Elijah woke up, opened his eyes, and stared up at the white for a long time. He looked at his clock. 17:46. No sleep schedule, who cares. When had he fallen asleep? probably around 9 o'clock that morning. He supposed no one had had any use of him today. He could probably sleep on if he wanted to. No need to get up, but he was bored. He slowly sat up and stepped out of bed. The small room was similar to a hotel room. One bed, one desk, two chairs, one by the desk and one angled towards the bed for some reason. The walls were all bare and white, sterile. He hated this room, and at the same time, he couldn't be bothered to do anything to change it. He boiled some water and made a cup of instant coffee, black. He took the cup with him, slipped on his work clothes, and went outside. Outside, in this case, was really just another, larger, inside. He walked across the concrete hallway, dragging his fingers along the textured surface. He stepped out into the central area of the building and walked up the staircase to the third floor. People in black suits passed him, all busy with work, all giving him a wide berth.
Elijah walked through another corridor, black painted walls and doors every few meters. He stepped into the office belonging to Agent Mot. Inside sat an older man, looking over a stack of reports. Elijah knew that Mot looked far older than he actually was, although he had never cared to ask how old he actually was. Why care? Mot ran his fingers through his thin gray hair and looked up at Elijah. "Elijah, good", He sounded tired, "I was gonna send someone to get you, now I won't have to". Elijah nodded. "We brought in another potential freelancer. If she passes the test, she'll be assigned to you as a partner". Freelancer was a term Emet had always found amusing. It suggested a freedom entirely foreign to the freelancers. He supposed that it sounded better than forced mercenary, although he had no idea who this agency had to keep up appearances for. "I already have Dilion". "He'll be reassigned to Hope". "Why not give Hope the new one?". "The new girl has issues, it seems. Sorry to do this to you, but you will more or less be acting as a punching bag". Sigh. "If she's trouble, just get rid of her". "From what I hear, she's fine most of the time, but she gets mad once in a while. I wouldn't have taken her in, but someone higher up wanted to, and it was decided you should be awarded the short straw". Elijah sat down opposite Mot. "Hope she fails the test". "We should know later today. She was brought in about an hour ago. In fact, if we go now, we might be able to see some of the first test". "I don't really care". "Yeah? Well, I was just thinking I could use a break." Elijah looked down at the stack of papers. Boring. "Let's go. If she passes, it might be good for you to have an idea of who she is. Besides, she won't be my responsibility, but you are, and I would like to know who's breaking my toys". Elijah nodded.
The two left the office and went down a floor, then through an indoor tunnel surrounded by a beautiful stone garden with tall green plants, all behind glass panels. Elijah had always thought it seemed out of place. Down another set of stairs and another set of hallways, they arrived at the interrogation rooms where the first tests were being held. Standing, looking down through a one-way window, was Aeshma. She was holding a nearly empty bottle of red wine, and beside her on a table stood another half-dozen similar bottles. Her tan brown face was slightly flushed, and she seemed very amused by whatever she was seeing. "All of those for you?". She looked back at Elijah and Mot. "Mot, nice to see you. No, but I figured it would be rude to force the poor thing to drink on her own". "M-hmmm". Elijah and Mot approached the glass and looked down into the large concrete room where a blond girl sat, face flat on the table in front of her. Loud, obnoxious music was blasting on speakers, and cuffs chained her arms and legs to the ground. Small black balls littered the ground around the girl. Based on the two bottles lying on their sides on the table and the one broken on the floor beside her, Elijah concluded that she must be totally out of it. About an hour since she got here? Jeeze. "I don't remember getting this kind of treatment". "Would you?". "Good point, I guess". "But no, we skipped straight to the psychological test for you since we already had you figured out". "Too bad, looks fun". Aeshma chuckled. "Not supposed to be fun, we're trying to make her mad". Elijah raised an eyebrow. "By getting her drunk?". "I think she's an angry drunk, but the music should help, and check this". She pressed a button on the radio attached to her belt, and three seconds later, Emet stepped into the room through a door behind the girl. He raised a gun towards the girl and fired five shots at her. She jerked and craned her back upon each impact. "Rubber bullets, low caliber". No sound escaped the room, but by the way the girl shot up and started to clumsily pull at her restraints, Elijah assumed that Aeshma was getting what she wanted. Mot was looking on without giving any hint whatsoever as to what he was thinking. "Results?". "None yet, but when we visited her home, it seemed she'd punched a hole in one of the walls, a brick wall, and we think she put a couppla dudes in the hospital a few weeks ago. Serious injuries". A second later, her radio crackled. "I believe these might be the results you were looking for, Ashema. What do you think? Over". Ashema looked down. The girl had ripped one chain from the ground and was pulling at the one restraining her other arm. The floor fractured, and the long steel screw came loose. Her eyes were dull and watery. She looked like she was ready to kill Emet, who was swiftly exiting the room. All of a sudden, her face fell, and she went pale. She stumbled over her folding chair, but got to her feet again, then kicked her legs and pulled the two remaining chains from the floor. As she ran to the corner of the room to hurl, Ashema smiled. "Perfect Emet, that'll do". The girl threw up red fluid indistinguishable from the wine it had once been. Emet turned away and placed his cup of cold, barely touched, instant coffee down on the table. "Gross".