Defining Factors

Spy on the Inside

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Warnings: Plot Twist, dundundun

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When the day turned into night, Hamilton started searching. Maybe Jefferson used a different exit checkpoint. It was possible, if a bit unlikely. And yet, despite his unnecessarily over-enthusiastic questioning of all the checkpoint employees, some might call them security guards, he yielded no results. Jefferson had not left the compound. So, he's just avoiding Hamilton then. 

Or maybe Andre has him doing something. 

A check to Jefferson's room first just in case he was there before Hamilton went trapesing about the entire compound. To Hamilton's great luck, the door was unlocked. To Hamilton's great misfortune, Jefferson was not there.

Well, damn.

Next step, find Andre.

Andre was in surveillance room, as he always seemed to be. It was his job after all. Right there, next to Tallmadge. The two seemed to be thick as thieves. Hamilton honestly kind of wanted to see them pitted against each other. Two great incognitive minds as theirs, facing off? Incredible. Plus, Andre was hot.

"Yo, Andre," Hamilton greeted, stepping into the room. 

Andre turned to look at him. "Oh, hey Hamilton, what're you doing up here?"

"Appreciating the view, as always."

Tallmadge snorted and rolled back his chair. "While you two flirt, I'm going to go get lunch. Try not to fuck on the keyboards, they're rather sensitive," he said, striding out.

Andre chuckled, watching him leave. "What are you really after, Alex?" he asked.

"I've been looking for Jefferson, but I can't seem to find him. You were the last one that I know of to have seen him, do you know where he could be?"

Andre thought for a moment, turning back to his screens. "No. And I don't see him anywhere in the compound. Are you sure he didn't leave?"

"I checked all the exits," Hamilton said. "He hasn't passed through any. It's like he just...vanished."

"What's going on in here?" an unforgettable voice asked as they entered the room.

Both Hamilton and Andre immediately went straight backed. "Fredericks," Andre greeted with a slight nod of his head. "Hamilton is just looking for his boyfriend is all."

"He's not my boyfriend," Hamilton was quick to protest. "Jefferson's missing sir, I suspect foul play."

Fredericks cocked his head slightly. "Foul play in my compound? Impossible," Fredericks said. "We would know if there was. Wherever Mr. Jefferson went, I'm sure he's perfectly safe and that he'll return soon."

Hamilton chewed his lip, not nearly as certain as Fredericks. "Track his phone."

Keyboard keys clicked. "His phone appears to be deactivated," Andre supplied. "But there is another way..." he said, looking to Fredericks. The man nodded and Andre turned back to the keyboard. The screens around Hamilton changed as Andre worked until Jefferson's personal file was pulled up. On it, Hamilton read the words, Activate Personal Tracker.

"Tracker?" he questioned.

"Yes, of course, didn't you read the contracts you signed when you first joined the Society?" Andre asked. "Everyone is injected with trackers just in case a mission goes sideways or emergency support is needed. Or, in this case, locate missing agents."

"Of course, I read the contracts!" More like skimmed....every other paragraph. "I just forgot is all."

"Of course, I'm sure that's the reason," Andre replied. The screens showed a loading icon for a split second before it pulled up a map. Then, in giant letters slapped across it was, TRACKER NOT FOUND.

Hamilton swore. 

"Alright," Andre said. "Now I suspect foul play."

"Get on it," Fredericks directed. "I'll send out a couple search parties."

"I'll watch footage taken from today and see if anything happened," Andre said.

Hamilton's nails were digging into his palm. He let Jefferson out of his sight for two seconds and this is what happens? Ridiculous. What if Jefferson was being tortured? Or ran into someone like Howe again? Now his stomach felt wrong and he was a bit nauseous. Hamilton decided that was even more ridiculous. 

***

Much to Hamilton's further dismay, Fredericks refused to put him on a search squad. In fact, he got sent home. His home outside the compound, anyway. He has a life outside of being a badass super hero, he'll have you know. 

Actually, he was pursuing a degree. But due to his job, going through college was proving to be painfully slow, since he rarely ever had time to actually learn any if the material that he was supposed to be paying attention to. However, he considered those to be matters he'd have to deal with when the proper time came. Like, when he retired. 

He was never retiring. 

The key in his hand slid into the lock easily and the door swung open. Shoes toed off, bag dropped on the floor. "Yo! I'm back!" he called into the apartment for his roommate to hear. That's right, roommate. He had a normal, everyday occurrence roommate just like any other young adult might have. Plus, he didn't have much in the way of money. Sue him. 

Well, you could try. He'd sue you back and win.

"You home man?" Hamilton called, walking through the apartment. Swinging open his roommate's bedroom door confirmed it was an empty house. Well, that's just too bad. Hamilton was looking forward to seeing him. For now, he dropped down onto the couch and attempted to distract himself with Netflix.

When his roommate finally came home, he was toting several bags of groceries and Hamilton had given up on Netflix and chose to pour his time and energy into hacking security cameras and searching for Jefferson himself. He may have also had several cups of coffee.

"Alex? Is that you?" his roommate called.

"Yeah! It's me! Don't freak, not an intruder!" he called back.

"Dude, you really should learn to call or something. I know it's your apartment too, but you're practically never here. Your random arrivals give me anxiety."

"Sorry. I'll be better about that." Hamilton pushed away from his desk and walked out of his room to greet his friend properly. A clap on the back and a short hug later, they were both unloading groceries. "What do you need this much food for, Herc? It's not like you're going to eat it by yourself."

"What would you know about my dietary habits?" Mulligan asked. "You're never here."

"Alright, fine, but neither are you. You travel all the time."

"And when I'm not, a man's got to eat," he said. "Besides, you're here not to help me eat it so quit complaining. How long you here for?"

"I haven't the faintest. Until work calls me back in, I suppose."

"Are you ever going to tell me what your job is?" Mulligan asked.

"Nope. Just like you don't tell me yours."

"I've told you five hundred times! I'm a tailor."

"Sure ya are bud, sure ya are."

Mulligan scoffed. "Whatever dude."

And just like that, Hamilton fell into a normal person routine. With his normal, working college student life, his normal apartment, with his normal roommate. No powers anywhere in sight. A great distraction from wherever Jefferson was being held prisoner.

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