The Sun’s rays were bearing down on London as suspended clouds hung low and a fog fell over the centre of the world. The temperature didn’t lend itself well to a fog but it seemed mother nature had another idea. The weather didn’t make any more sense beyond that point. The tides were calm and wall-clouds could be seen forming in the distance. Meteorologists across the city were attempting to explain the phenomena which was unfolding before them, to no avail.

Meanwhile an intercontinental flight from New York touched down in London City Airport. There was a caravan of transportation vehicles awaiting its arrival on the tarmac. Embossed to the side of one of the trucks was a large Green Tree logo - a large green-silhouette of a tree. This was a charity organization, similar to the Red Cross. They provided disaster relief to every nation in the world who would permit them entry.

There were several things loaded into the transportation vehicles, most had the same Green Tree logo on them, but one had no markings and was a cylindrical container which must’ve weighed half a tonne. After ten minutes of loading, the caravan made their way off of the tarmac and an airport vehicle moved in to unload passenger bags.

“Attention travelers.” A pleasant female voice came over the intercom of the airport, “Due to unexpected weather all flights are grounded until further notice.” The airport became a collective groan for several seconds, then the angered masses began to disperse to the nearest exits or to the nearest customer service kiosks to complain.

“I need to be in Paris today! I can’t wait until tomorrow, you slant!” The woman shouting at the oriental airport service woman spoke in an American accent and pronounced ‘Paris’ as though she spoke French, but clearly didn’t. This was but one of the many shouting matches taking place at the airport. The ground order had only been announced about twenty minutes earlier. It was during these many conversations that the flight, which had arrived in time to be grounded, sent a shockwave through the airport, shattering window panes, in a brilliant explosion.

We find ourselves in London, seconds before an airplane explodes at the airport. Two of our heroes, Garrett Foster and Isaac Merlin, have finally met at the Bureau’s London headquarters. After a quick handshake, Garrett responded to Isaac’s question. “The flight was fine, until some idiots tried to hijack it. But, we’re on the ground, and still alive, so no worries. What’s the situation-” Garrett was cut off as the sound of a distant explosion filled the air. “I don’t like the sound of that,” Garrett muttered.

“I don't either..." Walcott said, seeing dark smoke appear in the distance. A short phone call later, Walcott learned that there was a bombing at the London airport. "We need to go." Walcott said, heading into the building.

Garrett followed close behind, dragging Isaac with him as he went. When he entered the building, Walcott was already calling the elevator. Garrett tapped his left index finger on his leg while they waited. There was a chime, and the elevator arrived. The doors opened, not quick enough for Garrett's liking, and they hurried inside. Another short wait, and they were on the roof, where their ride awaited. A group of combat specialists were already there, climbing into the helicopter, and the pilot was making a final check of the aircraft.

"Five minutes, and we'll be airborne," the pilot said, spinning the tail rotor. Garrett followed Walcott into the aircraft, and found himself in a somewhat cramped rear bay. He looked at Isaac, who appeared none too happy about being drug away from headquarters.

"Oh, do cheer up, Isaac. The fun is about to begin!"

Mintes later, they were airborne and headed to the London Airport. Garrett began to experience a gnawing feeling in the back of his mind. He had a strong suspicion that nothing was as it seemed...