WHAT UP THERE?
His earpiece roughly translated Morph's little chirps, the small white bird flitting around the lower floor of the house. The teen rolled his eyes and kept searching.
Not much. Keep looking, but more importantly, keep quiet.
Delta shuffled through papers and into drawers, looking for clues and any sort incriminating evidence. The Franklin Agency had been watching Adam Jamison for a while, suspecting him of illegal huan experimentation. He and Morph were an elite Black Ops team of the Freaks Unit, a self-explanatory group of trained "special" agents, and their latest mission had them snooping around Jamison's not-so-humble abode.
Nothing here, he thought, phasing into shadows and slipping through the wall into the next room. Finally, he hit paydirt; an address book lay open on the bedside table, thumbed through to a page somewhere in the C's. Delta matched the last number in the phone's memory to a name.
"Your time is coming, Lane Curtis," he murmured.
DELTA. FOUND THING. BOOK OF NOTES.
A notebook? Bring it here, Morph.
A second later, a large, white hawk swooped overhead, dropping a black journal into the boy's hands. Another second later, and it had transformed into a pale albino girl, her icy-blue ponytail tumbling down her shoulder.
"It's a record of all of Jamison's experiments; some even have pictures. It's totally disgusting what he's doing, all in the name of making...making..." Morph shook with anger.
"Making what?" Delta demanded, his brown eyes reflecting the same rage, but he was determined not to let the enemy get the upper hand, either physical or mental.
"Making Freaks! What else would you call us, Delta? Even if we are on the side of-"
Delta, Morph, this is Firefly. Jamison's family changed their plans and are headed to yor location. They will be arriving in a matter of seconds. Get out! I repeat, get out!
The two agents looked at each for a fraction of a moment, then spun on the spot as the unmistakable sound of a keys grating in a lock floated upstairs.
Go! I'll meet you on the roof!
ROGER. MEET THERE.
Delta phased back to the shadows, Morph already scampering by the floorboards as a mouse. A ten-year-old thundered up the stairs and he stepped back into the door, blending in the haze behind it as the kid ran straight for the bathroom.
"I call it!" the boy yelled.
The teen tore down the stairs, stuffing the books into his shadowy pockets, dodging around the distracted dog and younger sister to pelt through the front door. The apparent ease of his escape sat heavily in the back of his mind as he solidified and climbed onto the roof. His feet had just touched the brick-red tiles when an ear-splitting shriek ripped through the air.
"color=green]Morph! Morph, what happened? Where are you?
Delta was yelling worriedly at his earpiece; he wouldn't admit it but he had actually become attached to his partner, something he had sworn not to do after losing her.
HELP! STUCK IN WALL, ATTACKED WITH BROOM!
He could see this was true as he hung over the edge to peek in the window, Mrs. Jamison jamming the broom handle into the only mouse hole in the house. Even worse, the young boy was hurrying to his mother dragging a snub-nosed tabby along beside him.
"Ah, s**t!" Get about a foot to the right and stay put! I'm coming!
Delta dashed to the peak of the roof, judging in an instant where Morph would be, and dropped to the ground, flying straight through walls and floors.
HERE, HERE!
Grabbing the furry, squeaking bundle, the Franklin Agency's top agent focused all his energy on extending his phase around Morph. Mrs. Jamison's broom kept stabbing through his ankle, threatening to disrupt his concentration every time it thumped into the wall.
"I'm gonna risk it!"
With one great burst of effort, Delta and Morph burst through the stripes of the wallpaper, visible only as one of the afternoon's short-lived shades. They emerged from the house, gaining substance as the teen trotted into a wooded area along the hilly, country club estate. The mouse dropped to the ground, changing into a shaggy dog and licking her friend's hand in thanks. He slumped against a tree for a moment to catch his breath.
Franklin, this is team leader Delta. We have some important information regarding the target Adam Jamison, including a name, Lane Curtis. We, uh, also might need Oblivion to fix some memories over here.
Delta smiled wearily at his partner, half-conciously rubbing the dog's ears.
Copy that, Delta. Firefly says to look into Mr. Curtis when you're ready, and agent Swiss will meet you at 2100 hours in Las Vegas to pick up your evidence. Franklin out.
He looked over at the dog, but Morph had already shifted to the form of a racehorse.
"Ready to go already?" Delta laughed. The horse tossed its head in agreement as he climbed on. "Good, 'cause this time you're doing all the hard work."
KNOW PERFECT PLACE. I FIT IN.
"Oh, really, you think so?"
YES. WHO NOTICE EXTRA WHITE TIGER?
