A Note Before I Begin…

Thank you for stumbling upon The Bourne Involution. I've always been a fan of the franchise, but I became so intrigued by the uncertainty in the Bourne universe at the end of the most recent film. The closing of Legacy is an epic cliffhanger, and I found myself wondering, "What happens next?" Needless to say, The Bourne Involution was born out of my impatience; Legacy has set the stage for countless scenarios, and this story happens to explore one of them.

Please be prepared for a fast-paced, suspenseful story that, I hope, is reminiscent of the films: gritty and infused with important dialogue. That aside, please be prepared for the development of a budding relationship. Unlike the films, romance will be a driving force throughout this story. There will be adult situations and content as well as some language, though I've done my best to stay true to the PG-13 nature of the films. I do not own any rights to the Bourne franchise, though there are some original characters introduced, and I hope they fit in nicely.

Please note that italics are meant to denote thoughts, dreams, flashbacks, et cetera. Your feedback is always appreciated.

Aaron Cross and Marta Shearing are powerful characters. I hope this story does them justice.

Prologue: Part 01

It's just a flu shot, for God's sake. Suck it up.

Dr. Marta Shearing is no stranger to needles, pokes, and prods, albeit she's usually the one with the white coat.

Every fall, she gets a flu shot. Coerced to undergo the needle stick from her very early years, it's more of a penance to her mother than a precaution. Besides, Marta never gets sick.

Her palms sweat as the needle bearer approaches. She smiles uncomfortably. The familiar sting of chemicals invading her left arm dissipates soon, and she is instructed to move the arm to get the juice circulating. No shiny Band-Aid, no cherry lollipop. So much for being a kid at heart.

"We'll need you to relax here for about fifteen minutes, Ms. Shearing," the nurse instructs halfheartedly.

Why? "For a flu shot?" Marta knew that some vaccines required patients to remain under a doctor's supervision for a while to ensure that they did not suffer from adverse side effects, but…for a flu shot?

"It's just a precaution. This year's recipe is different…new strains. We wouldn't want you to have an allergic reaction after you leave," the nurse replied matter-of-factly.

"Alright, thanks." The nurse nodded and left the examination room, lightly closing the door behind her.

Marta was too tired to argue. She scanned her surroundings, annoyed with how the white paper on the examination table crumbled obnoxiously even if she only moved her eyes. There were some nice paintings of Monet-esque landscapes on the walls. Either her general practitioner liked this medium, or they were meant to help calm fidgety patients as they waited. One day I'll go to Paris and see some real art…if I can manage to get out of the lab for a week, she mused. Vacation? What's that?

Not that Dr. Shearing had much of an extracurricular life, anyway. There was her sister's family, whose company she adored. And there was that empty old house. Maybe one day she'd get around to renovating it, as her mother had wanted. But, in the meantime, work was her life.

Lately, the lab was especially busy, as her team had inherited an NRAG Program called Outcome. With the arrival of Outcome, their building had become increasingly retrofitted for security. This did not faze her. She found her work to be exhausting, yet exhilarating and exciting. The breakthroughs in virology, epigenetics…they were beyond her wildest dreams. Even better, the science was coming to life through Outcome via federal Agents, human experiments. Marta didn't question the morality of her science in relation to humans; after all, the Outcome Agents she examined didn't seem to be complaining about the effects of her science. The chems she and her team developed made them into super humans, designed to be exceptionally resourceful, critical, multilingual, and quick in every sense of the word: physically and mentally. To her, the Outcome Agents were perfect specimens, and they were adequately named: she couldn't have asked for a better outcome after all her years of research.

Sometimes, though, they were intimidating, unnerving; they made her heart beat fast and her hands sweat in her latex gloves as they counted backward from one-hundred…in Russian…

The paper crinkled as Marta shifted on the examination table. This is ridiculous. I have so much to do. She swung her legs onto the table and laid back, arms crossed in frustration over her chest.

One day I'll go to Paris…One day when I'm not so…tired…

She felt her senses drift away as consciousness left her. She had been unaware of the cameras in the room.

In the examination room next door, Eric Byer's eyes narrowed as he focused on the camera feed. He considered the rise and fall of her chest; her breathing was no longer shallow and reminiscent of her nervous, impatient thoughts. It was relaxed, slow. The intra-muscular mix had fulfilled its duty.

Byer stood slowly and exhaled, eyes still fixed on the screen. "She's out. Let's get this over with." He reached for a patient file from the table next to the camera feed. Dr. Shearing's lab security clearance photo was on the front. "And so the good doctor becomes a puppet for the good old U.S. of A," he chuckled. "What will they think of next?" He shook his head and opened the door, file in hand. Before he entered her room, he took one last look at the photo on the file cover. Why can't all the Agents be this hot? He mused with a smirk. His eyes drifted from her face to the bold, sterile text beneath, revealing her fate:

MARTA SHEARING

OUTCOME X