“In the concrete jungle, where nightmares come alive, Men clad in shadows, seeking fortunes to survive. Grimy streets of steel, where echoes of gunshots ring, A symphony of chaos, where dreams and hopes sing.” -Unkown

Men and women stood in different places around the room, giving full attention to the overly large man sitting behind a mahogany desk, you wouldn't have noticed anything special about any of them. You weren't meant to.

Not a single person in this room had any kind of rememberable marking or jewelry on them. Not a single tattoo, not a single girl with extravagant makeup, not a single man with a flashy watch. Every person, every face was the type you would look at, and immediately forget.

All had come from different countries, defecting from their respective agencies to join an independent cell.

The group was funded by many countries and by many agencies who all had an interest in bringing the young country of Moronica to its knees. China, Iran, Russia, Pakistan, Iraq, Qatar, and even the CIA, which was always there to assist with funding for any terrorist groups.

They stood in a dark room, pipes and wires ran along the ceilings of an old mansion, several miles away from the border of Moronica.

A woman stands just behind the Large Man, an Asian-looking woman, with dark raven hair, and an angular face.

They all waited, unreadable as a young man entered the room, and addressed the Man behind the desk.

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“What do you mean he’s awake?” The fat man practically screamed as he slammed his overly large fist onto the table, knocking down a few knickknacks and a miniature cardboard cutout of a certain Bethesda CEO.

“The report from agent our in the Manor, just came through on the shortwave. She confirmed the target has woken up.” A man with a rather large Adam’s apple said; it bobbed up and down grotesquely as he spoke.

“Bunglers. I am surrounded by bunglers!” The large man growled venomously, the room visibly recoiling.

“Hail agent 38 again, tell her she has 24 hours to silence the target, it must look like an accident otherwise we risk enraging an entire country of surgically enhanced super-bimbos!” The large man said bitterly after a moment.

He thought for a moment, then continued. “The King will be getting in to his usual mood, tell agent 38 to expect a very special lipstick in the drop tonight. Direction on how to use it will be in the case.”

The other man exited with a nod and quietly closed the door behind him.

“Are you certain this will work Chair?” A thin mousey-looking man said with a heavy Spanish accent from the back of the room, he wore an expensive-looking suit, his hair was heavily oiled back, dark circled spectacles framed his face, and his appearance heavily contrasted the looks of the plain clothes individuals around him.

“Your agents have gummed up this assignment before.” The mousey man said with a glance at the Asian woman behind the large man.

“I remind you, The Head personally engaged me to report on your movements, how horrible it would be if I were **** to tell him you failed again, Chair.”

The fat man, oddly called The Chair, looked at the man, opened the left drawer in his desk, pulled out a gun, and shot the man in the leg.

Everyone in the room stayed still as the man writhed and moaned on the ground.

“Take this scum and return him to the wretched place from which he came. I must call The Head personally.” The Chair said with a wave of his hand.

The Chair waited until they had all shuffled out of the room removing the wailing man, he stood with a grunt and waddled over to a painting on the wall, he removed the painting, pressed on the stained wallpaper, and a panel opened with an ancient-looking telephone inside.

The Chair dialed the memorized number, with a mixture of fear and anger.

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It was evening, and a nurse sat quietly at the table finishing her supper, today was peppercorn steak and roasted russet potatoes with grilled vegetables. The facilities had excellent chefs.

She hadn't seen Doctor Jodha all day, no doubt she had her face buried in a stack of paperwork. Why that woman refused to hire a secretary she couldn't guess.

Around her several other nurses were laughing at an anecdote the ditzy-looking blonde-haired nurse had just told to the other Doctors, the nurse hadn't heard it, and she didn't want to. She was preoccupied with an item in her purse that was on her lap, a small black vial of lipstick.

——————————————————————

The Asian woman sat restlessly, she was busy decoding communications between the Moronican Army, they were waiting for news of oil transport between Russia and Moronica, she found it odd that one the same of the countries that was funding the organization was providing such a large amount of Oil to a country they supposedly despised but she supposed it was all to keep up public appearances.

A red beeping from the light above her let her know she was being called. She got up quickly, with a small tug of the dark grey turtleneck sweater she was wearing, in doing so exposed a large scar on her neck, and walked hastily to The Chairs room.

——-

Knock Knock

“Come in!” The Chair said deeply.

“Ah, 18, sit down.”

The Asian woman, called 18 did so.

“I’ve just spoken with The Head, our next orders are clear. You have been reactivated and provided a new cover in the capital city of Morinica, Speak to 74, he will give you what you need to carry out the assignment and will brief you.”

18 slowly rose from her seat with a stern nod and began walking towards the door.

“Oh and 18, do not expect mercy from us again if you bungle this.” The Chair Said as he shuffled through the papers on his desk.

18 turned around and nodded again as she put a hand up her sleeve, feeling the nine month old scar that ran up her arm.