Access Denied

"Nevi, this will be your temporary quarters," Davidson said waving his hand around the room. "Tomorrow you will meet your assigned team and I'll discuss further details with you later, if you need anything"—he signaled to the button on the bedside table—"hit the buzzer and someone will be here."

Genevieve nodded, "And when will my things—"

"—we have people at your given address; your things will be here in the morning. Goodnight Nevi."

"Goodnight Davidson."

Nevi closed the door and turned around to face the room. It was a small, compact room with off white walls. The walls were empty except for a warning bell shaped like a wall clock and the bed frame supporting the bed. The bed was incased by the nightstand at both sides of it, both holding lamps. Genevieve quickly got into the bed and covered herself with the blankets.

Redstone was back again and they were most probably after her. If she were to act stubborn and not help them, he would most likely kill her the second he saw her. Genevieve might have been stubborn, but she was smarter than she was stubborn. So she accepted.

According to Davidson, she was supposed to meet her new 'team' tomorrow morning. She had heard that Davidson had assembled his best group of s, to form this team. And if the team was the best; then the mission had to be hard. Hard meaning: dangerous.

Her thoughts slowly fading, her eyes shut down and she drifted into a quiet sleep.

* * *

"Good Morning s," there was an exchange of firm nods between the group of four s in the room. Director Davidson had put together a team of people who were poles apart.

The man in the corner of the room was leaning against the wall with his hands jammed in his pockets. His hair was a disheveled black blob, a contrast to his copper skin. His face held no emotion and his eyes remained focused at no point at the wall.

The woman to the end of line looked the oldest. She was a short and lean. She had black hair reaching just her shoulders and wore all black. She had an eerie calmness in her eyes as she stared at Genevieve from where she stood.

Beside her was the man she met yesterday, Flynn, wearing a stoic expression, processing every word the director said. His green eyes were trained on him, analyzing his every move.

Next to him, on the ground sitting cross legged was a girl about her age, playing with wires. An occasional spark would come from the wires her pale hands were holding. She wore a vibrant shirt tucked into bright yellow shorts over her navy blue tights. She had frizzy red hair and pale blue eyes. Out of everyone in the room, she was smiling, devilishly. Compared to the others in the room, she was different.

"Agents, I would like you to meet Genevieve Wilfred," all eyes snapped to her, analyzing the newest prey. "She will be a part of your mission and also your team. I expect you to treat her as one of your own."

Genevieve stood nervously to the side. She gave a small smile and raised her hand to wave, but put it down just as fast. She hadn't had this many people looking at her all at once, since high school. Attention returned to Davidson as he spoke again. "She has experience with the people you will be dealing with and happens to be talented with computers." Davidson was about to say something else when the woman in black interrupted him.

"Isn't she a wanted criminal?" she accused in a monotone voice.

"Yes, Deaton, and a very good one at that too." He replied.

"We don't even know if she's good. For all we know—"

"Oh Mon Dieu," Genevieve muttered under her breath, but loud enough to catch the attention of the room. She might not have been accustomed to social attention but she was very well used to wallets. Especially, the things inside those wallets. "Check your wallet." She nodded her head towards the woman, Deaton.