Internal Lobby — Ground Floor, Site-56
"First day?"
The man in front of her was impossibly large. From the looks of it, he was near 50, with multiple scars running down his neck and what appeared to be multiple burn marks on his left cheek.
"You could say that. I'm Joana Dagon. Nice to meet you."
"Shaxs. What'ya looking for?"
"Conference Room 11-D."
He pointed to the east wing.
"Oh, that's in Sector 2D, I believe. Down the hall, make a left at the second intersection, go down two floors, and take your first right. There should be a map from there."
"Thanks."
"Not going to write that down?"
"Don't need to."
"Why does this GODFORSAKEN site have no elevators?!"
The climb to the subterranean level was brutal—far worse than the crumbling infrastructure she was used to.
She glanced up to see several arrows pointing across the stream of hallways in front of her. Sector D was to the far right.
From what she could uncover, Sector D was ill-maintained. There was clearly rust along the seams of the ceiling and a couple of bloodstains that hadn't been cleaned up too well. In front of her were two large, imposing double doors and an overweight guard sitting on one of those dime-a-dozen plastic chairs.
"Name and ID number?"
"Dagon, Joana. 335G99A2."
"Go on in."
With a small click, the doors hissed before opening to a rather disgusting lobby area—or what she hoped was a lobby area. There was a small man hidden by the front desk, taking a nap.
"How do I get to Conference Room 11-D?"
The man stirred from his slumber, and from what she could see, his spirit had been broken long before she got there.
"11-D? You sure?"
Now she was pissed.
"Yes. I'm sure."
"Well, that's a first. That's in Sub-section 4. Down the hall, take two lefts, then a right."
She started moving before she punched the snob in the throat. Looking into several rooms, the corridors were filled with mostly IT workers and servers. Nothing really of interest to her.
It took her a minute at first. She had been so lost in her world that she hadn't even noticed the change.
Sub-section 4 on the outside looked unassuming—hidden behind a small blue door with a faded four as the only method of identifying it. It could be mistaken for the supply closet if not for someone of her skills having encountered it.
The inside, though, was… quaint. She noted the thick layer of dust covering the handles. No one's been here in a long time.
She could count four rooms: one on the left, two on the right, and one dead-center.
The one on the left was labeled "Server Room," but she couldn't hear the hum of a server and noted the distinct lack of cables running the length of the floor like the remainder of the section.
The exact opposite room was marked "Medical Office." Why would they need a med office here if they have a whole section dedicated to it on-site? Experimental procedures, maybe?
Her eyes fell upon the door beside it: "EXIT." This part of the site was closed off. There was no exit here. They were two floors underground. Maybe a construction error? Wrong label?
Lastly, "Conference Room 11-D."
Unlike the exterior, the room was remarkably clean. The small table sat in the direct center, surrounded by five chairs. The table bore a logo she was unfamiliar with—a single black-and-white eye.
What interested her more was the small HP computer resting at the head of the table.
What kind of interview is this?
Begin Session?
She hit confirm.
Booting Connection … Loading Session … Preparing Application
The screen blacked out.
Dragon: Good afternoon, Ms. Dagon.
Dagon: Nice to meet you, Ms. Dragon?
Dragon: Alias name only here, Ms. Dagon. You know how it is, considering your last assignment. If all goes well, you get one too.
Dagon: Then why am I here?
Dragon: This is an interview, if you've forgotten.
Dagon: Bullshit. It's a setup. And I know that you know that I never forget anything.
Dragon: Good. Good. You're even smarter than I anticipated.
Dagon: So again I ask, why am I here?
Dragon: Before I begin, tell me how you reached the conclusion that this was a setup?
Dagon: One, I'm stuck in a remote site. Two, when I asked for this section from the guy at the IT desk, he didn't believe me—meaning that this sub-section is particularly unused. Three, none of the rooms here make any sense. Why would you need a med office when there's one on the first floor? A server room with no cables running to or out of it? The "EXIT" door that makes no sense.
Dragon: See, that's what I'm looking for. The people who can piece everything together.
Dragon: The truth is, this is not an interview—it's an orientation.
Dagon: For what?
Dragon: The Intelligence Agency, of course.
Dagon: The Agency? I thought you guys were dissolved years ago and pawned off to different departments.
Dragon: Right. That was a myth created by our friends from the Internal Security Department.
Dagon: The ISD actually exists?
Dragon: Tale for another time. The Intelligence Agency has roots in one of the oldest departments of the Foundation. Then it was called the Intelligence Community before it was split up.
Dagon: Split up?
Dragon: Too much infighting. The close birth of the ISD, RAISA, and us is no coincidence. But that's not why you're here today. I wanted to personally welcome you to our little department.
Dagon: So how does this work?
Dagon: Do I remain an Iota-10 operative on paper?
Dragon: No. Officially, you're an administrative consultant. You'll be able to run around the world without anyone being the wiser. Remember, even most Level 4s believe the Intelligence Agency's a ghost.
Dragon: Now, a little perspective, history, and a rundown on our unique protocols.
Dragon: Mobile Task Force Iota-10 "Damn Feds" and Delta-5 "Front Runners" serve as the Foundation's interconnected intelligence arm. What good is intel if you can't share it and use it? They provide the most low-level information—your day-to-day stuff. You can attest to that.
Dragon: Then there are smaller task forces. Alpha-4 "Pony Express," Mu-3 "Highest Bidders," etc. These are more support staff than intel-gathering units. They are inconsequential.
Dragon: Then there's the big three.
Dagon: RAISA, the ISD, and us.
Dragon: RAISA is the Foundation's intelligence analysis wing. There are thousands of anomalies that require constant care and execution of containment procedures. RAISA is the juggernaut that manages that. They see things where others don't. They stitch the bits and pieces until it's a viable picture.
Dagon: Do we share our information with them?
Dragon: Sometimes. We're invited to watch, but it's our rule of thumb to dead-drop info only when necessary.
Dragon: The Internal Security Department is the Foundation's heavy counterintelligence arm. They serve to purge the Foundation of traitors by any means necessary, and I mean any means. They are mostly unknown to those below Level 4 clearance, but above that, their existence is at least acknowledged. They are also our closest allies, helping cover up any traces of us.
Dragon: It's also worth mentioning Beta-1 "Cauterizers." In the Foundation's Intelligence sector, they are the overt action division. They can quickly be deployed to handle intelligence matters, but they have little capability of their own. Just a puppet on strings.
Dagon: And then there was one.
Dragon: Yes. We act almost completely outside Foundation control. We're allowed to do whatever it takes to gain the upper hand. We lie, cheat, steal, murder, and sabotage whoever we feel like. Due to that, we have our own in-house servers and medical equipment. The fewer questions, the better.
Dagon: No conditions?
Dragon: Only two. One, we can't act within the Foundation. Anything relating to internal Foundation activity has to be pawned off to the ISD. Two, if you're caught, the Foundation will not save you. They will erase you from their databases and claim you're a CI pretending to be Foundation.
Dagon: Reassuring.
Dragon: So, do you accept?
Dagon: Did I have a choice to begin with? When do I start?
Dragon: Today. In the medical office, there is a file on a target.
Dagon: And where do I report back to?
Dragon: Report back to Site-163 when the objective is complete.
Dagon: There is no Site-163.
Dragon: Well, of course there is. You're standing in it.
Dagon: This is Site-56.
Dragon: I always forget. Just take the exit, and I'll have the Site Dossier sent over.
Session terminated. Ending Program. Goodbye.
The "EXIT" room was a 1 by 1 meter… room? Closet?
I guess everything else makes sense. Why the fuck not?
She closed the door behind her. It was dark and cold. Then she heard a whirring sound around her and felt a force beneath her feet.
It's fine. Everything's fine.
The door hissed open again, and she took the chance to break out. She could suddenly feel the desert sun beating against her.
FUCK, it's bright. Where the hell am I?
She looked back and saw only a giant rock in front of her. No openings. Not a thing out of place. She looked to her side and it hit her.
SITE 56 LOADING DOCK
Sneaky bastards.