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Here's the start of a story I've been posting on a few different sites. It's a slow burn, but any criticism is very much welcome. I think I've got thirty-something chapters written now, so might take a while to catch up with the other places I've been posting. Any comments and corrections very much welcome. Specifically, I'm never sure if I'm being too heavy-handed with foreshadowing and clues. If you can see what's coming, please let me know; so I have a better idea if it's too obvious or not. ACT I: Briefing 1. Prologues Light on the factory floor was mostly from the faint glow of furnaces, or some complex chemical process. Occasionally, the flicker of welding caused the shadows to shift for a couple of seconds before darkness returned. The machines didn’t need light to work by. The shadows seemed alive, writhing in the corners and clinging to every surface. Narrow metal catwalks lined the perimeter, suspended precariously over a sprawling industrial space. Below the walkways, massive stainless steel vats brewed and distilled mysterious chemical concoctions, bubbly liquids gurgling as gases percolated up through them. Steam rose in wispy tendrils, collecting under the catwalks and obscuring the view across the cavernous hall. A figure walked along down below, a flashlight casting to either side. Maybe a janitor or night guard inspecting the place. The days when a site like this would have required hundreds of workers to keep it going were long gone. Now, the only serious tasks were making sure that none of the machines had warning lights lit, and that there was nobody here who wasn’t supposed to be. The last intruder had been a rat, found nesting in the ductwork a month before. People were still talking about it. On the gantry above, if you looked from just the right angle, you might have noticed a couple of shadows looking a little more organic than the latticework of steel and concrete. A really careful observer, if they waited long enough, might have seen those shadows moving again after a long, cautious pause. Two figures, scurrying across a catwalk while keeping low to the ground so they couldn’t be seen from below. The larger one went first, moving with a quiet confidence, while the frustration of the second was clear in the way that it moved. Their footsteps didn’t make a sound even on the metal gantry, and the distant man on the ground was completely unaware of them as he continued surveying some of the industrious machines. As they came to the middle of the catwalk they moved more nervously; exposed in the open space, with sheer drops on either side down to the chemical basins simmering stories below. Reaching an intersection, the taller figure paused, broad shoulders backlit by the eerie green glow of a monitor as he peered down each possible path. His muscular frame was obvious even through his dark utilitarian clothes. Beside him, the smaller figure froze as someone else’s footsteps started to shake the steel beneath their feet. Their slim build was almost lost in the oversized utility uniform they wore, and they stood with a tension that said flight was an option at any moment. With a few quick hand signals, the partner indicated a patrol emerging from the left passage. Another gesture pointed towards a place where the computer terminal at the side of the walkway – maybe all the buttons to shut down the machines below in case someone were to fall – could conceal them from whoever was generating a more prominent set of footsteps. The smaller figure was moving back already, desperate to hide before they were discovered. But the larger man didn't retreat. His head turned back and forth as if considering multiple options when there was only one sane choice available. With a sudden burst of speed he charged forward into the intersecting catwalk, directly toward the oncoming guards. A dozen panicked shots ricocheted in the darkness, nowhere near their target as they reacted in pure surprise. The brute’s bellow inspired terror before he crashed into them with the force of a freight train. They had guns, but those were no use against a figure within arm’s length, ignoring his own sidearm and swinging a length of steel pipe around his head. A fierce brawl ensued, but the guards had never signed up for this kind of conflict and their reflexes simply weren’t fast enough. As three uniformed figures tumbled to the ground, one of them rolling over the side of the catwalk, the fourth member of the team just about managed to back away far enough to bring his rifle to bear. But he didn’t reckon with the second figure rising up behind him out of nowhere and tightening a cord around his neck. Seconds later he fell to the ground unconscious. The smaller intruder cringed at the reckless frontal attack, but was smart enough to know there was no sense in complaining about what had already happened. There had been so much noise in the fight, and the sound of gunfire was sure to attract even more security. They needed to complete their mission as quickly and quietly as possible. With a shudder, the slight figure pulled a security access card from the pocket of the nearest guard. They just needed to get to the records room, and they might just have time before more reinforcements arrived. Smoke was rising at the side of the vast chamber in any case, and there was an acrid smell in the air. There was more light now, an amber flickering glow, and it didn’t take a genius to guess that one of the vats on the far side of the hall could have been ignited by a stray bullet. “Thanks,” the larger figure grunted, and then kept on walking in the direction they had been moving. He didn’t bother to keep low, focusing on speed now that stealth was off the table. “Subtle as always, Dash,” his partner sighed, stepping over another fallen guard. “We don’t need subtle, Ghost. We get the job done.” He was already at the door of the records room, seemingly oblivious to the growing flames and smoke on the far side of the facility. A few seconds later his partner joined him and swiped the purloined keycard to get the door open. The records room was darker than the factory floor; there was no flicker of industrial processes here, and one computer screen in the corner was showing an endless montage of security footage from different parts of the facility. Right now, it showed a considerable number of running men with weapons, in between shots of more uniformed figures trying without success to stop a roaring blaze. Brock stared at the screen for a moment, and then flicked the lights on. Fluorescent tubes buzzed into life, one of them flickering intermittently. While he stood a little way back from the doorway, expecting more intruders, his partner dashed straight towards one of the server racks and plugged in a ruggedised laptop. A uniformed figure burst into the room, and was efficiently rendered unconscious. Brock barely broke a sweat. “How long's this gonna take?” he asked. “Organised resistance will be here any minute.” “That’s why we were supposed to avoid the guards until we’re here. I bypassed the encryption, just need to finish downloading the files. Guess there’s no point covering out tracks now.” He focused intently on the screen while a progress bar ticked across. "Shouldn't be long. But have you thought how we’re going to get out of here? They’re not going to–” A sound like distant thunder rocked the building, and the floor shuddered beneath their feet. The security monitor showed scenes of utter chaos from the cameras that were still working. The acrid smell of chemicals flooded the hallway. Brock laughed loudly. “That’ll keep 'em occupied! Explosions have a way of grabbing your attention. C’mon, let’s hustle.“ “Right!” The smaller figure sighed, hands flying across the keys. His voice didn’t betray any surprise that their mission had turned out this way; but it was clear that he was longing for a break. Moments later the computer signalled it was ready, and two figures were again running along catwalks as more explosions rocked the building. Dash was right about one thing: The guards had bigger things to worry about than two running figures. * * * Nina leaned against the bars enclosing her, trying to make out signs of anything interesting in the rest of the room. There were other girls out there, she was sure, but she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to any of them yet. She could hear the sound of crying, which made her a little apprehensive about what might happen to her if she couldn’t find a way out of this strange place. But she didn’t really understand this place; her jailors had only ever told her what they wanted her to do, never going into why. But she could see the shape of it, and she told herself that she wanted no part of it; shutting down any hormonal fantasies that weren’t rooted in the real world. She twisted the ring on her finger, hoping that Victor would come to rescue her soon. They hadn’t taken the ring away; that must mean there was still a chance, mustn’t it? She didn’t understand the chain of events that had brought her here. They were supposed to be spending a couples weekend at a luxury spa. It would have been one of the high points of her time with him; although their whole engagement so far had seemed to be nothing but a string of high points, and the house had been nothing to laugh at either. But… But now she wasn’t at a spa. She was trapped in this weird, creepy space god-knew how many stories below ground, where nobody would ever be able to find her. And she didn’t have the first clue what the people here were planning to do with her. She couldn’t escape; the bars were more than just ornamental. So all she could do was hope that Victor would come to look for her sooner or later. Footsteps approached before two figures in white-and-blue uniforms reached her enclosure. This was a familiar routine as well. She recognised the taller figure, a woman who had introduced herself as Claudine when they first met. She was probably in charge, because she was the only person Nina had seen wearing a name badge in here, and in fact the only person whose name she had known in the last week. The other person was just there to provide muscle; nameless, and interchangeable. They never said Nina’s name either; though she had no idea whether they actually didn’t knew it, or just knew how much dehumanising her added to the emotional impact of this experience. “Time to eat, sweetie,” Claudia said with a sadistic smirk. Nina cowered back, knowing what was coming and also acutely aware that it was her own fault. She had refused to eat on her first day here, wanting to show that there were some things she was still in control of. They had proved her wrong. On the second day she had been given another chance to prove that she was willing to go along with the programme; but she had been too stubborn. They wouldn’t give her the choice again. And the knowledge that she had wasted a tiny sliver of freedom on something so petty only reminded her – every time she thought about it – that she would have more freedom if she did what she was told in future. The man beside Claudine responded to her glare by turning and fiddling with the locks for a moment. Then there were no bars between her and freedom, just two people larger and stronger than her. They picked her up without any apparent effort, and carried her between them. She was going to get breakfast now, and it was clear that she had no choice in the matter. She didn’t bother to fight, she knew that there was no point. And her new compliance earned a smile and a pat on the head, along with a few reassuring words about what a good girl she was. Nina found herself blushing, surprised by how quickly she had gotten used to this treatment. She didn’t say anything as they deposited her on the chair, and set about strapping her in so that she couldn’t escape even if she thought there might be some chance of finding her way up to the surface through this labyrinth. A rubbery bulb was forced between her lips and Nina knew better than to fight it. A moment later there was warm sweet liquid filling her mouth, and she had no choice but to swallow. And despite her fear, she found herself somehow feeling not entirely afraid in this situation. Sure, she was trapped with no suggestion of when she would get out. But they weren’t actually hurting her, and so long as she did everything they wanted, she would be pretty comfortable. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. After Claudine and her assistants had left the room, Nina still never felt like she was alone. She didn’t know that there was a doctor watching her on a video monitor; but there was something about the decor that made it feel like she had no privacy at all. It was the kind of place where there would always be someone watching. She swallowed again, feeling the warm liquid running down her throat. It was actually pretty nice, if she just didn’t think about the situation, or her lack of choice in all of this. And it was easy not to think as she drank more. She found her thoughts getting fuzzier, and everything starting to blur. A minute later she would have been smiling, but for the bulb dispensing medicine into her mouth. And a little after that, she wasn’t thinking anything at all. Nina didn’t hear the conversation between Claudine and Dr Renault, commenting on how well she was progressing, or how soon she would be ready. And even if she had heard, she wouldn’t have been able to comprehend long words like “conditioning”. But that didn’t matter at all; it felt so good to just suck, drink, and smile. 2. Irreplaceable The air was filled with the insistent click-click-click of a dozen keyboards. Everybody in the office focused intently on their work, sure that what they were doing mattered. Even when they couldn’t make any deductions right away, they were chipping away at the rock face of ignorance, and sooner or later they would manage to unearth a nugget of truth. Or at least, that was how it seemed to Isadora as she pushed a stray lock of dark hair away from her face. She knew that her own work, even if it was related to something minor like a dead-drop in the back streets of Tarawa, actually mattered, and she was determined to do it to the best of her ability. Even if her hazel eyes were bloodshot from staring at a monitor all day by the time she got back to her apartment. It would have been worth it, and she was already looking forward to being able to relax and indulge herself later. But there was no time to be thinking about that. She straightened her glasses and smoothed down her sensible blouse as the interdepartmental mail trolley rolled by. Sheila's laughter at the mailroom guy's jokes grated on Isadora's nerves. Didn't they understand how crucial their work was? Isadora would never even consider flirting with a coworker, not one of the office staff. Even having a closer bond with an Operative could be dangerous; and Isadora wasn’t the only one who looked down on the various Monitors who had reputedly hooked up with the agency’s most notorious womaniser, Agent Brock. Isadora found herself sneering without thinking when that image crossed her mind; she knew she would never fall for that kind of flamboyant playboy. She tried to put it out of her mind, and turned back to the list of cryptographic signatures in front of her. She had an iron will, and remained focused on the screen for a whole two seconds until a letter landed on her desk with a quiet flutter. Then her hands froze over the keyboard, and she wondered if this could be it. The answer she had been waiting for. She hesitated, and froze with the letter in her hands. There was just her name and desk number typed on the front, with no indication of which office it had come from. But some instinct told her that her answer was inside. The final results after eighteen months of training. If the letter said yes, she wouldn’t need to keep sitting here decrypting messages to tell Brown and Johnson where they needed to be. She could travel with an Operative and give him support in the field. She could watch dots on her screen indicating where guards might be, and give her Operative advice in real time, telling him when he needed to duck, and when he needed to fight. On paper, there was little difference between the duties of a Monitor and a Field-certified Monitor, but in practice it meant that she could do all the things that required a real time response, and it meant that sometimes she might be less than a mile from the bad guys. It was a prospect that terrified Isadora, but if it meant that she could spend more time close to Brown, and even get him to speak to her for more than a casual ‘hi’ as they passed in the corridors of Millennium House, it would all be worthwhile. Shaking, and aware that she was distracting herself from her all-important codebreaking work, she tucked away an errant lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail and then drew her thumbnail carefully through the top of the envelope. A handful of minutes later, Isadora could hardly contain her excitement as she strode down the familiar wood-panelled corridors. A part of her still couldn’t believe it, but seeing her name on that certificate had put a new spring in her step. She hadn’t told any of her colleagues where she was going, and she doubted that any of them really cared. But she wanted Brown to be the first person she told. Brown was the Operative she wanted to work with more than any other, and it was his strength that had first inspired her to try getting into the field. He wasn’t an egotistical jerk like the legendary operative Brock, whose reputation included all the chauvinism of James Bond without any of the subtlety. Brown was a consummate professional, who made it his goal to learn everything he could possibly do to make the mission go down smoothly. And to Isadora, his caring nature and attention to detail made him much more attractive than toned muscles and dark-bronze skin. She’d respected the man ever since she first heard stories of his dedication and courage, and once she had actually seen him around headquarters she had been totally enthralled. The one time she’d spoken to him on the job, passing over a bunch of schedule data for an arms shipment, she’d seen that he had other impressive qualities as well. Brown would never see a mission as a checklist of goals. He cared about the people; both the ones he was working with and the innocents they were supposed to protect. And she had found herself dreaming of how well they could work together if they could properly synergise their skills. It was Brown who had said that teamwork was an Operative’s greatest strength, after all. She clutched her certificate, heart fluttering. She knew it was a little silly to be so emotional about this. She was just going to visit the man in hospital; to share the good news that they could work together once he was discharged. She’d brought a get well card as well, of course, and a little box of dates and walnuts because she remembered him saying that he didn’t have a sweet tooth. But she wanted him to be the first person she confided in about being approved as a Field Operative. He would give her some moral support, she was sure, and advice about managing her nerves that would seem like common sense as soon as she heard it. He’d be impressed by her qualifications as well, and tell her how well she had done. She could almost see it in her mind’s eye now. Reaching his door, she had to shake away her head to clear away those mental images. Those things were just dreams, they would never happen here and now. They would have to work together, and get to know each other more and more closely, for at least a few months before the calm and careful Brown would make the first move. He was a gentleman, after all. He wasn’t Brock, or one of the agents who idolised that guy and his refusal to work by the book. Brown would take his time, and always take care of her feelings. Because he was the kind of man who would respect her; and the only operative she knew of who had never tried flirting with the girls behind desks at headquarters. After steadying her nerves, Isadora knocked sharply. No matter what, she resolved to show Brown her very best. She would make clear she was ready for the field, and that they would make an unstoppable team. After all this time, her chance was finally here. “Come in!” a voice called from inside. It surprised her a little that he sounded confident and healthy, but that shouldn’t have been a surprise. Brown wasn’t seriously injured, and was only still in here because his doctors had insisted on a period of observation to demonstrate that he was fully recovered. “Hi,” she introduced herself with a nervous wave, before pausing to wonder if she should address him as ‘Brown’, or ‘Mr Brown’, or even ‘Agent Brown’. In a world where almost everyone was known by surnames alone, she wasn’t sure how to be either deferential or charming without sounding a little weird. She’d spoken to him before, of course, but only in a more formal setting within headquarters, when they happened to be assigned to related projects. This was different, because today she was actually making the initiative to see him. “Hey,” Brown answered. He was lying back in a hospital bed, with bandages around his arms. But he seemed happy and relaxed, with no signs of pain. It would take more than a little misfortune to keep Brown off the case. “Isadora, right? How’s the wonderful world of cryptanalysis treating you?” “Great thanks,” she answered, heart beating a hundred times a minute as she realised that he actually recognised her. A cynical part of her mind said that being able to identify a face in a crowd that he’d only glimpsed for a second before was a big part of his job. But it still made her feel special, like he actually cared. That was a magic that the flirts and chauvinists would never care about. “I’ve just been… Well, obviously I can’t say the details of what I’m working on. But I just got…” She did her best to breathe calmly, telling herself how important it was to appear professional. If he thought she was one of the airheaded clerical workers who had a crush on some agent, he would never want to be in the field with her. And she knew that she was better than that. Her interest and admiration was professional and entirely appropriate, even if it sometimes felt like something more. While she didn’t quite trust herself to speak clearly, she held up a hand with two envelopes in. One of them she had so recently opened, while the other had Brown’s name on the front. Of course, he smiled graciously as he took the one that was addressed to him, feigning a complete lack of curiosity about the other letter. But Isadora held it up anyhow. “I got my field certification,” she squawked, already sure that she was saying the wrong thing, but desperate to say what she had planned. She wasn’t going to come right out and ask, but it couldn’t hurt to informally assess his enthusiasm for being placed together. “I’ll be a real Field Monitor, in the field. Undercover, and all that. I’m so nervous still, but I thought… I mean, is there any advice you can give me? You’re probably the most professional Operative on the roster, so if I want to get advice from the best…” “Of course,” he said with a smile. “It’s a different system now, though. When I was paired up with Doc, he was an Operative first, studying the Monitor duties in the background. So I don’t know how different it will be for you. But there’s two pieces of advice I would give you, even if they might be a little… less dry and emotionless than what they teach in Spy School.” “Oh, that’s perfect!” Isadora gasped, and then hesitated and wished she could take the words back. “I mean… learning what matters from someone who’s actually lived it.” “Modesty suits you,” he said. “And as long as you’re willing to learn, I think you’ll make an excellent Field Monitor. Have you been assigned a partner yet?” “No, I…” Isadora hesitated. There was a part of her that just wanted to ask right out if he was willing to work with a new partner while his on-and-off companion Doc was recuperating after their last adventure. But somehow it felt somehow impolite to admit that she’d been paying so much attention to his life. That sounded like something he should volunteer; even if it seemed like he could be asking if she wanted to join him. “I only found out today, but I was wondering…” As much as she knew that she would need to start showing determination, that was as much as she could stay. “Whoever it is, they’re lucky,” he said. “You strike me as a very competent woman. And not at all overconfident.” It was the perfect compliment; and the exact opposite of what she would expect from the growing number of operatives who modelled themselves after a dinosaur like Brock. His kindness made her even more determined to say what she needed to say. “Thank you. How about you? I mean… I know you were injured. Will you be waiting for your Monitor to recover before you continue?” She knew that wouldn’t be the case. Brown couldn’t bear to stop working; the next mission was the only thing that mattered to him. But she could ask, and it would sound like something a concerned friend would say. She could hope that he would open up to her then. “We both got hurt a little,” he said. “And that’s… ugh, I haven’t talked to anybody about this yet.” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–” “No, no. It’s fine. But I’ve got two tips for you, right? Things they never teach you in training. And I think this is a perfect example of the one I should have learned years ago. I wasn’t badly hurt this time, you see. But the circumstances made me think about what would have happened if I didn’t make it back. I always told myself before that one man is a small sacrifice; that the mission is more important than just me.” “That must be the hardest part of it,” Isadora mumbled, as soon as Brown paused. He seemed so intense now, and that only made her more eager to share this life with him. “Putting yourself in second place.” “Not really. A lot of people can sacrifice themselves. The hard part is realising that it isn’t all about me. Thinking about how my family would feel if nobody could tell them what happened to me. And when I think about all of it, I know I can’t do that. Sacrificing myself for the job is a small price to pay if the job gets done, but hurting all the people I care about… I can’t do that. I can’t take that risk with a clear conscience.” He hesitated then, opening the get well soon card she had brought and standing it up beside his bed. Isadora knew enough basic psychology to recognise displacement activity; a man doing some simple task as a way to put off thinking about his next words. She felt like she should say something, or reassure him. But she was just standing there with her mouth open, barely taking in what he was saying. After a long pause, he continued: “I thought about it a lot,” he said. “I’ve spent three days now, drafting and redrafting my resignation letter. I haven’t mentioned it to Forstadter yet, and I was kind of dreading it. So thank you, Isadora. Telling someone at work, someone I can trust… I think you’re already helping me over the largest mental hurdle.” “You’re quitting?” It seemed obvious, but she asked for confirmation before her brain had even processed what she had heard. It was almost unthinkable. Did that mean she would never get a chance to work with Brown? Did it mean she wouldn’t be able to see him outside work either? “Yeah. I’m sorry, I feel like I’m letting you all down. But when I imagine Dave sitting alone, never really knowing what happened to me… that’s not something I could ever do to him. I’m sure there are plenty of Operatives who can do what I do, especially with talented people like you to support them. But Dave, well… He’s only got one husband. That’s where I’m irreplaceable, and to me that’s more important than any genius with delusions of world domination.” He didn’t say any more, and for a few minutes Isadora just didn’t know how she could possibly respond. 3. Two Rules “You’re resigning?” Isadora managed to get the words out at last. A part of her was screaming inside, wanting to ask more questions, but just about everything she could have thought of to say would have been highly inappropriate. Brown had a husband? She’d had no idea. She thought that she knew him, but that revelation shattered the image in her mind. It was like there had been a part of himself that he always kept locked away; and once she started thinking about that, she was also realising that his professional demeanour had completely hidden any hint of a life outside work. She didn’t know what music he liked, or what sports he followed; let alone his family. She knew that he could talk confidently about just about any topic, but that was pretty much a job requirement for an Operative. He needed to be at home around the water cooler when infiltrating any stratum of society; and there was no hint there about which topics were of interest to him personally. “What happened?” “Davy called in for me,” he said, looking down at his hands as he spoke. “Said he had a bad feeling, was worried about me. The Monitors decided to put him through; he’d had enough background checks, and they can trust me not to say anything he’s not cleared for. But…” “Did he overhear something?” Isadora guessed. She knew so little about Brown’s latest mission that any guess she made would just be a stab in the dark. But she felt like she had to say something. She could feel that this decision was really hard, even for the man who was never scared of anything. And she needed to help him. A part of her still hoped that she could help him to make a different decision; but she wouldn’t even know whether that was possible until she knew the truth. “Kind of,” he said, and flashed the kind of smile that is only ever used to hide pain. “We were ambushed. We were preparing for the start of the mission, and Doc thought it would be okay to put him through to me, to wish me luck. But the shooting started before we were ready. I was hit, a flesh wound really. But it was chaos, and everything went to hell. Doc called back to SO3 that I was hit, and Davy heard that. I heard his response, in that moment. For weeks afterwards, I kept playing it over and over in my head. And I knew I never wanted to scare him like that again. He’s given up so much for me, and he deserves to know that I’ll be coming home from work. So…” “I’m sorry,” Isadora said, eventually. “I never even thought… I guess I’ve never really been that close to someone. And I can see where you’re coming from. But is there anyone who can do what you do? I mean… everybody knows you’re one of the best. I’m worried that important jobs might start going to the wannabe James Bond types. There seems to be more and more of them, and… I guess I was hoping you’d be a positive role model for the newer Operatives, showing them what they’re supposed to be.” She started blushing again after that flood of words, and resisted the urge to pull her bendant out from beneath the collar of her shirt. It was special to her, a single piece of jewellery with a secret meaning, and holding it always helped to relieve stress. But it was also pretty childish, so she usually did her best to keep it out of sight when she was around anyone whose opinion she valued. “I think I know the type you mean,” Brown answered with a wry smile. “And I can think of one or two who still need ideas from the movies removing from their minds. But not as many as you might think. Certainly, amongst some of the old timers, there’s a kind of hidden joke. If someone in the refectory asks how the latest job went and they don’t want to reveal compartmentalised data, they’ll describe it like an action movie. A lot of those stories enter into office gossip, but it really isn’t how the Operatives in the question act in the field. Even my old friend and Monitor, Doc, has a reputation around the break room for sleeping with a gangster’s moll on every assignment. But in reality, he sits in his room reading briefings. Everything at our classification level, every document we have access to, so that if our bandits cross over into someone else’s assignment, he’ll know who to get in touch with. Seriously, the guy won’t step outside his hotel room once until he needs to be somewhere. And then it gets to the point where the admin staff make up their own stories to paper over the gaps if they don’t know what we’ve been up to. Don’t trust the gossip, that’s one of the tips I wanted to give you.” “Oh, yeah,” she said. And even if this was a bittersweet discussion now, there was still a warm glow inside her from knowing that Brown seemed to respect her abilities. “Two tips, you said?” “Yeah. The first rule, don’t take anything for granted. When you’re assigned a partner, get to know them. Not just what people say about them, or even what they tell you, but watch the way they act. See when they react quickly and when they pause to think. See if you can understand who a person is beneath all the walls they put up, so you can know what they’re really capable of. That’s more important than most people would believe. And the corollary, make sure that you act rationally around your partner. When you’ve been working together for a long time, you can get blind to someone’s weaknesses. Like when I… When the whole business on my last mission went down, Doc put himself in the line of fire trying to help me. Didn’t stick to protocol. I appreciate that he cares, but all it meant was that we both got injured. As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I feel bad about that. I should have reminded him to stay put. So that’s the rule. Know your partner, and know yourself. Know the mistakes you’re likely to make, so you can avoid them. We always talk about knowing your enemy, but knowing yourself is so much more important.” “I think Sun-Tzu said that,” Isadora responded, a little distracted by the mental image of someone getting shot in the field. It was easy to conjure up a pure-Hollywood image of diving in front of a bullet to protect Brown; that would be a true act of heroism. But when she thought about someone sacrificing themself for her, even someone completely unlikely like the irritating mailroom guy, she could see a shadow of Brown’s disapproval. It made the whole situation seem real in a new way. “One of them, anyway,” Brown said, and smiled. “You know they think The Art of War had at least seven authors, a bunch of different books put together under the name of a semi-mythical genius tactician?” “Yeah, I heard,” she said. “I guess it’s like you said, don’t trust the legends. So what’s the other rule?” “Think about why you’re doing this. I guess that’s part of knowing yourself, really. But it’s something a lot of the old-timers never considered. For so many years, I really didn’t know why I’m in this life. I signed up when I was young, because they said I was good about it. And I never thought about quitting, because people needed me. But I never questioned my own motivation. You should. Do you want to do this because you think it’s needed? Because you’re good at it? Because the movies make it seem so glamorous. Because let me tell you, it isn’t. Think about why you want this life. Think about how much those feelings mean to you. And think about who will miss you if you don’t come back, and how much you mean to them. And if you’re not absolutely certain that it’s a trade worth making, take a step back. For a life like this, you need to be sure. I didn’t think about it until it could have been too late. I was lucky. You can do better.” “I… uhh…” Isadora stammered, finding the whole conversation heavier than she had expected. “I think you’ll be a good Field Monitor,” Brown said, cutting through the tension. “I really do. And I hope you’ll be protecting the country from the bad guys. And being a good role model for the more impetuous. But I don’t want you to dive into it without really knowing that’s what you want, or without asking yourself why. You deserve better than that.” “Thank you,” she whispered. They kept on talking, and the discussion was lighter now that all the serious issues were out of the way. But twenty minutes later, Isadora’s shoes rapped slowly against the wooden floors of Millennium House as she returned to her department. She had such a lot to think about, and now she really didn’t know if she wanted to be an Operative or not. Without Brown in the picture, she felt like the whole career path was out of focus and not quite what she had expected. Had her desire to go into the field really just been a desire for one man, without her being able to admit that to herself His questions cut deeply now, in ways she had never even expected. Was she throwing away a promising cryptography career on a promotion that she didn’t really want? It didn’t help that as soon as she swiped in through the last security checkpoint, the screen told her to go straight to Kane’s office, on the seventeenth floor. That gave her a lot more time to think; as well as adding a whole lot of new worries to the mix. Emerson Kane was a veteran Monitor, one of the best of the best. Everyone in the building had heard of him, but it was a long time since he had been in the field. Now he moved in the upper circles of the Agency, managing funding and politics. He was a big picture guy, who would never need to look at an individual case; and being sent upstairs was rarely good for anyone in the administrative side of the building. Isadora spent half the walk up there wondering what she could have done wrong. When she reached the office, she found herself standing outside, too nervous to knock. Her hand closed around her pendant, grasping so tightly that the plastic edges probably left white lines across her palm. She needed comfort now; she needed to remember a time without so many responsibilities. Because everything was happening at once, and she didn’t know how to deal with all the things that were worrying her right now. Running away wasn’t the right answer, she was sure. But moving forward terrified her, and she didn’t know if there was even a point to it now. “Enter.” The word came from the intercom beside the office door, brusque and businesslike but without any obvious signs of impatience. She hadn’t even knocked, but of course her security badge would track exactly where she was within the building. Kane would have been able to watch her on the map, coming closer to her scheduled appointment. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, dreading whatever was next for her.

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to a break with social normities. These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Punishments (often unfair, degrading, and/or humiliating) Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of expletives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Political themes associated with revolutions or desires of change or freedoms Literal age regression Depictions of younger children and babies (formerly adults) Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific acts to anything overtly sexual; however, some fetishes maybe touched on in this story more than my previous ones. Still, as usual, this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list here is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be warranted later if needed (though may not be added). If I deem any chapters to be too ‘triggering,’ I will issue another separate warning beforehand. Hey everyone and welcome back! It's almost been a month since I lasted posted regularly with my previous story, and it's definitely been an interesting start to the year so far. Can't say I'm a fan of everything going on, but this story has been a nice place to find some refuge. Also... I swear that I really will get around to updating the DD Reference Guide. May is way too long. Now, as per your previous polling, this story won out over the other two. So far, it’s about 22 chapters total, but this might be subject to change. I need to see how a few things play out after I‘ve fully written and edited a few critical chapters that may need more room to breathe so to speak. As such, it very well could be more. Additionally, I don’t see my work backing down at all and I do have a few trips planned out coming up here, so I will try my best to commit again to at least three chapters a week. More could drop occasionally, especially with some of these chapters having already been written out, but I can’t commit to that fully at this point. Looking ahead, as usual, I will post another poll with three stories in the mix for my next story in chapter two. There are a few things going on this weekend that could delay this but I’m hoping to post chapter 2 by Monday night at the very latest. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys the first chapter of this next story of mine! Chapter 1: Breaking News! It was just like any other spring day in April. The flowers were beginning to pop out and a nice gentle breeze occasionally wafted through the already warming days. Pollen was on its way in large numbers, and I knew I would soon be able to put away even my lighter jacket from my list of things I carried with me outside of the house daily. Nearby, green stems of the plants ready to bloom soon were further signs that change and the truly warmer months were on their way. Being a Sunday, I was well on my way over to joining my parents, and my younger brother and sister for our weekly family dinner. None of us were truly the best communicators out there, so starting when I went away to college, we all at least attempted to attend a regular family meal to keep everyone in the loop on each other’s lives. Journeying from my apartment on the other side of the city, I usually took the freeway that curved around the south side of the main downtown area, but some kind of accident forced me onto the main city streets today instead. Listening to my classic rock station, as soon as I began to pass by some of the taller skyscrapers, my radio suddenly sputtered and crackled. “We pause your regular scheduled program today to bring you an emergency news report. Residents of major cities are advised to avoid downtown areas if all possible,” the almost electronic voice sounded out. I rolled my eyes, seeing the tall skyscrapers starting to grow in numbers and height all around me. Not the largest city in the country, but definitely a major one. “Great… now you tell me… where were you five minutes ago?” The classic rock station then resumed, but despite the heavy bass and solid drum beat echoing in my car once again, I simply couldn’t get my mind off what I had just heard. The last time an announcement like that had been made, the president was in town for some political rally, and the time before that was because of some high terror alert made from some terrorist group. Not hearing of the president or any other celebrity coming into the city today, my hands grew sweaty on the wheel as my mind reeled with the possibili… “Hey!” a voice shouted out in front of me. I immediately hit my breaks and popped out of my own thoughts long enough to see a police officer only about a foot away from the front of my car. Visibly angry, they marched right over to my window and gestured abruptly for me to roll it down, which I did promptly. “Didn’t you hear me before? Didn’t you see me waving at you for you to stop and go the other way?” “No…,” I admitted. “I’m sorry officer. I just heard on the radio about not coming downtown and I was thinking about what… it… could…” I stopped as my eyes drifted just beyond the officer and to the several other police swarming the main downtown area. The once pristine and normally peaceful park at this time on a Sunday just outside of city hall was now littered with dozens of military men and even more police… all setting up barricades or patrolling around… each seemingly ready to react to something. “Uh… the president wouldn’t happen to be coming here today, right?” While looking a little annoyed still, the officer saw where I was looking and then eased up a bit and sighed as she moved a stray hair of her back behind her ear. “No, sir. A fringe group posted a video on their website this morning threatening several major city centers with a demonstration of some kind. Government agencies have listed the threat as credible, so we’re rerouting all traffic coming through here over to West E Street. You know where that is from here?” I nodded. “Local and all, so yes. That’s just two turns away from this intersection up ahead or the one just behind me now.” “Very good, sir,” she said, her face now looking more apprehensive than angry or even annoyed now. “Please reroute over that way with the intersection behind you. There will be signs taking you all the way… just in case.” I nodded again. “Thank you, officer. I’ll get a move on right now…” Without rolling my window back up, I started turning my car wheel to the right to eventually make my U-turn and then get over to West E Street as instructed. Before I could make a full rotation though, the police officer came back to my window “Oh, and sir?” I stopped turning my wheel as the officer clearly forgot to mention something important. “I advise you go to your destination and stay there for a while this afternoon. Your own residence, a friend or a family member would be best… especially away from the city if possible… understand?” “Thank you, officer… just heading over to my family’s house now actually. Over in the Eastern Hills district,” I clarified. About 60% of the neighborhood had a good view of the city, even with all the trees now, but it was still considered outside the main boundary of the city. “Very good, sir,” she said, looking a little relieved. “On your way then.” Her smile put me at ease, but her underlying show of relief and all the other precautions I was now seeing to my rear back in the main part of downtown did not. Still, I drove off, and sure enough, a myriad of signs directed me right over to West E Street, which all then directed me to the beltway. Fortunately, the radio message seemed to do the trick and as I tracked over to my parents’ house, the roads started to become significantly emptier. Eventually pulling up to the house though, I could see my mom pacing back and forth on the front porch, clearly worried that I hadn’t arrived at my usual time. “And just where have you been?” she asked, flipping to me quickly, allowing her hair with her slightly graying roots to flap about in the air. It was always nice to see her and the rest of my family each Sunday, but unfortunately, her tone told me she was both nervous and frustrated with my tardiness. “Sorry… had to take a detour getting over here,” I noted. I guessed her real source of distress was hearing about the warning to stay away from the downtown area, but knowing her, I didn’t want her to worry needlessly about my safety in confirming that I had literally just come from there. She glared at me, but then just waved me inside. “Fine, fine. You should account for all that before you leave, but…” She then sighed and shook her head, seemingly letting my tardiness go. “Just… come inside, Pete. Dinner’s almost ready and the rest of your siblings are already here.” Locking my car door, I nodded and headed inside without further comment. Almost immediately, Amanda ran up to me and did her best to jump into my arms. My younger sister had been a bit of a whoops with my parents, now clocking in at 4 years old, compared to my younger brother Lucas’ 22 and my 28. “Petey!” she squealed. “Youwe here!” I smiled and nodded before nuzzling my nose into hers. “That’s right you little munchkin! All the traffic in the world couldn’t keep me away from my favorite sister!” She giggled in my arms, appreciating my affection and being known as ‘the favorite’ of anything. “She is your only though…” Amanda and I stopped and looked over at our sullen brother, Lucas. Freshly returned from his relatively nearby university for our dinner only and entering his master’s program this year for engineering, the burden of his work had made him surly and had rubbed off the more playful edge he had when he had first left for college. I missed the kid who used to beg me to play tag with him sometimes… “Well… looks like the party pooper is here and in usual form, right sis?” Amanda nodded, likely just to his label as a ‘party pooper,’ and pouted in his direction. Noticing, I couldn’t help but crack a small grin at her tiny fierceness against my brother. “Oops. Looks like you made her mad, bro. I think someone needs to say sorry, huh? What do you think, nugget?” Again, Amanda pouted, even crossing her arms this time, and nodded defiantly. Lucas rolled his eyes but ultimately relented and came over to give us both a hug. Being the older brother of the two, I felt it was my responsibility to keep them civil whenever I could… even if that meant putting my foot down occasionally. Mom and dad did a pretty good job themselves at keeping the order between us, but busy with dinner preparations tonight and at other times, I took over that role nearly seamlessly. “Kids! Dinner’s on!” a voice thundered from inside the house. Unmistakably our dads, his voice was pleasant but overall commanding. It meant get in the kitchen now and don’t dawdle or risk incurring your mom’s wrath over a potentially cold meal. So, scrambling apart, I set Amanda down, and the three of us darted into the kitchen without delay. Quickly serving their own plates, my mom helping Amanda out first before helping her into her booster chair and my brother piling the Bolognese high on his plate, my dad looked at me with a single raised graying eyebrow, his forehead wrinkling precipitously as he did so. “You avoided the car accident on 62 and went downtown, didn’t you? Your… detour, huh?” I sighed and nodded, knowing I could never keep a secret from the man in my life. He just had one of those uncanny knacks of being able to figure out the truth and know it before anyone else. Lucas and I still wondered if his old government job was really a cover for him being a secret agent or something and that’s where he had learned his skills at… but we had never dared to ask him. Still, regardless of how he got them, I didn’t want everyone to know about the little secret he had just pulled out about me and where I had really been today. “Don’t tell the others, please, Dad?” My dad smirked and then quickly shook his head. “I might be an adrenaline junky still, Pete, but I’m not crazy. If your mom knew… whew! She’d find some way to make sure you never drove over here again, or at the very least… find some way to make sure you checked in with her every five or ten minutes in coming over here for the future. So, no. I won’t tell her. I don’t think either of us want to see her like that, right?” I rolled my eyes, but I knew he wasn’t kidding about what she would do. “Right but… ugh! She’s just so…” My dad smirked and nodded his head. “Yeah, but give her some slack. She means well and all. Just wants you kids to be safe… her mother hen instinct is all. Can’t blame her for that…” I shook my head and that was that. Some might have considered that a lie of omission with my mom, but I still had made it here in one piece and dwelling on it anymore would have just been a waste. Serving my own meal, I quickly took a seat in between Amanda and Lucas, still sensing the tension and prickly demeanor between the two. Lucas was a man of science and numbers. Everything was a calculation to him, while Amanda was still at the age where magic was real, and everything could be solved with a good hug or a kiss. Unfortunately, Lucas was short on both lately. Still, the weekly family dinner proceeded as usual and seemed liked a pleasant exchange of the latest news from each of us. Lucas was having problems with one of his professors while Amanda had a sudden aversion to broccoli. Dad was settling into his new position as the head of a security company and mom was doing her best to close a deal on a particular lavish house in an up-and-coming neighborhood located just north of the city. Finally, though, the conversation turned to me, and I could almost predict the first question coming from my mom. “So, Pete… no Molly today?” she asked innocuously, but probingly. “Did you two…?” She didn’t finish her question, but the implication was clear about my current girlfriend. “No, mom. We didn’t break up. She’s just traveling right now for her job. Some photo shoot up in the mountains for the magazine.” My mom nodded and accepted the answer, but I could still see her hesitation about Molly… the same she had harbored when I first introduced her to my family a few months back now. I felt great about her and that our relationship was moving right along, but my mom thought she was too flaky or some nonsense like that. Annoying, but still, my mom had the decency to not interfere with our relationship or pick it apart… unlike two girlfriends ago that is. The conversation then moved on to discussing the future as usual, but about halfway through discussing our summer beach trip, my mom stopped and glared at my dad. “Honey… do you really need to keep the TV on in the other room? It’s very distracting right now. I don’t think we need to be listening to commercials about a deal for some half-priced pizza.” “Half priced?” Lucas perked up. My dad grumbled though, and Lucas resigned himself back in his seat, though I could still see his mind was racing on a deal like that. Turning his attention back to my mom next, our dad cleared his throat first. “Well… I think we need to keep it on. There’s problems out there, babe, and we need to be prepared.” He paused and momentarily gulped. “Uh, if it makes you feel better though, I can turn it down if you…” “No,” my mom quickly voiced. She was clearly annoyed with the TV, but she knew an unwinnable argument when she heard one. In this case it was her own comfort weighed against the safety of the family, and safety always seemed to win out in her book. “Keep it on. We need to hear if there’s an announcement…” The tension lingering in the air a little still though, my mom especially hating to back down from any argument, no one spoke for at least the next few minutes. Wanting to bring back the smiles however, I remembered a joke I had heard from one of my coworkers in the office just last week. “Hey… what kind of cheese do they eat on Sesame Street?” The mere mention of the show’s name made Amanda perk up and Lucas sigh while he rolled his eyes. He knew the set up of a ‘dad’ joke when he heard one. “I don’t know,” my dad responded, being at least a good sport about it. “What?” A cracked a tiny smile. “Cookie Muenster,” I said, even using the character’s voice for the punch line. Amanda laughed, but probably more from my silly voice than the actual joke itself. “Oh, god… really, Pete?” Lucas groaned. I only shrugged back. Corny, yes, but also effective. It was just enough to get a few other jokes going around the table, and gratefully, everyone out of their previous funk. “Okay… how about this one…” my mom finally piped up, joining in. “What bird leads the orchestra?” Lucas scratched his head, and I leaned forward to think about it. “I dunno… what, mommy?” Amanda questioned first though. “Well, I’ll tell you,” our mom said after a second, looking around the room yet likely seeing the rest of her family stumped. “The…” Before she could respond, a high-pitched beeping started to go off. Looking around the table at my stunned family for a moment, likely as a result of the stark realization over the noise, we all got up and quickly ran to the living room to confirm our fears. ‘Breaking News!’ The television screen flashed the message prominently, and the high-pitched beeping noise was replaced by a loud, long beep that then echoed throughout the family room. Amanda quickly put her hands over her ears and started screaming. My mom, seeing her distress and wincing a little over the alarm herself, quickly went over to pick her up and comfort her. “Does it have to be so loud?” Lucas then asked, his own hands going up to cover his ears. Instead of the pain that our mom and Amanda were showing, his was more of one of annoyance. Our dad nodded. “It’s important,” he said, his voice cresting just slightly over the incessant alarm sound. “It’s a one size fits all. When your mom and I were younger, they used a similar one to announce about a nuclear bomb. Tested them all the time and we all had to practice those drills in case one ever went off.” He smiled triumphantly, but none of the rest of us were smiling though. Realizing what he had just done, his face quickly turned to panic, and he tried to fix his glaring mistake… but it was too late. “Wait! Nuclear bomb? Is that what’s happening?” Lucas asked, now panicking more than ever, his usual calculating demeanor temporarily going right out the proverbial window. Not sure what was happening myself, I could feel my heartbeat begin to increase as well. “No, no!” our dad tried to retract, our mom slightly giving him the stink eye as well over his grievous error. “It’s just one thing of many that they use the alarm for… I’m sure that everything is alright and that we’ll be perfectly safe here in our…” Before I could step in to bail the poor guy out, the TV screen flashed a few times and switched to a large group of people huddled around a podium at the front of the room with the presidential seal clearly displayed on the front. A large balding man then stepped up to the microphone and began to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, twenty minutes ago, the president announced he was declaring a national emergency. A domestic terrorist group, known simply as ’87, named for the year the constitution was written, stole and threatened the release of a potentially dangerous virus this morning. I regret to inform you that they have now acted and have begun releasing this virus across the nation in a series of unprovoked and unwarranted attacks. Shortly, the president will address the nation. For now, we encourage the public, especially in or near city centers, to stay inside.” I watched my family react to the unfolding events in various ways. My dad was as stoic as ever, having worked for the government for years, yet I could still see the ounce of fear behind his focused eyes that now replaced his previous one of panic. Conversely, Lucas was panicking even more now in his own unique way that he had picked up back in middle school. Small, twitchy finger movements and darting eyes made him appear to be calculating the net worth of everyone on the planet and every possible outcome ever conceived, but I knew he was just trying to rationalize inside his own head about what was going on. Our mom seemed frightened and shocked, and limply held her right hand over her mouth, as if about to muffle a scream. Having sat her down during the announcement, her left hand tightened around Amanda’s, which to her credit and without the alarm anymore, seemed the calmest of everyone. I suppose it’s true that ignorance is bliss… Looking back at the screen, it first noted that the president would soon be on to address the nation and secondly that ‘We ask the nation to remain calm, as your government tries to prevent or, in some cases, respond to these attacks. More information will be broadcasted to your local news stations as to what you should do now and if there are any further effects or attacks you need to be aware of.’ The screen beeped along for about another minute but then flashed again and switched to a local news channel where a nervous looking anchorman and woman were perched behind a desk. “That was just the Secretary of Health, joined by members of the FBI, CDC, and NIH. To reiterate, the president has now declared a national emergency and will address the nation within the next few hours. God help us all…” As opposed to my nervous family, I simply sat in my recliner chair and numbly thought about all the implications of what I was now seeing. I thought about Molly, all tucked away in her mountain retreat taking photos of birds or models or whatever else the magazine she worked for wanted. Not being outdoorsy in the least, I teased her that she would never last up there in the mountains, but now, she was seeming like the safer one of the two of us now. Looking back up from my thoughts, my family each stood in stunned silence. There had been some outbreaks and terrorist attacks in recent years, so some of the news felt familiar, but looking back to the TV, I knew that something about all this was just different this time. The news anchors around here had always seemed steadfast or sometimes even saddened, but never truly panicked. Despite such a human response, it was unsettling to see them fumbling through the papers in their hands, as they continued to break the story as it unfolded. One by one, more cities were now listed amongst those attacked. “Oh god… Houston now as well,” the anchorwoman said, reading the prompter and occasional pressing her fingers to the earpiece feeding her live updates. Having transferred from there last year, I could just make out the tears forming in her eyes… likely thinking of all her old coworkers now being affected by whatever was happening to these affected cities. “It will be okay, Sally,” the anchorman said, clearly trying to calm his coworker down. “Just focus on the news and…” It was now his turn to press the earpiece further to listen to the next update. “This just in… government authorities are now considering placing the entire country under Martial Law until this crisis is resolved and the perpetrators are taken into custody. There seems to be some kind of interference and loss of signal wherever these terrorist devices are going off… but we’ll bring you every update that we can. For now, we ask that you please do not provoke the authorities and remain in your homes…” Suddenly, a flash of orange burst outside, contrasting heavily against the pale blue sky. The TV still ran, but now panicking and likely fearing the worst, my dad went into survival mode. “Quickly! Get down and cover your heads!” Everyone ducked and took cover… well, everyone except me. Stupid, maybe… but I loved war movies. My dad introduced to them me when I was far too young, at least according to my mom, but nuclear bombs were commonplace in several of them. As such, I knew that they released an EMP… which meant no electricity, and no TV. Now seeing a positively ghostly figure of both anchors, their lights flickered briefly on the screen, but the program remained on. “Pete!” my mom screeched, temporarily looking up from her own cover to make sure that the rest of her family was safe. “Get down!” I shook my head. “It’s okay, mom. It’s not a nuclear bomb or anything. The TV would have gone off.” I then gestured to the screen, still brightly lit. “See?” My dad, getting up after placing his own body over my mom and Amanda, looked up as well. His instincts were more of fight or flight but looking around and seeing none of the disruptions I was insisting about, relief washed over his face. “He’s right, Karen. There would’ve been more if it was a bomb like that.” Helping both her and my sister up before Lucas, I could still sense his caution though. “Then what did we just see, Gregg?” she asked, her panic still hanging around her densely. “What was that flash? If it wasn’t a nuclear bomb going off then wha…?” She didn’t get to finish her question. Before she could, the house shook terribly, like it was being hit by some kind of vibrational wave. Harkening back to those war movies, it usually only meant one thing when accompanied by a flash. Maybe not nuclear, but there had been an explosion of some kind. “What was that?” my mom asked, her panic increasing even more now as she clung to my sister. For her part, Amanda was now clinging tightly back. Lucas just looked stunned and confused. “I don’t know,” my dad admitted. “Just stay inside and don’t panic or an…” Right then, loud machines began to echo from the outside and I couldn’t even hear more of what the anchors were saying anymore. Picture frames and vases began to tremble from whatever was happening outside. It was hard to miss and everyone, even my sister now, was looking to the front bay window looking out toward the street where we had initially seen the orange flash. With the recent growths in the trees though, the downtown area beyond and most of the sky could just be made out. Dust of some kind seemed to be swirling around the whole area, but I couldn’t make it out further. So, curiosity getting the better of me, I bolted to the front door. “Peter!” my mom shouted out to me, now using my full first name. Serious, but if I lived here still, I knew it meant I was only flirting with danger and a possible punishment. “Get back here this instant. They said not to go outside still!” I heard her, but it was too late for me to turn back now. I was too curious by then and the fluttering and rumbling all about the living room wasn’t helping either. My hand already at the doorknob, I simply twisted, pushed, and then exited the red-painted front door of my childhood home. What I saw, I guess I should have expected from the news, but I was still unprepared for it. I was immediately greeted by dozens of scurrying soldiers being offloaded by a parade of trucks and even a single Humvee driving up our street as well. Our house and neighborhood being perched on a large hill that overlooked much of the city and corresponding valley suburbs around it, I was finally able to get a good view of the whole situation. Normally, it was the perfect place for sunsets and to watch the storms roll in, but now, it gave only an ungodly view of the thundering group of helicopters and jets flying by and then surrounding several of the visible homes and nearby skyscrapers downtown. It appeared like every end scene of the world or wartime invasion film I had ever watched. Worse though, it reminded me too much of some of the conflicts that Molly had taken pictures of overseas and showed me afterward. But those places were at war… ‘Were we at war now as well?’ I wasn’t sure, but a few of the military leaders barking out orders to their men quickly took my mind off it. Knowing Molly would never forgive me if I didn’t capture at least a little of the action, I pulled out my smartphone and took a few pictures of everything unfolding around me. After snapping a few choice shots, I noticed the soldiers seemed distracted, and the loud humming and rumblings of the tanks and nearby helicopters drowned out any other sounds around me. My curiosity only intensifying, I stepped off the front porch and began walking towards the soldiers to ask what was going on. Each soldier was staring at downtown and toward one of local mountain ranges nearby. I hiked there several weekends during my time off and never could get enough of the views from one of the observation towers they had added up there in the 1930s. Now, I had to imagine the view was quite different. Right as I got up to them though, they all began to move out. Now invested and even more curious, I continued walking with the soldiers until I got to the end of the block. They seemed far too distracted to notice me, but as soon as the column stopped, another group of soldiers finally spotted me and began shouting. “Get him! Get him back inside now!” Realizing I had made a huge mistake of even coming out here, I raised my hands and tried to quickly walk backwards and back to my parents’ house. I started to move even faster when they started pointing their guns at me. I guess that wasn’t even fast enough, as soon, a sergeant broke off and pointed at me in annoyance. “You! Get back inside now. Don’t you know there’s a national emergency in effect right now? Or that Martial Law is going to be called into play any second now? Don’t you know what’s happened today?” Weighing my options, I decided to play dumb. Martial Law had never been put into effect during my lifetime around here, so it was at least somewhat plausible, even though I knew that it had meant to stay indoors as just one of its stipulations. “I heard that, but I’m not sure what it is or what I should even do. Do you know?” The sergeant groaned and then pointed his weapon back up the hill from where I had just come from. “It means get back inside now and not asking any more questions. Got it?” “Yes, sir!” From my dad’s experience and stories with them in his old job, I knew to not mess with any soldiers when they were on a mission or given direct orders. Giving them signs of respect or following their commands may have cut my investigation short and I could miss out on some extra photos of history in the making, but I wasn’t stupid. Seeing even their panic, I knew this was not the time to argue. “I’m going back home right…” “There’s another! There’s another!” a solider shouted. “Look!” Another flash of orange lit up the sky, but now being outside and away from some of the trees, I was seeing everything in real time now. A large, thunderous concussive explosion then went off and both the sergeant and I looked to the source of it. Due to my neighborhood’s perfect positioning up on the hill in the suburbs yet still being close enough to the city, it took only a few seconds for us to spot a second, but this time, much larger plume of orange smoke quickly covering the whole downtown area now. It swirled and puffed around the glass and steel giants and seemed to emanate from one of the taller buildings we could still see from here. By the second it seemed though, the whole of the city seemed to be swallowed up in this strange new mist. Looking back over, the sergeant looked panicked for a moment of sheer terror, but as the orange mist began to swirl and then cascade with the wind right toward us, he seemed to come to his senses. “Gas! Gas!” he yelled while simultaneously uncasing a gas mask from on his person around his belt. The nearby soldiers I had been following previously began furiously tearing out their own gas masks from hanging bags on their gear. It was tremendous commotion, but within a minute, each soldier had been masked and gowned to the point where not a single centimeter of their skin was showing. I stood there dumbstruck but realizing what I was witnessing, I managed to capture a few shots of them in the chaos, not wanting to miss this opportunity. But the sergeant, now gowned and masked as well, saw me still standing in the street and marched right over to me. “You! Get out of here. Now! Run as fast as you can into your home! Go while you still can!” I quickly deduced from his panic and the soldiers’ suits and masks that they knew more than the general public. Further, what they knew seemed to imply that whatever the orange mist was, was also likely deadly or hazardous in some way that I didn’t want to find out. Remembering back, the news did state that the ’87 group had stolen some kind of ‘dangerous virus,’ but only the depths of my late-night horror movie watching binges could comprehend or imagine what that meant precisely. Snapped out of my curiosity and reverting to sheer panic now, I began to turn to head home. Seconds and only a couple of steps later though, the spring breezes picked up and I smelled something almost sweet. Citrus maybe… I wasn’t sure, but I had to see where it was coming from. Turning around, to my horror, a large dust cloud of a reddish and orange hue lingered in the air only blocks away now. Seeing the giant cloud forming, the sergeant turned back to me. “Run! Run!” he called out to me again, this time the panic thick in his slightly muffled voice from the gas mask he now wore. Finally understanding the seriousness of it all, I panicked and tried to run as fast as I could, but luck was not on my side today it seemed. After only a few paces, I tripped on a piece of uneven sidewalk and fell face first onto the pavement. Before I had a moment to think, I was being pulled up by an unknown force. I could only hope that I wasn’t totally screwed now, but I soon began to see small whisps of the gas starting to creep around me like long tentacles from a monstrous kraken of some kind. It seemed to spell my doom, though I was pleasantly surprised that once it touched my skin, I felt no pain. No blisters or even a sting of any kind. It only seemed to almost be magnetized to my skin and even a tingle, but a shake from whoever pulled me up, knocked my fascination away. “You! You idiot!” the sergeant yelled, keeping my limp body aloft still. “This is why we said to stay indoors! The ’87 group planted multiple devices beforehand and another one just went off!” I knew he was right, but I was grateful that he at least still seemed to care for my well-being, despite my massive idiotic curiosity. His kindness, or at least decency showed further when he even handed me a mask. I immediately put it on, though I noticed the orange mist still followed and curled around my arms and a tiny trickle of blood now remained on my hands. I only saw both events for a moment, but it was still enough for me to panic. “Which one?” he asked gruffly as we finally reached the top of the hill. I pointed ahead to my parents’ home, where I then noticed two figures with cloths over their mouths were frantically running around and yelling. What’s more… they were yelling my name. The mist hadn’t touched them yet, but it was getting close and seemed to follow close behind us now, seemingly having difficulty making the climb up the hill. “Pete!” the woman yelled, who after running closer, I recognized as my mom. “Is he yours?” the sergeant asked, almost seeming disgusted as he gestured toward me. “Yes” my mom answered. “Thank you so much, sergeant.” My dad working for the government over the years had introduced my mom to several military men and women and she quickly made it a task for herself to memorize all the insignia and ranks in all the branches of service. “Just doing my job ma’am. But now… get inside. All of you!” My dad jogged up and joined us before pulling my mom and I back up to the porch. Looking back briefly, I wondered if the sergeant knew something more about this gas than he wasn’t letting on. Looking at my arm, it had touched me and yet I wasn’t blistered or even burned, but at the same time, every facet of the sergeant and his tone seemed to imply the inherent danger of the gas still. “Go inside, now! Take a shower immediately. Stay indoors and wait for further instructions. Hurry!” My mom and dad gripped my arms and guided me quickly inside. I momentarily felt faint, but the sensation passed once I was safely inside, and the door slammed shut. “Geez, Pete,” my dad said with annoyance once we were firmly indoors and with the door shut. Nearby, Lucas was huddled on the couch with Amanda wrapped tightly in his arms. “You just had to go outside and… let me guess. You just had to satisfy your curiosity… again, right?” Knowing he was probably thinking back to that one trip to the aquarium where I nearly fell into the tank of sharks when I was too curious then, like he always did, I once again just nodded sheepishly while I took off the mask the sergeant had given me. Despite the reason why I even had to wear a mask, it was nice to breathe in the air inside again, especially now that the mist had reached outside of our house. Curiously though, I noticed that the blood that had previously been on my face from my fall, had now vanished. “Hard to miss the event of the decade,” I replied casually. “I mean, you’re probably going to remember this day forever. Right, Lucas?” Lucas rolled his eyes and turned away from the TV briefly. “Sure, whatever, Pete. You put yourself and our parents at risk while I stayed here. Look, I can even still be informed inside and even know more than you do.” He then gestured toward the T.V., which was still blaring a ‘Breaking News!’ alert across the ribbon at the bottom of the screen. Further, new photographs and shaky camera footage was now being shown of the orange mist in several cities across the country. One by one, it seemed that somehow, most major population centers had been hit by the orange bombs and gas. “We’re not fully sure what this orange mist is,” the anchorman admitted, “but we are being informed by direct communication with the government that all citizens should avoid contact as much as possible. While not deadly, government officials have noted that the substance can be both ‘toxic’ and ‘hazardous.’” “That’s right,” the anchorwoman continued. “We have been informed that though the gas being released is not harmful to the skin, there are yet unidentified long-term effects which may occur soon after contact. If coming into contact at all, we recommend an immediate shower.” “I just hope these masks worked at least a little bit,” my dad said, removing his medical grade mask covering. He had bought it when his work took him to China last year and they were experiencing some type of mass outbreak of the flu. My mom had insisted, and my dad put up no resistance to her demands; none of us ever really did. “I hope so, Gregg,” my mom wished as she pulled her mask off as well. Sighing deeply, I saw Amanda quickly take notice of our mom’s distress. “You okay, mommy?” she asked, now pulling away from Lucas and gazing up at our mom in both fear and curiosity. Clearly worried and maybe even a little exhausted, our mom smiled down sweetly at her. “I’m fine, sweetie. Just had to go get your brother. Speaking of which…” my mom then almost snapped to now face me head on. “I’m pretty sure that sergeant outside and even the new anchor said to go shower once we were inside. So, you better hurry it up and go shower immediately, Peter Crichton… or else.” ‘Oops. I’m in trouble now…’ Not my full name quite yet, but full first and last name wasn’t a good sign either couple with the tiny threat of ‘or else’ as well. I was in her crosshairs now, so not wanting to add to her stress further today, I merely saluted and ran off to go shower as ordered. The hot water and intense scrubbing felt nice, but my mind still swirled around what the orange mist even was. Regardless, utilizing the clothes I kept here in my ‘just in case’ bag, I was quickly redressed and joined my now huddled family on the couch. With my dad now in the master bathroom showering, leaving Lucas in his usual spot and my freshly showered mom as well sitting on the couch with Amanda napping beside her. Soldiers still occasionally walked the streets outside clad in their biohazard suits and masks, despite the orange mist having largely dissipated by now. If anything, though, helicopters only seemed to have increased their presence. Sighing at the whole scene and the unfolding news of panic all around the country, I sat back in the other single chair in the room and looked over at my family. With Lucas’ pensive stare and my mom’s worried one, looking down, I couldn’t help but slightly envy my little sister. Despite her reliance on my parents and her lack of freedoms, I did wish I could enjoy just a small part of the same obliviousness that she obviously had. Without a doubt, the country had been attacked and streets that should have been filled with Sunday afternoon traffic, were now only littered with military force. For her though, sleep mattered more. Amanda, my dad, and I could sleep through anything, but I doubt I could simply fall asleep so soundly through all of what was going on like she was now. News footage was as grim as ever with residents of cities across the country panicking and getting blasted by the orange mists. A lot of them seemed kind of young, but I simply passed it off as unruly teenagers or people with curiosity like me ignoring the orders to stay indoors. ‘I really hope I don’t live to regret that decision…’ Suddenly, anchorman stopped the anchorwoman as he put his finger to his earpiece once more. “Yes… yes…” He removed his hand and first faced his co-anchor right as my dad walked back into the room, his hair still damp from his own shower. “Sorry, Sally… but I’ve just been informed that the president will now address the nation. We go to his office live now.” The TV switched to shot of the president of the country, sitting behind his desk in his office. The just graying figure looked at the camera with a grim but determined face. “My fellow countrymen… it is unknown what the long-term effects of this mist could be but rest assured that your government will offer the needed support and guidance in the coming days to overcome this historic but tragic day.” Practiced as ever, President Walker showed just enough emotion to show his humanity while coupled with just enough strength though to show that he wouldn’t take this attack lightly. “These are unprecedented times, and I have decided to declare Martial Law. So, for those not already, it is the policy of this nation now for all residents to remain in their homes for the remainder of the night. For those still in offices, stores, or other places than their homes, we encourage you to stay where you are. Military efforts are being utilized to move you safely to your destinations until the air has been deemed safe by CDC officials. I’m not sure what today will come to mean, but I as your president will be staying with you all throughout this ordeal. Thank you and I wish you all a sincere good night and good luck.” Sighing, and not knowing what the future would hold, I stood up and then walked over to the bay window. Peering out and viewing my watch, I saw that I would usually be going home in the next hour or so. Seeing the shrouded city bustling with helicopters still, however, I knew ‘usually’ wasn’t going to be a very common word for a while in any of our lives. Further, hearing the president declare Martial Law, I also knew I would be staying at my parents at least for tonight whether I wanted to or not. I hoped it wouldn’t be too long, but another soldier marching down the sidewalk made me think twice about that hope. “Hey mom?” Sighing, she looked back over at me. Not sure what else to do but hoping to end the day on at least one good note, I knew what I had to ask. “What kind of bird does the orchestra?” Smiling, she nodded right as Amanda stirred awake… almost like she was just as curious to hear the answer herself. “Well… it’s a conDUCKtor.” Normally, we might have all groaned, but tonight, each of us let out a tiny chuckle. For such a bleak afternoon, it was a tiny ray of light. Not sure what was next in all this mess, I knew those moments would become even more precious. I’m not sure why, but something told me that the orange mist released today, wouldn’t soon be gone out of our lives.