Chapter 7
The archive room smelled like dust and old electronics, a graveyard of hard drives and backup tapes stacked floor to ceiling. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a sickly white glow that made SMG4's eyes ache. Or maybe that was just exhaustion. He'd lost track of how long they'd been at this—three hours? Four?
SMG3 sat cross-legged on the floor beside him, laptop balanced on his knees, scrubbing through footage frame by frame. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw tight with concentration. Every so often, his knee would brush against SMG4's thigh—a small point of contact that felt like the only real thing in a world that had suddenly become unmoored.
"This is insane," Meggy muttered from across the room, where she was reviewing a different set of files. "Six months of footage. Do you know how many hours that is?"
"Approximately four hundred and thirty-two hours of raw footage," Tari said quietly from her corner, her fingers never stopping their dance across her keyboard. "Plus another two hundred hours of B-roll and unused takes."
"So we're looking for a needle in a haystack," Luigi said weakly. "A very, very large haystack."
"A haystack that someone paid fifty grand to steal," SMG3 said without looking up. "Which means the needle is worth a hell of a lot more than that."
SMG4 paused the footage on his screen—a behind-the-scenes shot from their Mario Kart tournament video three months ago. Nothing unusual. Just Mario screaming at the camera while Luigi tried to calm him down. He rubbed his eyes, feeling the grit of sleeplessness beneath his lids.
"We're missing something," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "Boopkins wouldn't just take random footage. He'd know what he was looking for. Which means whoever paid him told him exactly what to steal."
"Or showed him," SMG3 added, his voice sharp with sudden realization. He looked up, meeting SMG4's eyes. "What if they gave him a list? Specific dates, specific files?"
"Then the pattern would be in what's missing," SMG4 said, his mind racing. He turned to Tari. "Can you pull up a complete inventory of what was taken? Not just the date range, but the specific files?"
Tari's fingers flew across the keyboard. "Give me a minute."
The room fell into tense silence, broken only by the clicking of keys and the low hum of electronics. SMG4 felt SMG3's hand find his under the table—a brief squeeze, hidden from view. A reminder: we're in this together.
"Got it," Tari said finally, her voice tight. "Okay, this is... weird. The files aren't sequential. They're scattered across the six-month period, but there's a pattern." She pulled up a visualization on the main monitor. "See? Every file that was taken has one thing in common."
SMG4 stood, moving closer to the screen. SMG3 followed, their shoulders brushing.
"They all have exterior shots," Tari continued. "Street scenes, establishing shots, background footage of the city. Anything filmed outside the studio."
"Why would someone want our B-roll of the city?" Meggy asked, frowning.
"Because they're not interested in our content," SMG3 said slowly, his eyes narrowing. "They're interested in what we accidentally filmed. Background details. People passing by. Buildings. License plates."
"We captured something we weren't supposed to see," SMG4 finished, his stomach dropping. "Something someone is willing to pay—and possibly kill—to keep hidden."
The weight of that realization settled over the room like a shroud.
"We need to find out what," Meggy said, her voice hard. "Tari, can you cross-reference the stolen files with any major events that happened in the city during those time periods? Crimes, political events, anything that might—"
"Already on it," Tari interrupted, her fingers never stopping. "But this is going to take time. The city database is huge, and I'm having to manually search because I don't want to trigger any automated alerts that might tip off whoever's watching."
"Watching?" Luigi squeaked. "You think they're watching us?"
"They paid off our IT administrator," SMG3 said flatly. "They have access to our security system. Of course they're watching."
SMG4 felt a chill run down his spine. He glanced at the security camera in the corner of the archive room, its red light blinking steadily. Watching. Always watching.
"We need to go dark," he said suddenly. "No digital communication about this investigation. No emails, no texts, nothing that can be intercepted."
"Agreed," Meggy said. "From now on, we only discuss this in person, in rooms we've physically swept for bugs."
"You think they've bugged us?" Mario asked, his usual bravado replaced with genuine concern.
"I think we can't afford to assume they haven't," SMG4 said.
The paranoia was setting in now, cold and insidious. Every shadow felt like a threat. Every sound made him jump. And the worst part was knowing that somewhere out there, someone was watching them scramble, probably laughing at how easily they'd been compromised.
"I need air," SMG3 said abruptly, standing. His face was pale, his hands shaking slightly. "I can't—I need to think."
SMG4 stood immediately. "I'll come with you."
"No," SMG3 said, but his voice lacked conviction. "You should stay. Help with the search."
"Three." SMG4 caught his wrist, lowering his voice so only SMG3 could hear. "You're not doing this alone. Not anymore."
For a moment, SMG3 looked like he might argue. Then his shoulders sagged, and he nodded. "Okay. But just for a minute."
They left the archive room together, ignoring the knowing looks from the others. The hallway was dark, lit only by emergency exit signs that cast everything in a red glow. SMG4 led them to the roof access—a place they'd both retreated to over the years when the studio felt too small, too suffocating.
The night air was cold and sharp, carrying the scent of rain and distant smoke. The city sprawled below them, a constellation of lights and shadows. From up here, it looked peaceful. Beautiful, even. It was easy to forget that somewhere down there, someone was hunting them.
SMG3 leaned against the railing, his breath misting in the cold air. "This is so fucked up," he said quietly. "A week ago, my biggest problem was figuring out how to sabotage your latest video without getting caught. Now we're being hunted by some shadowy organization that has the resources to pay off our crew and steal our footage."
"And we're together," SMG4 added, moving to stand beside him. "Don't forget that part."
SMG3 laughed, but it was hollow. "Yeah. Great timing on that, huh? Finally get my shit together enough to admit I want this, and immediately we're thrown into a conspiracy thriller."
"Would you take it back?" SMG4 asked softly. "If you could?"
"No." The answer was immediate, fierce. SMG3 turned to face him, his eyes reflecting the city lights. "No, I wouldn't. Even with all this chaos, even with the danger—I wouldn't take it back. You?"
"Never," SMG4 said, and meant it with every fiber of his being.
They stood there for a moment, the wind whipping around them, the city breathing below. Then SMG3 pulled him close, pressing their foreheads together.
"I'm scared," SMG3 admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not of them. Not of whoever's behind this. I'm scared that we're going to lose each other in all of this. That the pressure is going to break us before we even have a chance to figure out what we are."
"We're not going to break," SMG4 said firmly. "We're too stubborn for that. Both of us."
"You say that now. But what happens when they come after us directly? What happens when keeping this relationship becomes a liability? When they use it against us?"
"Then we fight," SMG4 said. "Together. Like we should have been doing all along instead of tearing each other apart."
SMG3 kissed him then, desperate and fierce, like he was trying to memorize the taste of him. SMG4 kissed back just as hard, pouring every ounce of certainty he had into it. We're going to be okay. We have to be okay.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, SMG3 rested his forehead against SMG4's shoulder. "We should get back. Before they send a search party."
"Yeah." But neither of them moved.
"Four?"
"Yeah?"
"When this is over—when we figure out who's behind this and stop them—I want to take you on an actual date. Like, a real one. Dinner, maybe a movie. Something normal."
SMG4 smiled despite everything. "I'd like that. Though knowing us, we'd probably end up arguing about the movie choice and setting something on fire."
"Probably," SMG3 agreed, pulling back with a small smile. "But at least it would be our fire."
They returned to the archive room to find the atmosphere had shifted. Tari was standing in front of the main monitor, her face pale, her hands trembling.
"What is it?" SMG4 asked immediately.
"I found something," Tari said, her voice shaking. "In the metadata of the stolen files. There's a secondary encryption layer I almost missed. Someone tried to scrub it, but they didn't do a perfect job."
"What does it say?" Meggy demanded.
Tari pulled up a string of code on the screen. "It's a digital signature. A watermark embedded in the files themselves. It identifies the original source of the encryption."
"And?" SMG3 pressed.
Tari turned to face them, her expression grave. "It's a government signature. Military-grade encryption. Whoever stole our footage has access to classified government security protocols."
The room went silent.
"That's impossible," Luigi said weakly. "Why would the government care about our stupid YouTube videos?"
"They don't," SMG4 said, his mind racing. "But they care about what we accidentally filmed. Something classified. Something they can't let get out."
"Or someone within the government is using their resources for personal gain," SMG3 added darkly. "Either way, we're not dealing with some random criminal. We're dealing with someone with serious power and serious connections."
"This is way above our pay grade," Meggy said, running a hand through her hair. "We need to go to the police. The FBI. Someone."
"And tell them what?" SMG3 challenged. "That we think the government stole our footage because we might have accidentally filmed something classified? They'll laugh us out of the building. Or worse, they'll confiscate everything and bury it."
"So what do we do?" Mario asked, for once completely serious.
SMG4 looked at SMG3, seeing his own fear and determination reflected back at him. "We find out what we filmed. We find the proof. And then we decide who we can trust with it."
"That's insane," Luigi protested. "We're YouTubers, not investigators. We're going to get ourselves killed."
"Maybe," SMG4 admitted. "But if we don't do this, if we just roll over and let them take what they want, then we're complicit. And I'm not okay with that."
"Neither am I," SMG3 said firmly, moving to stand beside SMG4. A united front.
One by one, the others nodded their agreement. Even Luigi, though he looked like he might pass out from fear.
"Okay," Meggy said, her voice taking on a military edge. "Then we do this smart. We split up the remaining footage, review it in shifts. We keep everything offline, everything physical. And we watch each other's backs."
"And we find Boopkins," SMG3 added. "He's the weak link. If we can get to him before they do, he might tell us who paid him off."
"I'll track his phone," Tari said, already typing. "If it's still on, I can triangulate his location."
As the crew dispersed to their assigned tasks, SMG4 felt SMG3's hand slip into his, hidden from view beneath the table.
"You okay?" SMG3 murmured.
"No," SMG4 admitted. "But I will be. We will be."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
It was a promise he wasn't sure he could keep. But as he looked around the room at his crew—his family—working together to unravel a conspiracy that could destroy them all, he felt something fierce and unbreakable settle in his chest.
They were in this together. All of them.
And whoever was hunting them was about to learn that the SMG4 crew didn't go down without a fight.
Even if the enemy was the government itself.
Three hours later, Tari's laptop pinged.
"I found him," she said, her voice tight. "Boopkins' phone just came online. He's at a motel on the outskirts of the city. The Starlight Inn."
"That's a dump," Meggy said, already grabbing her jacket. "Perfect place to hide if you're on the run."
"Or if you're waiting for your next payment," SMG3 added darkly.
"We need to move fast," SMG4 said. "If his phone just came online, that means he either got careless or he's about to run again."
"I'm coming with you," SMG3 said immediately.
"So am I," Meggy added.
"The rest of you stay here," SMG4 instructed. "Keep reviewing the footage. If we're not back in two hours, call the police."
"Be careful," Tari said softly, her eyes wide with worry.
As they headed for the door, SMG4 felt the weight of what they were about to do settle over him. They were walking into the unknown, chasing a lead that could be a trap, confronting someone who had betrayed them.
But as SMG3's hand found his in the darkness of the parking lot, as Meggy checked her weapon with practiced efficiency, SMG4 felt something else too.
Hope.
They were going to get answers. They were going to find the truth.
And they were going to do it together.
The Starlight Inn loomed ahead, its flickering neon sign casting sickly pink light across the cracked parking lot. Only three cars were parked outside, and one of them—a beat-up sedan with a dented bumper—matched the description of Boopkins' vehicle.
"He's here," Meggy confirmed, her voice low.
"Room 7," SMG3 said, pointing to a window where a faint light glowed behind drawn curtains.
They approached carefully, SMG4's heart hammering in his chest. This was it. The moment of truth.
Meggy knocked on the door. "Boopkins? It's Meggy. We need to talk."
Silence.
Then, a crash from inside. The sound of something breaking.
"He's running!" SMG3 shouted, already moving toward the back of the building.
SMG4 followed, adrenaline surging through his veins. They rounded the corner just in time to see a figure climbing out the bathroom window—small, rotund, unmistakably Boopkins.
"Stop!" SMG4 yelled.
But Boopkins didn't stop. He hit the ground running, surprisingly fast for someone his size, heading for the tree line behind the motel.
SMG3 was faster. He tackled Boopkins before he could reach the trees, both of them going down in a tangle of limbs.
"Get off me!" Boopkins screamed, thrashing. "You don't understand! They'll kill me! They'll kill all of us!"
"Who?" SMG4 demanded, helping SMG3 pin him down. "Who paid you off?"
Boopkins' eyes were wild, terrified. "I can't tell you. If I tell you, we're all dead. They're watching. They're always watching."
"Boopkins," Meggy said, her voice firm but not unkind. "We already know about the offshore account. We know you took the footage. But we need to know who's behind this. We need to know what we filmed that's worth fifty thousand dollars."
"It's not worth fifty thousand," Boopkins sobbed. "It's worth millions. Billions, maybe. And they'll do anything to keep it buried."
"What is it?" SMG4 pressed. "What did we film?"
Boopkins looked up at him, tears streaming down his face. "You filmed a murder," he whispered. "A government official. Someone important. And the person who killed him is even more important. If that footage gets out, it'll bring down the entire administration."
The world seemed to tilt.
"Who?" SMG3 demanded. "Who did we film?"
But before Boopkins could answer, a red dot appeared on his chest.
SMG4's blood ran cold. "Sniper! Get down!"
They dove for cover just as the shot rang out, the sound echoing across the empty parking lot.
When SMG4 looked up, Boopkins was lying still, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.
And in the distance, the sound of a car engine roaring to life.
They'd been too late.
And now, they were next.
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.