A/N: Did they change the document editor on this site while I was slacking- um, I mean studiously researching the ES series for this story? Seriously, I couldn't find the spell check- plus I still have yet to find a decent writing program that my computer doesn't bug out on. Oh well...

Also, so much for keeping a schedule. It took me, what, a week to start working on other things? Like THREE more ES stories and a FNAF fic that I may or may not post. I could blame work... but this was just pure procrastination here. Considering the fact that I lost the original chapter for this, though, I think that it went really well. I've got to get to bed, but I wanted to upload SOMETHING today, so this is a short taste of what's to come. It's pretty much all exposition, but the next one will not only be twice as long but will also (finally) give you an idea as to who the heck this chick is and what her damn problem is.

Thank you for reading- I'm happy with even seeing that it was visited in the traffic stats. ^w^ Reviews are nice and all, but it's good to know that it's getting some attention. Let me know what you think and don't be afraid to tell me what sucks- I need to know these things if I want to become a better writer. (Also, I'll work on shorter AN's from now on- this will probably be the longest one in the story unless something makes one necessary.)

White halls met two men in dark suits as the heavy metal doors shut firmly behind them, blocking most of the natural light and leaving the entry hall in a dreary state. It was about on par for a mental institution like this one, of course; The artificial environment and lack of stimulation would serve to calm any patients that were brought out here, making the nurse's jobs that much easier- not that that made much difference to them. They were still putting their lives at risk just by setting foot in this place.

The two men seemed, understandably, uncomfortable as they made their way to the desk behind which a nervous looking nurse of no more than twenty sat. She couldn't help but feel that way herself, and she came here nearly every day, she thought as she took the visitors in. One was a bit taller than the other, while the shorter had a more gruff and worldly look to him- not that they both weren't a bit intimidating. She was having a hard time telling which was older, though.

The shorter of the two grinned as she asked for identification, and she nearly rolled her eyes right then and there as he tried flirting with her- she got that enough from Paul from English Lit, thank you very much.

She accepted their identification and let them through, giving the head psychologist a quick call to tell him that the FBI had finally arrived.

"Agents Venkman... Spengler...? Thank you for coming on such short notice..."

The two 'agents' nodded, and the older- and shorter- of the two shook the doctor's hand firmly. "So, what seems to be the problem here? We didn't get many details before heading out here."

The other shot his partner a look, then turned back to the doctor. "We were told about an incident involving some sort of pyromaniac. Could you elaborate a bit?"

The man seemed to suddenly lose a bit of his composure, and glanced around him as if to ensure that they would not be overheard. "Follow me, gentlemen, if you would...?"

Both were obviously suspicious- that much was clear by the near identical frowns that they wore at his whispers- but they relented and followed him down the hall if only to get some answers. Once they were in the relative safety of the man's office, which seemed a bit less opulent than any that they had seen before in an asylum (there had been quite a few, unfortunately- it came with the job) he seemed to deflate a little. 'Agent Spengler-'- the taller of the two- realized that he had been making the effort to put up a front. This was probably to calm his staff, ensuring that the facility would run as it normally did. This was probably a good thing; an off day for Southern Hills Institution for the Criminally Insane was a nightmare for its administrator and worse for the others that worked there. The place really didn't need any more negative publicity, either.

"The... incident occurred yesterday, in the morning. We did the best that we could to cover it up and moved the situation here to better address it. Nobody at the hospital is going to say anything for fear that it will bring... well, you down on them. This is a small community, after all, and we already had a fairly strict 'don't ask, don't tell' policy with the local police, I'm sorry to say. You know the sort of people that we keep here, so I'm sure that you gentlemen understand."

"Of course," the agent replied, though his tone said otherwise.

The good doctor didn't seem to notice, though. "The official story is what you have probably heard- home grown terrorist attack, various man-made fire bombs used against a few people, a few badly burned, no fatalities and the perpetrator was brought here until the police could handle her due to our proximity to the hospital. That is what the public knows... and is, well, only a sliver of the truth."

"We wouldn't be here if that was all there was to it," the other agent supplied. This was true; their... contact wouldn't have received the tip and sent them here if this was a normal case.

"There were no fire bombs, and she was not a 'terrorist', or at least I don't believe that she was. She is either sick or confused- and, as crazy as I know that this will sound, she shot those fire balls from her hands."

Both men froze, unsure if they had heard correctly. "Her... hands," agent Spengler parroted, frowning.

"Yes."

Agent Venkman 'Hmm'd and pulled the other closer to whisper something to him; the rushed conversation was a bit distressing to the doctor, if the wary glances that they cast from time to time were anything to go on. "I can take you to her," he supplied in despiration; they could not keep her there forever, and she was far too dangerous to set free. "We have her under constant supervision, and we have a box of her belongings that also contained a few strange items. Please... I don't know what else to do with this woman. You people are much better suited to take care of someone like her. She is a hazard as long as she is under this roof."

The two men argued for a moment, then turned back. The shorter man seemed a bit disgruntled, but he replied calmly. "Let's see what you've got. We'll decide what needs to be done from there.

The doctor sighed in relief and led the two out into the hall. "She is this way," he prompted, showing the way.

The two men fell behind slightly and bumped shoulders roughly as they exited the room. The shorter cast the taller an annoyed glare.

"Bitch," one provoked as the other muttered, "Jerk"...