Criminal Intent: Murder, Mayhem and... Battenberg?

Seven

"We have nothing to fear but fear itself." - Franklin D. Roosevelt.

When Isadora arrived at the warehouse, after the extremely long plane flight, and then a shorter, but still at least three hour car journey, it was dark outside, and all the street lamps had flickered into life. The young woman hadn't really known what to expect, but this wasn't it. To be honest, she had been hoping for something a little more than an abandoned warehouse. The oversized metal shack took up at least 1500 square metres, and stood 40 feet high. The walls were covered in moss and an assorted array of fungi, all of which looked like it had been growing there for centuries, even though the warehouse itself could only have been built a decade ago.

All the time throughout her journey, she had been accompanied by her sisters, and now they were handing her over to some new escorts, four of them, dressed in heavy black clothes and bulletbroof vests. They didn't talk as the 'prisoner', Isadora thought that was appropriate to describe her position, went from one party to another, and that silence continued as her sisters left. She snorted quietly, Oh, how my dearest sisters must love me.

The warehouse was the ideal camouflage, but security wise? Not good. Isadora was questioning her kidnappers professionalism, but just as the doubt formed in her mind, she was pushed fowards by one of the men. Her head snapped around, face drawn into a scowl.

"Watch it." She threatened, turning back around and holding her head high, refusing to show any weakness. The group continued to march forwards, Isadora in the center walking with a confident stride.

There was a door. She hadn't noticed before, but a few feet in front of her, there was a door. Perhaps she had been more occupied with taking in the overall feel of the warehouse, or her observation skills were below average. Honestly, it was clearly the first.

One of the guards stepped forward, past Isadora, and swiped a thin, blue card across a flashing red scanner. The silver door opened, sliding across silently, all the mechanisms working together in perfect harmony, which revealed another door. This time, the guard typed a code into a keypad. The door opened. The final door was guarded by a retina scan, so the guard lifted his visor, and allowed the blue glow to scan over his eye.

Once the final door opened, Isadora finally saw the inside of the warehouse. With sterile white walls and plain white flooring, it could have been mistaken for a hospital if not for the long rows of desks stretching the whole length of the main room. There were doors scattered around the walls, maybe eleven or twelve, most likely leading to oftenly used bathrooms and not so oftenly used bedrooms.

Isadora walked forwards, and as soon as her heels met the hard floor with a click, heads immediately turned her way. Her piercing blue eyes scanned across the room, occasionally making eye contact with one of the workers, and there were a lot of them - approximately 80 - all working on different things. Whether it be creating physcological profiles or searching for backgounds on current targets.

A group of people in the corner caught her eye, standing in what looked like a small lounge. They stood in a sort of triangle formation, the tallest man at the front, whilst behind him stood a younger man and woman, although, the latter seemed only a girl, maybe only 19 or 20. The girl in question, once making eye contact, ran towards Isadora, arms open wide.

A loud noise.

Isadora slapped the girl around the face as soon as she got close enough. Instead of looking hurt, or even offended, the girl just grinned.

"Right. No hugs." So instead she offered a hand to shake, wide green eyes meeting Isadoras. "Bratchett. Cassie Bratchett."

Looking down at the girls hand with a look of disgust on her face, Isadora shook her head.

The shorter of the two males stepped forward, frowning whilst looking Isadora up and down.

"Aleksander Czepiel." He said, finally meeting her gaze.

"Polish, hm?" Isadora's eyebrow arched.

"Polish born. American raised since I was eight."

Isadora nodded, seemingly happy with her conclusion.

The final man stepped forwards offering his hand. This man was taller than the others, with dark brown eyes and facial hair that was neither stubble nor an actual beard. He had an air of authority, and that, combined with his regal stature and firm gaze, lead Isadora to believe that he was the leader.

"Sterett. My first name needn't be any of your concern."

The corner of Isadoras mouth turned up into a half-smile, appreciating his self confidence and responsible behaviour. This time, she shook his hand, nodding her head.

"Isado-"

"No need for aliases here, Miss Beaumont. We're all criminals after all." Mr Sterett stated, eyes still scanning over her, examining her as if searching for her life story.

"Eliza Beaumont." Isadora, or should I say Eliza now, replied, seeming immediately uncomfortable.

"Have a middle name, Eliza Beaumont?" Aleksander questioned this time, arching an eyebrow.

"Bronwyn."

Aleksander made a face, implying that the name was sufficient.

"I suppose you know why you're here?" Mr Sterett asked, turning and beckoning Eliza to sit down. She hesitantly followed, still suspicious of those around her.

"Actually, no. My sisters were to busy hijacking a plane to inform me." Eliza shrugged, sitting down on a single arm chair, posture as sophisticated as ever. Her ice cold gaze met Mr Steretts, and even when Cassie and Aleksander sat down, she didn't break away. With her index finger, she traced the delicate embroidery on the antique armchair she was so elegantly rested upon. The gold thread twisted and turned to form vague flowers against a faded red background.

"Well, then. It seems we have a lot to discuss." Aleksander commented, a sly smirk making its way onto his face, upon which it looked strangely natural.

"Mr Sterett here has been hired to lead a classified mission, funded by a rich entrepreneur who would prefer to remain nameless. He has been asked to recruit a team of able and willing criminals, that's you, Cas, and I-"

He was interrupted by a short squeal.

"Cas, what is it?" Alek asked, an irritated tone creeping into his voice.

"It's just you don't usually call me Cas, it's usually Cassie!" Cassie replied, still grinning, but she seemed tense now, as if she were freezing her body to stop herself from jumping up.

"And?"

"Cas! Ya know? Supernatural? Castiel?"

A blank look from Alek and a defeated sigh from Cassie, whilst Eliza smiled a little; she herself watched Supernatural, and her favourite character was indeed Castiel, her little angel in a trench coat.

"Anyways, we've been asked to steal some secret files from a facility, which may hold the key to the next big discovery in Astrobiology." Aleksander finished, happy with this conclusion.

"Shouldn't take too long. Could be back in time for tea. Although, I may ask where this facility is?" Eliza questioned, leaning forwards in her hair and rested her head on her hands.

"Well, it's... its the Pentagon."

Her jaw dropped a little.

"You want us to break into the Pentagon?" She repeated, clearly in disbelief with her wide eyes and even wider mouth.

"Yup." Chirped Cassie.

"Might cancel take-away tonight then..." Eliza muttered, straightening back up and regaining her usual smirk. Her eyes thinned a little and met with Aleksanders.

"When do we start?"