The office was silent, except for the occasional turning of paper, and the small, tapping sound of the white blinds above the open window. A mixed aroma filled the room with native orchids, and the thick salty must of the ocean.
"Full name?"
The voice of Miss Xiang was crisp, authoritative, and strictly business. Her eyes, hidden by a set of chained spectacles, perused the file in front of her.
"Johann Oswald Baxter."
"Date of birth?"
"November 11, 1971."
"Marital status?"
"Uh...divorced...listen..."
Miss X's eyes snapped up from the file with a glare of low hostility.
"...you've got my entire damn life in front of you..." Ozzy said, half-sighing with jet-lag. "...do we really need to do this now? I could use some sleep."
Miss X stared at him for another moment. Nuriko stood to the far right of the room, just as motionless.
Slowly, Miss X reached up, pulling her glasses off, as she sat fully back into her office chair.
"Mr. Baxter--"
"Call me Ozzy..."
"MISTER Baxter..." she began again, her voice increasing in strength and volume. "...allow me to enlighten your situation here."
Ozzy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"My personal confidant, Miss Nuriko, has been with me for many years. She has, as always, performed beyond my greatest expectations in all matters. She is, in my eyes, defined by levels of honor, loyalty, and an efficient wisdom the likes of which someone like you could never hope to concieve of, much less, understand."
Nuriko's expression and posture made no indication that she even heard the words of praise.
"I have come to rely heavily on her skills, these many years...as I hope to do so, for many more." Miss X continued. "And, in all this time, she has never asked a single thing of me."
She paused, folding her arms.
"Until now." she stated. "Until you."
Ozzy cocked a single brow, glancing at the stauesque bodyguard.
"I understand her reasons." Xiang continued. "Family honor is an understandably important issue with her. And, I would not be a very good person if I were to deny her wishes in this matter."
She reached up to her desk, pulling a cup of hot coffee to her lips.
"And, again, that brings us to you, Mr. Baxter."
Her words curled the rising steam from the cup.
"You, Mr. Baxter, are now in my employment. The debt you owe will be paid, in full, from my personal account. However..."
...she leaned forward with an air of menace...
"...the debt you now owe me, will be paid, by you, with blood, sweat, and tears."
Ozzy stared at her, his finger daring to start its' tapping dance.
"I don't under--"
"You are a meta, Mr. Baxter. This consulting firm was founded by metas. Therefore, the most logical use that I can derive from you, is to place you in the field operatives, under the command of Kristofer Schanz."
Nuriko's eyebrow arched.
"Is not Mr. Hearn..." she began.
"Mr. Hearn has taken a leave of absence while you were away..."
"Hold on a minute!" Ozzy interrupted. "What do you mean 'field operative'? Founded by metas? What are you talking about? What kind of place is this?"
"This, Mr. Baxter, is Vanguard International."
Ten minutes later, a very weary Ozzy stood outside Miss Xiang's office. A low murmur of voices could be heard inside.
He didn't care what they were saying, though. Or, who it was that was doing the talking. The events of the past few hours still rattled around in his head, trying to find some sense of normalcy.
A team of metas. he thought. A consulting firm for the weird and dangerous.
He sighed heavily.
Oh, goddammit, Ozzy.....what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time...
The door suddenly opened, a tall man stepping out. Broad shoulders complimented his imposing physique, set off against the calm scrutiny of his staring eyes.
No. No, not staring. Looking. Searching.
Analysing.
"Baxter?" he asked, his voice taught with control and discipline.
"...right..." Ozzy nodded.
"Kristofer Shanz." he offered his hand.
"Call me Ozzy." the man replied, shaking the hand.
"Okay...Ozzy." Schanz nodded. "I go by Chance. Let's go."
He immediately set off on a brisk stride down the hallway, Ozzy running to catch up.
"Go? Where?" he asked, just trying to keep up with the determined pace.
"Conference room. We've got a situation...a couple actually. The rest of the group is assembled--"
"A situation? Umm...I just got off a very long flight. I could really use some sleep--"
"Sorry, Ozzy. No one's sleeping today." he stated, turning the corner. "You picked an interesting time to come to us. Seems to be a new trend..."
They entered through into another hallway, passing the half-open door of the Med Lab. Chance glanced in as they passed. The frail form of Mick Harrison lay quiet, Doctor Quantos nearbye deep in studies.
"Now, tell me, am I going to have any trouble out of you?"
"Trouble?"
"Yes, trouble. Miss Xiang filled me in on the details of your status here. I know you don't want to be here. And, given your circumstances, I can understand. But, we're a team, here. We watch each other's back. Get me?"
"Uh...sure...I guess."
"Give me everything you've got, and we won't have any problems." he stated. "You may be forced to be here, but that doesn't mean you can't learn to enjoy it."
They turned another corner...
"Still, your arrival couldn't have come at a better time." he added, Ozzy barely able to keep up with his erratic pace. "Bell...Mick...Euro....Danny..."
They reached a set of double oak doors, Chance pausing...
"You ready?" he asked with the barest hint of a smile.
"Does it matter?" he shrugged.
Chance grunted with amusement, as he led Ozzy into the assembled room...
