"No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks."

– Mary Shelley

Prologue

March 1995

White sunlight pours through the windows of the gigantic office, the tile floor gleaming under its warm rays. The faintest scent of coffee and lemon cleaning products drifts through the air in a delicate waft. The low, rumbling whir of the air conditioning takes Christine from her daydreaming as she leans against the back of the red couch, waiting for her fate to be decided. Her eyes dart around the room, observing every detail; the office is mostly bare. On the opposite side, sits a mahogany desk – intricately carved, but these fine details are blackened by the almost blinding light. Behind it, a leather desk chair is pushed underneath, waiting patiently for its owner to return to his seat.

Just as she is.

Her fingers fidget with a loose string protruding trough the fabric of her seat. The left foot that is crossed over her right taps in the air impatiently. Every once in a while, she turns her head toward the back wall, hoping that her overseer will walk through the door. For thirty minutes, she has sat here waiting. She huffs and pushes a strand of long, dark blonde hair behind her ear.

Behind her, the door slides open.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Agent Barnes," the deep, male voice announces. The door slides closed. Footsteps round behind her toward the direction of the desk on the other side of the room. He doesn't acknowledge her as he passes by.

A file drops onto the desk as he calmly seats himself in his chair. His elbows are propped onto the table top, supporting his clasped hands. "How are you doing?...I heard about your mother." Though it may come across as polite concern, Christine has been here long enough to know that this is merely a tactic to observe her state of mind.

"I'm fine," she replies. Her blue eyes shift to the floor at the mention of her deceased mother. It's been a week since the accident that took her life, but she knows that getting straight back to work is the best decision for her right now. She was never close to her, especially after leaving her life to work for Mobius; but upon hearing of her death, she couldn't help but become slightly emotional.

"In that case, we have an assignment for you." Her supervisor sits back into his leather chair, hands still clasped together as he analyzes her behavior. "I have a feeling that you will be an asset to our cause, however we cannot have you compromised by the death of your mother." He nods toward her.

She remains stone-faced, however a flicker of a reassuring smile forms at her lips. "I assure you, I'm not compromised." Her fingernail picks at a button on her black cardigan.

He nods once more and places his hand on the thick, manila file folder placed on the desk, scooting it towards her. "As you know, Mobius has been informed of a machine that has piqued our interest – STEM. Created by Dr. Jimenez's pupil Ruben Victoriano. Jimenez has proven his loyalty to our cause…however, I don't believe Mr. Victoriano feels the same way."

She straightens herself in her seat. "And you don't trust him."

The overseer lowers his hand from the top of the file. "He's unstable. I sense strife between the two, though Jimenez insists otherwise. The doctor can't be by his side every minute, and we don't know what it is that he's doing. We need someone on the inside to make sure that nothing…unsuitable is happening."

She raises a brow. "So you want me to "check in" on him?" she asks as she sits up to grab the file from the desk. Her heels click against the hard tile with each step.

"Better. You'll become his personal assistant. Your knowledge in the study of the mind could prove useful to both Mr. Victoriano as well as Mobius. I'll make the necessary preparations," he informs. "You need to gain his trust. Find out what he's planning."

She grabs the two inch thick file from the desk and flips through the pages – each one is about Ruben Victoriano, from medical records to his "disappearance" as a child. Christine furrows her brows and purses her lips as she skims over the words. She closes the folder and moves to give it back to him.

"Keep it," he instructs, raising a hand to stop her. "You'll need to know what you're up against. I've met him…This won't be an easy task."

Christine holds the file under her arm, flashing a confident smirk. "Trust me. I can handle myself," she replies while glancing through the pages once more. A particular newspaper article gains her attention, causing an even bigger smirk to reveal itself.

"CAR ACCIDENT; TWO DEAD

WEALTHY LAND OWNER AND WIFE DIE IN CAR CRASH

Nightmare for Family

Bodies of Ernesto and Beatriz Victoriano found in wreck. Son inherits family fortune."

"Actually, I think this will be fun," she whispers to herself.