More Then Just Mainframes And Wires// Septiplier

[12]

||Trigger Warning... That's all I'm going to say.

Whatever you do, please don't try to come find me and kill me. I'm a nerdy little snow Mexican...

Much love,

~D||

It took us twenty minuets to be ready, heading off to the Google Corp building. From the guys' grim expressions, they weren't too excited to be back. Hell, I wasn't either. Getting into the building was easier said then done, considering the entire facility was just swarmed with news vans. All interviewing their new possible world leaders. I shuddered at the thought. Ken was working on the intercept signal while Mark stuffed the flash drive into his pocket.

He looked to Dan and Nate, waiting for their okay when they were ready. I looked out the window to the mass of people around the glass-chrome building that towered over us, casting a broad shadow over the concrete. "Remember. Maintenance tunnel." Mark stated, breaking the steady clicking of Ken's fingers on the keyboard. "Wait for my cue." Ken muttered, his fingers continuing to fly over the keys of the laptop keyboard. "Alright, signal has been transmitted. You have exactly three minuets to get in." Mark nodded and waved all of us forward as we slipped out of the car. Hiding behind news vans and slipping through people, I felt like I was a teenager yet again. ducking cars, out way past my curfew.

The three men trailing me were quick, easily and smoothly slipping through the crowds of people without being noticed. Mark had grabbed my hand when I began falling behind, his palm cool against mine. I couldn't help it as I blushed, huddling into the hoodie I wore. He looked back at me and chuckled, gently squeezing my hand as we reached a door on the opposite side of the building. He opened it, waving us into the cool darkness of the maintenance tunnel. I used my phone as a flashlight, the damp smell of mold filling my nose.

Mark had pushed to the front of the group, leading us along. "Alright, this brings us to 3-B." He muttered softly. "Nate and Dan, you two break right. Jack, you're breaking left with me." Mark's hand moved from mine and the door was opened, the dim, cream lights of the building a strange contrast from the darkness of the tunnel we'd been in seconds before. I watched Nate and Dan disappear down the right hall before Mark took my hand again, pulling me down the left. I concentrated on our hands, my eyes lowered. The way his fingers tangled with mine was strange, but it felt right.

It was minuets before we reached the control room as Mark had described to us multiple times before we got here, smoothly picking the lock. "All you have to do is stand out here and tell me if someone is coming, alright?" I nodded. He smiled. "Thanks." He ruffled my hair before disappearing into the room, the door closing behind him. I gazed down the hall, my stomach a nervous flutter of butterflies. What if someone came? How would we--?

Right when I thought that, there was the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall. Shit. SHIT. SHIT! I panicked and slid into the room to see Mark at a control panel pressing buttons and flipping switches, flash drive in hand. "Mark," I hissed and he looked back. "Yeah?" 

"It sounds like someone is coming." He nodded and shoved the flash drive in, his fingers flying over the keyboard sitting on the panel. "We have to hold off for five minuets." His voice was strained as his teeth attacked his bottom lip, frowning. There was something in his eyes that I hadn't seen in the few days that I had known him. Fear. He was scared. Of what, I could only imagine. I trailed over to him, hugging him from behind as he continued to type away. He stiffened as I did this before relaxing. "You can do it, Mark." I muttered. He chuckled weakly. "Thank you..." I hummed and nodded.

It wasn't long before the door busted open and both of us turned, Mark pushing me behind him so I was pinned between his back and the console. "Well, hello, Fischbach." A cool voice sneered. I peaked over his shoulder and my blood ran cold. A guy with chocolate brown hair, a dark green hoodie and a poker-face looking mask stood in front of us, a gun aimed right at Mark's head. "Terry." He growled back, eyes narrowed. "And just what do you think you're doing?" The guy --Terry, I guess?-- asked. Mark smirked. "Well, unlike you, I'm not one to sit back with the knowledge of what Google wants to do with the bots and the world and actually allow them to do that. So, if you would kindly allow us to continue this, we'll fry the mainframe and get out of here. Thanks."