In Boston, Ken landed the plane in an abandoned silo that served as one of Carmen's various worldwide safehouses. He disengaged the auto-pilot, lowered the cargo bay and, with helmet and goggles securely fastened, sped out of the silo on his moped. Trees and bushes zipped by as he neared his destination: the WGBH studio. Where it all began.

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October 5, 1996

Greg was pretty low on the totem pole at ACME. A lot of people thought he was a bit too eccentric to be an actual gumshoe, even though he'd been working there for years. He'd merited himself a pretty cushy job in the basic training department with an office right next door to the Chief. Shame as it was that both his and the chief's office were located in the middle of a television studio.

"Greg. My Office. Now." The voice bellowed over the intercom, belonging to the Chief. Greg swooned. "Ah, she needs me." It was no secret that Greg was absolutely crazy about the chief, though she had complettely opposite feelings for him. Greg wanted his change to be a legitimate ACME detective one day, though, so his attempts to endear himself to her were relentless.

When Greg entered the office the Chief bellowed. "Greg, have you got-"

"I'm way ahead of you, Chief, I got the new recruit dossiers right here." Greg spread the folders over the chief's desk. "Really sharp bunch, all from the Yulbesorri School for the Gifted in San Francisco: There's Zack Monaghan, Sarbajit Jasjiv, and Ken U. Belevitt."

"Well, I hope for our sakes there's an actual agent in this bunch. Most of these kids couldn't even find Egypt on a map..." The Chief shook her head.

"Hey, it's not their fault that Africa map is so big."

"It's for their own good, Greg." The Chief said, testiness already rising in her voice. "These kids have to be prepared for anything if we're going to send them after the real Carmen Sandiego."

Greg gave a sigh. "You know, Chief, sometimes I feel kinda guilty about all this. These kids think they're on a game show winning globe-shaped basketballs and trips around the world. They've got no idea that once they're done we're going to ask them to help us chase after a known master criminal."

"Greg?"

"Yeah, Chief?"

"Go away..."

"Right Chief." Greg shuffled out of the office, seeing one of the contestants standing right on the other side of the doorway. He was a fat kid with red hair and a black and white striped shirt. He had a nervous look about him. Greg leaned in. "You didn't hear....ah, nevermind. Good luck today." He scruffed the boy's hair with his hand and went on his way.