"Can someone get me Agent Bowles!?" the man beside me yelled down. At once, a few people stood up and scrambled around.

"I got it!" someone hollered, causing the others to slow down before heading back to their chairs. The agent next to me sighed, shooting me a look before turning towards me. I fully faced him, confusion washing over me. He stuck out his hand, and I shifted my gaze between his face and his hand. Slowly, I reached out and shook it.

"I never properly introduced myself. Director Jamison. I run this place," he introduced himself. I sent him a half-assed smile.

"And I'm Jac, but you already knew that," I responded, a slightly sarcastic tone invading my words. At that time, a man in a dark uniform took hurried steps towards us. His chin jutted out proudly. He stopped a few feet away from us, saluting Director Jamison.

"Sir, you wanted to see me, sir?" he answered strongly, raising his hands quickly in a salute before dropping it. Jamison rolled his eyes. 'I'm in such deep shit. I already know where this is going.' Came the worried whisper of a thought into her mind. A bit of confusion seeped into me as my eyes shifted between the Director and the agent in front of me.

"Cut the crap, Jerry. We haven't saluted since the 50s. More importantly, I thought I'd made it clear we have a 'no abduction policy'," Jamison growled out, a knowing, arching eyebrow raising towards his subordinate. I realized then that this was the man that was a part of the team that dragged me here.

'Yup, there it is...' I could practically feel the awkwardness ooze off the man as his stiff posture slackened. He looked down, his toe drawing patterns into the metallic tiles below us. He went from a cold soldier to a scolded kid in seconds.

"She wasn't cooperating. What did you expect us to do?" A sharp breath was inhaled by the director as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his eyes in exasperation, deep wrinkles forming on his forehead.

"I'm trying really hard to see your side of the story, Jerry. I really am. But when your commanding officer gives you directions of 'get the girl, don't use force if she doesn't agree' you would listen. But no Jerry. You're on desk duty for the rest of the month. Again." Bowles' shoulders drooped in disappointment as his mouth formed a frown. His eyes went back up to meet Jamison's. They held a pleading look that I had only seen properly pulled off on animals.

"Awww man, come o-" he started to protest, but Director Jamison cut him off by pointing his finger off into the distance behind Jerry.

"God damn it, Jerry, just get to work," Jamison hissed, causing Jerry to straighten up quickly, salute him again, turn on his heels, and speed away. Jamison brought his eyes back to me, before gesturing behind me.

"Shall we head down to the bottom level?" he asked rhetorically, already heading towards the location where I assumed the stairs were.

Sure enough, we rounded a bend to see a flight of floating black stairs. We made our way down, Director Jamison first as we reached the bottom floor. People sent me wary looks, looking towards the Director to see if it was okay for me to see what they were doing.

'Who is this kid?'

'Isn't she a civilian? Why is she here?'

I massaged my right temple, my eyes squeezing shut as their thoughts invaded my mind.

"Hey, Director Jamison?" I bit out through gritted teeth, peeking my eyes open. He turned towards me, confusion furrowing his brow when he looked at me.

'What's wrong with her?'

"I had a pair of glasses on me when I was taken, do you think you can track those down and give them to me?"

'Why? Does she need them?' He went to open his mouth, but I held my hand up to stop him.

"Thoughts come in unfiltered when I don't have them on. Headaches come often," I clarified his silent questions. Soon enough, he was reaching up to press the device in his ear again.

"Can someone search for the glasses that were on the Legacy when she was taken?"

'Legacy? Oh my god, it's a superhuman. She doesn't look that different.'

'She can hear thoughts? Oh no, I hope she doesn't hear me. I think about embarrassing things... like that time that I had sex with Gale against the staffroom microwave.'

'HELLO. Hello, Miss Martian. I know you can hear me!' I glared at the people at the computers, watching as they would peek at me to see if I could hear them.

"So," I started, dragging my eyes away from the dumbasses that didn't know how to handle a 'Legacy' to the Director in front of me. "How do you want me to start this whole thing? Do you have information for me? Do I have to go somewhere?" I questioned slowly, attempting to shut my mind off from the thoughts. I was so used to my glasses effortlessly blocking out the abilities, that I hadn't trained myself well enough to shield myself from it by will power.

"I've already sent for the person assigned to be your partner. Together you both will investigate the criminal case. We are currently waiting for your badge to be finished. Once that is done, you are free to conduct your investigations as you please, as long as they are within the parameters of the law." I hummed in response. Absently gazing at my surroundings without registering what I was seeing.

"You weren't kidding when you said I didn't have a choice. You already had my partner and badge picked out," I murmured. I dragged my eyes back to the director, my eyes aching with the mental pressure building. "So when am I suppose to be getting my partner?"

"If they manage to find him, it shouldn't be too much longer," he responded gruffly, looking down at the watch on his left arm. My eyebrows screwed up in confusion. If they manage to find him? What on earth does that mean?

We sat for a while in awkward silence. The atmosphere filling up with the occasional chatter of passing workers, and the constant generated sound of low bops as fingers hit against holographic keyboards.

Then we heard approaching steps, which caused the director and me to look up in the direction. Two men were walking down the hallway. One was dressed similarly to Jerry, wearing a black, armor-esque suit while the other wore a blue, denim, button-up shirt and a white shirt underneath. His pants were tan, skinny jeans finished off with red, vintage high-tops.

Formal. I remarked sarcastically internally.

"If he steals cats then I'm out of here, man. That is the highest of the high felonies," remarked Mr. Informal, his features coming into view. His dark hair was styled in a god awful hairstyle that looked like something from the 2060's. Thin pieces of hair curled around, adding 'style' to the swept back look. His face itself wasn't too bad, with a nice jawline, and surprisingly thin eyebrows over dark, twinkling eyes. A feeling of dread washed over, causing my eyes to widen. Please, don't let him be my partner.

"Your partner is a female, and she doesn't steal cats." This caused a long pause from the other man as they neared us. His escort brought his eyes towards us as they got closer, but the other's attention remained elsewhere. God damn it, he's my partner.

"I'm actually slightly disappointed," was the remark back.

'I'm so sorry she's stuck with this dumb fuck.' They stopped in front of us, causing Mr. Informal to bring his attention to us. A large smirk donned his mouth as he checked me over. I turned to the director, raising my hand at my supposed partner.

"He's the best of the best?" I asked skeptically, causing him to snort. I side-eyed my partner, watching as he went to cover up his mouth.

"Hardly," came Mr. Informal's muffled response. I turned towards the director again, lifting an eyebrow expectantly.

"Maybe more like the best of the mediocre," the director drifted off, for the first time cracking an apologetic smile.

"Best... of the... of the mediocre?" I started incredulously, all but screeching. "You are wanting me to catch Rizal Briones--the Unknown-- the man who has committed countless crimes of arson, terrorism, murder, and kidnapping, and you stuck me with the best of the god damn mediocre? You have got to be fucking kidding me." My eyes shot over to glower at my partner, who just sat there with a shit-eating grin on his face. He stuck his hand out.

"I'm best of the mediocre, Lorenzo Castellano. But you can call me Ren," he spoke smoothly, his teeth flashing with their pearliness. I hissed between my teeth, avoiding his hand as my eyes shot upwards to silently question the ruling of the universe.

"Do you have any questions?" the director asked me.

"No," I responded, bringing my eyes back to the man in front of me. "I need a god damn apple though, and make it a red one."