The sun had set over a quiet Los Angeles. Night was approaching, and the bedlam of vehicles that lined up in droves to create the city’s infamous traffic was hardly present. All the commotion was instead found at Exposition Park where the LA Memorial Coliseum was hosting the beginning of another season of football. All eyes were on the game, leaving the museums, gardens, and smaller areas of the park vacant.

Three unmarked white vans with black tinted windows drove in unison into the park. Driving on the side roads, they passed through the parking lot of the coliseum itself to reach the building nearby: the LA County National History Museum. The van at the front of the pack broke off from the group and headed towards the front of the museum while the two following vans continued onward to its side garage. A single entrance light marked their destination: the west loading dock.

As they parked inside, one of the van’s drivers got out, clad in a bright HAZMAT suit that covered his entire body and face. He scanned his surroundings and saw an interior room with bright lights coming out of its windows. A sign read ‘Security’ on top of its one and only door. Reaching back into his car, the man grabbed a clipboard sporting a modest packet of papers, piled under a single plastic calling card. He flipped through all the pages as he casually walked towards the security check-in. The door of the security room began to rattle as he was only halfway up the metal stairs leading to it. A security guard, past his prime, and wearing a jacket one size too large, unlocked the door and shuffled out. He then shone a flashlight directly at the driver's face.

“Whoa there, what’s all this?” said the guard.

"GPO inspection, we got a report about some mutant rats in the pipes,” replied the hazmat worker with a listless voice muffled by his gas mask. The old guard took off his hat and scratched his balding head.

“Inspection? We weren’t expecting anyth- did you say mutant rats?”

The HAZMAT worker stood silent. Rather than waste his breath again, he instead handed his clipboard over to the guard. The old guard fumbled trying to shine his light at the clipboard in his hands while also turning its pages. Another guard walked out of the security room and stood behind the old man. She wore the same uniform, but she appeared to be much younger and taller than her hunchbacked co-worker. She took a glance at the vans and then at the man in the HAZMAT suit. She nodded at him and walked back into her station. The old guard didn’t acknowledge her fleeting presence as he grew more fixated on the signatures signed on the papers. After a few moments, he took the card that was pinned on the front of the papers. It was an ID with the initials ‘GPO’ on the front. He placed his flashlight and the clipboard on the stairs and reached for a barcode reader in his jacket pocket.

The door creaked once more as the younger guard returned with a syringe in hand. Preoccupied with the papers, the older guard wasn’t prepared to feel such a tight grip on his shoulder or a sharp pain piercing into his neck. As the younger guard released her hand and pulled out the needle, the old guard began to spasm in place. His eyes began to roll back into his skull and his mouth began to salivate heavily as he attempted to cry aloud in pain. He made one last attempt to beg for help as he grabbed the HAZMAT suited man in front of him. His consciousness dissipated, and his body slumped down at the foot of the man in front of him. The HAZMAT worker simply watched.

“And that’s the last guard in this part of the building,” the woman said as she had begun to smirk. “I was starting to think that you guys forgot about me these past few weeks.”

“Good job, rookie. We’re all clear then?” the man in the HAZMAT suit asked. The woman dragged the unconscious body off his boots and looked back up.

“If we’re still sticking with the plan, then yes,” she clarified. “I left the keys on the door. You boys got thirty minutes until the next shift change. Just stick to the unnatural wing and we should be good,” The driver, still in his HAZMAT worker persona, grabbed the card that had fallen to the floor along with the scattered papers. The woman dragged the body into the security room; tying him up and locking the door behind her as she finished. “There’s no way they’re not gonna suspect me for all of this, so what now?”

“We’ll get you on a new assignment later. Let’s move already; we’re on a timer.” As the two walked to the vans, the driver banged on the sides of both vehicles.

The van’s back doors burst open with the force of several kicks at once. The unmistakable sound of boots landing on concrete escalated as Reigning Storm henchmen began climbing out. Each of them was fully equipped with FAMAS assault rifles and wearing their signature muzzles and scarlet lensed goggles. Others incorporated backpacks and duffle bags in their kit. A total of fifteen armed and uniformed henchmen lined up together, creating a row of red eyes staring forward and unwavering. The leader of the pack stood at the front and inspected everyone’s readiness. He wore the uniform of an officer adorned with a trench coat that separated his silhouette from all those below him. His peaked cap also made his leadership role more apparent compared to the berets and helmets the henchmen wore. The man in the HAZMAT suit handed the GPO card to their leader and retreated into one of the vans, following the disguised guard. As their van left the loading dock, the leader signaled his troops to enter the building.

The sound of their rushing footsteps and the rattle of their equipment echoed throughout the sleeping building. In no time at all, doors were secured, the perimeter was sealed, and the security cameras were disabled without any notice from unwanted eyes. They passed great skeletal replicas of dinosaurs, illuminating the bones one by one with the red light pouring out from their masks. The light reflected off the glass cases surrounding exotic flora and fauna. Down one last hallway at the foot of a giant wooden door was where the henchmen’s red gaze would finally land. The henchmen all took positions near and around the door to secure the area. With hands behind his back, the leader stepped up from behind the henchmen and took off his metal mask, revealing his young and sharp face with bangs loosely falling down on his forehead.

While the door itself appeared old, heavy, and out of place, it had a modern handle with a number pad and screen on it. The unmasked leader began to type on it. After several beeps and flashing lights, he took out the card that was given to him and slid it in. A final green flashing light and confirming beep were made before the inner locks of the door began to tumble and release from the security confirmation. The opening locks echoed through the building, but the sounds only fell on the ears of the henchmen breaking in. The henchman leader took the card out and made a quick hand signal to the minions at his side. Just as commanded, they began to move open the gate-like door while the rest of the henchmen slowly entered. Henchmen assembled in formation yet again and awaited further instructions.

As the henchman leader stepped to the front of the ranks, he noted the grand hall stretching around him. On the ground floor, the museum showcased decommissioned vehicles, weaponry, and a variety of large machinery. On the floor above, costumes of past superheroes and supervillains were paraded in glass displays. Above it all, retro banners and paraphernalia were left dangling from the walls and ceiling.

Finally, his gaze fell on a sign to the side of him. It read: “Welcome to the Unnatural History Wing,” at the top. Skipping through more lines of text and photos, the bottom of it read: “Donations proudly sponsored by the Global Protectorate Organization (GPO).” He reached for his earpiece and began to speak into it softly.

“Tempest here. Squad One and Squad Two are in. Proceeding with the plan,” he reported.

“This is HQ. You now have twenty-five minutes left, Lieutenant,” the soothing yet authoritative voice of J replied on the other end.

“Alright boys, you know the drill. Buyer’s list items only,” Lieutenant Tempest said to the rest of his subordinates behind him. All at once they began to scramble like ants, splintering off in every direction. The henchmen’s work truly began as they searched for what they needed. Their backpacks held the tools necessary to retrieve them properly. For locks, lockpicks. For chains, blowtorches. For glass, precision laser cutters. And if all else fails, a ball-peen hammer would usually do the trick. The items would enter duffle bags as quickly as they were retrieved and be checked off the henchmen’s lists; assuming they could even fit in the bags of course.

All but two of them moved at a rapid pace. The two rookies walked up a spiral staircase to a balcony that overlooked a good portion of the wing. They leaned against the railing, observing their co-workers work diligently.

“Well, this is boring,” the taller henchman said; her voice altered by her mask. “Our first field mission and what do we get? More guard duty.”

“This is what you wanted though, right?” the shorter henchman said in an altered voice like hers. The shorter henchman reversed his position so that his back and elbows were resting on the railing. Still gazing at everyone below, the taller guard let out a sigh. Annoyed by the sound of her voice while wearing the mask, she took off her mouthpiece, as well as her goggles, and let both pieces hang around her neck.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the shorter guard whispered in surprise.

“The cameras are all off, Max; it’s fine,” Sam stated. Maxwell sighed as well and followed Sam’s example, taking off both parts of his own mask.

It had been almost one whole month since that fateful day Sam and Maxwell were recruited by The Reigning Storm. The results of their orientation tests had proven that both young adults were incredibly average at everything. Neither of them was qualified enough for any of the specializations presented to them; both combative and otherwise. Janitorial duty was also a possibility, but not even the head custodian wanted two undisciplined fledglings under his wing. He feared that the dangerous chemicals they used would kill them or even kill others by accident. A final bargain was made where the two would be placed on guard duty where there was little to no chance that they would somehow screw up. Disappointed would be a generous way to put how J felt at the time. Regretful would be an even better descriptor.

A few minutes passed as they continued to watch over everyone. From their point of view, neither of them saw any progress being made. They gave each other eye contact, mutually acknowledging how utterly boring guard duty really was.

“Supervillain life isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, huh?” Maxwell asked.

“For now, at least,” Sam said as she turned around to lean on the railing.

“You’re still holding out for something?”

“Yeah, dude. It’s only been a month. We gotta work our way up to get to the cool shit.”

Maxwell broke eye contact and looked over the railing again. “I wonder how long that’s gonna take,” he said. Sam grabbed Maxwell’s shoulder and brought him closer for a side hug.

“Trust me on this. We already made it through the hard part,” responded Sam. Maxwell reciprocated the hug with a newly assured smile. “Besides, lately I’ve been eyeing some surprise cuties.”

“Like who? Ms. J?” Maxwell said as he looked back at Sam. She let go of him and raised her hands to her chest in a startled manner.

“I’ll admit she is pretty cute…”

“But?” Maxwell said as he began to stare at Sam for a proper answer.

“But she’s still a stuck-up bitch. I’m talking about those cute uniform girls from the research department we saw the other day,” Sam said in a growing tone of enthusiasm. “Hell, the spy girl that just left was pretty hot too.”

“That’s a lot of different tastes you’re juggling.”

“You of all people should know that I have a very refined palate,” Sam said as she leaned farther back with a growing smile on her face. She looked back down at all the other henchmen working as well as Lieutenant Tempest observing them. Gradually becoming more bored, she took her attention towards the ceiling and yawned. Once she looked back down in front of her, Lieutenant Tempest was standing right in front of them. Startled by his presence, the duo attempted to put their masks back on and have themselves presentable for their commanding officer. The lieutenant groaned and made an easing hand motion to tell them to stop.

“So, you grunts seem to be bored to tears,” said Tempest in a casual tone that the duo found peculiar.

“Everything seems to be secure, sir,” Maxwell replied as he readied his rifle.

“This heist would go a lot faster if you gave us permission to help out,” Sam said annoyed.

“You wanna help steal something? If that’s the case, then where are your tools?” Tempest replied as his tone of voice grew snider. “Oh, that’s right! You idiots weren’t authorized any.” Sam and Maxwell glanced away from each other, both in embarrassment and frustration. Tempest scoffed at them both, but even so, he still felt an ounce of pity for the grunts. It could have also been an ounce of pity that he wished to turn into more amusement. “Okay, I got something so easy that neither of you could fuck it up,” he said with a sneer made of eerily perfect looking teeth.

“You see the entrance behind me?” asked Tempest. In response, Maxwell and Sam both nodded. “That leads into the new millennium exhibit. Past that is another security room. Go in there and double-check everything.” The duo stood up straight and saluted. Maxwell gave his all in the salute while Sam made a bit more effort into it than usual. “And if all goes well... hell, I could even put in a good word for your promotions.”

“Sir yes, sir!” the duo said in unison with a sudden burst of eagerness. They quickly made their way through the double door entrance and into the exhibit.

“And don’t go touching anything you’re not supposed to either,” Tempest said as he threw a ring of keys at Sam. She caught it in one hand and continued onward.

The entrance area of the new exhibit was littered with tools and construction supplies on a dusty concrete floor. Partitions and floodlights were erected to make a clearer pathway deeper into the exhibit. The room smelled like a mix of earth, paint, and fumes that many health warning labels tell one not to inhale. As they followed their way through, the stillness and quietness of the room broke as Sam started to talk again.

“What an asshole. He’s just giving us more busywork,” Sam started to talk again.

“At least it’s better than standing in the same place for God knows how long,” Maxwell said as he returned the sentiment. Sam agreed to herself. To break the silence once more and to fend off their boredom, Sam brought up another topic.

“So, what about you Maxwell, you been eyeing any cute boys back at base?” Sam asked as she gave him a slight nudge with her elbow.

“What?! Uh… of course not,” Maxwell said while starting to blush. His face grew redder and his voice became more flustered with each new comeback. “Relationships at work are… weird.”

“What about Tempest? He’s a cutie, right?” Sam said, trying to egg Maxwell on for an explanation.

“Well I mean, sure he is cute. Nonetheless, you saw how he treated us. He’s a total dick, and a bit creepy too,”

“I thought you were into both those things?”

“Not his kind of creepy! He’s got, like, serial killer vibes. That smile of his is the worst,” Maxwell said as his voice raised in volume and his face grew redder. “And that dick joke wasn’t funny either!”

“Wanna know what I think? I think you two would make nice little goth lovers,” Sam said with a devilish grin on her face. “The power couple that the Reigning Storm’s been lacking all this time,” Sam added as she twirled her hands’ around.

“Dude, shut up,” Maxwell said as he let out a small snort before chuckling. Sam also began to laugh after hearing Maxwell’s snort, but it didn’t last long as Maxwell playfully punched her arm. As the laughter subsided, the duo had made their way into a more complete and furnished part of the exhibit. The hallway was even darker than where they had come from. Not wanting to put their bothersome goggles on-again, Sam opted to search for a light switch on the wall. Several lights flickered on and the duo was greeted by some of the museum’s newest displays down the hallway. One side was only superhero displays while the other supervillain. Sam and Maxwell scanned through both sides, but they chose to give the supervillain side a further look.

“Check this guy out,” Sam said as she pointed to a mannequin display. It looked to be a man in an antique suit of armor. Upon further inspection, it had extra pieces of metal bolted on it as well as broken guns on its arms. The most evident piece of tampering or mistreatment was a massive hole in the armor’s chest plate. “Ah, Armaments Man. I remember when we learned about this guy back in school,” said Sam.

“His death is way more apparent now that we’re looking at this up close and personal,” Maxwell said as he directly pointed at the hole.

“Oh! And this one!” Sam said in a burst of excitement. There was another mannequin a few displays down that caught her immediate attention. She ran ahead before Maxwell could even see what Sam was talking about. Maxwell lightly pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed to himself before scurrying in to catch up. It was a female mannequin in a tight rubber-like suit with a variety of jewelry wrapping all over. It also had a long mane of white hair that extended down to the waist.

“Remember her? She was all over the news when we were little,” Sam asked Maxwell as he finally got closer.

“Kinda. Her name was Ring Master wasn’t it?” Maxwell guessed.

“Yep! Damn. Looking back at her now, she was pretty hot,” Sam said as she examined old pictures of Ring Master displayed next to the costume. When she turned to Maxwell, the expression that was awaiting her was one of equal confusion and disappointment.

“Dude…” Maxwell said.

“Oh, come on! You can’t say ‘no’ to those curves or hips in that!” Sam argued. “Anyone who could pull that look off and run around in it in broad daylight is guaranteed infamous,”

“Well, I’m pretty sure her infamy was due to her blowing up orphanages, not her looks,” Maxwell stated. “Plus, she’d use those orphans as child workers too,” he continued. Trying to get back to her train of thought, Sam brought up another point.

“I wonder how she looks like now,” she said.

“Probably not too hot,” Maxwell interrupted.

“Why do you think that?”

“Look at the sign here: died in 2003. She had a heart attack in prison.”

Sam let out a long groan before looking back at the display. Next to the mannequin, there was a glass-top display table. Sam leaned down with her hands on her thighs to get a better view of what was inside. The display housed most, if not all, of the real pieces of jewelry that Ring Master wore. Sam called back for Maxwell; he was looking at another mannequin.

“Check it, all the Ring Master’s jewelry,” Sam said with glee on the tip of her lips.

“So?” Maxwell asked with a tired tone and expression.

“If we could get our hands on just one ring, we’d be set for rent for months!” Sam said.

“Absolutely not. We are not stealing anything,” said Maxwell as his tone turned serious. Sam straightened her postured and slapped her thighs in shock.

“Come on, man! No one’s here.”

“You heard Tempest. They have a buyer lined up for stuff. That means we’re all just going to split whatever cash they give us again,”

“Who cares! Just like you said earlier, who knows how long until we get promoted,”

“Well, if this heist goes smoothly, then we might get our chance,”

“You really trust that guy?” Maxwell stumbled in thinking of another retort. He knew his wariness to the situation was just as valid as Sam’s own reasoning. “You said it yourself, he’s a creepy asshole and he could just be dangling a carrot in front of us,” Sam continued as she crossed her arms. “They’re not gonna find out it was us.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Sam? This is a supervillain organization we’re dealing with here,” Maxwell said with his voice growing louder. “They have spies and agents all over the place. You’ve seen firsthand how ruthless they can get. If they even got a hint about this, they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot us in the back; or worse!” Maxwell cried out, leaving a small echo behind.

Neither Maxwell nor Sam was used to hearing him yell. The two stood in silence for an awkward moment with neither of them looking at the other. Maxwell took off his beret and fixed his hair. “Besides, how are we supposed to open the lock? Shooting it is out of the question,” he said. Sam was still adamant about her plan. She took her rifle from her back and attempted to break the glass with the butt of her gun. Even with all her frustrated might, she couldn’t even make a visible scratch on the glass. Sam rubbed her neck in defeat and looked back at Maxwell. She saw that Maxwell was distraught about all of this, but she still wanted to make her stance on the matter.

“Then, why not try using your powers?” she asked him. Maxwell's eyes instantly shut, his body tensed, and head cocked. The tense feeling that took a grip over him ended as soon as he shrugged off the thought.

“No, Sam. I’m not doing it,” Maxwell said.

“Look, all I’m saying is that a little insurance money is worth a bit of a risk,” Sam retorted. Only silence answered. Sam soon realized that she wouldn’t get her way as she saw Maxwell still in a disgruntled state. “Whatever, it was a dumb idea. Let’s go,” Sam said as she stomped past Maxwell.

Maxwell peeked over his shoulder as Sam walked past him. He wanted to speak to her, but he was unable to think of the right things to say. He could sense a mix of strong emotions boiling within her. Rage, frustration, anxiety, but the one that hit him the hardest was a sense of betrayal. Maxwell could feel a stone drop in the back of his throat. If breathing normally was hard for him now, uttering a word was impossible. Unable to speak, Maxwell walked up to the display table and looked closer at all of the items on display. Rings, bracelets, and necklaces studded with diamonds and other gems sparkled under the table lights. Reading through each of their descriptions, a ring with a large sapphire and diamonds embedded around it caught Maxwell’s eye. Is this really worth the risk? He thought to himself.

Maxwell gulped whatever reservations he had left and closed his eyes. He took three large breaths one after the other. As he released his last breath, he focused on the display in front of him. He pictured the mannequin with long hair and jewelry inside of a locked display. In the darkness, a violet outline of all these things manifested in his mind. All of it appeared sketchy to him with his eyes closed, but a portion of his true powers began to emerge as he opened them.

As they peeled open, Maxwell began to feel a euphoric sensation spread across his body. His eyes slowly started to become transparent and hollow, as dark smoke began to flood around them. His iris color mixed from sky blue into a bright magenta that very well could have been glowing in the darkness. For Maxwell, despite the growing smog and shifting waves of color, his vision became crystal clear.

Maxwell raised his right hand closer to the lock. As he looked at it for just a mere second, swirls of black and magenta began to manifest and mesh around the lock like ink. It spread in and around the hole until it solidified into a key that fitted inside without issue. Maxwell twisted his hand and the lock on the case opened. The ink-like key fizzled into a thin black smoke before dissipating completely in front of Maxwell. After which, he closed his eyes and shook his head several times. When he opened his eyes again, the euphoric feeling was gone, and his eyes settled back into their natural blue. Maxwell regained his normal senses and noticed Sam had made it quite a distance away now. As he turned back to look at the display, he was surprised to see all the jewelry sparkle brighter than ever before. Maxwell, however, was only concentrated on the single sapphire ring. He quickly grabbed it and secured it in one of his belt pouches and carefully closed the glass case. As he heard the click of the lock, Maxwell began to run to catch up to Sam, who had made her way into the next area.

Sam reached the entranceway to another large and incomplete exhibit. It was a circular room with a glass-domed roof that shone moonlight to a few of the displays. The very center featured a lifelike scale replica of a superhero standing in a heroic fighting pose next to a large mass of machinery with robotic tentacles sprouting from its sides. Before she walked in, she stepped to the side to find the light switch panel. Flicking each of the switches did nothing. Still refusing to put her goggles back on, Sam opted to walk and use the natural light above her to make her way to the other side. Out of the corner of her eye, Sam saw Maxwell rush up to her.

“Hey,” Sam said in an uncharacteristically calm voice. Maxwell still didn’t have any ideas on where to start or what to say. He looked Sam directly in her eyes and gave her a solemn smile before showing her the ring. Sam’s expression lit up as much as the sparkling gem on the ring did. She snatched the ring from Maxwell’s hands to further examine it. She slid it onto her ring finger and let out a squeak of glee as it fitted perfectly on.

“Oh, Maxwell, alas I cannot marry thee! For you see, I am gay!” Sam exclaimed as she made an overdramatic pose.

“Knock it off,” Maxwell tried saying calmly. Dropping the act and pose, Sam gave him back the ring.

“So, change of heart?” Sam asked.

“Thanks to your guilt trip, I did. But in all seriousness, you might be right about this,” Maxwell said as he examined the ring himself. “Besides, a little bit of extra spending money means we can finally go on that beach trip,” he added. The duo continued to walk towards the other side of the room where the other security room was located. Sam opened the door with the keys given to her. The musty smell of old computers and even older furniture hit them both like a truck.

Inside of the security room were three security guards huddled in a corner, all of which were bound and gagged. Maxwell tiptoed his way towards them while Sam made her way to a box of donuts awaiting her on a table.

“Are all of them really knocked out?” Maxwell asked himself as he peeked under one of the guards’ blindfold. No reaction from the guard whatsoever.

“We’re fine. Come on and help me out with this,” Sam said over Maxwell’s shoulder, enjoying a glazed donut. The two of them looked over to the main attraction of the room: the security monitors. A large table housed an operations console with countless buttons, switches, and knobs scattered throughout. Computer monitors and mini CRT televisions were stacked on top of each other like a mountain of lights and metal. To the duo, it appeared that everything was in order. The only signs of movement they saw were from the cameras where their comrades were still hard at work. The duo eased up, and Sam got herself relaxed on the room’s lounging couch. “Cool. Guess we can just chill out here until we leave. Mission accomplished!”

“Don’t get too comfy, there’s maybe like five minutes left before we need to walk back,” Maxwell said as he took a seat at the security console. He wanted to make sure what they were seeing live and not being recorded. No extra tapes were left in any of the drives, granting Maxwell a sense of relief. Although he wasn’t an expert on security detail, Maxwell was familiar enough to use some of the console’s basic functions. After all, he could plainly read the sticky note instructions littered about. Flipping through the channels, he found a camera feed that was monitoring the room with the costumed mannequins. A small red light started to blink once he flipped to the channel. Catching his eye, Maxwell looked about to see what it meant. Another monitor to the side began to display some text. It read: “Lock tampering detected in New Millennium Wing, display number 21. Silent alarm activated: 5 minutes ago.” Without anyone in the security room to disable the alert, the silent alarm had been going off for a good five minutes and continued counting down.

“Sam? Sam! We’re in trouble!” Maxwell panicked. Sam got off of the coach and scurried over to Maxwell. She saw the monitor that Maxwell was worried about and she accompanied him in the panic.

“Shit, turn it off then!” Sam yelled.

“I’m looking for the right switch. There’s too many of them!” Maxwell began to quickly go through the scattering leaflike sticky notes and button labels. Sam tried to help as well, but in their rapid panic, some of the notes got mixed up which made finding the right switch even more convoluted.

“Screw it, we have to try something,” Sam said as she flipped one of the switches next to her. One by one, all the lights in the room they were in previously began to turn on. A revelry of trumpets and drums began to play from all speakers in the room. The music grew louder and made its way throughout that entire wing, startling many of the henchmen still working on the heist. Lieutenant Tempest, all the way in the other wing, threw his hat on the ground and began to stomp on it in a fit.

As more displays around the circular room began to light up, the main attraction in the center began to rotate. A pre-recorded voice began to echo from the speakers around the main display. “This marvelous display recreates the final hours of the infamous Y2K Incident. Captain Proton, who would be known after as the most unstoppable man, prepares a last-ditch offensive against the all-encompassing artificial intelligence menace: The Chaos Kiln.” All of this felt unbelievable to the duo, almost like a sick joke.

Maxwell reached for the same switch that controlled the lights and flicked it off. It appeared, however, that the main exhibit in the middle of the room had to play all the way through before it could properly be turned off. As this was still going on, Sam reached over Maxwell and began to desperately search for the right off button again. With the flick of another switch, a gate in one of the hallways began closing. Another attempt turned emergency exit lights on. Their hearts began to race faster as more things went awry, and the silent alarm countdown still ticked. After minutes of unending monologue, the voice finally stopped. Maxwell crumpled; his head lay on the table as he covered his face. He tried his best to hold back his tears. Sam, however, was still determined to fix all of this. Looking through more of the scattered sticky notes, she finally found one that could help them with the alarm.

“Wait, this is it! We need a key for the override,” said Sam. After she spotted the keyhole in the console, she began rifling through the keys on the ring she had been given. Several attempts were made with a few of the keys until Sam got the right one to fit in and initiated the override.

“Override: successful. Please contact the administrator for further assistance,” the side monitor read. Sam finally breathed a sigh of relief and slid to the ground. However, Maxwell still had his head down and his hands over his face.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of, Sam,” Maxwell whimpered.

“At least I turned it off,” replied Sam.

“After all that time, you really think the cops aren’t going to show up now?”

Sam desperately tried to cling onto the positivity her single victory brought, but the reality of the situation was closing in. If Maxwell couldn’t face it, she would have to at least try for both of them. As she put her muzzle back on, she could finally hear how heavily she was breathing. Hesitating for a moment for her breathing to calm, she pressed a button on the side of her mask and began to speak.

“HQ... we’re still on track with the heist, right? Everything’s okay?” Sam said on her radio.

“So, you think after all that commotion everything’s okay?” J replied over the radio. “Let me be blunt. You’re all up shit creek now.”