"Man is not what he thinks he is." -André Malraux.
It was midnight and the wind was strangely strong. The darkness seemed to swallow every bit of light, leaving nothing except pure dark shadows. The whole town was filled with extreme silence. Nearly all of the living things were asleep, except someone...
A ghostly light from a small computer was the only thing that lit the tiny room. A person was sitting in a chair, typing out something that looked like a letter. It was long and complicated, full of many eccentric signs and codes. However, the last sentence was clear," We had got the prey. Start Plan 30. Yours sincerely, Wasp.603."