It happened repeatedly, baffling the local police forces, crowds of people in some of the busiest parts of London spontaneously freaking out apparently over nothing. Of course when this became a repeated incident in a vast number of locations all over the greater London area, the police called in the Security Service, or more commonly known as MI5, to help pull together the vast amount of so far unhelpful information. At first it was just the mass hysteria, but then came the reports of thefts happening in the area were the frightened people were fleeing. Was it possible that someone was using some kind of chemical compound to clear out an area to make stealing cash and valuables easier? That seemed like the most logical answer, but honestly what fun were logical answers?

She had gotten the call around five that morning, waking her from a pleasant dream and dragging her from her warm bed, but after the last incident she didn't mind the ungodly early hour or the cold wet London morning. All she cared about now was finding who was responsible for this and making them pay for what they've done. Slipping out of her car the young woman made her way towards her crime scene. As the light rain began to bead on her gray raincoat and soak the cuffs of her black slacks she was glad she'd taken the few extra minutes to put her jet black hair into a tight pony tail, other wise it would have curled and proofed out the instant she stepped out of her building. Hazel eyes that shifted between brown and green depending on the circumstances darted around the area taking in the now all to familiar scenes of people coming down from the fright of their lives.

"There you are." A middle-aged man said as he came up to her.

The look on his face let her know something unpleasant was about to happen. Her stomach knotted and lurched as she silently hoped this didn't turn out like the last attack. "Inspector Collins. Do we have a problem?"

"Oh you bet we do." The man replied as he began leading her towards a shop. "You're not going to like this."

Standing with the visually shaken shopkeeper was a man perhaps no more than five years her senior. He had short medium brown hair with flecks of red and gold highlights. He was tall, broad shouldered but not bulky in mass, and his eyes were an unexpected shade of blue. When they were close enough for her to hear what was being said she heard an unmistakable American accent asking the shopkeeper questions that he shouldn't be asking. Her own eyes narrowed as her body language became intimidatingly impressive for someone who was considered pretty young for her field of work. She was after all just a year out of University.

"Excuse me." She said in a tone that made many a man quiver for various reasons.

"In a sec." The man replied before going back to asking the man in front of him about what happened.

Something dangerous flashed in hazel eyes. She gave the Inspector with her a look and he quickly went to the shopkeeper, guiding him away from the man in the rain soaked suit.

Those unexpectedly blue eyes shot up to meet her angry hazel eyes. "What do you think your doing? I was…"

"Questioning a witness." She finished for him. "Yes, I know, but what I don't know is, why you think you had a right to."

He sized her up before smirking at her. The fitted black slacks, comfortable yet stylish slightly heeled boots, the rather nice gray not quite a trench coat rain coat, the hint of a crisp white collar, the seriously severe pony tail, he didn't need to see a badge to know one of his own. "You the agent on this case for the Brits?" Before she could answer he was flashing his own badge. "Special Agent Michael Lattimer, FBI."

"FBI?" She replied as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her weight more on her right leg. "You're a long way from your jurisdiction Agent Lattimer. This is my case. I would advise you not to interfere again."

"Look, lady," Michael said as he tried to be charming, but knowing he was failing miserably. He was still working on charming. "I've been working on this for months. London isn't this guy's first stop. He was in New York before he got here."

"Yes." She replied. "I know. And now he's here, in London, my city, my country, my case."

"Oh come on!" Michael protested.

Cutting him off before his whinging could go any further she said, "Now if you'll excuse me."

"Look, Agent?" He paused so she could reply.

"Officer." She corrected with a deep sigh.

The young man blinked. "Huh?"

She turned to face him and rolled her eyes. "I am an intelligence officer, hence, Officer Wells, not agent."

"Oh, good to know." He said with a smile that he hoped was disarming. "Officer Wells, neither one of us is going to willingly give up working this case so we might as well work it together."

She smiled in away that was smug and slightly condescending. "Or if you don't back off and leave I'll have you arrested. Now, do enjoy your trip back to the airport and have a safe flight."

Michael watched her walk away and smiled. He didn't give up easily, and he could tell she didn't either. This could be fun. Turning on his heel he pulled out his phone and Googled an address before walking over to his rented car, opening the door, and then closing it again. "Other side of the car Mikes. Other side of the road too."

Just like with all the other times no one saw anything, heard anything, smelled anything, or in any way detected anything that could give her any kind of lead. All anyone remembered was the sudden feeling of terror that gripped them, causing them to run away, but run from what no one knew. Sarah leaned against the back wall of the lift as it made it's way up to her floor. She was once again running things through in her mind, but nothing was jumping out at her as useful. Stepping off the lift she started towards her office when her superior called her into his. She groaned inwardly. She didn't have anything new to tell him. Her annoyance exploded when she walked in to find the American sitting in one of the chairs.

Michael stood and smiled. "Nice to see you again Officer Wells."

Inwardly Sarah was using every single dirty name and curse word she knew. Outwardly she gave him a slight nod. "Agent Lattimer." Turning to her superior she asked what he needed and he explained that their agencies have agreed to work the panicking mob cases together. That didn't set well with Sarah but it didn't show. She simply acknowledged her orders, what else could she do? As she left her superior's officer for her own with Michael following after like a giddy puppy she did her best to keep her cool, but the moment they were behind the closed door of her personal space she whirred on him. "You son of a bitch."

Michael blinked. He wasn't expecting her to be happy about this, he'd be pissed off too, but he wasn't expecting this either. "Well that was very unEnglish and really very unlady like." Before she could say anything to him about his remark or his presence he continued, "We've both worked this case on our own and neither of us has gotten very far. Whatever this is, whatever is causing this, it needs to be stop before someone ends up dead."

Some of Sarah's harshness crumbled as she leaned back against her desk. "Someone already has." She reached behind herself for a folder and handed it to him. "Hamish Baker, fifteen. Out with his mates got caught up in the panic and ran out in front of an coming bus."

That explained a lot. He'd be territorial to if this had happened on his end. Kids always added an edge to a case, especially dead kids. He read over the file and than looked up at the woman standing across the room. "Ok, I get it."

"Do you?" Sarah asked. "The last thing I need is some American cowboy coming in and rough riding all the way I do things."

Michael laughed. "I'm from Cleveland. No cowboys in Cleveland, I promise." He narrowed his eyes slightly as he asked, "You got something against Americans?"

Sarah laughed softly at the absurdity of his statement. "My Mother is an American." She told him in response to his question, before going on to explain. "I have something against anything or anyone who's going to make my job that much harder."

"Then I won't make it harder." Michael told her. "Lets see if I can't make it a little easier."

She looked at him for several long moments before saying, "Fine, for now, but I make no promises that I won't have your ass deported if you annoy me."

He smiled. "I make no promises that I won't annoy the hell out of you. I annoy the hell out of everyone."

"Bloody grand." She said with a long defeated sigh before pulling out all her information. "Lets get on then."