The Recruits

Prologue

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Papers rustle noisily as they're shuffled across a heavy, ornate oak desk covered in manila folders. "CLASSIFIED" is heavily stamped across each folder in bold red letters, and most of them are neatly held closed with thick rubberbands. Five folders are opened side by side on the top of the other paperwork, and strong fingers pluck a photograph out of the one on the far left.

"Siobhan O'Malley," the woman on the other side of the desk says mildly.

The young woman in the photograph is perched on a cement table in a garden, long fingers wrapped around a smoldering cigarette and large green eyes distant. Her fiery red hair is caught in a neat ponytail, the curling ends tickling her exposed shoulders. Her rose gold sweater barely clings to her biceps and stops an inch above her belly button, a thin strip of pale skin exposed above her black yoked skirt.

"Of the Irish O'Malleys?" the man grasping the picture asks, though he doesn't look interested enough to illicit a response.

After a moment, he picks up a picture from the next manila folder and holds it next to the redhead. The female in this one is leaning against the ironwork railing in the same garden. Her long hair is a snowy white, breeze blown and partially obscuring her icy blue eyes that still manage to cut through the image. She's clad in black leather pants that make her legs seem longer than they really are, just as the long skeleton tank top elongates her torso.

The woman speaks up only to provide the name "Paige Crisan."

"The Deadly Duo." He places their pictures back into their respective folders and moves his attention to the center file. Within it is an image of another blonde, though this one has more golden undertones to the tresses that are held back with a red bandana. She's caught in a grin, a red spoon caught between her full lips and a small pink cup of frozen yogurt cupped in her other hand. An oversized plaid is falling off of her shoulders, barely covering her black bikini top and tiny denim shorts.

"Cameron Escamilla," the woman provides.

He chooses not to comment in favor of withdrawing a photo from the next folder. This one is a tall, lanky male with overly long brunette hair that partially obscures his amber eyes. He's wearing an oversized plaid shirt, too, though his is wrapped around his waist, leaving him in a black wife beater. His arm is slung over a smaller female with familiar tresses, though her face is cut off by the edge of the photograph.

"Benjamin Escamilla." He provides the name himself, tucking his photo in hand next to Cameron's. "The Escamilla siblings-- Ramos now, if I'm not mistaken." His tone makes it clear that he is not mistaken.

The last file holds an image of an ethnic young woman standing in line at a bank. She has the tanned skin of her Egyptian father, and large eyes like a Sphynx. Her expression is mostly bored with only a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she looks down at the cell phone in her hand. "And the third sibling-- Victoria Khamali." His thumb brushes across her image, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face for only a moment before he returns all three pictures to their files.

He leans back in the chair and crosses his arms in front of his chest to look at the woman across from him. "Have they been tested?"

She leans forward, borderline enthusiastic to have his attention. "We've obtained samples and confirmed their qualifications."

His response is delayed as a look of contemplation takes over his expression. Finally he simply says, "Bring them to me." He fingers flick her away, and he shifts the five files to the side of the desk and opens a new one, dismissing her.