22-30 Jiskastya X Promise

From the outside, it looked like nothing so much as an old but well maintained brownstone building. The brick was in good repair, the old oak door glowed with polish in the yellow light of the streetlamp. The sun had only set a few minutes ago, and the whole street still glowed with the twilight color of dusk. Dark ivy, loosing the last glows of bright green in the fading light, climbed its way up one side, splitting around a window that looked in on a well-decorated sitting room, with rows of bookshelves and a coffee table, the whole room lit by a bright warm lamp.

Inside, a tall man with short brown hair puttered about, straitening out the books, pulling one down, and then placing it on the table, then putting it back on the shelf. He is clearly waiting for someone, and the waiting is driving him to menial tasks, so as to not drive him to simple impatience. He plumps the pillow on the armchair, but darts around suddenly at the sound of an approaching car.

A bright yellow taxi pulls up on the street outside, and comes to a stop. He grins broadly, certain that this will be his guest, and briskly walks from the room to the front door. It was polite, if you knew a guest was coming, to be ready to greet them before they even had to ring the doorbell.

It had been a test, of course it had been a test, everything was a test. They had each been given a piece of information, it had been different for each person, of course it had, when it surfaced they and to know who it belonged to. The information was from the simplest 'who likes this sweet' to 'this person is a known mole' they were all difficult in their own right. From being told to set up parties to being given access to personal computers, they weren't meant to use the information, they were certainly not meant to tell anyone about it. If a trail of investigation was found to lead to the person who was the mole from the one who was told they were a mole, then that test was failed.
The moles aren't real, people had believed they we, glares were shared for weeks after the tests as over, personal computers filled up to the eyebrows with viruses. From tracking, key logging and worms, the woman driving up in the taxi still needed to check the IT department was finished with her laptop. Or she would have and she not been transferred.

Transferred! She got it right, she'd kept the secret, now she was off her dream case...and had no idea where she was going. Don probably did, that jackass had put a tracker into every piece of her clothing. When she'd removed them all she had felt like sticking them up where the sun should be placed so it could burn a hole through his-
She blinked and shook her head, now wasn't the time to wonder how they cold think she was a mole, Rose was probably thinking the same thing. Jackson had lost the game when he'd cornered Rose in the stairwell and threatened to kill her daughter if she didn't come with him to see their superiors.
That guy could rot in the hole of the assignment he'd been put in, maybe someone would shoot him this time.

She looked through her hardbacks no pulled out her current passport, she flipped open the information page and looked at the picture. She had three of these, slightly different appearance, same person and different name. She used to have more but they'd burned up when a grudge holding colleague had used a Molotov cocktail on her car.
She'd loved that car.
The passport she was holding was hers, just a normal everyday American, 'Clara Michaels' it read. Perhaps not the first time she'd had to change her name, but this was closer to the original.

As the taxi pulled up she eyed the building, "you sure this is the right place?" She asked the driver. "Yes it is, creepy looking place to live....if you don't mind me saying" Clara shrugged at his comment, "it'd only bother me if I did live here" she handed over the money the screen showed with a tip, he'd been good for conversation.
She stepped put of the car and pulled her handbag with her, her suitcase was still at the hotel, unless someone had brought them here, she'd certainly not been told to bring it with her.
She stepped up to the path leading to the building, she didn't want to start off by annoying the gardener by taking a short cut over the grass. Clara paused and looked up at the building, with a sigh she started walking towards the door. She had barely taken the first step of the porch when the door was swung open, "um...hello, I'm Clara Michaels, I was told you'd be expecting me?" She stepped up the rest of the way to the porch and stood looking at the stranger. She want sure, but he looked...stressed? Had he been waiting long for her? Last time she had checked her watch she'd been well on time.

"Clara, mon cherie," the man said happily, voice heavily stained with a french accent, stepping out from the door to kiss the air beside both her cheeks. "It is so good to finally meet you. Jacob has been talking about you incessantly. I keep telling him, you will be here in your own good time."

He ran his hand through his hair, giving the look that conveyed perfect polite impatience.

"But, of course, you have no desire to be hearing this. Please, come in, come in." He stepped aside, reopening the door, stepping inside, and them making sure to hold the door open for her, a perfect gentleman.

Despite his light attitude, the man had already created an image of 'Clara Michaels'. It was time to see if she would meet his expectations, fall short, or, perhaps, actually exceed them. She had come highly recommended. Of course she had, she wouldn't be here if she hadn't. But it was time to see how easily she could slip in and out of a role, build a character around the tiny hints she was given. This was not a place for the inept, for the inexperienced. She would need to show that she was the best.

But she wouldn't be here if she wasn't perfect. Perfect for the role that she was going to be given, knowing how to keep a secret, even when it seemed like the best thing to do was tell the whole world. Now that she was here, she was stuck here. This would be the place that she would be working in for the rest of her life, for she would not be able to escape the echoes of this place until she died.

Which might be a very short amount of time, considering the assignment she was going to be given.

Was this another test? Clara wasn't sure she was in the right place, this man had been expecting her - or so he had said. She had been told to introduce herself at the door, whether this man had been looking to act as if he was expecting her, using the name she had given even if he hadn't known it beforehand....
More than once she had been told she was overly suspicious, it was part of the reason she had passed the test to get here. But she had never actually been told the test was over, she'd been asked what her piece of information had been....her answer had been false.

Clara had to admit to her self she was overly suspicious of those around her, but from what she could tell about her current situation, that could save her life. Jacob...she hadn't been told the names of anyone here, another thing which put her on alert.
Clara put on her best friendly smile and stepped through the door as the way was opened to her. She looked around as she stepped through the doorway, this wasn't what she had been expecting, it looked so...normal...

Clara looked at her host and eyed him over, she had had several French boyfriends before, only one of them had an Uncle who came close to acting like this man did. She was far too overly suspicious...but she knew she was right about some part of this. "This place is kept very neat" she pointed out, a caretaker would take it as a compliment, someone like her would see it as an observation. What she was really saying was 'it looks too neat to be lived in or used often' not that it would be the first time she had entered such a place.
But this one was a little on the obvious side....it was absolutely a test for something bigger.

The man grinned, satisfied. "Yes, indeed. That is why we do not spend much time in the front rooms. It is too much of a bother to clean again." He stepped forward, letting the door swing closed behind him. Then, ignoring Clara, or seeming to, he began to walk up the stairs.

It was her prerogative as to follow him, or not. She was in now, free to roam as she would, but she would find nothing out of the ordinary in the house. Kitchen, probably the dirtiest room in the whole house. There would be dishes still piled on the counter, the remains of last night's dinner, and silverware in the sink. The beds upstairs would be neatly made, but the closets would contain clothes, shoes, and dirty laundry. Everything was crafted to the point that an uneducated visitor would see no reason to suspect that this was anything but a normal household, owned by a bachelor Frenchman who often had a small group of guests over to visit.

At the top of the stairs he turned left, still not looking to see if Clara was following him. He opened the second door on teh right, and then glanced around, holding it open for his visitor to enter into first.

If she wasn't there, it might take her a bit to tack him down, which would be amusing in its own way. It had been a long time since anyone who hadn't been welcomed had entered this house, even a plumber or electrician. It would be interesting to see where her inquiries led her. Not that she would find anything.

Clara frowned as he walked off but didn't hesitate to follow, she paused several times to look around, almost losing sight of the man a couple of those times. She eyed the walls, ceilings and the corners at which they met, she was looking for cameras and soon her eyes sought them out in the house's decoration.
Clara began to wonder how many people after her would be shown recordings of her going through this test. She also wondered quite how much she was getting wrong, this all seemed to easy, was she mean to follow this man? Was she going to get attacked at any moment? How far advanced was this...could she be killed of she got it wrong?

As they passed rooms she glanced inside, one thing she noted to be missing, the one thing that caught her eye that any personal home would have. Pictures. Little things so easily missed, especially if you weren't expecting to ave to look for them. She wasn't going to say anything right now, but it did place the building into a different light for her.

Clara paused at the held open door and looked at her host, the corner of her mouth turned up in a slightly amused smile, "so where are we going? Where does this lead?" She asked motioning to the open door.

He let out a tired, and somewhat exasperated sigh. "Eet leads downstairs, Clara."

This was the only room in the house that seemed abnormal. The door was heavy and solid, designed to withstand breakdown, and the wall around it was mounted with steel. No casual observer would notice it, but someone who was used to looking ofr such signs would find them easily. Inside, the room was almost completely bare. There was a writing desk, one bookshelf that was mostly empty, and an old rug. But, in the back corner, the railing and top step of a spiral staircase could be seen.

It was metallic, and solidly built. Leavers would allow for the space to be closed, should such drastic measures need to be taken.

"But I can not blame you for being suspicious. That is a trait that may serve you well in the future. Follow me."

And so, he stepped into the room, over to the staircase, and began to descend.

It was a long staircase, clearly going much further down than the single level they had gone up. It probably went further down than two stories, but the tight spiral and steep steps made it hard to keep track of.

The room at the bottom looked a little like a waiting room. There was a fake plant in one corner, a couple of armchairs to sit in. But the general atmosphere had gone from that of slightly stale home to professional clinic. The only other way out of the room was the single, heavy door, clearly reenforced with everything a professional company could put into it.

He turned around, looking Clara in the eye, gaze hard and serious.

"In theory, at this point, you can still turn around. Once we step through that door, however, you are committed. This will be your one and only chance to get out." His gaze lightened a little bit, and a smile quirked in the corner of his mouth. "And the best part is, you don't get to know what is waiting on the other side of that door. Consider it a test of bravery, of commitment, but no that there will be no harm done, no punishment given, if you should choose to leave. You will go back to the life you had before."

Downstairs, charming sarcasm...not that she was going to mention the fact she slapped most guys for those comments. She walked through the door, her eyes trailed over the walls and table. She walked through the door and took a moment to turn back and look at it, what did they have here that they needed that door? Curiosity drove her to follow the man she was now beginning to consider quite strange.

Clara had never liked waiting rooms, they made her feel claustrophobic, her eyes were on the door though. Whereas she had been curious of the other door and its reinforcement, this one seemed ridiculous. She tore her eyes from it and looked at her host, a frown creased her brow at his words, curiosity burned in her. But as she looked back to the door, so did suspicion.

How much would she kick her self for not taking this dive? In truth, in all honesty, how many people did leave when given this choice....
Probably quite a few.
This was a catch 22, there was a chance if she stepped away then he was lying and nothing would be the same. There was a chance however he was telling the truth and her job wouldn't change, but that was the point, it wouldn't change...at all. Was this the test? What would happen on the other side of that door? Would she fail and her life would spiral into an abyss? Hadn't that happened before though? So many questions...it had been some time when she had been able to give her self answers.

But maybe just a few were behind that door, what was the worst that could happen? "Why would not knowing be the best part? Maybe I'll consider knowing to be the best part" she looked at him, a smile of her own on her lips.

He laughed at that, an honest, warm laugh that most people found rather infectious. He turned, and slid a small, and rather flimsy looking key card through a reader on the side of the door. It was almost ironic. After all, this door was the kind that would survive an atomic bomb, yet all it took to get in was one little card. There was no handprint scanner, no retina scanner, no voice check.

Just one small card.

But, the door slid open anyways, silently, fluidly. And the room on the other side glowed with bright light.

It was a small room, although large compared to the size of the waiting room. Everything seemed to glow with efficiency and perfection. on the far side of the room, one entire wall was covered with a monitor. Several computers hummed on the side walls. There was a rather comfortable looking sofa, a small refrigerator and counter, and a small briefing table in the center of the room.

At it sat two people, a man and a woman. They had turned around to look when the door had opened, and now sat expectantly, waiting to be introduced.

The man proffered a hand, offering Clara the chance to go in first, and then stepped in behind her. The door closed promptly behind his heels.

"Welcome," he said, all traces of the french accent vanishing from his voice. "To 22-30."

Clara smiled, guessing from his laugh she much have said something right at least. She looked around the side of the door and eyed the other people through it. She found it odd that the room was quite so much smaller than would be expected of something on the other side of such a door, and the security looked awful. She made a note in her mind to tell her guide quite how bad his accent was, well...perhaps it wasn't so much bad as over done.

Clara stepped through the doorway fora as offered and walked up to the table. She looked down at the two people sitting at the table and waited to be introduced, she was now beginning to think that this wasn't the test she had though it to be.
But the question now stood, where the hell was she? What was this place?
It looked too small to be quite as important as the door would suggest, there didn't seem to be the facility to hold bio weapons of any sort. She wasn't exactly 'hacker' level for a government cyber-division of any sort, she had toys to do the password work for her.

She looked around the place, then back to the pair sitting, "should I wait before asking the big questions?" She asked with a slight smile.