"Last name," a blue clad henchman drawled from behind a makeshift desk.
"Gallagher."
"First name." The same bored tone. Obviously this man didn't like his job. That was no encouragement.
"Ophelia."
"Purpose for visitation."
Ophelia looked around. As far as the eye could see in any direction, a vast, frozen tundra sprawled. Light snow was falling, and despite the harsh sunlight, temperatures, she was sure, were dropping below freezing point.
"I'd like to rent a room," She replied sarcastically. The henchman looked up as Ophelia felt a slight breeze on the back of her neck. She turned her collar up against the wind and made eye contact with the lackey once more. He was giving her the oddest look...
Suddenly, a deep, feminine voice reverberated behind her back and she stiffened.
"No vacancy."
Slowly, Ophelia turned to face an imposing figure clad in scarlet. She had never expected to meet the great woman so early on in her carrier (if you could call it that, seeing as it looked to be over in a second). Every so slowly, Ophelia shifted her gaze upward, momentarily coming to rest on a pair of beautiful blue eyes. It was quite obvious that security cameras would never do that face justice. An eyebrow was raised by the intimidating party.
"Sorry...Ma'am." The girl whispered. After hearing her own faint croak, Ophelia felt ashamed at her momentary cowardice. But, before she could come up with a proper follow up, the master of mischief had disappeared.
"I think that counts as your initiation," the henchman said, holding out a hand. "Welcome to the crew. I wouldn't make myself at home too soon if I were you."
Ophelia pursed her lips.
"May we go inside?" The snow was starting to swirl harder, a blizzard looking to approach soon.
"Yeah, I guess. You can meet the rest of us."

The pair pulled open the heavy metal door leading to the inside of the development and walked briskly inside. Once they were safely within the warmth of the complex, Ophelia felt free to rid herself of her insulating garments. She stripped off her white coat and stomped the snow out of her boots. The man with her cleared his throat.

"This way," he said, and motioned towards another door. They walked on. The main corridor was not far from their starting point. It was painted an industrial blue-grey, matching the utilitarianism of the metal doors and hinges.

"Everything looks so..." Ophelia began, "sanitary."

"That's the way she likes it. The boss lady can't afford to get sick."

"She'd miss out on a lot of opportunities," the girl agreed.

"Not to mention," the man lowered his voice, "A few of these less loyal meatheads might not mind her incapacitated. Her deathbed is an opportunity for them." Ophelia shuddered slightly and creased her eyebrows, already feeling a sense of loyalty to a boss she had yet to formally meet. She assumed that first time didn't count.

Ophelia's impromptu guide pointed out doors on the trek down the hallway.

"Kitchen, bathroom, cleaning storage, artifact storage, vehicle storage, laundry room, sleeping quarters, eating quarters..."

Ophelia had lost track by the second closet, but she listened with half an ear all the same.

"You'll be wanting to remember this one. This is the lounge, we call it. Carmen's highest socialize here in their off hours. This is where I leave you."

"I'm one of her highest?" The henchmen cracked a smile.

"Do you have any idea what you're getting into?"

"I guess not," Ophelia said under her breath as she pushed open the door.

She was met by a group roar.

"It's the new girl!"

"It's the maid!"

"Maid?" a male voice piped up, "I thought she was getting a misst-"

"Shut it, Al," Ophelia heard a heavily accented voice, though this time, definitely female.

"What's her name?" One man turned to the other and asked.

"I dunno, Moe, why don't you, I don't know...ask her!" The large man turned to Ophelia.

"What's your name?"

"What's it to you?" the girl replied harshly.

"Watch it, sister." One man stood up his hair was greased back and he wore a tacky suit. "You're gonna be spending a lot of time with us. Might as well make us like you. I'll help," he extended his hand. "I'm Lars. Now you try."

"Ophelia," I grumbled. "Ophelia Gallagher."

"Nice to meet you, Ophelia," the room chorused.

"Nice to meet you too. Do any of you have an idea of what I'm supposed to be doing right now?"

A woman with short brown hair and silver safety goggles stood.

"You're Carmen's new...I don't know. Title comes later when she gets an idea of what she wants to do with you. You should probably seek her out. Bring her a drink."

"Thank you," Ophelia said politely, but her narrowing eyes betrayed her intuition. "What do you mean... wants to do with me?"

"She's not going to use you for target practice, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm here to do the odd jobs, I thought."

"Define: odd job."

"I...I don't really know."

"Exactly, but I'll bet you my shrink ray that she knows exactly what she wants from you." A whistled cat call came from the back of the room, followed by another round of laughter at the new girl's expense. Ophelia tried to join in the laughter.

"They never get tired of the jokes, do they?" She asked amiably. Sara cocked her head. "They are joking, right?"

"You never know," the woman shrugged. "My name is Dr. Bellum. Sara, if I like you later. Let me show you the kitchen where you can fix the boss a drink."

"...Thanks."

"You are welcome."

"The man in blue showed me around a bit as well," Ophelia began as the pair exited the lounge. "He was nice. Do you know his name?"

"Name? Ha. They're a dime a dozen. They're the ones the ACME fools end up shipping off to prison. Don't bother with them. Anyone who's anyone was in that room. Also Carmen."

"Yeah, also she."

When they arrived at the kitchen, Sara bid her goodbyes.

"Wait!" The girl called after the receding figure. "What do I bring her?"

"Tea," Dr. Bellum called back.

Ophelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Tea could work. She could do tea.

When the beverage had steeped, Ophelia placed the cup and saucer on a tray with some packets of sugar and a vial of honey. Everything was in such odd containers in that kitchen. A vial of honey... pfft. She shook her head and left.

Carmen's quarters were not hard to find. There was a steady flow of blue workers in and out of every door except for one. Pausing before the imposing door, Ophelia inhaled, smoothed down her hair, and pressed a wrinkle out of her shirt. Before she could think otherwise, she swung her weight into the heavy door...and fell right backwards. Of course, if had to be locked. That entailed another half and hour of finding someone with a skeleton key. And then the tea went cold.

One hour, two cups of tea, and three facepalming sessions later, Ophelia pushed open the door to the great thief's room. She had no idea what to expect, but judging by the appearance of the rest of the facility, she expected Carmen's room to at least bear some semblance of clean. That was quite far from the case. Spare surfaces were covered in either blueprints, ancient looking manuscripts, or pages printed from Carmen's own computer. And in the center of it all, the grand, majestic Carmen Sandiego sat in a red tee-shirt and cargo pants. Her hair was haphazardly tied back with a broken rubber band and there were ink blots on her hands. The woman was deep in thought. Ophelia felt like she had intruded on a private moment and at that moment, wanted nothing more than to back out, lock the door behind her, and run until she hit Hawaii. But, alas, she needed money, she needed housing, and if she was ever going to accomplish anything, she needed experience. Deciding boldness was the best option in these sorts of situations, Ophelia rapped thrice on the metal door. Carmen didn't budge. Taking the lack of violence as encouragement, she set the tray down next to her boss. Carmen paused and eyed the drink. She brought the cup to her lips and sipped delicately. WIthout affirmation or reproval, she went back to her work. Ophelia turned to leave. Before she could make her way completely out of the room, though, something hit her squarely on the back. Turning around to retrieve the missile, she picked the packet of sugar off the ground. With her hand on her hip, she looked at Carmen, who could almost be charged with a hint of a smile.

"For future reference, Ophelia, I take it black."

The girl nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

That wasn't so bad now, was it?

Oh who was she kidding, that was terrifying, and she didn't even know why. Perhaps it was the lack of clarity with which Carmen seemed to love to operate. What kind of a reaction was that? Was she in the clear? Should she never come back? Should she have brought coffee in the first place?

Ophelia ran back to the lounge. If she couldn't' get answers from Carmen, her henchies would have to provide some substitute.

"She gave you a tip for the future?" Hannah asked when the girl arrived at the meeting room. Ophelia nodded.

"You're good."

"I'm good?"

"Welcome to VILE, Ophelia. You've passed."