[Note: Written by Chase and Sarah Nade.]

It was mid-afternoon, and following another decent cup of espresso, Chase Devineaux raised his brow at the first text to reach his communicator. The message told him that 7 of Chief's Agents arrested Sarah Nade in Glasgow and all apprehended belongings yielded little. His task was to see if the location of the two other bells, the Liberty and the Tsar, could be uncovered.

Walking down to the detainment facility, he entered a room where a few guards had placed Sarah. They called it 'Questioning', Chase thought of it as an egg-shelled version of real Interrogation rooms.

Sitting down in the more comfortable chair of the two available, he silently watched Sarah Nade and figured he might let the often chatty musical thief start talking first.

Sarah was bored.

It had been a while since she'd been detained in ACME's headquarters, usually having to deal with the local population in their regional offices. Hands cuffed in front of her for comfort she tapped her fingers on the metal table in front of her in a rhythm, humming along at random intervals to accompany the song only she could fully hear.

Hearing the door open she looked up but her fingers kept drumming, a little smile welcoming Chase but very little else for a few minutes.

"You wouldn't have any gum on you, would you?" Sarah finally asked casually, as if she were asking someone she'd been drinking with and not the cop sent to talk to her.

That casual question wasn't surprising, but the chance that chewing gum was readily availble from Chase was very slim. Sarah probably knew that, yet asked, despite.

"Not your first time here, is it?" Chase kept a tempered expression, "I take it you know the drill, you tell me where the bells are, then where your boss is hiding, and your lawyers somehow get you out.

"Ready to start?"

At the admittance of the routine Sarah gave the lightest of chuckles, her fingers still drumming. "Almost," she replied. The rhythm stopped and she opened her palm, expectantly. "If you would be so kind as to unlock the cuffs first." She grinned. "Or I could if you're a bit preoccupied."

He remembered meeting Sarah Nade once, out in the desert of Nevada where an uneasy nod was exchanged between them. At the time, Carmen was their mutual friend. While directly reminding the prisoner of that meeting may reveal his own presence, there were other ways to be convincing.

"Look at me," he instructed, "These clues she left for you, the botched heist, she's probably already got other plans, your boss. Think she appreciates you wasting time here?"

Sarah leaned forward in her seat and looked at him upon command, eyes looking straight into his for a moment before she leaned back again. "You have very nice eyes." she stated simply, then looked to her cuffs. "No go on these, huh? Never took you for the type who liked girls in cuffs but... hey, who am I to judge right?" Giving a toothy grin an addition to her teeth was a paperclip held tightly between the upper and lower left canine which she removed with her hands and started casually working on the locks of the cuffs.

Once they were undone she tossed them to the side, making a point to let them hit the 'mirror' on the side of the wall. They didn't damage anything but whoever was behind that mirror would certainly be paying attention.

Exceedingly patient for the time being, Devineaux let her poke and prod at the cuffs until she threw them aside. Those that saw the incident sent in an officer who halted at Chase's signal.

"He's here to put the cuffs behind your back." The detective commented, "that's going to depend on you.

"So, where are the bells?"

Sarah shook her head, chuckling, this time loud enough to be a real laugh. "For a guy who's trying to reason with me you really didn't take the time to do your homework, did you?" she asked. "Flies with honey, not vinegar Devy."

"Low, isn't it?" He nodded, once, "Comparing yourself to a fly?" The officer at the door grimaced while trying to hide a laugh. Ignoring that action, Chase continued. "Maybe I don't need the bells. She's left herself exposed. Not the first time she's done it, but you probably know a lot more about that than I do.

"Tell me where the bells are, and we can skip the other half. I won't so much as touch her."

Sarah's nose wrinkled a little as she looked at Detective Devineaux. He certainly could be an annoying one when he cared to be, couldn't he? What a git. "Of course... because you're making such a sacrifice, trading your ability to end your company's flagship case to get two measly little bells..." she replied. "If you could have gotten her you'd have done it by now which leaves one of two possibilities for you, Devy. Either you're mentally unfit for your position or you're full of it."

Her crudeness was expected, but Chase had very few buttons for her to press. "Right, so the bells, where are they?" Calmly, he asked in the same jaded tone.

She smiled. Sarah wasn't sure what was so satisfying about calling a cop's bluff, but she'd figure it out eventually. Though she heard Chase's question she ignored it, looking around the room with a sigh. "Weren't these walls white before? This new gray paint... its kinda... depressing."

From the Detective's point of view, Sarah was stalling because following protocol was mundane. Retaining patience, he repeated the question. "Where are the bells, Sarah?"

"You know you're not making this very much fun."

"I look fun to you?"

"If I answer that question truthfully I'll make you blush."

"Then answer the other question."

"But I like being here so much..." Sarah's left hand went back to drumming on the desk to a certain rhythm as the other held up her chin, her open palm pressed against her cheek. "If I tell you I'd have to leave..."

He stayed silent. There was something in her tone above what a woman like Sarah Nade would use to tease a person of authority. She hinted at the concept of 'embarrassment', something that only occurred if a person thought they were being 'observed', that was enough a connection. Chase turned to the guard, asked him to leave, and then requested the nearby observation room to empty.

Impressed, Sarah's eyes glanced at the camera, her eyebrows practically motioning in its direction.

"That's more for you than it is for me," he said as if it was required, and then did as she 'asked', getting up to the switch at the door, turning off the camera. ACME had a built-in monitoring unit to make sure any form of confession was justified. Sarah didn't need to confess, and whatever she told him off record would suffice. Returning to his seat, he breathed, and waited.

With the cameras off Sarah leaned up, giving a stretch, as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "You know how you wouldn't want to tell people you're meeting international thieves in the desert to wax poetic about the old days and get into car crashes..? It works the other way... if I don't seem to give up a fight with ACME I lose my credibility and I have to spend more time breaking noses and slamming elbows into people's jaws to get my reputation back."

"You want to throw yourself around the room, and then tell me where the bells are?"

"Nah, its alright. Though I appreciate the offer. Qatar. 24.5905, 51.1019"

While she talked, he reached into his jacket, retrieved a notepad and wrote down the coordinates. "Looks like we're done."

"Y'know Devy, I like your style. Honest. This whole 'cool calm collected' thing works well on you. Though next time do me a favor and bring a pack of Marlboros with you..."

"I don't smoke."

"I do."

"Right, I don't."

Sarah sighed. "At least a pack of double mint?"

Giving little sympathy, Devineaux squinted his eyes to ask, "Does your boss know you smoke?"

"You ask me as if I were 17."

"You don't act much older," he shrugged, "I didn't think she tolerated smoking among her sheep."

"Mighty strong words for the ram of his own flock..." she snorted back. "She doesn't prefer it, no."

He smiled briefly, satisfied. "Our job is to make you uncomfortable, you know that."

"Well at least I'm not being caught by 9 year olds anymore." Sarah shrugged listlessly. "Don't lie, Devy... there's something comforting about bringing in my type..."

"You think so?"

"I know so." There was a twinkle in her eye as she answered him, her voice lowering, both to show sincerity but almost like she was telling a great secret. "You wanna know how I know?"

Without blinking, he gave her full attention. His reply wouldn't matter, she was going to tell him any way.

"Someone has to be there to take the fall. For, what, 10 years or so your company has spent countless man hours, millions of dollars chasing after a woman who is uncatchable. Unkeepable." She wiped the hair out of her eyes and leaned back, placing the chair on only its two back legs and placed a knee on the table. "A company that spends that much without results doesn't last long. So you need me, Vic, Patty... you know, us little people, to make it look like you're making progress."

The other leg went up, both feet were now completely on the table. "Maybe its a legal form of schadenfreude... maybe its just a comfort thing... but in the end it all boils down to the fact that without my being caught, by 9-year-olds, college students, sentient computer programs, and the occasional C-5 abuser... ACME realizes that they're doing no better than they did 10 years ago."

"I help ACME sleep better at night. Knowing that the 'bad people' were caught and the 'good people' won."

Chase's stiffness relaxed when he heard the detainee's entire statement. For a moment, he thought Sarah would say her type was the least of his worries, that Carmen had told her about the coveted Special Operations department and that agents like Janus Zeal or Melissa Wayward weren't trained to only catch unarmed thieves. He had his fears, almost forgetting that Carmen Sandiego was exceedingly good at keeping secrets.

"Yeah," He nodded, relieved, "you're the highlight of my day."

Sarah smiled. Sarcasm aside, Sarah had made her point and like it or not it was a truth. "And I made the days of seven agents who just got back from Glasgow."

He nodded again, "Sorry we couldn't get you some sort of fanfare."

"Well now you're just being cynical."

"VERY good, Brian." The piano teacher cooed in an even mellow tone, leaning against the upright piano in her home based teaching space. The room, a small front sitting room, was filled with little knick knacks, small collected pieces of art and pictures of former students and classes over the last 10 years. Though she was still young, almost 30, she had quite a bit of experience as a music teacher. The woman, Sarah by name, straightened the long sleeves on her peasant blouse and arranged a piece of blond straight hair so it was out of her face. Her long brown boho style skirt rustled as she walked behind her young pupil, her fingers bouncing to a subtle beat within the Schubert piece she'd given to him. As he hit a sour note the child froze in the middle of his performance, turning to look to his mentor.

"Why'd you stop?" Sarah asked with a smile. "you were doing great."

"I can't get that part." Brian said in mild frustration. "This stuff is dumb..."

Shaking her head she scooted the smaller child over and started to play the same piece without looking at the sheet or hardly the keys at all.

"Its not dumb... have you been practicing the melody like I told you?" she asked and shot him a sideways glance. The child winced before nodding. Sarah shook her head. "No you haven't..."

"I..."

"You've got alot of potential, Brian. Whatever you're doing when you're not practicing had better be impressive..."

"...I was trying to get Avril Lavigne tickets..."

At that name Sarah's nose wrinkled a little, her hands still playing smoothly. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, she's the best punk rocker ever!"

The notes of the piano went sour, her fingers slipping to places unknown as her head turned quickly to look at the boy next to her. Before she could say a word there was a knock at the door and whatever horrified look that had been on Sarah's face for a fleeting moment was wiped away with a plastic smile.

"Come in!" Sarah chimed musically, spinning on the bench and standing. Brian's mother, on time as always, opened the door and strolled in with baby in arms. Brian started to gather up his sheet music. Exchanging pleasantries and progress reports the mother and son were ready to leave when through the kitchen door burst a man in studded leather jacket, his hair spiked high and colored green, so high in fact that they scrapped the door frame as he entered. A pair of red plaid pants with a belt connecting the two legs and a white t-shirt with an expletive finished off the disturbing look.

"Sarah! You got..." the man blurted before stopping, realizing that there was someone in the room other than her. Brian's mother looked shocked and offended, Brian merely pleasantly surprised as they each looked to the man and then to the music teacher. The man with green hair coughed and corrected himself, his tone turning apologetic very quickly. "Miss. Nade, I'm sorry... I didn't know you were still with a... guest."

Sarah, who's eyes had been unseen by both boy and mother while she was turned away, looked to them with a smile.

"I'm sorry for the outburst... Ralph Williams is a local rock and roll singer and has been coming to me for music lessons to improve his show quality." she explained, to which Brian's mother nodded, calming down substantially. "He's usually not on time like this though... I would ask that you don't tell anyone about him being here, he's trying to keep the fact that he needs help a... private matter."

"Oh, of course!" Brian's mother agreed, opening the door to leave. "Come along, Brian." Brian, who was still staring at Ralph, the look in his eyes having changed from surprise to slight admiration nodded and finally turned away, following his mother out to the car. The piano teacher stood at the open door as they left, waving goodbye and watching them drive down the road and out of sight. She turned back inside, slamming the door before finally talking to Ralph.

Her tone, which had moments before had been mellow and low quickly turned high and almost into a banshee screech. "Vomit!" she yelled, grabbing the blond hair on her head and pulling hard. The hair, which was actually a wig, came off in one pull and she flung it at him, letting it land in his arms. "Seriously! What the heck is wrong with you!?" Beneath the blond wig had hidden a head of bright pink and green hair, the long front bangs of which fell down from their place, covering her gray eyes slightly. "We've been over this... what are you doing up anyway, its before noon."

"Your boss called." Ralph, otherwise known as 'Vomit' answered flatly, completely used to the aurally offensive tone of the woman in front of him. Sarah gave an annoyed huff, pushing past him, heading through the kitchen and towards the back of the house. Her kitchen seemed normal enough, a coordinated scheme of black white and red through all of her appliances and pieces.

"Since when do you know when she calls?" she snarled, turning the doorknob on the next door and opening to a completely different decor. As a severe contrast from her sitting room, kitchen and first floor bathroom the walls were covered with posters and pictures of men dressed not all that differently from Vomit. Some of them, in fact, were of them with their band 'Obscene Language'. The furniture seemed to have been abused, stains and small burns all over. Without a pause the peasant blouse was thrown onto the arm of a chair and she headed for the stairs. What was left was a tight Dead Milkmen tank top.

"She's the only one that has that ringtone." Vomit replied, following her as she pulled the skirt with elastic waist over her head as well, leaving a knee length pair of ripped jeans and threw the skirt on the railing of questionable sanitation. "...that opera thing."

"Votre Toast." she screeched.

"Yeah. That thing."

Reaching the top of the stairs and thus her personal living quarters she went about looking for her cell phone, first starting by checking her purse and then starting to dig through the closest pile of dirty laundry.

"So when am I going to meet this boss of yours?" Vomit asked, throwing himself into a sitting position on the edge of her sagging mattress.

"Never."

"Never!?"

"Never." Sarah Nade repeated, starting to get frustrated at not finding her phone, standing and stamping her foot a little.

"What, you don't think I should know?" the drummer asked, his tone hurt just a bit. "You know I don't care."

"Then why are you asking?"

There was a pause in conversation as Sarah dug through a second pile of laundry, dirty or not was unknown. She continued to search, empty bottles holding unknown substances starting to fly.

"Where is my phone!? ARGH! First Avril Levigne, then you go all Oprah on me and now..."

Votre toast, je peux vous le render
Señors, señors car avec les soldats
Oui, les Toréros, peuvent s'entendre;
Pour plaisirs, pour plaisirs, Ils ont les combats!

Hearing the sound of Votre Toast from Bizet's opera Carmen coming from the bathroom Sarah stopped her digging and ran to the sound, finding her cell phone hiding in the pair of black pinstriped pants she had been wearing last night and left on the floor while she showered. Two more lines of the opera and she picked up.

"Carmen! Hows it going?... uh huh... Oh no kidding?! Nice!... uh huh... uh huh... no, nothing special... ... Wicked! Where's that again?... Hey, cut me a break! Not everyone remembers where the... Right. Yeah, yeah. ... Ok, normal pick up in 20? ... Right. Later."

Sarah emerged from the bathroom with a can of aerosol deodorant, giving each armpit a liberal spray, then throwing the can on one of her piles of clothing and grabbing her backpack.

"Carmen, huh?" Vomit asked with a smirk. "That's her name."

"Yeah." Sarah answered, throwing certain needed objects into her bag without much care. "Feel special now? You know my boss' name. Want a cookie?"

"Geez, would you lighten up? You'd think she was Carmen Sandiego or something..."

Sarah leaned over and gave her boyfriend a peck on the lips before smacking him in the back of the head and walking towards the stairs. "I'll be back by tomorrow at the latest... if Eddie goes into the freaking piano room again tell him I'm kicking him out of the band."