The light banks buzzed as the thunked on over the large circular room. It was a command center, reminiscent of the older US bunkers scattered across the states. The man walked down the steps. His black slick dress shoes reflecting the lights. His black suit complete with stereo typical black tie. A parade of black suits, government office workers, and other support staffers flooded into the room and began to process of bring everything up to date. The man walked out of the nerve center down a dark hallway which terminated in a sealed door. The man produced a key card and swiped it. The door hissed open with a pop and a click as the air inside met the air that had been so recently let in by the new flurry of activity. It was dry and musty with age. The man slid into the room. It was huge with towering shelves of folders. He wandered down the aisle running his hands over the folders. It was all here. The original work. Every case file, experiment, operation and personnel file. The man smiled. And took out a sleek black phone. With a single button it dialed. “It’s all here….Yes Sir, yes I’ll be activating the new Operative soon…..Yes I have some in mind…..Yes I sent you their case files…..Yes, yes Nathan is on his way here today…..Of course Sir.” Director Caleb hung up and pocketed the phone. So it Begins.

*flails wildly* I have no idea what I'm doing but I'm going to do something!

Lauren sighed and picked at the dingy sedan's interior. It was obviously the kind people got driven around in, plastic divider separating her from the driver and everything. She couldn't see much out of the tinted windows, but the frequent stops and turns of the city streets had given way to the long, rolling sensation of low hills. She had slept for a bit, however, and was now thoroughly unaware of where she was. The stocky, bloody pile of rocks on the seat next to her shifted and groaned, a subtle whine in the back of her head as he did whatever passed for his undead version of sleep. She sighed, narrowed her eyes at him, and settled back into the seat. This Carter guy had better have some answers when she showed up, that's for sure. Black ops sounded like it would be either poorly-funded excuses for paramilitary bullshit, or the kind of bloody, butcherous thing they'd NEED someone as literally bulletproof as a sin-eater like her for. Either way, it seemed like a raw deal to get muscled into, but she'd give it a chance. What was the worst that could happen? She'd get killed? Oh, no, please. Anything but that. Gosh, that would be just awful. The car rolled to a stop, sloshing her against the inside of the door as the driver pulled into a spot. They were here. She brushed her hair back, straightened her sleep-rumpled sweater and cracked the stickier joints in her neck, and dragged her backpack out of the back seat of the car, feeling like she was ready for just about anything at this point. The gritty, bloodstained rocks on the seat next to her rattled silently, invisibly; with a low groan, it followed.