Identity - Rewritten

Chapter Nineteen

April 2014

None of the agents are prepared for the sight that greets them when they walk through the main entrance of the CDA. The whole place is in an uproar; a flurry of agents and various CDA staffers are bustling around the main entrance, coming and going in and out and running from the east wing to the west like their lives depend on it. Not a single person pays them any mind, and every single face Asha glances at looks on the verge of full-blown panic. A balcony about twenty feet ahead of them looks over the main floor where all of the mission coordinators have their offices, and from the looks of it they're in much worse shape– there are various papers and open case files scattered all over their desks, and some have even found their way onto the floor, only to be trampled on. Most of the people down there are either leafing frantically through case files or speaking on the phone, words indistinguishable but tones obviously distressed.

A smartly-dressed woman flits by in front of them, but she managed to trip over her own feet in her haste and tumble to the ground, the papers in her arms splayed on the ground in front of her. Ian is on the floor in a second, helping the poor woman up, and Asha scrambles to collect up her papers, attempting to put them back into a semblance of a pile. Diego can only watch, stunned: the woman looks about two seconds away from bursting into tears.

Mel's eyes are still locked on the scene going on below the balcony, body frozen. "Holy–"

"Agents Mannan, Sharpe, Carmichael, and Delarosa?"

An official-looking woman in a power suit is standing off to their right, and Mel bristles, not having noticed the woman's approach. The woman who'd dropped her papers scurries away, but Mel pays her little mind, appraising the stranger. Despite all of the chaos around them, she looks incredibly calm, as if nothing were happening at all. She can't be much older than Mel herself, with a short stature and high, feminine voice, but Mel sizes her up anyway, examining her with critical eyes. She's hiding serious muscles under that blazer, and a gun.

Asha is the one to reply. "Yes, that's us."

The woman nods, as if she had already known that information and was asking for confirmation only as a formality. "Ms. Billings is expecting you. Right this way." She leads them down a staircase onto the floor below, presumably toward Dunbar's office, as if they themselves hadn't made the trip hundreds of times.

Mel grimaces, linking her hands firmly behind her back.

When they reach the door to Dunbar's office, the first thing that she notices that the sign that once read "Lawrence H. Dunbar" now proclaims "Augusta Billings, Director." She almost smirks at the thought of the new director needing to assert her dominance in a way that Dunbar never did, but then the thought of Dunbar reminds Mel that he's dead and any trace of a smile she may have had slips completely off of her face.

The woman, who Mel now realizes never gave her name, knocks once on the door. It seems an eternity before there's a reply. "Come in," says the voice, loud and authoritative.

When they enter the office, Mel notices two things. The first is that the office has been completely changed since the last time she was inside, any and all of the decor Dunbar had having been replaced. The second thing is that Augusta Billings looks like the kind of woman who eats the souls of disobedient agents for breakfast.

"Please, sit." Her voice isn't loud, but it doesn't have to be: there's authority in her tone that's impossible to ignore. She doesn't bother to stand from her leather armchair– the one thing of Dunbar's she appears to have kept– as no-name exits the room, shutting the door firmly into place.

Asha is the first one to comply, lowering herself confidently into one of the chairs facing Augusta's desk. Ian follows suit, sitting to her right, and Mel and Diego do the same. "It's nice to meet you, Director Billings," Asha says.