Ramona opened her eyes in a dimly lit cell. The light flickered overhead as she sat up on a filthy green mattress.

"Day twenty-seven," she muttered, adding another mark to the wall with a pebble sitting at the foot of the steel bed frame. The three and a half weeks without sunlight were not enough to override the twenty-five consecutive years she'd woken up at 6:00 am to go to work for and eventually as Control, but her training hadn't prepared her for this.

The darkness wasn't the problem. The filthy clothes, frigid cell, and grade D meals – those she could deal with. It was the isolation that had slowly begun to unhinge her. No guards, no Greer, no faceless interrogators. Nothing. She screamed at the door for the first day and a half, but the only visitors to her cell were a bowl of cereal and a bottle of water.

As she gulped down this morning's oatmeal, she wondered who was feeding her daughter breakfast, or if…

"They wouldn't dare," she reassured herself out loud. Angry venom pulsed through her abdomen, or maybe it was hunger.

She heard footsteps over the hum of the light and bounded towards the door.

"Hello?!" she bellowed at the door, banging her fists.

"Somebody! Talk to me goddammit! Please!"

To her surprise, she heard keys jingling on the other side of the door.

"Prisoner, step back," a familiar voice ordered. Mouth agape, she stumbled backwards. The door burst open and she was staring down the barrel of a gun. Behind it…

"Shaw," she gasped in disbelief. The assassin gave no acknowledgment.

"Root. What did she tell you during your last encounter?"

"How do you know about that? You're working for Samaritan now?" The assassin stepped closer, bringing the gun's silencer within inches of Ramona's temple.

"Root," she enunciated. "What did she tell you?"

"Please. My daughter- is she okay? Can I talk to her?" Shaw cocked the gun. "I… she was looking for you. Tried to torture it out of me but Harold stopped her. He thought you were dead." A wicked smile teased at the muscles in Shaw's lips as she envisioned the hacker wielding her favorite Taser.

"Please, just let me talk to Greer. Tell him I'll comply if he-"

"Did Root say where she was going?"

"No. They told me about the Stock Exchange, and then my men showed up and they ran. I don't know where to. Please, just let me talk to Julia. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Shaw blinked. "This isn't an interrogation."

Ramona's eyes went wide with fear as the realization and two precisely aimed bullets entered her skull. "It's an execution," Shaw informed the corpse on the floor. She watched for a moment as the blood pooled to the rusted drain in the room's center, then turned her ear com on.

"Is it done?" Greer inquired.

"Yeah, I took care of Control."

"Good work, Agent Shaw. That's one more number off the relevant list."

"Mmm," Shaw grunted. Greer chuckled.

"Agent Shaw, if I didn't know better, I'd say you sound positively giddy."

"She killed my partner."

"And by Samaritan's grace you got the revenge you deserve. Tell me, how do you like serving your country?"

"It's just like old times," she muttered to the vacant eyes staring up at her from the cell floor.

"Well, come back to the farm. Samaritan has a new task for you, and I have a feeling you're going to like it. There's an old friend who's looking for you, and it's time to arrange a little get together."