In Pursuit Of ✔

C.O.D.E.

Henley stood in front of a mirror, staring at herself. The past 12 hours seemed like a lifetime.

She had driven a long time with the man who had taken her from the van wreckage and placed her into the dark colored car. Henley's curiosity over where they were going was dulled; her head still hurt very much. However, that curiosity was slightly revived when she saw a familiar landmark: The Golden Gate Bridge. They were in San Francisco, almost exactly where she had begun.

They arrived at a tall, nondescript building where Henley was ushered inside and attended to by an army of medical personnel. Her scrapes were bandaged and she despite her aching head, had fortunately escaped a concussion. Bruises crisscrossed her chest from the van's restraints, and her entire torso was sore. She was given a little bit of food to eat, but what she really wanted to do was sleep. By her estimate, it had been close to 30 hours since she had.

Unfortunately, sleep was going to have to wait. The doctor cleared her for questioning; however, Henley suspected he thought she should rest as well. Nevertheless, it was not long before she found herself waiting in a conference room and staring at herself in the small mirror placed decoratively on the wall. Her dirty blonde hair was a rat's nest and slightly stained with what Henley guessed was blood, probably from the scrapes that scattered her face. Her gray eyes looked strained and tired; the white parts completely bloodshot. It hurt to have them open for too long.

Henley ran a finger over one of the more impressive looking scratches on her face and caught sight of her fingernails. Most of them were jagged and snapped off, although Henley wasn't sure from what. Her wrists and ankles were all wrapped in bandages, raw from the tight restraints. But still, she was far better off than she had expected. She was alive.

Henley sat down at the conference table to wait for whoever was coming in to question her and, hopefully, tell her what was going on. And where she was. And who she was with. The list of questions was infinite. She shivered, wishing the graduation dress that she had been wearing to the party was a bit longer. And had sleeves. Henley gave a silent prayer of thanks that she had opted to wear sneakers to the party instead of heels.

Exhausted, Henley was about to doze off in her chair when the door to the conference room opened, jerking her fully awake. Two men walked in.

One of them, Henley recognized as the man who drove her to San Francisco. He was older, although probably still younger than Henley's father. Henley guessed his gray hair aged him, at least slightly. He had a weathered look of someone who had seen a lot of action and spent most of his life dealing with serious, stressful situations. If Henley's case was typical at all, she could imagine how much a person could be affected in their lifetime.

The second man, Henley did not recognize. He was much younger that his companion, older than Henley, but she guessed not by much, and taller than the older man as well. He was wearing a very stony, serious expression on his face, giving Henley the impression that he was not someone who she would want to get on the wrong side of. He had short, black hair, and eyes that were just as dark. Both men wore dark suits.

"Ms. Johnson," the older man said, taking a seat at the table and placing a manila folder on the flat surface. The younger man followed his lead. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I want to be able to clear some of those up for you. However, I also have a lot of questions about the events of the past few hours. I'm hoping we can help each other."

Henley sensed that she did not have much choice in the matter, so she just gave a short nod.

"My name is Agent Harrison Tayson," the older man said, either ignoring or not caring about Henley's lack of enthusiasm. "This is Agent Nicholas Rowland." Agent Tayson gestured to the younger man, who gave a curt nod. "We work with an organization called Covert Operation and Defense Engagement, or C.O.D.E. Have you ever heard of us?"