I'm not quite sure what compelled me to write this story (surfing this site, probably, and a recent escapade involoving a spirit in my grandpa's house), but it just sort of happened. I don't really remember this show, since it was just something to watch on Saturdays, so a beta and someone who can provide information would help. If anything seems weird or off (especially in the later parts of this story), let me know!
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
The research room was dark and quiet at the witching hour. There was the ever-present hum of electricity, the rows and rows of computer monitors, and the maze of wires along the carpeted floor. Casmira paused, gently shutting the door behind her. The only light was from the crack under the door and the barely visible green dot on the coffee maker in the corner. She paused, holding her breath, trying to pick out anyone hiding in the shadows or crouching under one of the desks. She proceeded a few steps further, checking for hazards with her bare feet. She cleared a path to the computer by the door, so should someone open it, they wouldn't see her. The swivel chair's back creaked as she slid into it and she went deathly still. There was no stirring outside. She let out a brief sigh of relief before turning on the CPU. It emitted a loud humming noise, causing the young agent to flinch. A little more listening and she decided she was lucky. Usually the place was crawling with feds. She logged into the database, faintly wondering what she would do about the record her account left.
Casmira stared at the display, debating. She usually didn't care about histories unless it had to do with an investigation, and hadn't been interested in her own, especially not since The Day. The Day - it was four years now, wasn't it? - was the name informally designated to the discovery of the wayward military experiments. The test subjects hadn't been randomly chosen, not from what she understood. She'd been picked for some reason, which made her the last person to see her parents. Both of her sisters had disappeared a long time ago, and she figured it wasn't a coincidence she'd been taken away, too.
She glanced around the room, ruffled her pink hair, and turned back to the violently bright glow of the monitor. After another moment's hesitation, she typed her name into the search engine: Mandala, Casmira. She scanned the information on the screen. No leads, no clues, nothing. She scrolled down to the relatives section and clicked on the name of her twin, Circe. Nothing she didn't know already. The result was always the same, whereabouts unknown. She picked out her younger sister and smirked in satisfaction.
Updates. She's come across an undercover agent of her DNA showed up on something that went through an American Embassy scanner or her name had come up. There was nothing suspicious, nothing that could help her piece together the family separation. Sure, she'd relocated an ocean away from either direction and this had been the first information Casmira had received in many long, trying months, but it didn't help. At least she knew Kismet was alive.
Casmira shut down the computer and sat in the darkness. Thinking past The Day was a struggle, even after the length of time that had passed. It was a life-changing event, after all. She didn't quite know how The Day came about and the information the engine brought up had been vague, adding to her frustration. Perhaps Kismet knew something she didn't? Cas had government clearance and a mission fund, after all. A little side escapade wouldn't hurt. Besides, maybe the feds would like any extra information that came up.
She snuck back to her room and stood in the middle of it, contemplating. Her gaze wandered to the top drawer of her dresser, which held all of her government information. She'd just call it a vacation.