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Chapter 101: Something’s Off
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 17:39:26 +0000 UTC
In Western culture, respect is a matter of hierarchy—but not the kind that comes with age or seniority. It’s about status. Class. Rank.
So, in Audrey Hepburn’s six-person entourage, there was only one person who was ever formally addressed as “Ma’am.” The rest? Employees. Colleagues. Equals.
Even Henry, the youngest in the group by a decent margin, had long since shed any need for polite formalities. After days of close work in high-stress conditions, everyone had settled into a rhythm of first names and casual camaraderie. No "Mister," no stiff posturing.
Which is exactly why, when Bryan heard someone call out, “Mr. Mills,” he immediately understood.
He didn’t break stride, just replied naturally, “Probably left it in the car. Give me a second to drop this box.”
He hurried to stack the last of the aid supplies, then doubled back toward the SUVs.
Henry was already there, digging around in the backseat, putting on a convincing show of rummaging through camera bags and gear. Bryan climbed in from the other side and dropped his voice to a whisper.
“What’s up?”
Without looking up, Henry kept up his search, plucked a fresh roll of film, and loaded it into his camera with expert ease. His tone was low, controlled.
“The guide,” he said, “was talking to some of the men in a local dialect. It’s close to Somali, but more regional—I only caught bits. But it was enough. They’re planning to abduct Ms. Hepburn. Reinforcements are on the way.”
Bryan didn’t flinch. Not yet.
“Can you get her back to the car without raising alarms?” he murmured.
Henry nodded, still acting casual as he closed up the camera and slid the film bag shut. “I’ll fake being sick. Her meds are in her bag, right? Play it straight—make her come back to grab them.”
“You gonna hurl somewhere she can see you?” Bryan asked.
Henry gave a subtle nod. “Exactly.”
With that, he hopped out of the SUV and wandered off, aimlessly taking a few more photos. His lens happened to sweep across the guide and the group of men lingering near the courtyard, capturing them in a few frames. It looked random—careless, even. But Bryan knew better.
Henry moved slowly into the playground where the kids were gathered, pretending to focus on photographing their little performance on the makeshift stage. He blended in with the scenery—just another white guy with a camera, lost in the moment.
And to be fair, the place really did look good. Clean, organized, well-run. The caretakers here hadn’t scrambled to make things look presentable—they’d clearly maintained this place for a while. It just hadn’t been on their original itinerary due to its remote location.
Too bad it might be the last stop they’d ever make.
Because where the CIA went, chaos followed.
While Henry set the stage, Bryan was already in motion. He called Bernie and Mark over to “help unload,” lightening the SUVs’ weight under the guise of being efficient. At the same time, he relayed coded instructions—military hand signals only they’d understand.
Two birds, one stone.
The less weight in the vehicles, the easier they’d be to handle if they had to bolt. And if things went south, no one wanted to be tossing boxes out the windows at high speed.
The team also repositioned their gear. Their firearms—kept out of sight per Ms. Hepburn’s request—were still packed in locked crates. Quietly, Bryan moved them closer to the rear doors, undoing the padlocks and prepping for fast access.
They weren’t going to start a firefight. Not here. Not surrounded by kids.
The goal was to get out fast, before the kidnappers made their move. If they escaped clean, Bryan doubted the attackers would risk hurting a bunch of their own children just for revenge.
Back at the playground, Henry wasn’t about to puke just anywhere. He needed to build up to it—put on a show.
If the wrong person suspected anything, it could push the kidnappers to act early. Henry wasn’t about to risk triggering a shootout surrounded by kids—or worse, give Audrey Hepburn a reason to play the martyr.
He could see it now: the bleeding-heart actress offering herself up to protect the children. Declaring herself expendable so no one else would get hurt.
Just the thought of it made Henry’s stomach churn—and not for acting reasons.
Time to sell the scene.
He let his steps slow, his posture slouch. One hand pressed to his abdomen, his face twisted into a tight grimace. From energetic young man to sickly mess in under a minute—Superman-level method acting.
Meanwhile, the rest of the team kept up the facade. Bernie and the others moved boxes like nothing was wrong, while quietly keeping their eyes on every corner of the compound.
Finally, Henry staggered to the edge of the playground, leaning over a shallow ditch.
And puked.
He didn’t fake it. No finger-down-the-throat trick. No staged retching. He forced his Kryptonian stomach muscles to contract and reverse course, ejecting what little food he’d had that morning.
It burned like hell.
Apparently, Kryptonian stomach acid was no joke. Even his enhanced physiology couldn’t quite handle it. His esophagus flared with pain—briefly damaged before the sun-powered cells in his body kicked in and began the healing process. Fast, efficient, almost automatic.
But to anyone watching, he just looked like a sickly young man heaving his guts out into the grass.
Audrey noticed right away.
She politely excused herself from a group of children and hurried over. Bryan was already moving in behind her.
“Henry? Are you alright?” she asked, crouching beside him, gently placing a hand on his back.
Henry grimaced. “Think I ate something bad. My stomach’s killing me.”
Audrey turned to Bryan. “Could you get his stomach medicine? It’s in my handbag, in the car.”
Bryan raised both hands and stepped back. “Ma’am, I… don’t think I should be rummaging through your personal belongings.”
A perfect answer. Even Audrey couldn’t argue with that.
“Alright,” she sighed. “Then help me walk him to the car. I’ll get the medicine myself and let him rest there.”
“Of course,” Bryan replied smoothly.
He moved in, letting Henry sling an arm over his shoulder. Together, with Audrey on the other side, they began walking slowly back toward the SUVs.
Every second counted.
