One Week After Tunguska...
Wednesday 9:45 p.m. 1996
Washington D.C.
It had been a long day, a very long day, when Special Agent Bria Thompson entered the downtown Washington D.C. bar, Casey's. She sighed in relief upon seeing that the room was practically empty, save for a few men drinking at the bar. Moving toward an empty booth, Bria sat down, closing her eyes and relishing in the lack of light.
"Can someone just shoot me now?" her day had gone horribly wrong.
She heard a faint chuckle as a gloved hand appeared from the booth in front of her, "I doubt very much that death can solve your problems. You may feel a need to end your life, but who would ultimately profit from your demise?"
Bria smirked, "You don't even know who I am."
The man slid out of his own booth, an odd smile on his face. His dark hair was cut extremely short, however, he appeared to be slightly drunk..
He sat down at Agent Thompson's table, "I've got all the time in the world to listen."
That is how Bria Thompson met Alex Krycek...