Sheila rolled her shoulders as she trudged down the hallway. She sighed in satisfaction when she heard it pop. Michael was way heavier than he looked. But then again, wasn't everyone heavier than they looked?

She cocked her neck to the side and worked out the kinks. The hallway was silent save for the soft clicking of her shoes on the marble tiled floor. She made a left and kept going, until she got to the end of the hallway.

She stopped at an oak door and brought out a card from her pocket. She swiped it against the glowing sensor box adjacent the door. The light of the sensor box changed from red to green as she heard a barely audible click from the door.
She opened it and walked right in.

The room was dim but she could still make out every detail. The wardrobe just to her left, the two normal sized beds in her front though a little to her right. The nightstand that separated the two beds narrowly, and the reading table just beside the farther bed.

The door leading to the bathroom was closed but she could hear the water running which meant her roommate was back. She collapsed on the bed nearest to her and sighed into the pillow. The water stopped running in the bathroom and a few moments later, she heard the bathroom door open and close.

Followed by a double clap.

Sheila looked up and immediately shut her eyes, the sudden bright light almost blinding her.

"Ah shit!" she yelled. A giggle came from someone else in the room.
"You think this is funny? I could have been blinded. Matter of fact, I think I am," Sheila told the person as she blinked a couple of times but all she could see was white.

"Well then maybe you shouldn't look up so suddenly," the person replied her coyly.

"Gah, I hate you!"

"We both know that's not true."

Sheila's vision cleared and she saw her roommate putting on a t-shirt with her back to her.
"So, how was class?" she asked as her roommate started to dry her long dark hair.

"Oh you know, same old same old," her roommate replied nonchalantly before she turned to her, her dark brown eyes looking Sheila over.
"But you on the other hand look like you have a story to tell. Is that mashed potato in your hair?" she asked with a small laugh.

Sheila rose an eyebrow as she jumped on her bed, enthusiasm in her eyes. Her skin was like alabaster normally but up close, it seemed more pale, almost like she was a corpse.

No no, bad thoughts.

She shook her head and looked away, making sure it wasn't so sudden. "You know I can't tell you how my mission went," she said.
Her roommate faked a frown and replied, "But this is the first time I'm asking."

"And?"

"And, since it's a first, you're meant to tell me," she said with a toothy grin. Sheila cocked her head to the side.
"Aren't you meant to be reading a book or something?" she asked.
She laid on her back and brought her phone out.

"Oh come on. You're just a recruit and you get to go on a mission. Being your roommate should give me direct access to the juicy info."

Okay, her eyes were definitely glowing.

Sheila sighed and dropped her phone by the nightstand.
"Yeah well, the mission might just be over and I might never get another one," she replied.

Immediately, her roommate looked concerned.
"What happened?"

Sheila got a far away look on her face, deep in thought.
"Let's just say I didn't follow protocol. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a long shower."

And with that, she went to the bathroom leaving her roommate more curious than before. The reddish brown stains on Sheila's jacket didn't help either.

                                                   «»

The pain Michael felt when he regained consciousness was less than he expected. Infact it was non-existent; he hadn't felt this great in years. The pain in his shoulder where Sheila's spoon hit was gone too.

Sheila!

His eyes shot open and he immediately regretted it. The sudden brightness of the room made him shut his eyes. He waited for a while before he opened his eyes again and this time, his eyes had adjusted well enough.
He sat up from the bed he was on.

The last thing he remembered was someone lifting him. Now he was in a completely foreign room, the white walls and the antiseptic smell hinting him that he was probably in a hospital or something.

He looked down at his clothes and realized he was still wearing the same clothes but with new reddish brown stains. The white door of the room creaked open slowly and in came a man and a woman.

The woman looked familiar, like he had seen her just recently. But for some reason, he remembered seeing her with her hands glowing green.

Great, he was losing it.

The man though looked really intimidating. He was tall, muscular and dark skinned. If not for his formal dress and the woman's calm demeanor, Michael would have bolted out of the room.

"I see you're awake," the woman said. "Sleep okay?"

He stood and walked over to the water dispenser.

"Where am I?" Michael asked as he poured himself a glass of water. The woman frowned slightly but said nothing. It was the tall man that replied him.

"What do you remember?" the man asked. Michael dropped the glass cup and pondered on the question.

"Some guys were chasing me and my friend. One of them was armed. I fell, twisted my ankle and hit my head," he talked slower as he noticed his ankle was okay and his head didn't hurt or his back.

He looked back at the two people more cautiously.

"Again I ask, where am I? And how long have I been here?"

The man raised his hands in surrender.
"Take it easy, son," he started, "We're not kidnappers or anything."

"That so? 'Cuz that's what you seem like," Michael replied the man.

The woman intervened immediately after.
"Why don't you take a seat and let us explain," she suggested, gesturing to the chairs adjacent the white door.

Michael thought it over and finally sat down but he didn't sink into the chair. He sat agitated and cautious. The man and the woman opted to stand before him.

"The guys that were chasing you. Can you describe them to me?" the man asked.

Michael doubted he could forget their faces.
"One of them was somewhat short and pudgy, the other tall and lanky. The tall one had some sort of-"
"-Scar across his face?" the man completed his statement.

Michael rose an eyebrow at this. How did he know?

"Yeah? And the short pudgy man swore...a lot." He remembered hearing him swear when they lost him.

The man's frown deepened when he heard this. "And did the world seem weird...or creepy when you saw these men?" the man asked him.

Again, Michael was suspicious. What was going on?

"Yes...yes, it did. What's the point of these questions? You haven't explained anything," Michael replied.
"Slick and Heath," the man muttered under his breath, but he was close enough for Michael to hear.

"What was that?"

"Slick and Heath. The guys who were chasing you and your friend. Slick is the tall one, Heath is the one with the colorful language. And Slick is a poisoner," the man told him.

Michael stood up suddenly and backed away from the two people. The man looked confused but the woman caught on quick.

"Oh no no. They aren't here. I assure you. We don't work with them. Honest," she assured him.

Michael eased up but he didn't move closer to them.

"Then what did he mean by Slick is a poisoner?" he asked.
"I mean Slick poisons a person's mind. He alters what the person sees. That's why the world seemed weird," the man replied, back in his stance of surrender.

Michael's mind was close to combusting.

He had like a million questions to ask but he couldn't get them out all at once. How was it possible to alter what a person sees? How did the black man know so much? Where on earth was he?

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the woman move over to his side and guide him back to the chair. The man went to pour him another glass of water and offered it to him as he sat.

"I know you have a lot of questions and you're probably confused but in time, you'll understand," the man told him.

Michael looked up at him and frowned slightly. He just realized something. He still didn't know how long he had been there.

"How long have I been here?" he asked.
"Sheila brought you here yesterday," the woman replied.

She seemed so nice, maybe she was a therapist or something. That thought made him remember his therapist which in turn made him remember the captain of the CCPD.

"I've been here for almost a day?" Michael almost yelled. "You don't know what you've done. The cops will be tearing the city apart, looking for me."

For the first time since the man walked in, he smirked.
"Not if they think you're sleeping over at a friend's place," he replied.

Michael looked at him like he was crazy.

"What? But I don't have any..." The words got stuck in his mouth as realization hit him.
"Sheila," he muttered.

The woman cracked a smile and nodded.
"Yup. All they had to do was to call and I answered as Sheila's mother. You telling your therapist about Sheila just made the lie more believable."

Michael looked from the woman to the man.

"For people who claim not to be kidnappers, you're doing a good job of making me believe you less," he told them.

The man looked down at him and "hmphed."

"You make a valid point," he said.

"I do?"

"Yes, you do. Which is why you're free to go."

"What?" he asked in unison with the woman. Her tone had lost it's niceness and now seemed stricter.

"Free to go? I felt him, you know. He's one of us," she said to the black man.

Wait...what?

"You what?" Michael asked her.

"Nothing," she replied, her voice back to it's former tone.

He did his best to scoot away from her.

"Be that as it may. We're not kidnappers. If he's going to be a part of us, we need him to trust us. We're not imposing ourselves on him, that's not what we do," the man said, causing the woman to nod slightly.

Why were they talking like he wasn't even there?

"What are you talking about? What do you mean I'm one of you?" he asked.
The man smiled a little and said to him, "We'll be in touch."

He didn't even see the man move. The man delivered a quick chop to the back of his neck and Michael's world went dark.

                                                   «»

As he made his way to the conference room, he loosened his black tie and unbuttoned the top of his crisp white shirt. He knew this meeting would be especially hectic. He swiped his card on the red sensor box and it glowed green.

The glass door slid open and he entered the room. The only source of light came from the large round table that took most of the room. It was glowing white giving everyone around the table a sort of angelic aura.

But he knew they were far from angels.

He sat at the head of the table, the only empty seat in the room; also the only seat that had a cushion.

Perks of being the director.

"You're late," one of the council members addressed him. Something he chose to ignore as usual.

"Why did you call for this meeting, Councilor Horatio?" he directed his question at the man to his left.

He certainly didn't look angelic.
The light from the round table defined the wrinkles on his face, his gaze steely as he locked his fingers together, his white hair combed back neatly.
He gave off a godfather-y crime lord vibe.

"Well sonny, it's to discuss your ah, decisions, as of late," the councilman replied.

He unconsciously clenched his fist when the aged councilman called him sonny.

"Well then, get to it. I don't have all day," he said.

He immediately felt them tense up, he even heard a few mutter something about disrespectful millennials.
He wasn't even that young.

"Listen, Johnny boy, the decisions you've been making, you made them without consulting us, the council," Horatio began. "And we do not approve. We do not approve of you not consulting us beforehand and we certainly do not approve of the decisions."

"Does Councilor Horatio speak for the whole council?" he asked calmly. The council members nodded in agreement.
"Very well. I'll try to inform you all before I make a decision that has to be made on the spot." He stood up ready to leave but the councilman wasn't done.

"That's not all, sonny. We still have to address those decisions you made on your own," the councilman reminded him.

Again he clenched his fists before he sat back down. He drummed his fingers on the bright table and did his best not to glare at the councilman.

"What about?"

"Well, you sent a young recruit on a mission," Councilor Horatio began. "That's a little unorthodox, don't you think, sonny?"

He stopped drumming his fingers.
"Our agents are still unavailable so I had to make do with what I have," he replied.

The council looked unimpressed.

"Unavailable because of another decision you made on your own," a councilwoman said angrily. She sat to the left of Councilor Horatio, her gray hair tied in a bun.

He was taken aback by her tone.
Apparently, the whole council was, if the silence that followed meant anything.

The white haired councilor decided to break the silence.

"What Councilor Evelyn means is, you wouldn't have to use a young recruit if you didn't send our agents on a wild goose chase. The council feels you should recall them."

He laced his fingers together and looked straight ahead.
"I'm afraid that's impossible," he told them.

"Listen, sonny-"

"-That's Director Gray to you, councilman!" he snapped at Horatio, who was unfazed. He nodded his head in resignation and kept quiet.

Councilor Evelyn took up where he left off.

"Very well, Director Gray. Surely, you can recall them. You're their commander, are you not? They'll listen to you. You can-"

He banged his fist on the table, causing the light to flicker. A small gasp escaped the lips of some of the councilors because of his sudden outburst.

"I've heard enough of this. The agents are on a long term mission and they aren't returning until they complete said mission. Now if you'll excuse me, I have places to be."

He stood up and left the conference room, the councilors fuming with anger. Councilor Horatio stood up and started addressing his fellow councilors and former comrades.

"This is what we get for supporting a young director. Especially a tainted one. It's high time we did something about it."

He never did like the boy from the onset. But if he kept messing up, his plan would come to fruition a lot sooner than he expected.

He'd just have to be patient and endure the brat's unorthodox decisions.