Location: Swamp Clearing – 10:04 a.m.
Smoke curled around them like it didn't dare touch Tom Bruce.
He stepped from the fog, sleeves rolled, knuckles dusted with leftover bruises, and eyes like storm glass—focused, unreadable. Then he broke the silence with the most unremarkable voice possible.
"You still drive like a teenager hopped up on espresso."
Ryan blinked. "You show up like a Marvel villain, and that's your first line?"
Tom shrugged. "I didn't bring my cape."
Emily gave a skeptical once-over. "So this is your brother? I was expecting... more scars. Less hair."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "I moisturize. And I don't get hit."
"Yet," Ryan added.
Tom looked at him. "You really want to spar right now?"
"I'm handcuffed."
"That's never stopped you before."
Bella watched the brothers like she was seeing an art exhibit labeled 'Weaponized Family Dysfunction.' "Okay, so are we gonna get shot at soon, or just keep roasting each other until the FBI regroups?"
Faith tugged on Holly's arm. "Is Uncle Tom gonna live with us now?"
Tom shook his head. "No offense, kiddo, but your dad snores like a lawnmower in a blender."
Ryan grinned. "And you used to talk in your sleep. Mostly about pastry."
Before Tom could retort, a fresh squad of ONYX CORE agents burst through the trees—fully armored, night-vision visors gleaming, guns raised.
"Targets locked. Take them—"
Tom and Ryan moved as one.
Ryan ducked left, throwing an elbow into the first agent's helmet, while Tom vaulted over a tree stump and planted a boot into another's chest. The forest exploded into motion—shouts, punches, kicks, and that ever-present family banter.
Ryan: "I take left."
Tom: "You always take left. You suck at right."
Ryan: "It's my dominant side!"
Tom: "Then dominate faster."
They pinballed through the clearing—Tom flipping an agent into a thorn bush while Ryan yanked a stun baton and accidentally zapped himself.
Ryan yelped. "That was not regulation voltage!"
Tom chuckled. "They probably upgraded since you retired."
Bella yelled, "Less commentary, more punching!"
Ryan snatched a fallen drone controller, jammed a few buttons, and sent a swarm of drones spiraling into the woods.
Tom threw a metal plate like a frisbee, clocking an agent trying to flank them.
Finally, as the last enemy groaned on the mossy floor, Tom exhaled calmly and adjusted his collar.
Ryan collapsed onto a log, panting. "You still fight like a show-off."
Tom: "And you still fight like a guy trying to impress his prom date."
Emily tossed Ryan his phone. "The graduation starts in ten minutes. Time to move."
Tom cracked his knuckles. "What's the mission?"
Ryan got up. "Crash a senator's speech, hijack the stage, and expose the Phoenix Protocol."
Tom smirked. "About time you invited me to something fun."
Location: St. Ignatius High School Auditorium – 10:22 a.m.
Pomp and Circumstance echoed off polished floors. Parents fanned themselves with folded programs. Proud teens in caps and gowns waited backstage for their names to be called. It was a normal graduation day.
Until two brothers in stolen ONYX gear burst through the back entrance with a mission, a plan, and zero coordination.
"Tom, the gown's on backward," Ryan hissed.
Tom didn't stop walking. "It's called reverse intimidation."
"You look like a confused wizard."
They ducked behind a bandstand, scanning the audience. Senator Lorenzo stood near the stage, grinning and shaking hands with the principal. Hidden in the rafters above: two armed drones, nearly invisible against the ceiling lights.
Tom narrowed his eyes. "Those aren't school cameras."
Ryan flipped open Bella's modified wrist scanner. "Not unless PTA meetings got a missile upgrade."
"Alright," Tom muttered. "We divide and conquer."
"You disable the drones," Ryan said, adjusting his fake mustache. "I'll make a speech no one forgets."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to freestyle again, are you?"
"One time. One time I rapped the mission brief, and suddenly I'm a liability?"
"Because you rhymed 'defuse' with 'bad news and chicken shoes.'"
Before Ryan could defend his lyrical genius, a voice crackled in Tom's comms. Bella, from a van nearby.
"Heads up—drones going active. Someone knows you're there."
Inside, the first names were being called.
"GO!" Ryan shouted.
Tom darted off toward the catwalks while Ryan adjusted his gown and stepped toward the stage like he belonged there. He passed a bewildered guidance counselor and tipped his cap. "Thank you for believing in my GPA."
Meanwhile, Tom vaulted over lighting rigs, crawling between dusty beams. He reached the first drone and yanked a cable just as its targeting laser locked onto the valedictorian.
The drone sparked, whirled, and slammed into the janitor's mop bucket with a wet clang.
Ryan, down below, stepped up to the mic.
The principal frowned. "You're not—"
"Hi! Yes! Sorry, quick speech interruption," Ryan beamed at the crowd. "Parents, students, federal agents disguised as bored teachers—hello!"
Confused laughter rippled through the auditorium.
Ryan continued. "Today is not just about diplomas. It's about truth. And the truth is—your keynote speaker up there?" He pointed at Senator Lorenzo. "Is running a program so illegal, even the alphabet agencies won't touch it."
The crowd gasped. Lorenzo's smile dropped.
From the rafters, Tom took out the second drone with a wrench and a scowl.
Lorenzo reached for his comm.
Ryan smirked. "Too late, Senator. Operation: Diploma Drop is in session."
Suddenly, Lorenzo's security charged. Tom dropped from the catwalks like a hawk, landing between them and Ryan.
The audience screamed.
Tom turned to Ryan. "You didn't tell me there'd be cameras."
Ryan grinned. "You moisturize. You'll be fine."
They fought like brothers: coordinated chaos. Elbows, sarcastic insults, and improvised weapons (including a tuba). The crowd couldn't tell if it was a prank, a flash mob, or the coolest graduation stunt in Louisiana history.
As Lorenzo was dragged off by ONYX loyalists disguised as teachers, Tom and Ryan stood side by side on stage.
Ryan took the mic one last time. "And now... who's ready for cake?"
(TO BE CONTINUED...)