"This has been the latest in a series of high-middle class home raids conducted by the self proclaimed 'Games Group'. This issue, due to the type of events that happen within the homes, are not known widespread, many claiming it to be a hoax because of how unbelievable it is. However, the large scale amout of reports within the designated area calls for at the very least, a specialized search team to investigate the incidents."

The Special Forces directer was in the middle of a meeting, giving descriptions about recent events. The room was fairly small, a box containing five people. Four of whom, sat at foldable chairs. The director, standing up, faced these agents. Behind him, was a white board with various photographs posted up, containing images of various scenes, each seeming to be related.

"We are not aware at this time, if this group as any relation with Grandy Gang that we've taken out last month, nor if there is anyone else like James Garames within the organization. We can confirm, however, that the Game Group is a widespread home invasion and drug trafficking gang, and that Garames is indeed leader of the visible group. Are there any questions, before your mission assignments are handed out?"

The directer looked over the four agents, folding his arms behind his back. Oe of the three male agents in the front fow chairs straightened from a slumped back positon, and placed a hand on his lap. He looked young, probably around 19. His hair was fairly short, and like the other three agents, was black. He had heavy, slightly baggy dark blue pants, and a typical white button-up shirt with a black necktie. Over this, he had a dark blue, calf-length overcoat. It was open at the front, with several pockets and belt with rings to attach utility tools. His entire composure was intimidating, however, with his aggressive outward atitude, his teeth appearing sharper than normal, and angry looking gray eyes.

"And why do we have to clean up this mess? Couldn't the, uh, police force take care of this?" As the military uniformed male asked this, the agent seated behind him fake-coughed. The agent, assumptively, male, had his face hidden behind a gray-face mask. The mask covered his entire face, except for the eys, which appeared dark brown. His black hair was much longer than the young agent, the back tied back in a ponytail. He also wore an off-shoulder jacket, his arms currently held crossed. Most noticeably, however, was the shiny silver metal armor gloves on his hands, resembling night armor.

"Well, Zen, by the last event that took place, seemed to have slipped by security too easily. I think it's safe to assume he has supernatural luck?"

"Hmm." The young male known as Zen leaned back in his chair, glancing back up towards the director. The director then nodded, turning his body, and flipped over a page on the clipboard.

"Widum is correct. James Garames appears to be much like the four of you, possessing a special attribute. While we cannot identify it precisely, by the events have have occurred thus far, we figure it's safe to say that he has higher luck, or maybe reality manipulation powers. Mind control may also be a possibility, but the chances of that seem slightly less reasonable."

The director then pulled out sheets of paper, and walked towards the space between the chairs, and handed out files to the four agents. A hooded female, seated to the side of Widum, simply glanced over the paper, before crumpling it up, and tossing it to the side. Her eyes were of a neon green, making them visible easily from the red jacket. Outside of her hooded figure, there wasn't much towards her appearance that was known side from her jeans and clump of black hair peaking through the hood, with a hair clip.

The final agent, to the side of Zen in the front row of chairs, silently snorted at the females actions. His hair was slightly cleaner shape than Zen's, possibly a little longer. He attire consisted of a general black business suit, minus the necktie, portions of it ruffled slightly. His eyes, which were scanning over the paperwork, were a pale red. His face was unshaven, stubble present on his chin. He'd appear friendly if he wasn't in a foul mood. He coughed to catch the director's attention.

"Yes, Ian?" Calmly, but with an air of aggravation, Ian set down the paper to a side desk to his seat, and stood up, and pushed off the top of his right leg as he did.

"When should we send out for the mission?"

"Later this evening, but it's understandable if you need time to prepare for this mission and postpone until tomorrow. Zen and Widum will be sent to ' mansion to investigate the damages, while you and Riona will go around questioning the other victims."

At this, the director dismissed the agents. Ian scowled, turning his head and glanced towards the woman behind him. In turn, Riona looked up at him, and stuck out her tongue. Zen looked half bored to death, after such short a time. With his own paperwork sheet, he crumpled it up, and tossed it at Ian's head, who then sighed. Zen sat up straight, and stretched his arms up.

"Alright, what do you guys want to do?" Widum pushed his seat backwards, and stood up. Re readjusted the off-shoulder jacket, and tucked the paperwork in an inside pocket. As he started stepping away, he turned back to Zen.

"I'll be spending the night researching on this 'Games Group'. The name is awfully familiar. Zen, I'm going to need to barrow that book I lent you the other week." Zen grunted, nodding, and stood up as well, turning to Ian and Riona.

"By the way guys, I don't suggest going out to the bar again bar tonight. We don't want another mess." Zen smirked at the scowl Ian gave, who pinched his nose. Ian then rolled the paperwork he was given into a cylinder, and slammed it into zens forehead.