Spoilers: Vague Catevari reference

Scene: A snowy slope in Yellowstone. A lonely figure is seen skiing down the slope and coming to a smooth stop halfway down. Binoculars come out of the backpack. The mask is pulled down and we see a woman in her late twenties with a concerned look on her face. She watches the scene below the hill with a growing sense of alarm. Something is amiss. She turns around and trudges back up the slope. When she reaches the top, she pulls out a radio.

"100, 211." Pause. "100, 211." Pause.

"This is 100. Go ahead 211"

"I've discovered some evidence of snowmobiling. A few trees are down, and it appears off-road vehicle use is the cause. Over," The woman glances behind her as she speaks.

"What's your location, 211?"

"I'm just north of Beach Lake on the top rise. Over," She pulls at her face mask while speaking, defending herself against the bitter Wyoming cold.

"We'll send a couple rangers out. You headed back in?"

"Negative. I'm going to search the area. Over."

"It's going to get dark soon. Over."

"I'm heading to the cabin south of the lake. I'll spend the night there and keep the rangers informed of any suspicious activity. Over," she turned around to face over the slope, waiting for a response.

"Copy that. Be careful, Laura. 100 clear."

"211 out."

Three days earlier...

Agent Darien Fawkes slouched in The Official's chair. He was extremely bored. There hadn't been a mission in over a week and he was starting to feel the lag. Next to the window, Agent Robert Hobbes was observing the cars on the street below. Both had been summoned to The Official's office earlier that day and of course they hadn't been told why.

The door opened and The Official walked in followed closely by Eberts.

"You boys are early for a change." The Official motioned for Darien to move out of the chair.

Darien slowly oozed out of the chair. "Yeah, well we had nothing better to do today. So what have you got for us? Terrorists? More Agency experiments we're not supposed to know about?"

"Just keep your shorts on. Eberts, give them the tri-d viewers."

Eberts pulled two tri-dimensional data viewers' out of the briefcase and held them out.

"Ah ah!" Hobbes grabbed the purple one before Fawkes could get at it. "My turn. You got it last time."

Fawkes debated sticking his tongue out at Hobbes, but The Official called the meeting into order.

"Gentlemen, if you'll look through your viewers..." The Official waited patiently as the two agents stopped their bickering and followed his instruction.

"...you'll see the man known as Baker Adams."

"He's a bioterrorist, wanted in several countries for destroying resources," Eberts finished.

"So what? He attacks industrialists with bioweapons?" Darien looked uncharacteristically confused. He turned to Hobbes.

"Don't look at me pal, this guy is new to me." Hobbes turned back to his viewer.

The Official sighed. Agent Fawkes had picked up a new habit of asking Agent Hobbes for information before asking Eberts or himself. It was just one more way for Darien to rebel against 'the Man.'

"Baker Adams destroys natural resources such as forests, protected environmental areas, and national parks. He does this in hopes that if enough places have been destroyed, humans will suffer, die, and give the earth back to nature." The Official rubbed his forehead. This was going to be a nasty assignment.

"So he's trying to be Ra's al Ghul?" Fawkes looked at the blank faces around the room. "Ah...nevermind."

Eberts continued where The Official left off, "Adams hasn't been very successful in his attempts..."

"How can he? No good terrorist is named 'Baker Adams,'" Hobbes grinned at Fawkes.

The Official glared at the two agents. Darien was beginning to have a bad influence on Bobby.

"...which means that he'll be fairly easy to catch." The Official concluded. "He leaves obvious tracks, works alone, and luck alone has kept him free for this long. You just have to go get him."

"And just how does he destroy the beauty of America?" Fawkes wasn't going to go off on such wimpy information. Not after the Catevari.

"Poison gas." Eberts said. "A new type called 347-HG that was developed for combat. After 10 minutes of exposure all plant life and animals smaller than a human die. Humans and larger animals die after 30 minutes of exposure. This is in normal doses of course."

"Oh of course," Fawkes looked queasy.

"Because of the unique geological formations within Yellowstone, the gas could be a mere catalyst in a much larger biological hazard," Eberts continued.

"And where did he get this stuff?"

"That's classified." Eberts and The Official said in unison.

Darien groaned. Not another one. Why can't the government keep a lid on their projects?

"So, where do we find this guy?" Hobbes looked just as queasy as Fawkes.

The Official sighed. If they would just let me get on with it..."We believe he's heading for Yellowstone National Park in Northwest Wyoming..."

"Wyoming? I wondered what that state was for," Hobbes quipped.

The Official continued, "It's one of the largest national parks..."

"Just how big?" Hobbes looked a little worried.

"Only 2,219,791 acres." Eberts looked a tad smug.

"Oh is that all?" Hobbes inwardly was groaning. As much as he wanted a little bit of action, hiking was not one of them.

The Official continued, "You will meet with the superintendent of the park. He will guide you, provide you with supplies, and be your contact."

Eberts pulled a large topographic map out of the briefcase. It was decorated with incomprehensible scrawls. "This is a map of the park marked with possible locations of Adams's hideout. Law enforcement teams are already searching the area."

"Wait a minute," Darien started. "Why are we going on this mission?"

"Fawkes..."

"It seems silly. If all these security teams are already in place just waiting to catch him..."

"Fawkes!" Hobbes tried to shush his partner. As much as he hated hiking, he wasn't looking forward to another week of downtime.

Darien ignored Hobbes and continued, "...why are we being sent in? Oh I get it. Fish and Game wants us to pay rent again? Great. Sure whatever. It will be a nice refresher course in secret agenting."

"Now listen carefully," The Official felt like throttling Fawkes, but held his temper. "It's not just Adams we're after. We want his stash of 347-HG. If he let on to anyone else where it was, we could still be in danger. You find Adams. You turn him over to the authorities. Then you find the 347-HG and bring it back without hurting a single blade of grass. Understand?"

"One more question. What happens if he sets off the gas while we're there?"

"Oh don't worry." The Official motioned to Eberts who brought two packages out of the briefcase. "We have masks for you."

Darien looked at his 'gas mask,' which was little more than an air filter construction crew would use. Here was his motivation for getting the 347-HG back to the Agency intact. If he didn't he could kiss life goodbye.

"You leave first thing in the morning. Make sure you visit the Keeper before you leave. Dismissed." The Official promptly sat back down in his chair and ignored the two agents.

15 minutes later, in the Keeper's lab...

The Keeper and Darien were already facing off with each other. Hobbes was in a corner pretending he wasn't listening.

"Darien, I can't just give you extra vials. It's against policy. The counteragent is very delicate. Any change in..."

"Okay spare me the crap," Darien was close to being furious. "We're being sent off to Wyoming, a two million acre part of Wyoming and who knows how long it will take us to find this guy, not to mention his stash of weapons. The last thing I want to do is go quicksilver mad sitting next to an elk in the middle of nowhere! Just one vial is all I ask! Just in case it takes longer than the Fatman planned. I'd rather not kill Hobbes..."

"I'd rather you wouldn't either," Hobbes called form the corner.

"...and think of the animals. I can maybe keep from killing Hobbes if he doesn't antagonize me, but I can guarantee that all those cuddly animals are lower on my food chain."

The Keeper laughed. "Oh all right. You can have ONE vial. And you had better not tell the Official. I could get in trouble for this."

"Cross my heart." Darien smiled. "I won't even run away with the extra vial to a secret underground lab in hopes of synthesizing it myself."

The Keeper hesitated.

"Kidding! I was kidding! Hobb--Hobbes, tell her I was kidding!" Darien pleaded.

"Heh. Don't get me into this, Fawkes. You're the one going all wacko on me." Hobbes paused. "On second thought, he was kidding. Give him the vial."

Hobbes sidled up to Claire. "C'mon, you know how he is. He's just being a jerk is all. Give him the extra vial."

Darien refrained from comment. He could always get Hobbes back later.

The Keeper sighed. "Oh all right." She handed Darien a small case. "Inside is an extra vial and needle. DO NOT take it unless it's absolutely necessary!"

"You had clearance all along didn't you?" Darien grinned. "You were just toying with me."

"Go. GO! It's late and I want to go home," The Keeper feigned annoyance. "Have fun on your trip. Yellowstone is lovely this time of year, I hear."

Back to the wilderness...

Laura sipped her coffee in front of the fire. Her trip to the cabin had been pleasantly uneventful. She spied a few elk and jackrabbits wandering about, but the forest was otherwise peaceful.

She was still worried about the damage she had seen at the bottom of the hill. Not wanting to just pass by it, she went in for a closer look. It seemed as if a battle had taken place. Vehicle and human tracks went off everywhere. She thought she saw some blood in a snowdrift, but there was no body when she went to investigate.

Laura started as the radio crackled to life. Who would be calling her after hours? Probably Dave. He was lonely working nights and spent most of his shift on the radio looking for company.

"211, 412."

Laura sighed and walked over to the radio. It was Dave all right.

"211, 412."

"211. Go ahead 412."

"You see anything suspicious? Over."

"Nothing more suspicious than some tourists using off-road vehicles inside the boundary. Over." Laura wanted to relax, not think about work.

"I got a call to be on the lookout for two dangerous individuals in your area. Over."

Laura perked up. So, this wasn't one of Dave's social calls. "Give me a description. Over."

"Both male. Caucasian. In their 30's. One roughly 6'3," the other 5'8" and balding. If you see them or any sign of them you are to report immediately to me or the acting dispatch. Do not approach. They are armed and extremely dangerous. Over."

Laura felt a cold chill spreading up her spine.

"Do you copy, 211?"

"Y-yes. I copy."

"Good. Call in every hour on the hour. If you do not, a team will be sent to your location. If they manage to break into the cabin, you are ordered to shoot on sight. Do you copy?"

Laura took a deep breath. "Copy."

"Good luck, Laura. 412 clear."

"211 out."

Laura replaced the receiver. She looked about the cabin. Might as well prepare. She locked and bolted the door and windows, and stuffed the cracks with some rags. She pulled out the rifle and ammunition from the closet.

"Lock and load," Laura snickered. She couldn't predict what would happen, but she darn well could prepare for it.

Suddenly, there was a noise from the bedroom. Laura froze. This cabin was never left locked in case tourists got lost and needed shelter. The two men could have easily gotten in before her.

She cocked the gun and stalked slowly towards the bedroom. She stopped halfway there when she saw, to her horror, where the sound was coming from. The trapdoor under the bed. A tunnel was added in the event that a blizzard blocked all other entrances to the cabin. And the other side of the tunnel exited at Beach Lake, well within the reach of the damaged area.

Thinking quickly, Laura grabbed a piece of kindling from the fireplace and slid it into the trapdoor's lock, holding it in place. That wouldn't stop someone from coming through, but whoever did would make enough noise to alert her in time to grab the rifle. She covered the trapdoor with a rug and went back to the fireplace.

Laura put the fire out and closed the flue. She would have to use the generator to keep warm. Smoke would only attract unwanted attention.

Suddenly realizing she was terrified, Laura grabbed a blanket and sat with her back against the wall, facing the exists. She watched the clock. Every hour on the hour...

Two days earlier...

Hobbes was arguing with the gate attendant. Darien was ignoring them.

"$20? $20!? My friend, I am NOT paying you $20! We are here on orders from YOUR superintendent. Call. Call him if you don't believe me." Hobbes flashed his badge. "Tell him that Agent Hobbes and Agent Fawkes from the Department of Fish and Game are here to see him."

The gate attendant grabbed his radio and made the call.

"You see what I have to put up with? The Official didn't even let them know we were coming. I tell you I am NOT paying this guy a single penny! Not one!" Hobbes was livid. "It's not like I can afford to just hand them my hard earned cash!"

"Hobbes, would you chill?" Darien learned to tune Hobbes out when he was ranting, but the last thing he wanted was Hobbes to traumatize the poor kid in the booth. Goodness knew he probably had to take enough crap from irate tourists.

The gate attendant waved them through. "Just follow this road to the headquarters. The superintendent will meet you there."

"See? All I had to do was be firm with him. Let him know who was boss." Hobbes drove through the gate.

Darien once again refrained from comment.

20 minutes later, at Park HQ...

"Ah, Agent Fawkes, Agent Hobbes. Glad you could make it. I'm Superintendent Jack Mills. Welcome." Superintendent Mills was a very friendly-looking man with an easy smile. Hobbes immediately decided he didn't like him. Fawkes pretended indifference.

"I'm sure you've been told of our situation. We have a terrorist on the premises and we want him off. We were told you two were the men to do that."

Darien smiled. "Of course we are. We have this nifty little map we were given of all the possible locations he could be. You, by any chance, haven't narrowed that down yet have you?"

Superintendent Mills looked at the map Hobbes had pulled out. "Yes, we have already narrowed down his location to this area on the Central Plateau between Mary and Beach Lakes."

"Oh good. The middle of nowhere." Darien wondered if this mission was going to be worth it.

"Yes," Mills said. "You'll have to be suited up with the proper gear. Do you have any of your own?"

"Um. No. Of course not."

"What my partner means to say," Hobbes quickly covered. "Is that we were unaware of the conditions or the exact location we would be searching in, and figured you would have better gear than what we could come up with in California."

Mills smiled. "Quite right. Quite right. Let me take you to the Fire cache. You will be able to find everything you need. Our Chief Firefighter is still there I believe and he will be able to get you suited with survival clothing, and the appropriate vehicles. Then you can start out at first light tomorrow."

Mills ushered the duo out the door and into a waiting jeep.

Back to Laura...

Laura awoke with a start. She grappled for the rifle and stood at attention. Just the wind. She suddenly looked up at the clock. She was 15 minutes overdue for radio check.

"412, 211," she said, stifling a yawn. Pause.

"412, 211."

Pause.

"412, 211." Laura was getting worried.

"412. Laura, are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just fell asleep at the helm. Over."

"Okay. Still no word on this end. Over."

Laura yawned. "211 clear."

"412 out."

Laura hung the receiver up and stumbled back to her warm blanket. Let them come, she thought sleepily. I'm too tired to deal with this.

*KA-THUNK!*

Laura sat bolt upright. That was not the wind. That was not an animal...not a park animal anyway. She whipped over to the door and held her rifle ready. She could hear a faint scratching sound and what sounded like a voice.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself. "I'm not going to get much sleep anyway, I might as well get it over with now."

She paused and considered radioing for help. "They'd never get here in time. I'm on my own."

Laura reached carefully unlocked and unbolted the door. She stood ready, reached out, and tore open the door!

Yesterday, as Hobbes put it, "In the middle of frickin' nowhere"...

They had been at it for hours. Lunch was long past and both wanted to go back to the lodge for some warm food.

"Hobbes. Hobbes! HOBBES!" Darien yelled over the roar of the snowmobiles.

Hobbes stopped and Darien pulled up alongside. "What?"

"This is ridiculous. We're not going to find him this way and he can probably see, if not hear us coming." Darien wasn't happy.

"Why don't you use your little gland and make it so he can't see us then?" Hobbes was just as unhappy as Fawkes. The snowsuits were uncomfortable.

"Don't be dumb Hobbes. I use the gland on both of us and the machines and I'm going nuts in half an hour. And it's only the first day of searching. Besides, he can still hear us and see our tracks. And doesn't this whole mission strike you as odd?"

"Oh no. Here it comes." Hobbes sighed. He'd picked up on the inconsistencies of the mission just as Fawkes had, but Fawkes had the reputation of picking these things out. Why ruin it now?

"First of all," Darien announced. "Why would this guy want to try to destroy Yellowstone in the middle of winter, under a rather thick snow cover, I might add, when all the happy furry animals are hibernating and most of the plant life is dead until spring?"

"Maybe he wanted to get an early start." That was the part that most worried Hobbes. Either this terrorist was really dumb, or he was cooking up something else.

"Second," Darien went on. "Why do they send just the two of us? Invisibility yes, but I'm just as visible as you in this snow."

"And third, I want to know more about that 347-HG. If it's so important, why aren't there more teams better suited to this job?" Darien was obviously going over how he would tell the Fatman off when they returned. If they returned.

Hobbes decided first priority was to calm Fawkes down. "Okay. You know what? Why don't we go back to the lodge. We've covered a lot of ground today and we have a better feel for the landscape. We can also try to get some more people to come with us tomorrow, It's getting late. Let's go."

Darien sighed. "You're right. Let's go." He started up the snowmobile only to hear it sputter and die. "Aw crap."

Hobbes tried to start his, but only got the same sputter. "I thought you said the gas tanks were full?"

"They were, I checked all the gauges before we left."

"Well, we certainly couldn't have used that much gas. I thought these things were supposed to be efficient?"

"They are and we didn't use that much gas."

"Well my tank reads full. Gas line frozen?"

Darien wasn't listening. He was too busy taking apart the gas gauge. "Hobbes...the gauges...the indicator has been painted on..."

"WHAT?" Hobbes rushed over to look at Darien's gauge. Then he promptly took his apart and looked at the results. "What the hell is going on here?"

Nightfall, still in the middle of nowhere...

Darien and Hobbes had been trudging along for hours. They only had a vague idea of where they were. The compasses that each insisted had been packed were nowhere to be found. The map was gone as were the radios. The snowmobile radio had been gutted. They were left with skis, a few days' rations, a couple tents and sleeping bags, and stones weighing their packs down just enough to accommodate the missing items.

Darien was furious, Hobbes was shocked moving into indignant. They remembered passing a cabin earlier, but couldn't find it again. It was visibly getting dark.

They found a sheltered rock wall and set up camp. At least the tents and sleeping bags were Arctic-test. They nibbled on some rations, neither very hungry, and silently went to sleep with the wind howling above.

Morning, just in time for the early wind...

Hobbes jerked awake. Through the wind he could hear a faint sound. He strained. There it was again. He shook Darien. "Hey. Hey! Wake up, buddy. We have company."

Darien groaned. So much for this all being a dream. They crawled out of the tent just in time to see a caravan lumber by in the clearing.

Hobbes started to call out to them, but Darien pulled him back.

"What are you doing!?" Darien hissed.

"What does it look like? I'm catching a ride. In case you haven't noticed, my friend, we are lost, cold, and these little energy bars do nothing for my morale." Hobbes tried to wave the caravan down again.

Darien jerked Hobbes back into the tent. "Think, Hobbes. Off-road vehicles aren't exactly welcome in the park. Especially that size and that many. I think that's what we've been looking for."

"I thought they said he worked alone?" Hobbes was tired. He didn't want to think about anything but a warm bed, but Fawkes had a point.

"I think Mr. Adams has some friends. How else would he have sabotaged our packs, snowmobiles, and still managed to stay out of our sight?" The wheels in Darien's head were starting to spin. "Come on. Let's follow their tracks once they've moved out of sight."

Hobbes and Darien packed up the campsite and moved out on skis.

Several hours later, even more in the middle of nowhere...

Darien and Hobbes were perched behind a rock outcrop. They had a perfect view of the camp below. Several large vehicles, some of them distinctly military, surrounded the campsite. Temporary shelters had been erected. The whole operation was shielded from prying eyes by tall trees and camouflage netting.

"So. This operation is a bit bigger than originally planned. Something's going down and I bet our friend, Mr. Adams, was just a cover." Hobbes was not happy. He knew how cranky Fawkes was about the Agency being straightforward with information. Especially after the Catevari mission. Now even Hobbes was annoyed. This was ridiculous. Why send them to the middle of nowhere with the wrong informat--

"Fawkes! I don't think the Agency knows about this!"

"What? How could they not know?" Darien was still plotting all the ways he could get The Official back for this.

"I seriously doubt the Agency would send just the two of us all the way out here if there was an operation this big going on. I don't think they did it on purpose. They were probably just as confused as we were when trying to figure out why this guy would be here in winter." Now the gears in Hobbes's head were spinning. "This Adams guy has got to be a cover for something bigger. The 347-HG is some big new chemical right? I bet this whole operation is some sort of sale. Who would look for this kind of stuff in a national park in the middle of winter? Even the rangers know better than to go traipsing around at this time of year."

"So what do you think we should do? Invite ourselves for tea?"

Hobbes glared at his partner. "This is where you and your happy little gland come in, my friend. You sneak into the encampment, take a look around, try to figure out what's going on, and come right back here. No heroics, my friend.

"Then what do we do? Calmly ski back to the lodge? Hobbes, we don't know where we are. And--by the time we get back to the lodge, they could be gone!"

Hobbes sighed. Kids... "We passed that cabin on the way here. You were too busy looking at that deer..."

"It was an elk."

"Whatever. After you check the place out, we go to the cabin. They probably have a radio. We radio the superintendent, they send a team, we get home in time for TGIF." Hobbes looked a bit pleased with himself.

Darien sighed. "Sure, but I'll want hazard pay for this."

Darien quicksilvered and headed towards the camp.

20 minutes later...

Hobbes heard gunfire. Cursing under his breath, he looked over the rockface just in time to get bowled over by a madly running Darien. "What's going on Fawkes? What'd you DO!?"

Darien grabbed his backpack and skis. "They saw me. I tried to keep undercover but it's hard being invisible in snow! The wind blew some snow off the trees right onto me! Let's get to that cabin before they get to us!" Darien took off, followed closely by Hobbes, who was in no mood to get captured.

"So what. Did you. See?" Hobbes asked between breaths.

"Lots of guns. Some crates. Marked with. 347-HG." Darien tried to pick up the pace. "Adams was. There talking. To some. Military guy. Called himself. General Krang."

Hobbes suddenly stopped.

"What the hell are you doing, Hobbes? Get a move on!"

Hobbes started back up, at a much faster pace. "General Krang. Is a very. Dangerous terrorist. Arms dealer. Wanted for years. We have to. Tell The Official. If he's. Involved. Then we're. In big. Trouble."

"Aw. Crap."

The sound of the vehicles got louder. Darien turned his head and saw one of the jeeps tear over the ridge. They weren't going to make it to the top of the hill...

The men in the jeep started shooting. Hobbes somehow managed to pull his gun out of his coat and shoot back. The marksman in the jeep fell out.

"Well that's. Good news. At least. One down."

Hobbes suddenly stumbled.

Darien went to grab him. "Fawkes! Go on! Get to that cabin and warn the Agency, park service, whoever! I'll try to hold them off long enough for you to get away!"

Darien paused, not wanting to leave his partner.

"GO!!!"

Hobbes was right, someone had to and he could always turn invisible...for a few minutes anyway. Darien quicksilvered and took off as fast as he could. Thank goodness I have the extra vial, Darien thought.

The men in the jeep grabbed Hobbes. After a rather large fight, of course. Hobbes wasn't going to go down that easy.

"Where's the other one?"

"I don't know , sir. He just disappeared."

"Well, find him!"

Hobbes was dragged (kicking and screaming) back to camp where he was treated to an audience with the General and Adams.

"Let me go! I'm just a tourist! All I want to do is hike and enjoy nature!" Hobbes was raving. He seriously doubted they would buy his story, but it couldn't hurt. And saying you're a federal agent to a bunch of terrorists was a bad idea.

"Put him down men. He's probably suffering enough from the cold."

Hobbes looked around in surprise and was promptly dumped on the floor.

"Coco?"

Hobbes looked up at an elderly man holding a steaming mug out to him. He looks like Col. Sanders, Hobbes thought. Complete with the string tie. "Um. No. I make it a habit to never accept coco from people who just tried to kill me."

"Tried to kill you?" The elderly man looked shocked.

"Yes. They were shooting at me. That usually means wanting someone dead." Hobbes was confused.

"My dear boy, I just wanted you to come back for a visit. If my men got carried away...well...I hope you won't hold it against me."

"And who might you be?" Hobbes still wasn't taking the coco...no matter how warm and chocolatey it looked.

"My men call me General Krang."

Hobbes stifled a choke. If he's Krang, then I'm the Queen Mary, he thought.

"You may call me General Krang or Lamont if you wish."

"Lamont? I might have to go with the General Krang. Wouldn't want to, ah, undermine your authority with your men." Hobbes smiled.

"Ah, good idea, my boy, good idea. So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

As innocent as that statement had sounded, Hobbes could sense the venom in it. Now was time to play nice. "Well, sir, I was out hiking--"

"Alone? And at this time of year?"

"Well, see, I was with a friend, but he kinda disappeared on me and I was looking for him and that's--that's when your men started shooting." Hobbes knew he wasn't getting out of this one so easily.

"I see. Well, tell me Agent Hobbes, what are you really doing here?" Now there was pure venom in the general's voice.

"Agent Hobbes? That's funny. Agent..heh heh...boy, y'know that was my dream when I was a ki--" Hobbes stopped suddenly when he saw the look in the general's eye and the armed soldiers by the door. He sighed. "Honestly, sir, I have no idea."

To read the next installment of this exciting story, please click continue.