(Heavily refined from a session in chat and edited to reflect only Eugene's perspective.)

At 0700, the Academy cafeteria was only just beginning to see traffic for the day. Agents, trainees, and other early birds were beginning to trickle in, meaning Eugene was able to slide towards the coffee machine with a minimum of delay. He paid no mind to the sound of another person behind him, assuming it was someone simply waiting for their turn at the caffeine machine.

"Eugene, if I may have a word. What is this new OPSEC you are promoting to our agents?" Even if he didn't recognize the authority of Chiefs' baritone, only a select few addressed him by his full first name. Eugene turned from the hot water spout on the coffee machine to find Chief Weller looking at him with an unreadable expression. "I understand operational security," he continued, "but since when are we practicing this organization-wide?'

"Since someone gained unauthorized access to the C5 system to facilitate a crime." Eugene tried not to sass authority, he really did, but it still creeps in, despite his efforts to remain matter-of-fact.

"We're not going to sink to "someone's" level, are we?"

"No, I just feel it is appropriate for ACME agents to realize they handle privileged information."

"Why does this sound like Chase's idea?"

Eugene shrugged slightly. "USMC. Birds of a feather and all that."

"Hmm," Chief Weller muttered over a sip of coffee. "Birds of a feather."

Eugene, growing slightly irritated at his apparent lack of progress in selling the notion to The Chief, resorted to a different tack; "Or, we could just publish an indexed document detailing all of ACME's resources, pass codes, and operational structures. It doesn't affect me either way, but ACME could use the initiative."

"Obviously that's an extreme." Historical precedent aside, Chief Weller had called his bluff. "I should just let you young bloods get this out of your system." Ah, there it was; the refusal to recognize escalation.

"And stealing an entire building used for our command and control isn't an extreme?"

"VILE was certainally out of line, I can't disagree, and since I don't have any other suggestions, we'll have to stand by and watch your methods." This was degenerating into a battle over ideology; fight a classical war, or start playing to ACME's strengths in a modern engagement.

Eugene sighed. "This isn't my show."

"Whose show is it?" Whoops, Chief didn't seem to like that answer.

"You already answered that."

As if on cue, Chase Devineaux strode into the cafeteria, rumpled suit and empty coffee mug speaking of an all-nighter.

"Chase, yes. Just the man I wanted to see."

"Hope that's about good news Chief Weller."

"Good, I suppose. I assume you've considered your methods?"

"Yes, methods, considered. We're peachy. If you want a full report Chief, I'll get that done as soon as I have results." Chase, if anything, seemed a mite too dismissive of Chief Weller's concerns, prompting Eugene to speak up;

"We've taken considerable pains to ensure the relative safety of all involved."

"Exactly, what Euge said."

"I'm not concerned about VILE, I'm concerned about ACME. If you can promise me this doesn't surface badly for us, then you have my support." There was a hard tone to Chief Weller's voice Eugene had never heard before, and it explained so much; Chief had worked hard to bring ACME to its present level, and now a series of botch jobs and embarrassments were threatening to tear it down.

"Promises... haven't been doing well on those recently. But okay Chief, you'll have the promise you want."

"All right then." Chief Weller seemed resigned to the designs of the ‘young bloods,' "Tell an old man what you need from the department."

"You're sure this spar will hold?"
"For the thousandth time Duncan, yes. My notes are on the desk over there, right under the airfoil selection that you never read either."
"You know that chickenscratch you try to pass off as handwriting doesn't count as proper documentation, right?"
"Will you just help me install the damn thing?"

Duncan grinned before squatting to grab the other end of the newly fabricated wing. It was the last piece of a medium sized unmanned aircraft the two were building out of Duncans' San Jose garage. The two men had been friends ever since dropping out of an art elective together before they got an F in the course. Now, they spent their spare time doping carbon fiber and fiberglass into spindly yet effective airframes. Their newest project was a solar powered abomination that looked like it would disappear with the slightest breeze. Appearances were deceptive though; with the full electronics payload it would be pushing a takeoff weight of 450 pounds, hence the eternal question mark about the spar.

"Alright, last bolt's in place. Let's light this candle Euge."
"Battery connected; good signal; GPS lock; looks like it's ready."
"You know that spar is going to cost you a bottle of Blue Label when it fails."
"Your nose doesn't look broken enough Duncan. Keep on about the spar and I'll fix that. Throttling up."
"Lift off, clean retract."
"What did I tell you buddy? Have some faith in my skills."

--5 hours later--

"..."
"I know what you're thinking Duncan, and I'm telling you I don't owe you squat. Your infernal autopilot drove the thing right into the ground."
"I was just thinking where the nearest liquor store is."

The ACME airfield wasn't much, just one paved but unlit runway bordered on one side by several oversized hangers.  At the far end one stubby control tower was perched atop a 4 story building that housed a few offices and several classrooms. One classroom in particular was occupied by Eugene Grovington, one of ACME's newest instructors, who was busy hauling assorted teaching materials in from the nearest hanger.

"That's the last of it, Duncan. Thanks for your help." Eugene addressed the lone controller that had come down and helped him. It was the end of Duncan's shift and he was walking out the door when Eugene came in with a cart precariously loaded with flight gear and textbooks. Duncan had caught a thick tome just before it toppled off, and ended up helping Euge with several more assorted items.

As Duncan drove off into the California sunset, Eugene flopped into his chair and rubbed his eyes. Flying directly into the setting sun was something that even his trusty aviator sunglasses couldn't combat entirely, coupled with being up since 0600 local time. "Those all night runs are getting to you, old man," he thought to himself. Leaning forward, he pulled a small laptop from his flight bag, plugged it into a power and an Ethernet jack and typed "run Loki" into the black prompt. He waited until the ‘dumb' AI returned with "online" and typed "connect to IRIS."

Establishing a secure link would take some time, so Eugene busied himself with preparing for the start of classes.  Several minutes passed before the built in webcam swung around, surveying the space, while a feminine voice sounded through the room.

"Nice digs, Euge." The synthesized voice belonged to Iris, an artificial intelligence Eugene had received as payment for a job two years past moving sensitive computer supplies for the U.S. government. "Are you sure you want to take this on though? You don't exactly have a clean record as far as agencies go. As I seem to recall, you've done a few jobs directly detrimental to ACME and a fair few more where you had to shake their agents." The AI was high spirited, and enjoyed playful banter with her fleshy counterpart.

"You're one to talk," Eugene shot back. "As I recall, you're the one who rerouted funds from this and several other agencies to ensure you could never be taken offline," Eugene noted while continuing to shelve books.

"Touché. Now, down to business; you should know that there's a hostile entity in ACME's system. VILE's work."

"Anything you need to worry about?"

"Eugene Michael Grovington, I am offended!" Euge smiled broadly at the middle name treatment. "I thought you had more faith in me and my pets!"

Enigma and Loki, two narrow AI's that Iris created as a pair of watchdogs, were small enough to carry on a disk yet smart enough to sidestep almost any counter-intrusion measures. They also served to run errands and do odd jobs when Iris needed to dedicate her cycles to other problems.

"Very well, I won't question your abilities again. Are you going to eliminate it?"

"No. It is ACME's network, therefore it is ACME's problem, unless they come to me for help."

"Right," Eugene snorted. Iris never let something like that just sit. Not having a challenge would drive her insane, and reinforcing DoD firewalls would occupy her for only so long. The intruder would be her logical next target. "Since we're secure, what about the Stockholm job?"

"Already received payment and closed the account." Iris replied. "Looks like you'll be able to retire to ACME pretty comfortably."

"Ha ha Iris. I'm only here because I wanted a temporary reprieve from being shot at. You remember the Somalia job, right?"

Iris delivered her parting shot as she retreated out of ACME systems; "only because you lost seven of my drones."

"It was a good cause, unlike the other times;" Eugene thought as he turned out the lights.  Tomorrow he would follow in his mothers footsteps and begin teaching.

(Authors Note: Iris is an acronym standing for Integrated Responsive Information System)