Hardwired Heroes

Jack and Lucy McClane have the Hero Gene and are recruited by the CIA

John McClane’s kids, Lucy and Jack McClane, had always been a little too good at getting out of trouble. Lucy, sharp-witted and fearless, could talk her way out of a hostage situation or throw a punch that’d make her old man proud. Jack, cool-headed and resourceful, had a knack for turning a bad situation into a checkmate. The CIA had been watching them for years, ever since their teenage years when they each, unknowingly, foiled minor crimes with uncanny instincts. The agency called it the "hero gene"—a rare mix of grit, ingenuity, and sheer dumb luck that ran in the McClane bloodline. By 2025, both were secretly recruited, trained to the teeth in martial arts, espionage, and unconventional problem-solving, then deployed on separate covert ops. Neither knew the other was in the game.


Lucy McClane: Istanbul, May 29, 2025


Lucy adjusted her earpiece, blending into the crowded bazaar. Her mission: intercept a rogue arms dealer selling a bioweapon to a terrorist cell. The CIA had intel that the deal was going down at a high-stakes meeting in Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar, and Lucy, posing as a buyer’s rep, was there to snatch the weapon. Her cover was airtight—until the dealer’s goons started eyeing her too closely.


“Amateurs,” she muttered, slipping into a spice stall. Her Krav Maga training kicked in as one thug lunged. She sidestepped, used his momentum to slam him into a stack of saffron jars, and disarmed him with a flick of her wrist. The second goon came at her with a knife. She parried, twisted his arm, and dropped him with a knee to the gut.


The dealer bolted, clutching a silver case. Lucy gave chase, weaving through the crowd, vaulting over carts. She cornered him in an alley, only to see him pass the case to a new player—a tall figure in a black suit, flanked by Secret Service. Her earpiece crackled: “Abort! That’s a decoy. The real target’s on Air Force One. Get to the airport, now.”


Lucy cursed under her breath. “Yippee-ki-yay, bureaucracy.”


Jack McClane: Ankara, Same Day


Jack was halfway across Turkey, infiltrating a black-site server farm. His mission: hack into a dark-web network funding an assassination plot. The CIA had trained him in cyberwarfare, but his real edge was his ability to improvise. When the facility’s alarms blared, Jack didn’t flinch. Guards stormed in, automatic rifles hot. He ducked behind a server rack, rewired a cooling unit to spray liquid nitrogen, and created a fog screen. Using his Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, he choked out two guards, snagged their keycards, and uploaded the virus to cripple the network.


As he exfiltrated, his handler’s voice buzzed in: “New priority. Assassination target is POTUS. Air Force One’s grounded in Istanbul for emergency maintenance—someone’s tampered with it. Get there, neutralize the threat.”


Jack hotwired a motorcycle and peeled out. “Dad would love this,” he smirked.


Istanbul Airport, 8:17 PM EDT


Air Force One sat on a restricted tarmac, surrounded by a skeleton crew of Secret Service and a web of lies. The president was aboard, prepping for an emergency G7 summit. A rogue faction within a global syndicate had rigged the plane with a remote-triggered explosive, tied to the bioweapon Lucy had been chasing. The CIA had pieced it together too late: the arms deal and the assassination plot were one and the same.


Lucy arrived first, slipping past security with a forged badge. She scanned the tarmac, spotting a suspicious maintenance crew near the plane’s underbelly. Her gut screamed trap. She crept closer, palming a concealed Glock, when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She spun, ready to strike—then froze.


“Jack?!”


“Lucy?!”


The McClane siblings stared, dumbstruck. “You’re CIA?” they said in unison.


“No time,” Lucy snapped, nodding toward the plane. “Bomb. Bioweapon. Bad guys. You in?”


“Born for it,” Jack grinned.


They moved like a single unit, their McClane instincts syncing. Lucy took point, disabling a guard with a nerve strike. Jack hacked the maintenance crew’s comms, feeding them false orders to scatter. Inside the plane, they found the device: a sleek cylinder wired to the fuel line, laced with the bioweapon. Lucy’s tech training kicked in—she traced the wiring while Jack kept watch, his silenced pistol ready.


“Timer’s at two minutes,” Lucy hissed. “Remote trigger’s active. We cut the wrong wire, we’re toast.”


Jack scanned the device, his mind racing. “Dad always said, ‘When in doubt, break stuff.’” He smashed the control panel’s antenna, killing the remote signal. Lucy snipped the backup wire, defusing the bomb with seconds to spare.


The Secret Service stormed in, securing the plane. The president, shaken but unharmed, was whisked away. Lucy and Jack slipped out before questions started, vanishing into the night.


Epilogue: New York City, One Week Later


John McClane sat in his favorite dive bar, nursing a beer, when Lucy and Jack slid into the booth across from him. He raised an eyebrow. “You two been up to something?”


Lucy smirked. “Just saving the world, Dad.”


Jack clinked his glass. “Runs in the family.”


John chuckled, shaking his head. “Goddamn hero gene.”