(Normal pov— Five years ago)

"Hey, dreamer? You in there?"

The girlfriend in question poked him with the menu, jerking Henry out of a long-running reverie to see big brown eyes fixed on him.

"Yeah?"

"I've been talking to you about waffles for a full two minutes and you haven't heard a word, have you?"

He shook his head in honesty and then smiled warmly at his girlfriend.

"Nope. I was thinking about when we got together."

Tiffany's cheeks heated up as she smiled, and he felt the familiar flutter in his chest at the sight. Gods, she was beautiful.

"Well, that is lovely but it doesn't help me with going to order our food."

"Oh, right," Henry picked the menu up quickly, scanned it, and picked, "double chocolate and fruit."

Tiffany smirked slightly, standing to go place their order. She was much better at remembering and checking if their change was correct.

"Same as me. Bet I finish it first."

"You're on. Stakes?"

She pouted in thought and Henry wondered if she'd mind terribly if he stood up and kissed her tempting lips.

"Who's on top next?"

The couple sharing a big banana split in the corner turned, stunned, to hear Tiffany saying that openly in the shop they were in. At least it wasn't after school let out and kids wouldn't hear whether Henry got to be the giver or receiver in bed with Tiffany.

"Deal."

Tiffany's eyes sparkled and she chuckled in amusement as they shook hands on the bet, then ventured to order their food. Stacks of warm, fluffy waffles coated in chocolate and covered in fruit came back and landed in front of them, and Tiffany leaned down to kiss him first. Then returned to her seat, sat down, and lifted her fork like a weapon.

"Ready?"

"Set."

"Go!"

The two set in with hungry vigor to their desserts, much to the amusement or horror of other patrons. Sticky dark sauce stuck to the strawberries Henry bit into, smeared across his mouth. Tiffany growled if her braided hair fell back over her shoulders and threatened to land in her food. His stomach began to protest slightly halfway through the third waffle, and Tiffany was already on her fourth.

Admitting defeat early, Henry ate a little more sedately so he didn't end up sick. With the last scrape of spooned chocolate-drizzled blueberries, Tiffany dropped her cutlery and raised her arms in victory. Her messy mouth was beaming, and a few nearby patrons actually clapped and cheered for her.

"Nicely done!"

Grabbing a couple of paper napkins, Tiffany managed to stand and bow jokingly while she wiped her mouth.

"He never wins!"

"Not true!" Henry protested. "I beat you at chicken wings night and I finished more of my mother's meatballs than you."

"In fairness, your mother's recipes are some kind of military-grade torture."

Henry snorted into his milkshake, banana-scented bubbles popping on its surface as he forcibly exhaled down the straw. She wasn't wrong. His mother was a wonderful woman, but she was lethal in the kitchen. Henry had to learn to cook for sheer survival and not down the horrors his mother cooked up.

Tiffany wasn't much better, in his mother's defense.

"You all done?"

Groaning as he patted his belly and swallowed the last mouthful of chocolatey goodness, Hiccup nodded and stood up. They tidied their spot and took the plates back to the counter, then left hand in hand to go home and recover from the excessive ingesting of puddings.

It was these moments here that Henry cherished, savoring not only delicious food but also spending the day with Tiffany. This was a common occurrence every three months, they both would crave waffles of milkshakes and satisfy their desires by coming to the shop and quenching those food desires.

Life with Tiffany was just so perfect.

(Present-day— Washington DC, 8:00 am)

After some much-needed rest, Madison informed us that we were to meet her and Heather at the Pentagon at 8:00 am, so we had to get up early and drive down to the airport where a private Agency jet was waiting to pick us up and we flew to the Pentagon. I already knew why we were going to see the president, it's because the Agency needs more numbers and we need an army to take the fight to the Brotherhood. The flight to DC wasn't that long, it was about an hour and a thirteen-minute flight, but I did take the opportunity to get some more sleep and prepare myself for when we'd stand face to face with the president.

Once our jet touched down at the Washington DC airport, there were limo and Secret Service operatives on motorcycles that were waiting for us. As we exited our jet, I straightened out my suit jacket and made sure that my tie wasn't too tight and entered the limo that held Vice President Mcdonald and General Blake of the U.S. military. All us Agency operatives exchanged greetings with the vice president and military general and the limo driver drove straight to the White House.

"According to the rogue operative who used to serve the Brotherhood of Shadows, our top priority as of now is to kill Pitch Black," Mcdonald said in a firm tone, "whoever this man is, he has no fear. No conscience. And is hellbent on changing the world for the worse. Nothing less than our world security is at risk ladies and gentlemen."

"Sir, if I may ask, will the president be able to support us in our goals here?" Ashley inquired, turning to her, Mcdonald answered. "I, unfortunately, do not speak for President Ferguson," he then reassured, "but rest assured I believe the president will not stand idle while this madman threatens to destroy us and the world."

"I do hope that's the case," I said, "the Brotherhood has eyes and ears everywhere, their operatives could be embedded within the various branches of government, be part of the president's inner circle, or members of the military. It's imperative that your people be watchful for unusual activity from the people within the White House. The Brotherhood's operatives all may have been convicted convicts, but they've been trained into some of the deadliest killers on the planet, they're not to be underestimated."

"That and they have the technology to create perfect doubles of an individual of importance, they can make prosthetics that are twenty years ahead of anything the average medical center could offer, and their weaponry rivals the militaries of the world," Franklin said in a grim tone, "if the president authorizes an attack at the Brotherhood's base of operations, we better be ready for a fight."

"How has it come to this?" General Blake inquired. "How did a bunch of criminals gain this much power? You lot make it sound like we're inferior here!"

"With respect General Blake, we are inferior at the moment," Sean said, "our enemies could blend in plain sight, they could speak multiple languages to manipulate foreign nations to support them, they can infiltrate governments, and they could take down a whole country in one night and you'd never see them coming." General Blake cursed under his breath while shaking his head in disbelief.

"I know things seem dire, but we can't allow ourselves to give in to fear and panic," I said firmly, "that's exactly what Pitch wants. He wants us to give in to fear and he'll grow stronger if we allow ourselves to be paralyzed by fear. We need to remain calm and have faith and hope that our actions will bring the world closer to peace."

"Amen to that good looking," Rachel said while clapping lightly, "once the Brotherhood is buried, the world will be a far safer place."

"Amen to that sister," Timothy said firmly, "I'm eager to blow up the Brotherhood's base of operations sky high."

"You'll both get your wish in time," I said, "right now we need to focus and see whether or not the president could see support to aid the Agency." With that said, we just sat back as our driver got us to the White House sometime later. Exiting the limo and entering the White House, Mcdonald and Blake led us towards the nerve center where the president, as well as Madison and Heather, were located. After going through clarence sections, we finally arrived in the nerve center and joined the president to discuss what our next course of action would be.

"Welcome, all of you, and thank you for coming on such short notice," the president said in a grateful tone, "I'll get straight to the point here, our world is under threat of a criminal organization that has some the most highly trained killers in the world and their leader wants to start World War III just to purge the world of... "incompetence" as well shape the world in his own base image," sighing heavily, the president continued, "we're dealing with a man who has no regard towards human life, no moral compass to point him in the right direction, but instead we're dealing with a psychopathic madman who wants to watch the world burn."

"Pitch Black is the most wanted man in the world as of now," Madison said firmly, "he's a shadow and we've been unable to find him up until now that is. According to the data Heather stole from Pitch's personal computer, the Brotherhood of Shadow's base of operations is located in the Bahamas on an island not far from Nassau. How Pitch was able to establish a base there without drawing the attention of the U.S. government is unknown, but we do know that Pitch has several private corporations that have helped him amass vast wealth and resources to set up shop anywhere in the world and he used that wealth to create that facility out in the Bahamas to bring convicted criminals to become soldiers to do his bidding."

"Have we been able to figure out what Pitch's plan to purge his enemies is?" Franklin inquired.

"Operation Nightmare," Heather said, "I've tried getting more information about it but the file is too encrypted to hack, even for me. Pitch is taking every precaution to safeguard his plans. But there is a file that links to Operation Nightmare, and that's Project Blight, which is a biological weapon designed to target specific genotypes. If your DNA signature isn't in the Brotherhood's database, you're dead." Everyone inhaled sharply hearing this, Ashley stepped up and stated the now painfully obvious. "So... if we were to attack Pitch's outpost in the Bahamas, he can drop this biological agent in the middle of the battle, his troops live and ours die."

"Correct," Heather said, "contact with a single spore is fatal, hazmat suits are useless against it."

"Is Project Blight operational?" I inquired.

"Unknown," Heather said, "when I was still at the Brotherhood's base of operations, I heard that it was just in the development stages, but who knows if that's the case right now. Pitch doesn't leave anything to chance, as far as I'm concerned, he could already be producing this biological weapon on an industrial scale."

"If he is, we need to know where he's producing it," the president said firmly, "we cannot allow that weapon to be used against us, all he needs to do is load that bioweapon in missile warheads and the fallout would kill tens of thousands of people."

"The problem is, the Brotherhood has dozens of sites capable of mass production throughout the world," Heather said in a grim tone, "by the time we put the pieces together he would already turn that weapon in our direction and wipe us out." Heather's eyes then widened as she quickly spoke up. "But I do have a friend who's not only a top operative for the Brotherhood but is also a scientist," she then continued, "she's working on Project Blight in a former lumber factory in Bulgaria. I can go to her and get her to help us--"

"Mr. President, with all due respect, I don't believe that's a wise idea," General Blake said, "Ms. Berzerk is still a convicted criminal and can very well be trying to leave this place so that she can regroup with the rest of the Brotherhood and give them vital information about this place itself and our plans to shut Pitch and his operations down."

"And with all due respect to you General Blake, I would say that you're concerns are completely unnecessary," Franklin said, "Heather is trying to make up for all the wrong she's done while working for the Brotherhood. She deserves a second chance, but if she does betray use, I'll put a bullet in her head myself." Blake considered Franklin's words and hummed in agreement.

"I understand your concerns General Blake," Heather said in an understanding tone, "I've done terrible things working for the Brotherhood, and not a moment goes by when I wish I could take it all back. Maybe my brother would still be alive had I not decided to accept the Brotherhood's idea of a second chance. But if we want to see Pitch die for what he's done? You'll need me."

"She's right general," the president said, "the enemy of my enemy of is my friend, Ms. Heather is cooperating with us and has provided us with incriminating evidence and files on all of Pitch Black's deeds." The president then turned to me, Ashley, and the rest of the gang, and inquired. "I'm authorizing the mission to head out to Bulgaria and see if Heather's contact can be swayed to our side. How do you young men and women feel about accompanying Heather on this mission?"

"We'd be honored sir," I said firmly, "just tell us when we go and we'll ensure mission success." The president smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder while nodding. "I know you lot will do your country proud," he then added, "you've already done me proud by being America's sword and shield on many occasions. And I need you to continue being that sword and shield right now."

"Understood Mr. President," Ashley said, "we're ready."

"Good, then get some rest," he said, "you'll be heading out to Bulgaria tomorrow morning. Madison will provide support here from the White House and you all will ensure we secure Heather's contact in that facility and if possible, bring back a sample of Project Blight and see if our scientists can reverse engineer its effects." Nodding firmly, the president looked us all in the eyes and continued. "This is the start of Pitch Black's downfall," he then smiled at us, "you're the best of the best and you'll be the tip of the spear in our fight against this enemy. Our adversary is cunning, ruthless, and will do whatever it takes to achieve victory. We will not stoop to our enemy's level, but do what must be done for the sake of our nation and the world. And may God help us all."