Intermission 3: The company

"How did it go?" the old man asks, into his secure cellular phone. The bulky device guards against wiretaps and GPS tracking, a necessity in their line of work. His fingers tap his massive wooden desk with some anxiety, even though he knows he has nothing to worry about. His people are the best.

"The subject was taken with no issues, sir," the brusk voice on the other end answers. "He is secured at the safehouse now and awaiting further testing."

"Good, good. Despite what the good doctor says, I think it has been long enough. We can begin the genome extraction now. Have her assist. Do not let her sway you against it."

"Yessir."

The line goes dead. The old man returns to the conference room, where a dozen others await his word.

"Sir?" one of them asks, as he settles into the executive chair at the head of the long laminate table.

"All is well. We should have the data secured within hours, and then we can begin our analysis and start the next stage of our plan."

The men look around, nervous but excited. How many years had they been working towards this moment? Finally, they are nearly there!

Hushed whispers die out as they wait, eager and anxious for news.