[SCENE: The Street - 5:15 PM]
Ben walked out of Sparky’s Servo & Repair into the freezing drizzle. He looked ridiculous. The Hawaiian shirt was paper-thin, and the yellow parrots seemed to scream in the grey city light. He checked his pockets, his fingers brushing against a few crumpled delivery tips he’d forgotten about. $8 left.
He checked his chest. The Artifact was Violet. It was awake and pulsing against his skin. "Great," Ben muttered. "I'm a glowing tropical DJ."
He ducked into Miller’s Army & Navy Surplus. He dug out a heavy olive-drab field jacket from the bargain bin. $5. It had a patch on the chest: BOB. He zipped it up to his chin. The heavy canvas blocked the violet light.
[SCENE BREAK: The Alleyway - 5:40 PM]
Ben turned the corner onto his street and stopped dead. Parked right in front of his building was a White Van. No plates.
The lobby door opened. Ben threw himself behind a parked SUV, crouching in the mud. A Cleaner (Grey Jumpsuit) walked out, holding a scanner.
Ben clutched his chest. I'm broadcasting. The Cleaner raised the device. BEEP.
Ben froze. Just then, a city bus roared past. The Cleaner hit his device. "Interference," he muttered. He drove away.
Ben exhaled, shaking. "Vala," he whispered to the shadows. "They were inside."
Vala dropped from the fire escape. "They tracked the energy?"
"Maybe," Ben said. "But I blinded the guy at the shop. He marked me as a 'False Positive'. If they are tracking the energy, they should be confused." He looked at his building. "But they were in my lobby."
"If not energy," Vala asked, "then what?"
Ben paced. "The Pizza Box. I dropped it at the warehouse. It has the receipt. Order Number. Time. Delivery Address."
"They traced it to the Pizza Palace," Vala deduced.
"And pulled my employee file," Ben finished. "402 Maple St, Apt 4B. They have my address. That's why they're here."
[SCENE BREAK: The Apartment - 5:45 PM]
Ben stood at his front door. His heart was hammering. If they had been inside, his room was a crime scene. The Drone. He had a dismantled Cleaner Drone in his room from two nights ago. If they found that, he wasn't just a witness. He was an enemy combatant.
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He unlocked the door. "Grandma!" Ben yelled, masking his panic with a whine. "I'm home! Ugh, what a day."
Grandma was in the kitchen. "Hello, Benny! You're early."
Ben walked in, eyes scanning. "Hey, did the landlord send that maintenance guy? I saw a white van leaving."
"Oh, yes," Grandma beamed. "The Gas Man. He said there was a leak."
"Did he have to stomp around?" Ben asked, grabbing an apple. "Or just the kitchen?"
"He was very thorough," Grandma said. "He checked the heater in your room too."
Ben stopped chewing. My room. "Great," Ben rolled his eyes. "I bet he messed up my desk."
He walked to his bedroom and closed the door. He stood in the center of the room. The window was covered in plastic sheeting, flapping slightly in the wind. First, the Drone. He rushed to his closet. He pulled out a box labeled "Old PC Cables." He dug to the bottom, praying the core was exactly where he’d blindly shoved it right before bailing out the window. Wrapped in a tangled ball of copper wire, the Drone Core was still there. Ben exhaled. Thank God. The "Gas Man" was looking for gas leaks (or bugs), not doing a deep forensic search.
Okay. Drone is safe. Now... what did they leave?
Ben walked to his desk. Did they mess with the surge protector? That's what he would do. Install a tap on the power line. He knelt down. He crawled under the desk to check the wires. The surge protector looked normal.
He turned his head to back out. His eyes brushed past the underside of his wooden chair. He froze.
There, tucked into the corner where the leg met the seat, was a small black disk. Smaller than a coin. A red light blinked once. Blink.
A microphone.
Ben felt a surge of anger. He reached out to rip it off—
A hand clamped over his wrist.
Ben almost screamed, but the grip was iron-tight. He jerked his head around. Vala was crouched in the dark corner of the room, squeezed between the nightstand and the wall. She had slipped in through the broken window while he was checking the closet.
She shook her head slowly. Her finger went to her lips. Silence.
Ben froze. He looked at her, then at the bug. He realized why she stopped him. If the bug went dead suddenly, the Cleaners would know he found it. A normal person doesn't check the underside of their chair. Finding it proved he was guilty.
He had to leave it. And he had to put on a show.
Ben climbed back into the chair. He slumped heavily, making the springs squeak loudly right next to the microphone.
He let out a long, miserable groan, muttering to himself. "Man... look at this mess. I swear, if that guy broke my soldering iron, I'm suing the landlord." He picked up a screwdriver and dropped it on the desk. Clatter. "And forty bucks... I can't believe Sparky docked me forty bucks. That's my whole week."
He put his head in his hands. "Whatever. Stupid toaster. Stupid life."
He looked at Vala in the shadows. She nodded. Convincing.
"Hey Grams!" Ben shouted to the kitchen. "I'm gonna zone out in my room! My head is killing me from the fumes at the shop! I'm gonna watch a movie!"
"Okay, dear!" Grandma shouted back.
Ben turned on the TV—an action movie—and he cranked the volume, letting the blare of explosions and gunfire fill the room.
He crawled over to Vala by the window. He carefully peeled back the duct tape on the plastic sheet to create an exit.
"They bugged the chair," Ben whispered, trembling. "Which means they bugged the whole place."
"We are compromised," Vala whispered back.
"No," Ben said. "We're watched. They found the receipt, so they suspect me. But they didn't find the Drone parts in the closet, which means they don't know yet." He looked at the fire escape. "We can sleep here. But we can't talk here."
Ben zipped up his 'Bob' jacket. "Let's go," he said. "If we want to figure this out, we have to do it outside."
[TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 12]
