Chapter Text
Reagan slammed her hands down on the meeting table, the force rattling her mildly chipped ‘best boss’ mug.
“Do you guys know what day it is?” She grinned, brows furrowing in hardly contained, power-driven excitement.
The team shared wary glances, seemingly worried if they guessed wrong they may be smited.
“Is it your birthday?” Myc said, voice slick with his usual tone of slight condescension.
“It’s finally my official first day as boss!” She roared while throwing her hands up to the sky.
After a mere moment, the team erupted into cheers.
Gigi laughed, clasping her hands together tightly. “We always knew you’d get there eventually, you crazy son-of-a-bitch!”
Reagan sighed, “Aw, that’s sweet. I know you’re lying, but it’s sweet.”
Her lips curved into a knowing grin as she looked over her more than difficult-to-work-with team that have been— mostly— by her side since day one.
“You’ve had so many of these ‘first day as boss’ things, I kind of just assumed some other shit was gonna get in the way.” Myc pointed out, gesturing around vaguely with a tentacle.
“Normally I would want to pummel your face in Myc, but honestly, I feel the same way.” Reagan gave an exasperated chuckle.
She gave a quick survey of the room. Glenn’s grumpy face? Check. Gigi’s flawless skin? Check. Myc’s undoubtedly draining presence? Check. The vague smell of meth that seemed to always follow Andre around? Check. The office seemed to be missing something—A certain air of golden retriever energy.
“Hey as anyone seen—?”
Reagan didn’t even need to finish her sentence before Brett crashed through the doors, chest rapidly rising and falling.
“Have you seen Airbud?” He panted, hands tightly gripping the edges of the doors.
Reagan cocked a brow. “What?”
Brett began to stumble over his words, “Y’know, Airbud! The loveable basketball-playing Golden Retriever! That… That I guess actually doesn’t play basketball anymore… Since… I banned it…” He pressed a knuckle to his mouth in thought as he scrambled off into a tangent.
The team shared quick glances, their eyes screaming ‘who’s gonna tell him?’.
Reagan looked to Gigi, cocking a brow.
“What aren’t we telling him?” She asked in a hushed voice.
Gigi pursed her lips, leaning over to whisper back to Reagan.
“Well, when Alpha-Beta found out it grew thumbs he… Uh… ‘Took care of the anomaly’ so to speak.”
“Ah… Right. And I’m guessing Brett won’t take that well?” Reagan cocked a brow, briefly looking at the increasingly anxious Brett.
“He loved that dog more than anything! Obviously he wouldn’t take it well!” Gigi hissed.
“Guys?” Brett murmured with the valour of a wounded puppy.
Andre stood up, his body wavering with every movement as he swung an arm around Brett’s shoulder.
“Hey man, look, it’s okay!” He said, smoke from whatever mysterious concoction he was huffing streaming out of his nose as he spoke. “Your little doggy is completely fine! Like… fine. Fine, fine.”
“Really? How can you know?” Brett looked at Andre with far too much faith in his eyes.
Despite his slightly slurred speech, Andre opened his mouth once more to continue.
The team tensed.
“I swear to God, Andre, if you tell him the dog is dead…” Gigi muttered under her breath.
Andre took a far-too-deep-breath before mumbling, “We took the doggy to like… An open field… With like… Heaps and heaps of rabbits or whatever.”
The team let out a collective sigh of relief.
“Oh…” Brett slumped, “Well, I guess an office like this is no place for a dog like him.”
Myc briefly slid a tentacle to Brett’s head, his light pulsing before he nodded to the others.
“He whole heartedly believes that.”
Brett cocked his head. “Believe what?”
Before any more questions could be asked, Reagan cleared her throat.
“Now that we’re all here, we’ve had reports of a conspiracy museum popping up in California and we need to go check it out.”
“What? Isn’t that just a shitty tourist attraction? Why does it matter?” Gigi cocked a brow, leaning her elbow on the table almost accusatorily.
“Oh man, I used to love going to all the little pop-up shops on road trips!” Brett chimed.
“You went on road-trips? I thought your family would’ve been too rich for that.” Myc scoffed.
“Well, usually they’d get the driver to pull over for gas, and then they’d leave me at the station for a bit and come back, but it gave me heaps of time to admire the little souvenirs!”
After a moment of silence, Reagan cleared her throat.
“Brett’s unfortunate childhood aside, this museum has some uncannily accurate theories attached to it.” Reagan flicked a remote into her hand, clicking through a slideshow on the large projector.
The screen lit up with various imagery of an admittedly unkempt museum, stopping on a particular photo of a mini wax museum. Glenn shuddered, brows furrowing.
“And uncanny wax figures! Those things are enough to make a CIA agent break!”
“Anyway, this has led us to believe that there may be someone who worked at Cognito previously trying to share these secrets.” Reagan finished, closing her laptop, and subsequently, the presentation.
“Or maybe someone just has a really good hunch.” Andre pointed out, giving a small chuckle.
“Okay, I’m going to need all of you to go in there and act like regular tourists, and try and find out information about the owner—Got it?”
“Yes, ma’am!” Brett gave a confident grin and a strong salute.
“Wait, aren’t you coming with us?” Andre cocked a brow.
Reagan sighed, straightening out her labcoat as she stood up. “Eh, I got some important boss paperwork to do. You guys’ll do great without me, I promise.”
“You sure you’re not just making an excuse to make out with your MRI machine or some shit?” Myc scoffed, crossing his tentacles in mock-accusation.
Reagan just stared at him, eye twitching ever-so-slightly—though it could’ve just been the adderall and too much coffee.
“Shut the fuck up, Myc.”
Soon enough, the rest of the team filtered out through the meeting room doors, mumbling vaguely about ‘wastes of time’.
In the silence of the room, a wave of melancholy crashed over Reagan. In the deafening quietude of the room, she was left with her thoughts again. Her thoughts of Ron. He’s happy. She saw it with her own eyes in the hollow-chamber. Shouldn’t that be enough? She has everything she ever wanted from the moment she started Cognito— She’s finally the boss of it all. But it all felt so… Empty.
Wandering to her lab she slumped over her desk, the old manky desk-chair squealing beneath her as she sat. Her eyes found the red scrapbook, the cursive letters spelling out ‘Appleton’ on the cover almost tauntingly. Before she could think anymore, she reached for it, opening the pages to stare into the photos Ron had pasted in.
She knew they were deepfakes. That they never went on all of the journeys that the photos seemingly displayed. But it didn't at all diminish the hurt. She brushed her thumb over one of Ron’s pictures, hoping for the warmth of his skin to somehow reach through the falsified image, but nothing ever came of it. Why would it? It’s just a memory, after all.
“Reagan!” A voice cracked through her thoughts, pulling her out of her mourning.
Clearing her head, and rubbing her watering eyes, she turned around to see the familiar face of Brett. His usual smile quickly faded when he saw the scrapbook.
“Oh, sorry… Did I come at a bad time?” He mumbled, brows furrowing up with concern.
Reagan once again wiped her eyes, trying to ignore the salty sting of tears that still pricked them.
“No, no, it’s fine. What is it?”
“I guess I just wanted to say congrats on the promotion—on finally being boss. It must feel pretty good to finally have it after so long.” Brett gave a small smile, walking over to her desk.
“Thanks, Brett.” Reagan sighed, gently shutting the red cover of the scrap book, “I’m happy, I just—”
“You miss Staedtler?” Brett took the words from her mouth, voice soft with understanding.
Reagan sighed, clasping her hands together tightly as if to help some of her emotions subside.
“Yeah.” She sighed after a while, pursing her lips.
“I can’t imagine. I’m sorry, Reagan.”
“Don’t be. While I’ll miss him, I know he’s happier there. And now I get to stay with you guys. And I love you guys.”
Brett gave a gentle, but somber smile, holding out his fist in offering.
“Buisness-bros forever?”
Reagan let out a soft laugh, merely more than a breath.
“Yeah. Business-bros forever.” She smiled, pressing her fist against Brett’s.
“Awe, c’mere!” Brett chuckled, quickly pulling Reagan into a tight hug.
She tensed for a moment, but the feeling ebbed away as she gave into his embrace.
After a moment, Brett pulled away, grinning ear-to-ear.
“Have fun on your roadtrip—and keep the others in check, will ya’?” Reagan smiled, nudging Brett’s shoulder.
“Sure thing!” He chuckled, “I’ll see you later, rae-dog!”
With that, Brett made his way out of the lab, Reagan waving after him.
The rumbling of the old engine vibrated through the entire van, making it hard to sit without banging your head into the window.
“Glenn, would it kill you to put on some deodorant for once?” Gigi snapped, trying to even out her sun-dress.
Glenn wrapped his hands tighter around the wheel, jaw clenching.
“Actually, yes it would! I can’t have none of that toxic crap on my underarms because I have sensitive skin!” He shouted, his gravelly voice rattling around the van.
“Aren’t you a veteran?” Gigi hissed, crinkling her nose in disdain.
“There ain't nothin’ wrong with sensitive skin!” Glenn argued.
“Woah guys! I’m sensing some tension. Why don’t we relax? Make this into a fun family roadtrip!” Brett chuckled uneasily, trying to ease the arguing.
“Oh no, don’t you try and make this another one of your weird family roleplays like you did in that racist 80s town!” Andre cut him off, pointing accusingly at him.
“Hey, that was a while ago!” Brett swallowed, holding his hands up in weak defense.
Gigi tutted, holding her nose.
“Oh would you all just shut the fuck up already?” Myc groaned from the back of the van, waving his tentacles wildly.
“How am I s’posed to ‘relax’ if Glenn is sweating like a damn pig!” Gigi crossed her arms, eyeing Brett with expectancy.
Brett gave an accomplished grin, “Odours like Glenn’s is why I always bring an extra can of Axe body spray!”
Giving no time to react, Brett popped off the lid and started spraying the deodorant throughout the van.
Not shortly after, coughing ensued.
“Oh God! My spore-holes!” Myc heaved, clawing at the seats around him.
Gigi wheezed, trying to fan her eyes in hopes her mascara wouldn’t run.
“I can’t breathe! Agh!” Glen gasped, the wheel swerving under his faltering grip.
“Jesus, Brett! Axe doesn’t solve everything!” Andre rasped, clawing at his throat for air.
Other than the overwhelmingly powerful stench of Brett’s body spray, the ride continued without much more of a hitch— of course other than the constant flow of stops for side-of-the-road piss breaks.
Andre groaned, leaning his head with a bump against the van window as he adjusted his sunglasses.
“Aren’t we some multi-million dollar shadow-organisation? Surely there’s better means than a shitty van to get there?” He grumbled.
Gigi scoffed, cocking a brow at Andre’s clear lack of thought-process, “We gotta blend in! I feel like it would raise some suspicion if we rolled in on one of Cognito’s helicopters— especially since it’s a literal conspiracy shack!’
“Uh, museum, actually.” Myc corrected—not out the ‘goodness of his heart’—moreso to make a point about being right.
Gigi gave a dismissive scorn at Myc’s intrepid attempt at causing trouble, turning to Glenn.
“How much longer is this car ride gonna be, Glenn? I can’t stand being in the back with these hoes much longer.”
Glenn gave a snort, “Bah, I dunno!”
Brett leaned forward, peaking around Glenn’s headrest, “Aren’t you using a map?”
Glenn’s grip tightened on the wheel.
“Maps are for liberals and millennials! Real men don’t need none of that snowflake shit to find their way!”
Brett stared at the old phone settled next to Glenn, cocking a brow before looking back to him.
“Glenn, do you not know how to use Maps? Or a GPS?”
Glenn flared up, shoulders hunching up defensively.
“Nuh-uh! I know how to use Maps! I just… I don’t wanna!” He said, beads of slimy sweat tingling on his forehead.
“Woah-ho-ho! It’s okay buddy! Technology can be hard, I get it.” Brett smiled, reaching over the seat to give Glenn a firm pat on the shoulder.
“I can’t help having webbed hands! It makes tiny phone screens a lot harder to navigate!” Glenn tensed, furrowing his brows in denial.
Gigi let out a longwinded sigh, crossing her arms, “Ugh, whatever you say, hun. Just keep an eye out for any suspiciously conspiratorial lookin’ buildings out here. We’re surrounded by miles of open roads, it shouldn’t be easy to miss.”
“You mean like that one?”
Brett pointed to a small turnoff leading to a dreary brick building. Poking out of its roof was a large sign worn with hours out in the sun, faintly reading, ‘Boro’s Big Conspiracies!’.
With a sharp right turn, the van veered into the limited parking lot, only shared by two other cars.
The team stepped out, groaning about finally stretching their legs before Myc let out a loud and pointed “HA!”
“It looks like it says ‘Boob’! Hah!” Myc cackled, waving his tentacles in unwarranted excitement.
Sure enough, the signs' letters were perfectly faded.
“Barely. There’s way too much space between the letters.” Gigi snapped, crossing her arms and glaring at Myc.
Andre gave a small giggle, grinning with the maturity of a 12-year-old boy as Myc snapped a photo, “Whatever, missy. I could say the same about your mom’s tits!”
Gigi gave nothing more than an eyeroll and a ‘tsk tsk’ before pushing open the museum doors. A small bell rattled as the door swung open, grasping the attention of a very sun-burnt old man.
“Yeesh. Do you think he knows about skin cancer?” Myc whispered, light pulsing in amusement of his own comment.
“Hi, sir!” Brett popped forward, holding out an all-too-welcoming hand, “Cool museum! I’m Brett!”
The old man gave a raspy chuckle and clasped Brett’s hand into a frail handshake.
“Hello, m’boy!”
Gigi cleared her throat, wedging herself between Brett and the old man before the mission got derailed.
“You must be Boro?”
“Aha! Yes, ma’am! Boro’s the name, and conspiracy is the game! Name your price and I’ll give you the most eye-opening experience of a lifetime!” Boro chuckled, leaning heavily on a gnarly cane.
“Uh-huh…” Gigi muttered slowly, eyes drifting to a young couple walking out, faces etched with slight concern as they stepped out.
“Ah! I hope you enjoyed your visit!” Boro called to the couple, which upon his acknowledgement, only seemed to rush quicker out of the door.
Gigi, clearing her throat, crossed her arms, letting her lips curl into a false-interested smile.
“I am all too interested in all of this conspiracy stuff. How much for a tour?”
“Just $30 for a 30 minute tour, and you’ll have all your answers in no time!” Boro chuckled throatily.
“Jesus, this guy is a fucking dumbass.” Myc hissed under his breath.
Gigi tried to suppress her bafflement, letting out a polite laugh instead.
“Oh, haha! $30?” She asked again, teeth gritted together into the fakest of smiles.
“Yep! A pretty good deal, I’d say, to learn all of the government's nasty little secrets!” Boro winked, nudging Gigi.
“What does that even mean?” Andre scolded in a hushed tone, blinking in bewilderment.
“Aha… Yes, of course!” Gigi said after catching her breath again, fishing in her purse for some cash.
The old man’s eyes sparkled with greed as he took the cash straight from her hands, not so subtly counting it before stashing it into his pockets.
“Well, let’s get started then! Shall we?” Boro gave a grand chuckle, making comically large steps to a sign reading ‘START HERE!’
“Owh, Jesus Christ, Lord save us…” Glenn muttered under his breath.
The group walked through the sparsely decorated hallways until they made it to their first exhibit—reptoids. Gigi cocked a brow, inspecting the scarily accurate sculptures.
“This is one of my favourites. The shapeshifting lizard-people that blend in as celebrities! I have a theory that they are the ones controlling global warming! And that they plan to override humanity and take over the world!” Boro chuckled darkly, putting on a dramatic, spooky tone.
“Hm, that's… More accurate than I’d’ve hoped…” Brett mumbled to himself, staring at the dull-eyed sculpture.
Glenn shivered, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Eugh… It feels like its eyes are following me… Ugh, I hate those cold-blooded reptilians…”
Boro continued walking forward, gesturing to the group to follow.
“Ah! Yes!” Boro grinned to himself, hurriedly running to a sphere cloaked in red fabric.
“Now, most of you have probably heard of the ‘flat earth’ theory, right? Well, I think it's safe to say that's all baloney I think…”
Gigi sighed, muttering through clenched teeth. “I swear to god, if he says that the earth is h-”
“That the earth is hollow!” The old man announced, whipping the cloak off to reveal a crude model of a hollow earth.
“This solves where all of the different alleged cryptids come from! Locked away from terrorising us within the confines of Earth's sediment. Genius, right?”
Myc’s light glowed, showing a surprising amount of genuine interest.
“Huh… How… Peculiar.” He mumbled before looking at Andre.
Andre shared the look, cocking a suspicious brow before looking back to Boro.
As Boro began walking again, Andre fell into pace with Gigi.
“He’s gotten two correct ‘theories’ in a row. Are we sure he’s not actually someone from the inside?”
“I don’t know. But it’s definitely suspicious. Either way, we can’t risk him taking down the shadow government.” Gigi hissed, wrinkling her nose.
Reagan sat at her desk, eyes staring vacantly at the red scrapbook before her.
“Oh, Ron…” She whispered, gently tracing a finger over the cover, “How am I ever going to get over you?”
She had been so sure that he was the one for her, that everything would work out. While knowing he was happy dampened the hurt, but only in the way that a suppressor silences a gun. Reagan’s hand slipped to her phone, tapping in her code without much of a thought. It was still open on her and Ron’s last messages. Suppressing a sharp breath, she closed the messages, squeezing shut her eyes as to hold back her wailing before calling Gigi. It would likely end in nothing, but Gigi always seemed to know what to do. From helping Reagan fake her own death, to the constant media manipulation, Gigi had a knack for finding solutions.
Gigi stepped through the hallway, staring around at the variety of conspiratorial newspaper clippings stuck to the walls like wallpaper. The buzzing of her phone in her pocket drew her attention. Discreetly slipping to the back of the group, she pulled out her phone, holding it to her ear.
“Reagan?” Gigi answered, cocking a brow.
“Hey, how’s the mission so far?” The rather dejected voice of Reagan spoke.
“Good. Unfortunately I had to pay $30 out of pocket for a lousy tour, but I’ll just write it off as a business expense.” Gigi paused, subconsciously slowing her pace. “Are you okay? You sound less power-drunk than I’d expect from a Reagan that just became boss.”
Reagan sighed, the microphone crackling under the influx of air. “Yeah… I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to know how you do it.”
“Do what, hun?”
“Get over people? I don’t know if you can help, but you always seem to know what to do.” Reagan mumbled.
“Oh, honey, I have helped more people than you could ever know get over their relationships— how do you think so many celebrities get new spouses right after a divorce?” Gigi gave a small exhale, softening her voice, “I’m guessing it’s about Staedtler?”
The line was silent for a moment before Reagan let out a breath.
“Yeah. I don’t want to forget him— so I’m not using a memory ray or any shit like that— I just want… No, I need to be okay if I’m going to be able to do my job.”
“I get it honey. The most basic advice I can give you is to just find a rebound. A short term-relationship or a one time fling, just something to get you back into the dating stratosphere!" Gigi said, tightening her grip on her phone as she emphasized her words.
Reagan sucked in a breath, her voice beginning to quiver.
“Ugh, I don’t know if I can. I mean, Ron isn’t just some guy that I broke up with. He’s not some toxic ex. He was… He was the love of my life. I’m scared I’ll never be able to love anyone like that ever again.”
Gigi kissed her teeth, her lips curling into a frown.
“I know, hun. It’s going to take a lot of time. For now, just focus on yourself. And I’ll always be there for you, hah, even if I’m a bit of a bitch to you sometimes.”
“Ha, yeah… I think that may have been one of the nicest things you’ve said to me, Gigi.” Reagan said, her voice brightening slightly.
“Oh, careful, girl! I might just take it back!” Gigi giggled, mouth curving into a smile.
After a moment, Reagan gave a contended sigh.
“Thank you, Gigi. Your advice… I’ll see what I can do with it.”
“Anytime, hon!” Gigi grinned.
The sound of someone calling her name grabbed Gigi’s attention. Brett was standing just behind the rest of the group, teeth gritted together in a desperate grimace as he waved his hand frantically.
“Gigi! Quick!” He hissed, brows furrowed with a deep concern.
“Hang on, Reagan! I think we got something! Either that or Brett just realised he left his phone in the van.” Gigi quickly whispered before shoving her phone into her pocket, hurrying her steps to catch up with Brett.
“What is it?” She asked, her tone hushed yet urgent.
“Boro just mentioned Cognito!”
Gigi’s eyes doubled in size but she quickly composed herself.
“What the fuck? What did he say about it?”
“I think we must’ve missed something on a coverup! He has a piece of junk metal from one of our satellites! It must’ve crashed and we had no idea!” Brett whispered back, pulling his hand to his mouth to anxiously bite his nails.
“How the fuck did we miss a whole ass satelite falling out of the sky!?” Gigi hissed a little louder than she intended.
Boro perked up, looking over the group to see Brett and Gigi’s suspicious whispering.
“Do you two have some questions?” He asked.
The whole team shared the same look of dread as they looked between Brett and Gigi.
“Oh, we’re just wondering… Ah, uhm. What do you know about this… Cognito.Inc?” Brett gave a dry laugh, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“Well, evidence is limited, but I have a working theory that this ‘Cognito.Inc’ is some kind of shadow organisation working with the government to distract us from the real dangers at hand!”
“Uhm… And what are these dangers?” Gigi gave a forced smile, trying to maintain her composure despite the dryness of her mouth.
“I don’t know yet, but my guess is they’re working for some mysterious entity—or entities— that get them to do their biddings!”
The group stood in silence.
When the moment passed, Myc gave an all too polite laugh.
“Well, can you give us a moment?”
Meeting in the foyer, the gang quickly huddled.
“We need to kill this guy, burn this place, and bury the evidence.” Gigi hissed, looking between the group.
The gang shared the sentiment instantly, nodding and giving hums of agreement.
“Owh man, this is really stressing me out! I can’t tell if he’s acting like he’s just theorising because he knows who we are, or if he’s just an incredibly lucky guesser!” Brett pursed his lips, eyes round and overwhelmed.
“Either way, he’s too close to the truth for my liking!” Glenn growled.
“Hey, team! How’s our break going?” Boro’s raspy voice cracked out behind them.
They all jumped, trying vainly to hide their painfully obvious anxiety.
“We’re fine!” Gigi gave a laugh, hiding her nerves behind clenched teeth.
“Well, that’s good! I was starting to worry y’all were conspiring against me! Ha!” Boro chuckled, waggling a finger at them.
“Jesus Christ, I can’t tell if this guy is serious or not.” Myc hissed under his breath, tentacles curling into fists.
Boro gave a toothy grin, “Well, are we ready to continue your tour?”
Gigi could only give a dejected sigh followed by a weary smile and nod as the group followed Boro back into the tour.
As the group continued following the sketchy old man, Glenn began rolling his shoulders, popping the collar of his Hawaiian shirt.
“Next time he turns around, I’m gonna knock him clean out.” Glenn hissed, winding up his arm.
“Wait!” Brett whispered urgently, grabbing Glenn’s arm, “What if he’s just insanely good at guessing? We can’t kill a random guy!”
“Even if he’s guessin’ we can’t have him spewing it to other people!” Glenn scoffed, crinkling his snout.
“At some point, someone actually smart might figure it out with his theories! Or… something like that.” Andre agreed, lowering his voice.
“Can we at least try getting more information about him first?” Brett frowned, clutching the hem of his shirt anxiously.
“What are y’all whispering about?” Boro piped from the front of the group, his tone seemingly playful.
“Nothing!” The three quickly said, standing overly up-right.
“Man, not suspicious at all. You guys are killing it.” Myc muttered, his sarcasm so thick you could taste it.
“Well, I’m gonna give you something to whisper about!” Boro cackled, grabbing his keys from his pocket and jingling them tantalizingly.
“That felt vaguely threatening.” Brett murmured, swallowing hard.
Boro pulled down a large curtain, revealing a heavy door.
“Here is where the magic happens!” He chuckled, grinning as he clicked the keys into a lock.
“Oh God. I’ve watched enough horror to know that that’s probably a murder room—he definitely knows who we are!” Andre squeaked, instinctively stepping behind Gigi.
“That’s it!” Glenn howled, launching forward with balled fists.
Before anyone could even think about intervening, Boro was out cold on the floor, Glenn standing proudly over him.
“Glenn!” Gigi gasped, hands rigid in shock.
Glenn crossed his arms defensively. “What? We was gonna kill him anyway! Plus, there’s never anything good behind ominous curtains.”
Brett squeezed through the group, pushing open the now unlocked door just enough to see into the room. The anticipation was heavy, weighing down the air like a thick smoke. His face dropped in an instant and he slowly looked back at the gang with pressed lips.
“It's… A craft room.”
The group froze, staring at Brett with a shared look of growing dread.
“Lemme see this shit.” Gigi muttered, once flawless makeup now marked with beads of sweat as she pushed to the front.
Giving Brett a firm shove to the side, she hauled the door open fully. Sure enough there was a craft room. Walls were decked with drawers of various scrap, and the floor was stained with splotches of ink and paint. In the middle of the room was a messy table, scattered with unfinished projects and other craft tools.
“Holy shit, Brett was right.” Gigi grimaced, biting her knuckles.
“So we just knocked out this random old man because he was so incredibly unluckily accurate when crafting his theories.?” Brett said with pursed lips, mouth drying up.
“If that’s true, then how does he know about Cognito?” Andre countered.
“Yeah, all of this was probably just for those reptoid sculptures!” Glenn added twitchily.
The shallow rasps of Boro came from below.
“Oh shit, he's still awake.” Myc panicked, flailing his tentacles around wildly.
Without a second thought, Brett dropped to his knees to tend to the old man. Gasping for air, Boro dazedly rubbed his head, seemingly unaware of the blood trickling down his nose.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry, sir!” Brett squeaked, hands hovering in frozen panic over him.
“Jesus fucking christ, you people are crazy!” He said, voice slurring.
“How do you know about Cognito?” Gigi demanded, pointing accusingly at the struggling old man.
Boro shook his head, eyes glazed with confusion.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Cognito.Inc? The satellite scrap?” Andre gestured vaguely with his hands.
“Holy shit, is Cognito.Inc a real thing?” Boro wheezed, “Awh, shit man.”
“Uh, shouldn’t you be happy you're right? I thought that's what all conspiracy theorists wanted.” Myc pointed out, light pulsing with confusion.
Boro groaned, pressing his fingers into his eyes for a moment.
“No! This is a modern art exhibition! I was just making shit up! ‘Cognito.Inc’ is just a really fucking obvious name to put for a secret government agency. Like ‘incognito?’”
“Oh, is that why we’re called Cognito.Inc?” Andre gasped, mouth agape in realisation.
“Shut it, Andre!” Gigi snapped, switching her attention to look at Boro again, “So you’re really just a random artist who got lucky about his guesses?”
“Ha! More like unlucky. He’s gonna die now!” Myc snorted.
Boro’s eyes widened and he clutched at the floor below him fearfully.
“Wait, you’re gonna kill me now!?”
Brett hushed him, gently pressing a finger to his lips.
“Hey buddy, don’t worry about it! I’m sure we can just wipe your memory!”
“I say we kill ‘em!” Glenn growled, punching a fist into his palm with a frightening amount of excitement.
“Yeah, sorry Brett. We’d have to destroy this place too, and there's always the likelihood that he’ll just make another museum like this!” Gigi pointed out, placing a hand on Brett’s shoulder.
“Wait—Wait please! If you let me live I promise I won’t share anything!” Boro pleaded.
Gigi sighed, shaking her head before looking at Andre. “You got any alcohol?"
“Yeah I left it in the van.” Andre sighed, turning heel begrudgingly.
The group stared at the flaming building. Brett fiddled with his hands, eyes locked to the fire with a deep concern.
“It feels just a little wrong to leave him in there to burn alive.”
“Ah, don't worry about it, I gave him a hard dose of propofol and some edibles. He’ll be out cold.” Andre chuckled, pulling his own blunt to his lips.
“He won't be out ‘cold’ for long.” Myc snickered, discretely slapping Andre’s hand in an undeserved hi-five.
Gigi sighed, hauling open the van door., “Alright, boys, let's head out. I’ll call someone to cover this up.”
As the gang filtered back into the van, Brett took one last look at the fire.
“I was starting to think we were good, but now I’m back to thinking we’re evil again.”