“Oh, right. Dr. Gage,” Winters muttered. She was sick of playing the idiot for this bunch of amateurs, but it worked in her favor if they underestimated her and assumed she was just another stupid bureaucrat. As if she hadn’t heard of Lilith or Cthulhu. Please. She’d have these smug, know-it-all pricks strapped down to tables in Gitmo soon enough. But first, they had to work together. There was still a crisis to avert.
Winters was about to radio her partner, Agent West, when a dozen soldiers entered the corridor.
“It’s about damned time,” Winter’s spat. “We need medics, NonTrats and Espos, if there’s any left, down here immediately. Somebody find Hoven! And where the hell are my flamethrowers?” The soldiers heard her orders, but didn’t move. Some were even smiling…
Winters realized too late what was happening and went for her sidearm. A dozen automatic rifles were already pointed at her, Simon, Blake and Angela.
“Sorry, Agent Winters,” the lead soldier said, “but we’re taking orders from Agent West, now.”