conference room, their hands folded on the table in the lower half of the camera’s view. They were wearing a ring, married, he guessed before his eyes dragged up, seeing the annoyingly familiar face of Dr. Slone. She was dressed well, her button-down shirt and slacks almost too simple for the director of the IO. Her dark hair framed her face, and the light from the ceiling glinted ominously off of her yellow glasses. Dread coiled tightly in The Foundation’s stomach, the gnawing fear of finally being caught keeping the few remaining members of the 7 trapped in silence as they watched with bated breath. Was this it? They all stood still, waiting to be addressed. The feared words never came, instead, the group watched as the woman laid out the IO’s next plan; building a research facility around the crash site. A crater had been left by the Visitor’s ship when they were testing the suits and apparently, the IO wanted to profit off of it.
Hastily scribbling notes as he follows along with the presentation, the Foundation was dumbstruck as the other IO members chatted away, asking questions and helping Slone lay out this plan. He watched as each member slowly rose and left the room, the Doctor even offering the person recording an almost friendly “Good day, agent.” before she left. The hands holding the camera gave the members of the 7 a goofy little thumbs up once the room was empty before the recording ended. Sitting in silence, they weren’t quite sure what to say.
“What the fuck was that?!” The Scientist’s voice was low, unsure of how to process what just happened.
“It looks like we have a new friend,” Paradigm replied, amusement clear in her voice.
“I wouldn’t say that. They were clearly involved in that presentation, Slone even addressed them directly, meaning they’re not only in the IO, but they’re someone high enough to be privy to private information. For all we know, this could be some elaborate trap!” the Scientist responded with a bitter tone to his words.
The Visitor leaned forward, their masked face close to the screen as they studied the board in the front of the room from the recording. With a soft grunt, they reach out, touching the screen and zooming in to study the board closer. The meeting had happened that morning according to the detailed itinerary written there.
“Well, even if we don’t know who they are we can’t let this opportunity pass us by. Who knows when we’ll have another chance like this,” was Paradigm’s response.
The Foundation sat in silence, eyes fixed on the silly thumbs-up their informant’s video had ended on. Someone from the enemy team was trying to help them…but who in the IO was dumb enough, or tired enough, to risk their life like this?
(somewhere far, far away, Agent Jones, who was currently minding his own business at his desk, sneezes)
While the three older members of the 7 spoke, the Visitor remained unmoving, their hidden eyes focused on the hand in the recording, and the smallest fraction of a reflection in the shine of the whiteboard
Agent Jones dropped the phone back onto the receiver and leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie before letting out a tired groan. It had been over a week since he had started slipping messages to the 7, and his nerves were shot. For the most part, he had no clue if any of his messages were even getting through to them and the stress was starting to get to him. Luckily, based on the call he just got about the new facility being ransacked, they had, at the very least, taken his advice. Standing from his chair, he stretched, feeling his bones creak in protest, but his job was far from done. Now that he had gotten in contact with the 7 and knew they were actually on the other side of the small channel he had managed to get his hands on, he had a lot more work to do.
Locking the door to his office, the blonde turned his lights off and closed the blinds, hoping that anyone passing by would assume he had gone home for the day. Heading back to his desk, Jones sits on the floor and scoots under it, his back pressed against the modesty panel. Fishing out the small key taped to the underside of the top drawer, he opens up a safe hidden in the bottom drawer and grabs his laptop and the small thumb drive from inside. Booting up his spare laptop, he logs into the admin account and opens up the chat he’d gotten used to spamming in the last week, only this time, there was a response.
Scientist: [Who is this?]
To anyone else, the question would seem innocent enough, but this was a member of the 7 for crying out loud. Who knows how well they’d take it if he was honest about who he was? No doubt they’d think he was setting them up if he revealed his true identity. Scratching his head, the agent hemmed and hawed for a while before looking around his office. Why didn’t he think of a code name before this? Honestly, he didn’t think he’d get this far. Finally, his eyes fell onto one of the many pictures of his family that lined the walls. Memories of home almost instantly flooded him, the echo of his wife’s voice bounced in his skull, and before he could stop himself, his fingers were pressing against the keys.
???: [My friends call me the Legend.]