CHAPTER 25: DAY VI (GAME NIGHT)

Georgetown

Washington, DC

Oakwood Apartments

December 23rd, 2015

2000 hours

Jawa POV

Murphy's Law states that anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Well, guess what? It happened today.

A massive snowstorm came out of nowhere at 0600, blanketing DC once more in snow and ice. From what Alexander gathered, it was so bad that the DC National Guard was mobilized to assist the local police and fire departments in helping deal with the ramifications of the blizzard.

Thanks to the wave of red, blue, and green sweeping through the town (as well as the snowstorm coming to a halt around 1200), the tide was turned, and the streets were clear by 1400. Still, we didn't leave the apartment, paranoia ruling our hearts and minds.

Still, the day wasn't a total bust. As it turns out, my younger classmates still hadn't finished all of their homework, so Chip, myself and—surprisingly—Erica proceeded to tutor them for much of the day. Chip even—much to the amusement of Cyrus (again, a surprise)—ran them through a CQB (close-quarters battle) drill to teach them the basics. After some politeness, he got the adults to act as OpFor (opposing force) as we cleared the rooms of the apartment with finger guns and sound effects.

It was extremely stupid, in retrospect, but I will say that everyone seemed more relaxed and spirits were high, so Chip's bright idea actually worked!

Our spirits were so high, the whole group ended up making dinner together, following the instructions of Alexander and Catherine. We cooked and ate Italian food (the entree being something called "chicken cacciatore"), courtesy of the Hales' time in Italy.

"Let me be perfectly clear," Chip began as we once again sat in the living room. "One does not simply beat good fried chicken. However... I will admit that this came pretty doggone close!"

"That's the beauty of Italians, Chip," Alexander replied with a grin. "They do love their food. You screw it up, though, and every Mafioso and nonna in existence will have your head."

"Roger that, sir."

"Will there be any danger of us losing power?" Mike suddenly asked.

"No, I don't think so," Zoe replied after checking her phone. "No storms on any radar, at least. Why?"

"Remember the Company Christmas Games?"

"Oh, yeah! Jawa, what's the score?"

"Well," I recalled, pulling out my notes on my phone. "At this time, Ben and Erica have -1, while everyone else has +1."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Ben exclaimed. "How do Erica and I have negative scores?!?"

"Not gonna lie, that's about how I reacted when I discovered that there were numbers less than zero," Chip muttered, eliciting giggles from Zoe.

"Well... Cyrus caught you two while the rest of us successfully evaded him!" Mike smugly explained, as if he (and the rest of us, to be fair) didn't just flat-out abandon the game and go outside the set borders.

"Yeah, yeah," Erica grumbled, evidently peeved by her score. Her competitive side was showing. "Fine, then how can we get a positive score?"

"That's what I'm here for!" Mike declared dramatically. "We shall now engage in a tournament of wits, treachery, and destruction!"

"What, O Michael, could this be?!?" Zoe asked, further hamming up the situation.

"It's... going... to... be... A MARIO KART CHAMPIONSHIP!!!!"

"... I have no idea what you just said," Cyrus bluntly said.

"Long story short, it's a racing game! I've prepped the remotes and console, and they're right next to the TV!" he said, pointing towards it. Sure enough, on the furniture by the TV was a Nintendo Wii and four remotes.

"Where did that even come from?" Chip asked, scratching his head in confusion.

"Eh, I stole it from the rec room."

"YOU WHAT?!?" everyone exclaimed in shock.

"Relax, it's not like anyone was gonna use it!" he replied. "I'm gonna return it! Besides, I left a note with one of the quartermasters, and he just gave me a thumbs-up and said, 'Merry Christmas!'"

"I guess someone was ready to go home," Alexander reasoned with a sigh.

"Okay, just for the craps and giggles, Hales go first!"

"Absolutely not—" Cyrus began before Alexander and Catherine stared at him intently, the former pleadingly and the latter aggressively. "Fine. How does this thing work?"

A LITTLE WHILE LATER...

"Okay.. okay... WHERE DID THAT MINECART COME FROM?!?" Erica screamed as Rosalina got knocked off the track on Wario's Gold Mine... yet again.

"No, Cyrus! You're going backwards!" Mike exclaimed as Dry Bowser went the wrong way... yet again.

"Catherine? You need to throw the banana, not hold it forever," I explained, with Catherine failing to understand how items worked, resulting in Peach falling victim to a bombardment of red shells.

"How are you so good at this, Dad?!?" Erica groaned in frustration as Alexander, once again, made it into the top five. Out of all of the Hales, he was the best at this game. In the first race, he sucked as much as his father, girlfriend, and daughter. Now, he was outperforming all of them.

"Hell yeah!" Alexander cheered with a fist-pump as he got Waluigi in 2nd place.

"OH, AND ALEXANDER DESTROYS HIS FAMILY FOR THE THIRD TIME IN A ROW!" Mike shouted as Cyrus, Catherine, and Erica came in 12th, 11th, and 10th (respectively). "Aaaand... HE GETS THIRD PLACE IN THE FLOWER CUP! OOOOOOHHHHHHH!"

Everyone proceeded to applaud (including Cyrus, who did so a bit sarcastically, considering he still had no idea how the game worked), with Alexander exchanging a high-five with Mike.

"Alexander has performed the best, so he gets a point! Bonus point for placing in the top three!" I noted, typing down the new score. "Now, stop me if my math is incorrect, but there are five of us left. What happens?"

"What if one of us is the commentator? If the commentary for the whole cup is good, then he or she gets a maximum of one point!" Zoe suggested.

"I second. All in favor?" Catherine asked, making most of us respond with "aye."

"So, who's commentating?" I asked.

"I'll do it. I ain't got much experience with videogames anyways," Chip volunteered.

"Excellent! Let's-a-go!" Mike cheered.

LATER STILL...

"And here comes Ben Ripley with the blue shell—OH WATCH OUT WATCH OUT OOOOOOOOOHHHHH!" Chip roared as Yoshi launched a blue shell, demolishing a Zoe-controlled Daisy.

"Aw, come on!" she groaned, flopping backwards into the sofa as Daisy went spinning into the air, just a few yards from the finish line in Grumble Volcano. While she recovered, every other character zipped past her, making her finish in 12th.

"LET'S GOOOO!" Mike bellowed, pounding his chest like Donkey Kong in 1st place.

"Ha-ha! Now that's how it's done!" I laughed as Funky Kong came in 5th. Ben meanwhile chose not to complicate things and instead laughed like a madman when Yoshi came in 4th.

"What a race!" Chip exclaimed dramatically. "And now that the Star Cup is over, let's see what the judges have to say!"

The final results were in: Mike was in 1st, Zoe was in 3rd, Ben was in 4th, and I was in 6th. Not bad for me, considering I haven't played in two years.

"OH, AND BREZINSKI TAKES HOME THE GOLD!"

"Very nice, Michael," Catherine congratulated with dainty, ladylike applause. She was certainly more civilized than the rest of us at that moment.

"And the scores after the first round of playing are... Erica still has -1; Ben, Cyrus, myself, and Catherine have +1; Alexander, Mike, and Zoe have +3!" I announced.

"And me?" Chip asked.

"That was good commentary..." Mike said.

"Then Chip has +2!" I declared.

"Okay, if that's how it's gonna be, I have a suggestion!" Erica announced, her competitive side showing. "I've got a real game for you, and you ain't winning!"

"Someone's a sore loser," Zoe muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Okay, Zibbel! How about this: Mom, Dad, and Grandpa use their experience to come up with espionage questions. Every subject goes, and each of us leads a team of three! Winners at the end gets the points!"

"You're on! I'll take Mike and Brainiac! You take Smokescreen and Chip!"

"So, we don't get a say in this?" Ben asked. When no response came from the girls staring each other down, he simply shrugged. "I guess not."

"I'll tally the points!" Catherine said, grabbing a notepad from her purse. "Okay, then! Team Zoe versus Team Erica... Alex, would you like to start us off?"

"Uh... okay, in what year was the Agency founded?" he asked.

"1951!" Mike blurted.

"Nope!"

"1947!" Erica smugly answered.

"Yes! Point for Erica! Dad?"

"Ugh... what preceded the Agency?" he grumbled.

"Office of Strategic Services!" Zoe replied.

"Correct."

"Oh, it's my turn? Okay... which American special forces unit specializes in the elimination/capture of high-value targets?"

"Objection!" Chip suddenly shouted, with all eyes falling on him. "The terminology is incorrect! 'Special Forces' are the Green Berets, whose bread and butter is foreign internal defense, not direct action. There are not 'special forces,' as you say, but 'special operations forces' in the United States, several of which do specialize in DA missions. These include Navy SEALs and Army Rangers. Heck, you don't even need them all the time, considerin' that regular Army and Marine Corps infantry kicks down doors too, and they bring a lot more firepower!

However, this is not to say that SF operators cannot participate in DA missions! Furthermore, there are specialized units within SF that are actually specially trained for DA: the Commander's In-extremis Force companies. Actually, now that I think about it, this answer does fit your question, considering that the CIF soldiers are still Special Forces guys! So yeah, that's my answer: CIF!"

"Did... did anyone get anything he just said?" Ben asked.

"Uh... no," Erica replied.

"Zilch," Zoe confirmed.

"Absolutely no clue," Mike added.

"The only reason I know is because of my background," I sighed, facepalming at my best friend's long-winded speech.

"Er... I'll call that as correct," Catherine finally decided, evidently eager to move things forward.

"Okay, back to me! What is a dead drop?" Alexander asked.

This back-and-forth went on for over an hour. Generally speaking, if it had to do with the military or armament, Chip would answer it (and sometimes explain that the questioner was incorrect—which mostly happened with Catherine). If it was history, it was a tie between Erica and Zoe. Tradecraft was a toss-up between myself, Ben, and—of course—Erica. Mike seemed to be all-around okay, but did well with any medical questions that arose.

"Okay... Team Erica has 22 points and Team Zoe has 19 points," Catherine announced. "As such, this final question will be worth 4 points."

"Are you kidding me, Mom?!?" Erica exclaimed, evidently angry about our past efforts effectively being declared useless.

"No, kiddo, she ain't," Alexander answered with a grin. "Now, what... is the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

This made us stop in our tracks, while Catherine burst into laughter. In fact, there were tears rolling down her cheeks as she cackled at what Alexander just asked us.

"You—you really went thereeheehee!" she giggled as she clutched her sides. "Oh my GOD, that was AMAZING!"

"Good one, Alex," Cyrus said from his armchair with... yet another grin. A rare oddity in the history of the world.

"Uh... 13 miles an hour?" I guessed, which only resulted in Catherine falling to the floor in a fit of laughter. "Er... you good?"

"I'm finahahahahaha!"

"Nope!" Alexander answered. "Anyone else? Okay, here's a hint: what kind?"

"Wait, as in African or European swallow? I know those exist..." Erica noted.

"I am indeed referring to a European swallow!"

"Wait a minute... 11 meters per second?" Ben asked.

"Yes! Well done!" Alexander congratulated with applause. "Team Erica wins the day, with all three team members earning two points for their victories! As for myself, Cath, and Cyrus, I say we've all earned a point for coming up with these questions!"

"Smooth, sir!" I replied as I tallied up the new scores. "And the scores after the second round of playing are... Erica and I have +1; Cyrus and Catherine have +2; Mike, Ben, and Zoe have +3; and Alexander and Chip have +4!" I announced. "So, Erica? You're still losing."

"Aw, fu—"

SEVERAL COMPETITIVE GAMES LATER...

Erica POV

Finally, we were all tired out. We ended up playing Super Smash Bros: Brawl, Monopoly (which lasted nearly an hour), and somehow managed to tag-team chess.

Now that was a strange one.

By the end of it all, Mom and I had gained another six points each. Grandpa and Dad both gained five points each; Chip and Zoe gained seven points each; and Ben, Jawa, and Mike gained eight points each.

Ben was both skilled and lucky (almost like one of those heavily plot-armored characters in the books Zoe told me about), and it was quite amazing just how well he did.

Now, we were having a "nightcap," as Mom called it—otherwise known as hot chocolate. And, because fate is cruel, we got caught in another of Zoe's crazy ideas.

"Never have I ever got into a drinking contest," Mom said, smirking at Dad. Sighing, he took a sip along with Mom and Grandpa. However, what was surprising was the fact that Chip took a sip as well.

"How the actual—" Zoe began.

"When Pa was a platoon sergeant in Force Recon, he once brought me to work with him. I wasn't older than nine at the time. Once, he and the platoon commander got called to meet with the first sergeant and company commander over somethin', so he left me in the care of the platoon. Since the platoon had nothin' else to do, I ended up getting into arm-wrestlin' matches with 'em and even a drinkin' game—of eggnog," Chip explained. "They played with me, so to speak, keeping me entertained until Pa came back.

"That... has got to be the most wholesome thing I've ever heard of Marines doing apart from Toys for Tots," Jawa said with wide eyes.

"Well, they did let me fire a 240 one time 'cause they heard I was doin' well in school. All 'A's on my report card!"

"Chip, you need to read a dictionary someday and learn what 'wholesome' means."

"That aside... never have I ever ridden in the bed of a pickup truck," he said, drinking along with Grandpa and Mike.

"That was tame compared to the story you gave. Never have I ever kissed someone... on the lips," Mike said with a grin. Unsurprisingly, he, Zoe, Mom, and Dad drank immediately. Ben did as well, albeit hesitantly. And me? I decided to lie and indicate that I didn't.

But, like an idiot, I took a sip, completely forgetting that drinking meant that I had kissed.

"OH SNAP!" Mike gasped, pointing at me. "NO FREAKIN' WAY!"

"Oooooooh!" Jawa teased. "Erica! That's quite scandalous!"

"HOLD ON, YOU DID WHAT?!?" Mom and Grandpa exclaimed, whilst Dad was instead laughing his head off. "WHO?!?"

"Er..."

"IT BETTER NOT BE WHO I THINK IT WAS!" Grandpa bellowed.

"Well—I—uh—"

"Ten bucks says it's Ripley," Chip threw in.

"It isn't He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, that's for flippin' sure!" Mike added.

"Voldemort?" Mom asked, tilting her head in confusion.

"Not him! Y'know... him!" Zoe explained.

"Hold up, so Colorado was your first kiss?" Ben blurted out before his eyes widened along with mine. Way too much information.

"Wait a minute... Colorado? When could you have possibly—HOL' UP!" Jawa exclaimed. "WAS THIS AT THE NUKE SITE?!?"

"Uhhh..."

"Wait, that actually makes a lot of sense," Dad said. "You two disembarked from the bird, Dad was flying the bird, I was somewhat of a crew chief... that's one hundred percent feasible!"

"Thanks, Dad," I grumbled sarcastically. "Thanks for all the help."

"Oh, hush. It's not like I'm gonna attack Ben for kissing my daughter."

"WHAT THE HELL?!?" Grandpa bellowed, as if the fact that Ben and I kissed just registered. "RIPLEY—"

"Cyrus, stand down!" Mom shouted, rising from her seat. "This is not your problem!"

"Oh, enough! There needs to be some order to this situation!" he snarled in response, standing as well.

"You blasted geezer!"

"How about you shut the hell up, you goddamn—"

"ENOUGH!" Dad barked, slamming his hands on the table and making everyone fall dead silent. "Look at you two! I talked to both about this yesterday! You cease this shit, BOTH OF YOU!"

Mom and Grandpa didn't say a word, but the two were still fuming, staring each other down.

"I think," Chip finally said quietly. "Maybe we oughta call lights-out. We've been stuck in here all day, and everyone's a lil' frustrated."

Without a word, Grandpa left the room. A few moments after, Mom stomped off, and we were left with Dad.

"Sorry you kids had to see that," he sighed, rubbing his eyes. Perhaps I was wrong, but I might have seen a tear. "Get some rest. I'll see y'all in the morning."

"Dad?" I hesitantly asked as I stood, making him turn his tired face towards me. "Are... are you okay?"

"Just fine, kiddo," he replied with a small smile. "This sort of thing has happened before. Don't worry, I can handle it."

"... okay."

"Oh, and for the record, you're grown up. I expect you to make your own decisions," Dad said, giving me a light hug and a kiss on my forehead. "You'll always be my little girl, though."

With that, my father left the living room. He really had changed a lot. However, when I looked back on my memories, I realized something: when leaving out his past cheating, lying, and lack of skills, he was still a decent dad. He still fed me, clothed me, and rocked me to sleep when I was younger.

Really, if he lived a different life—not one with the Agency—he would've been a completely different person. Maybe a professional chef, or a pilot.

Now though, he was just trying to keep the peace between Mom and Grandpa, trying to keep the former in-laws from warring.

I guess I didn't know my father as well as I thought I did.

This chapter's short, I know.  It's primarily a source of comedy.

Plus, we have a small investigation into Alexander once more.  He's an interesting character because of him being an oddity in his family (with his wife—who actually married into the family—being more like his family line than him).

Furthermore, I find it ironic that while Alexander is a liar and a fraud in canon, he's still frowned upon as an officer, despite the fact that deception is literally what the CIA does: gather intel on the rest of the world and subvert enemy operations as secretly as possible (sometimes, misinformation is thrown in for fun!).  But, then again, it is chalked up to him taking credit for others' actions (still wrong on his part).

That reminds me... where was the FBI throughout canon?  Everything that occurs (at least in the first four books) is in the wheelhouse of the Bureau.  For example, in Spy Camp, you don't send in a bunch of Company yahoos (most of which are minors) to rescue hostages and stop a missile.  The FBI literally has a unit designed for that: the Hostage Rescue Team.  Plus, there are likely personnel in the Critical Incident Response Group that could handle the missile.

But, I digress.  Hope y'all enjoyed, and be sure to leave a comment!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!

- ADF-2