An illegal narcotics processing plant.

Meredith sat nervously in the diner, nursing a cup of coffee and staring at her phone. It was 8:07. She glanced out the window, then to the skeleton crew with whome she shared the otherwise-empty diner. She hated this. 8:08.

She flipped the paper nervously. "If I don't contact you by 8:15, call this number." Meredith never signed up for any of this Watergate shit. She was an unpaid intern at the paper, for God's sake. She was basically the getaway driver for a B&E against Big Pharma.

One of June's sources (probably a Facebook comment) mentioned that there was some weird stuff happening at this facility. "Like WMD stuff," June said with obvious excitement. Meredith agreed to go along, figuring that it was probably bullshit but it would help her chances of getting an actual gig.

Now she wasn't sure. Neither expected to see armed guards at the plant, but June went ahead with the plan anyway. That's how Meredith ended up drinking shitty coffee in a deserted diner, checking her phone constantly and wishing she had never agreed to this.

Her phone said it was 8:13 when a man entered the diner and made a beeline for her booth. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a sweater, and had an unremarkable face. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing, but her spoke first.

"Come with me," he said, and Meredith did. It was only as she was exiting the restaurant that it occurred to her that maybe she shouldn't. "Wait, I didn't-"

He cut her off immediately. "Give me your phone and get in the backseat of this car." She did as he said, now starting to panic. Why was she just following this stranger's orders? She needed to get her phone back. As he slid into the driver's seat, she leaned forward.

"Who are you? What-"

"Sleep," he said, and she did.

When Meredith came to, she was sitting upright in an uncomfortable metal chair. She quickly discovered that she was restrained, and panic once again set in.

"Help!" she cried. "Where am I?" She was in a small white room, bereft of furniture or decorations. One wall had a large glass panel through which she saw a number of people watching her. It reminded her of an interrogation room from a cop show, but with a window instead of a two-way mirror.

"Help!" she screamed again. The people looked on impassively. She scanned the crowd, trying to make eye contact with someone who might listen. "Help me! I can't move!"

She was stunned into silence for a moment when she saw June. June was sitting at the edge of the crowd, watching her with tears on her cheeks. "June! June, help! What the fuck, June, get me out of here!"

A man's voice boomed from a speaker that she couldn't see. "June can't help you right now. She's a little preoccupied. But don't worry, dear, you'll feel better soon."

"What?" Meredith screamed. "What do you mean? Why can't she help me? Oh my God, are you going to kill me or something? Help!"

Fog began to creep into the room from somewhere. Maybe there was a vent behind her? Suddenly her restrains broke loose and she ran to the window. The fog was denser than ever now, and she doubled over coughing. She put a hand to the window, then was still.