NAGA Agents Don't Eat At Chick-Fil-A

Jim poured over the data as it flashed across the displays looking for anything of interest.
 
Hm. This is interesting.
 
A NAGA train had an accident en route to Chicago? Sure...an accident. Let's see. Yep, part of the track destroyed. Oh, and and explosion and fire.
 
Oh...now here we go...missing cargo. BINGO.
 
His fingers danced across the keyboard as he instructed the system to export the data he selected to a thumb drive.
 
2%...oh Lord, this is going to take forever, isn't it? Why can't these guys all use faster computers? God knows they overspend on so much...even my project. Sure I didn't mind at the time, but geez guys buy some new hardware!
 
OK, 21%...come on, come on.
 
He looked up at the clock and whispered a curse. The dude would be back any minute now. Not good. Maybe the line at Chick-Fil-A is really long today. Who am I kidding...NAGA espionage agents don't eat at Chick-Fil-A...
 
52%...hurryhurryhurry!
 
He looked up and panicked. He could see the shadow of someone against the opaque glass on the door. Crap, he's back! There was whistling, too, but he didn't recognize the song. That guy…he glanced over at the nameplate on the desk…Barry…can't whistle for crap.
 
78%...crap…only 58%?!!...there was a beep as Barry…if that was his real name…badged to unlock his door. Quickly Jim jumped up from the desk and shoved the janitorial cart in front of the door.
 
"Still mopping! Floor's wet," Jim raised a grumbly version of his voice.
 
There was a pause at the door. "What?" Barry called back through the door.
 
"Mopping!"
 
Jim jumped back to the computer. Thank God this was a small office.
 
89%. It's not enough!
 
"What do you mean, mopping?!? My office has carpet!"
 
Jim looked down at the floor. He was never good at tracking all the unimportant details. He ripped the drive from the USB on the computer and ducked behind the door just as it opened, his black suit mask melting into place. The cart toppled as the door flew open. The man, Barry, swept the room with no-longer-concealed NAGA pistol as the door banged against the doorstop and swung a little bit back again.
 
The room was empty…all that remained of the janitor now was a flashing progress bar on the computer screen.
 
Copying Files
||============================>>|| 100% Complete.
 
"Damnit!" the NAGA agent yelled as he threw his Chick-Fil-A bag against the plate glass windows and it plopped to the ground.
 
In the hall outside, Jim came out of the wall like he was some kind of Ghost, tucked the thumb drive into his coat pocket, melted back into his janitor coveralls, and ran down the hall to the stairs. That was too close! And was that really Chick-Fil-A??? Wow.
 
Back at his office in the basement, Jim plugged in the drive, and went to work analyzing the data. He was absolutely curious if the New Champions were responsible for the train explosion or not. And if so, why? Did they really just need some NAGA equipment from that train? And what equipment would that be?
 
Wait…what is this bit here in this other communique about power cells?