“Hello and welcome.” The smartly dressed German man addressed the recruits who sat around the long oak table in the modern boardroom. “My name is Alexander Biermann, I head the SND - the Supernatural Division of the Bureau.” He took a look around the room, then continued. “Contrary to what the name suggests, we typically solve cases that are too complex for other police agencies to handle.

“You will notice laptop computers in front of you along with a briefcase. Inside you will find a belt, a collection of five mobile phones - switched off - a watch and an assortment of other standard issue gadgets, courtesy of the engineering department here in the Bureau’s New York offices. I will allow Mr. Osamu to explain their function and other uses. For now, I'll ask for your attention to be directed to the screen.” A screen electronically lowered itself from the roof, behind him. “I'd like to begin the investigation as soon as possible.”

When the screen had finally clicked into position, Biermann tapped a button on a remote he possessed and a screen faded on. Everyone should have recognized the LIVE logo - the Tree the word LIVE in the background. "I trust that you've all heard of LIVE, the multinational rival to the Red Cross..." He glanced around, waiting for questions and when none came he continued. "Recently..." He pressed another button and the screen changed. There were about thirty photographs, some were portraits while others were zoomed-in family photos and an assortment of others. They were arranged on the screen in a large square shape.

"In the past five months these people all went missing, they were all found within a few days... All of them had committed suicide by hanging themselves. Some with families were found sooner. While others had weeks or months go by before someone found them..." Glancing to the forensic photographer in the room, "By that time their bodies were nearly or entirely decayed." He took another glance around the room of new agents before continuing, "They all had two things in common... They were all journalists in some respect and they all spoke out against LIVE in some capacity. What do you make of that?

"If you've any deductive skills, and you do, then you'd say that they were killed by LIVE or some associate, but how could they cause a suicide? We have reviewed security footage from around their residence and have confirmed that no one forced their suicides."

He was sure that they could come up with something, he looked at Garret Foster, the lead investigator of this team, "Any thoughts Mr. Foster? I'd be very interested in what all of you have to say about this case... I have my own suspicions, but I would like to hear your preliminary analysis first. And I'd like to hear your thoughts before Mr. Osamu arrives... That should be in about ten minutes." He sat down, in one of the cushion-laden chairs and waited for one of the team members to speak up.

It had been busy morning for Lucie, a 30 minute treadmill run then yoga to stretch out, filling breakfast and her ultimate indulgence - coffee, the only difference to her usual routine was her location. Lucie flew in to The Big Apple late last night and the Upper Eastside hotel the S.D.B booked for her was a nice change from the usual $70 a night motels she was accustomed to when she travelled for work and she was going to take advantage of it. Why the hell not she just came off twelve days of ON-CALL duty and she damn well earned all the little perks the hotel provided.

But as always business first.

Lucie shifted in her oversized leather Chesterfield styled chair the sharp suited German accented gentleman introduced himself.

Lucie hoped one of the other patrons in the room would speak first but after a few minutes her Irish accent cut through the silence thickly "That's a rather large call....LIVE's endorsement figures are in the hundreds of thousands of dollars and they have enough high profile representatives that I doubt that a few disgruntled opinions would have that much of an effect" She paused as she felt the eyes of the gentleman in the room fall on her giving her the feeling like she spoke out of turn. Lucie stood, straightening her steel grey tweed skirt suit as she took a few steps towards the mosaic of photographs on the screen and continued "Statistically speaking suicides are the tenth leading cause of death in this country and thirty-five percent of those are caused by asphyxiation" she stood arms crossed studying each person in the patchwork "and just over one percent of those are found to be a homicide...." She emphasised on the last statistic. Lucie was no detective but over her career she had photographed many suicides for various law enforcement agencies but she only had two cases to be reviewed as homicide.

Lucie tucked a lock of turquoise hair behind her ear and turned directly to Mr Biermann "Who was the most recent victim?"

Charlotte would race down the hall towards the meeting room, her chest pounding as she finally stopped outside the door. Leaning against the wall outside and taking a breath, she would think she was rather late, and wouldn't know how to explain it or even if this was the right room.

Slowly she collected herself. She was a bright, young, talented girl, and they needed her. Surely she couldn't be turned down just because she was a little late?

Charlotte would open the door, a briefcase in her other hand, and slowly she would start to walk in. Looking around the room, she seemed out of place. Not even twenty, not gruff, or professional, just a girl in a dress. She might as well be heading to school with that look, and this might as well be a teachers lounge.

"Hello, I'm Charlotte," she would say to everyone, observing them all and the grotesque display on the monitor with a bit of a start, "I hope I'm not too late, very sorry, is there anything I've missed?" She would take a seat wether one was offered to her or not, and patiently wait for either questions or answers."