Sitting with his back to the view, William Stephenson held a large manilla envelope in his hand. He used his butter knife to open it from the side and wiggled the photos out onto the plate in front of him. Each picture was a snapshot of a person going about their day at an airport it seemed. None were connected or had any specific perspective other than they weren’t looking at the camera. In fact each seemed blissfully unaware of the photograph being taken. Looking at each one carefully and then flipping them to look at the back he saw a multitude of numbers.

It looked through them as if he were reading them. He quietly put them back in the envelope and then set it on fire using a candle. The action seemed to catch no one’s attention as the clamor and chaos of a busy high end restaurant ran around him. A few minutes later he was joined by a woman in her mid 50’s. Her elegant black and white dress matched his suit and tie perfectly with an obvious touch of coordination between them. “You never could stop with the theatrics.” She said after she saw the ashes from the burnt paper on the white table cloth. Her accent was a mix of South African and something else that was hard to hear if you didn’t know her.

“Yes, well, this time it isn’t me who seems to be the ringleader…” Stephenson let this thought linger as the table fell into silence. When he finally continued it was only after he saw no movement in his tablemate to break the silence. “The Academy has been mine to oversee for the past 7 years. I see no reason that the recent incidents should reflect on me.”

The woman seemed to break as she looked down at her purse and then back at the man. “You may see this as an overreaction; however, you would do well to remember that this pet project of yours is not viewed so highly. It took more than a few tense conversations to allow you to continue as overseer.” A phone in her purse started to ring. She gave a polite smile and pulled it out.

“I am needed in Istanbul. I trust you will see things as they are and understand what position you are in.” The woman then stood up gave a curt nod leaving Stephenson just as food was being brought over to the table. He silently watched her left and then accepted his meal while sending her plate back. The rest of the night he was lost in his own thoughts…

_{Location= London Heathrow. Time= REDACTED}

---

Cairo smiled icily at the guard as she waved him towards the awaiting trolley, letting him drag the last of her oversized bags onto it. To him, and the cluster of various British guards at Heathrow, she looked like another entitled, rich diplomat’s daughter. What they didn’t know was under the shoes and clothes they thought were the only occupants of her bags was a veritable arsenal of weaponry. Her mother had managed to wrangle enough favours to extend some limited diplomatic privileges for Cairo this time. So, Cairo had to play the part.

Waving a hand imperiously forward, she sauntered towards the exit, searching for her ride. The itinerary The Academy had given her, and that she’s subsequently burned, had mentioned a car with French diplomatic plates. She scanned the car park before she saw a black car with the plates the itinerary had mentioned. The driver, in a pressed black suit, unfolded himself from the car and came up to greet her. “Miss Lalatovic,” he greeted as he pulled open the door and gestured inside, “Please.” She barely nodded as she slid inside. Just as the door was about to shut, she spoke, as if in afterthought. “Oh, tell the man to place the bags in the truck will you? And hurry! I haven’t much time.” With the driver’s agreement, the door shut and she breathed an internal sigh of relief. While this might have been an easy task, acting the part of a stuck up, entitled b*tch was never her favourite. But, needs must. She pulled out her phone, and slipped on her Airpods as she dialled up her dad.
“Hello *Tata!” She exclaimed as she smiled fondly. In the background she heard the howling of the wind. After a second of listening to the wind whistling past and crackling of the phone, her father’s voice came through clearly. “*Draga moja, have you landed safely?” And here her father slipped into Serbian, as the sound of the wind quieted down. “Are you in London now? How far from Oxford are you?”

“Yes Tata”, she replied in Serbian as well. “I’m sitting in the car that Mama procured. We haven’t started driving yet you idiot,” she added, fondly. “You’re the one who said to call, and I quote, ‘the second you land’” At the muffled sound of the driver’s door opening, her voice chilled considerably as she asked, “And where are you?”

“Yes, well you never listen to me so I thought why would you start not?” Her father’s familiar laugh travelled through her Airpods as she fought her instinctive reaction to laugh with him. “Ehh your mother and I are mountain climbing. She got some time off work so I thought why not? Oh! Lemme see if I can find her.” As her father's voice trailed away and she heard him moving to find her mother, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Even on an encrypted call, and on her highly secure phone, her dad insisted on playing the charade the bored husband of a high profile diplomatic wife.
In the interim, the car had rolled into gear and smoothly made its turn onto the road away from the crowded airport and towards Oxford. Finally the sound of her mother’s voice filled the phone as she too rattled off the same questions, the only difference being Cairo’s interrogation was in French this time. “*Ma petite chou! How was your flight? Did you find the car alright?”

“Yes Maman. Of course I did.” She added an exasperated sigh for good measure, knowing her mom knew she was faking. “The flight was fine. The ride from the airport to Oxford should take longer than getting her.” Rolling her eyes, she made eye contact with the driver. Gotcha! Despite the appearance of privacy, she knew he’d heard every word. Although she doubted there was much use to this charade, she’d rather keep the illusion of a slightly dysfunctional family as long as she could. It was one that had served her family well for many years, and she wasn’t about to let it slip now.

Information was power, and power wasn’t something she wanted to so carelessly give away. Who knew which agency he served or if he served one at all. It was always better to be safe than sorry, but her instincts told him that he served some agency. Which one, she didn’t know. But from his eyes to his mannerisms, it all pointed at training and forced carelessness. She pretended to hastily cut in with a quick, “Ok, well I have to go! I promised Jessica I’d call her.” With an affected insincere smile, she concluded her charade with a flourish. Hanging up, she tapped out a ‘k’ to her mom, knowing she’d get the message. Switching to Spotify, she put on ‘Drew Barrymore’, a song that had been stuck in her head for the last couple of days and turned to look out the window.

_{Location= Oxford. Time= REDACTED}

---

From the change in pace, she knew that they’d just entered the city limits. From her years of training, she’d been taught to sleep and fall out of sleep in the blink of an eye. Any shift in rhythm would alert her. Giving it a couple more minutes, she made a big fuss of waking up and looking outside in surprise. Acting shocked that she had suddenly found herself in Oxford. God. She should have been a f*cking actress. At last, the car rolled to a stop outside a house, unlike anything she’d ever seen before. It was, frankly, an ugly building. She preferred the older styles of houses, not the modern cr*p that passed for houses nowadays.

“Miss, we’ve arrived. Should I get the bags for you?” The driver had made a show of pressing the button for the intercom. She simply raised a brow before turning her attention to her phone. The driver clambered out, and pulled the door of the car open. She gracefully exited the car and looked at the house that would be hers for the next three years, if all went well. A girl was standing outside, with no bags in sight. She was really pretty, fitting Cairo’s type for sure. From the corner of her eye she saw the driver bring her bags around the back, and assumed that they’d hopefully be put in her room or something. Cairo went towards the doorway and nodded at the girl, unsure of what to say. Well this is awkward. I should probably say something. And yet, nothing came to mind.

---

<sub>*Tata=dad (as you probs guessed from context)
**Draga moja=my darling (f)
*(kept it in French ‘cause it sounds weird in English) Ma petite chou= my little cabbage (f)
* chou chou=cabbage cabbage (idk why French endearments are so weird)</sub>

---

"Hehehe, Take That, asshole" Lucy whisper as the train pass through the trees and the beautiful city of London. Lucy log in to her Bank account to see that she now have ten billion dollars, "Thank you Tony~, Thank you for being a scumbag and being rich~ Oh! sorry, used to be rich~" Lucy say as her lips turn into mischievous smile. "Excuse me, miss?" Lucy turn away from her MacBook and face the waitress that is holding a cart full of food. "Do you want something to eat?" Lucy look at the cart that have many glorious food with near look at it, Lucy stomach is already rumbling, "Um, sure. whatcha got?" "We got crumpets with jam and butter, Sunday roast and a egg omelette with bacon on the side." When waitress say egg and bacon, Lucy mouth is already watering. "I'll have a egg omelette with bacon on the side. Thank you."

---

Lucy walk around the city what feels like for hours, she could have sworn that map, that her aunt give her, would show Lucy where what the hell she is! Right about when Lucy was about to give up, she finally found the damn and to her surprise, _{Well...not really}, the building was sketchy as hell. Lucy sighs, knowing that her and other students will be living there for years, and speaking of students, she see two of them at the front door, probably waiting for the door to open. With a smirk on her face, she walk toward them with bags in her hands and her high heels shoes click every time to her presence known. "Hello~" Lucy say to the two students "I guess you two are students as well?"

The tarmac outside Reykjavik, Iceland was cold with a brilliant sun overhead. Colin knew they had a word for days like this as he had seen it on a YouTube video once. Gluggaveður was the word and it fit the situation perfectly. From the inside while going through customs Devin saw through the window the wonderfully light Icelandic countryside. It was easy to see as the airport was basically in its own part of the island removed from most everything including their capital city.

The flight that he had been on needed to take a pit stop to refuel. The travel from Vancouver had been somewhat dull due to the lack of human interaction. Unknown to him his ticket wasn't for an economy seat to London, but in fact a private plane that was taking him straight to Oxford. The stop in Iceland was planned, but his requirement to go through customs was not. It was fine for him as he had everything he needed, but what did feel weird was that every time he spoke to someone new they asked him the same question "Are you the only one traveling on this plane?"

His answer was as civil as their repeating of the question. "No."



Finally after what felt like an hour, but was really only 20 minutes he and the flight was released to take off. The bright Iceland sun was still above as they took off at 4 AM. The rest of the flight was as mundane as the first half. When the final clearance to land was given Colin secretly thanked God as he was starting to get stir-crazy in the small metal tube. As soon as the doors to the plan hit the tarmac he was out and made his way out of the small airport. His small duffel bag was in one hand with his other holding his phone.

Five clicks later he was in an Uber taking him to the requested address. The ride seemed to twist and turn, but he kept a close eye on the map and asked the driver a question or two so as to keep things focused on what he wanted them to. He knew he was nervous as it would have been better for him to remain silent and simply study the map so as to be able to navigate around himself. Still not every day you can say you are starting the rest of your life...



When the drivers cell phone announced that they had arrived at the destination Colin thanked him and got out of the car. Standing next to the sidewalk he looked down at his phone to confirm and then over at the three people standing in front of the address. As the car pulled up he noticed the one of them had seemingly only just arrived and started to talk to the others. Oblivious to them and simply saying "Excuse me" he walked right past them and up to the large black building and saw that there was a doorbell. 'Home looks inviting.' he thought as he then rang the doorbell and then glanced back at the three before turning back to the door.

_{Same time, same place.}

---

Cairo smiled carefully at the new girl in welcome, her mouth closed and slightly pointy. The other two started chatting lightly, slipping effortlessly into that sort of small talk that never came easily to Cairo, the girl. Cairo, the spy, however, could engage even the most guarded of her marks in conversation, flitting seamlessly from one topic to the next. But the girl herself, was more awkward then that. That’s why, when she was given an opening, a chance to introduce herself, her nervousness came out in short, clipped sentences. “Cairo.” She extended her hand to clasp the Asian chick’s one, her grip firm.

Before much more could be said, a boy breezed by them, displacing the other girls a little. Cairo, built as robustly as she was, barely shifted. He rang the doorbell, and the assembled group waited. Another boy had joined by the time the anticipation tinged silence has slowly morphed into tension. Finally, the door swung open to reveal a boy— no, man— boy-man standing in the doorway eating some cereal carelessly. He looked Indian, or Middle Eastern, with the lazy air characteristic of the many fresher boys who populated UK universities. He waved them in as he turned further into the building. Curious, Cairo stepped away from the sidewalk, and past the boy who’d pressed the doorbell, into the house proper. Her bags were placed neatly to one side of the living room. It was an open plan, modern space with the living room bleeding effortlessly into the kitchen. Not that it’s a hardship to make it look effortless since there are only two colours to speak of in this house, she thought to herself.

He gave a little spiel, with the barest of information actually revealed, in that same careless voice that matched the rest of his persona. At the announcement that they would be choosing their rooms for themselves, Cairo let out an internal sigh of frustration. Toss a couple of unfamiliar people into a group, and there was bound to be some tension. None of that community spirit has been created, nor the bonds of friendship so she thought it would be too much to ask to get them to decide on this in an orderly way. But she’d try. “Thanks, Rabindar. About the rooms,” with this she turned to face the rest of the students, “why don’t we all individually check them out and meet back here in 5 minutes to decide who gets what, based on if certain people have any preferences.” Although she didn’t know it, she looked pretty intimidating as she stared the rest of them down, her eyes icy, and her resting b*tch face firmly in place.