The image on the screen flickered with the pale light that could only be supplied by surplus generators. It was a white grid, detailed with intersecting and crisscrossing straight lines, stacked upon dozens of similarly designed lines.

"This is your target, Agent Brea," said the captain gruffly. He looked at her again, curiously, wondering how the higher-ups could expect this girl to succeed where his battle hardened soldiers hadn't. She didn't even seem to be paying attention, concentrating on twirling a pen between nimble fingers. While she seemed to be getting more and more adept at it, it took everything in the captain not to chastise her for it.

"The facility is built into the mountain, but extends hundreds of feet below the surface, where the heaviest concentration of affected will most likely be," he continued. "The main levels are symmetrical and adjacent, so it will be easy to lose your way if you don't pay attention." He emphasized the last three words, but she still sat there, uninterested and distant. Part of him wondered if she had chewing gum in that bored mouth.

"Agent Brea," he finally said, angrily standing before the projector. "This is a very dangerous, important—"

"Do you guys have a ladies room in this camp," she interrupted, getting to her feet. "Girl troubles," she whispered, though everyone in the tent heard her clearly enough. The men shifted uncomfortably, and the captain pointed her to the latrines, frustrated.

Ten minutes passed; fifteen. The soldiers cast annoyed looks at the mouth of the tent, as if their collective gaze could make her appear, but still she did not return. Finally, the captain sent one of the privates to fetch her. Another ten minutes, and he returned, red faced and embarrassed.

"Where is she," asked the captain.

"She's…gone, sir," said the private meekly.

--

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, in another tense briefing session, the most powerful man in the world sat with his most trusted aides, two rows of television monitors showing only static, a technician working feverishly to remedy the situation. It was only after several minutes of watching the silent snow on the screens that the President finally spoke.

"Possible causes," he asked, a tight fist pressed to his mouth.

"My first guess would be an electro-magnetic pulse weapon of some sort knocking out the electrical systems," suggested Jamison.

"Or the creatures could have made a dash and overrun the Marine defenses," offered Perkins.

"When was the last contact with the Marine commander," asked the President.

"Half an hour ago, sir," replied the technician. Jamison shot the younger man a dirty look, and his face fell.

"About half an hour," said Jamison, but the President seemed to already be thinking of something else.

"An EMP would explain the lack of communications…but so would a full outbreak…"

"An EMP's effects will fade after twenty minutes, sir," offered Jamison. "Electrical systems would restore themselves shortly afterwards."

"Our satellites should be able to pick up any abnormal activity caused by such a pulse," suggested Perkins. "Right?"

One by the one, the monitors flickered back to focus, the images illustrating what had already been going on for the previous hours. Creatures ran amok, tearing apart servicemen whose mouths screamed silent agonies to the men watching.

"Looks like we're back online," said Perkins, breathing a sigh.

"Damnation," whispered the President, and the others looked at him, puzzled. But a moment later, and they too saw the reason for his consternation.

Baldwin laid on the floor, naked and human, a neat black hole drilled into his forehead. The steel briefcase was gone.

--

"She can't have gotten far," spat the captain, organizing his handful of men into search parties. "I knew we couldn't trust that blonde bitch!"

"Never expect a woman to do a man's job."

"Like she could ever do what we couldn't."

"Probably scared shitless after that briefing."

"Who wouldn't be?"

"Hundreds of those things with no backup?"

"Who would ever expect someone to be able to do that, alone?"

"I'm going to give that bitch a good ol' fashioned beating when I find her."

"Fall in line," barked the captain. "And remember, she is not to be hurt," he said, remembering his orders. "Her safety is very important—"

"Well shucks, cap," interrupted a familiar voice. "I didn't know you had it in you," said Aya, appearing at the tent's flaps. "You big softie."

"Where have you been," shouted the captain angrily. "We have a vital mission briefing here with a shrinking time window, and you just stroll in and out as you please!"

She shrugged, tossing a steel briefcase onto the table. The heavy thud silenced the men. Momentarily.

"Is that…?"

"No way man. No f'ing way!"

"How did…?"

"Brea," breathed the captain. "Is that what I think it is?"

In reply, she sat heavily in a chair, crossing her legs in a relaxed way that showed the men just who was in charge.

"It's locked," she said, examining her nails. "But it's exactly where you said it'd be."

"How did you…get it?"

"I just…strolled in and out," she replied with a wry smile. "As I pleased."

"You didn't even take any ordinance with you," said one of the men, still in awe of her feat.

"Didn't need it," she shrugged, patting the holster that held her trusty P22. "Just this."

"You must have been lucky, not to encounter any heavy numbers of the ANMC's," countered one skeptic. Some of the others mumbled in agreement.

"I saw the packs you mentioned," she said. "Only had to fight one ANMC, though."

"How did you manage that?"

"Must be my perfume," she replied. "Didn't seem to impress Baldwin much though."

"Baldwin," said the captain in disbelief. "You encountered him?"

"He was sitting on the case," answered Aya. "Never did like him very much, the little perv," she added, throwing on her jacket. "So when we heading back?"

"Once we get this open and confirm its contents," said the captain, now examining the case's lock intently. "If this even is the case…"

Aya chuckled into her hand. "There was a camera in the room, #38B, aimed right at the case, right? Check it."

The men turned hesitantly towards the monitors, eyes probing for the screen marked with the 38B tag. They saw images of carnage, hordes of monsters rampaging through the facility, and none of them imagined it to be possible to do what this young woman claimed to have done, expending only one round from her weapon in the process.

"I'll be damned," whispered one of the men, as the others exchanged sullen looks of begrudging respect.

"Let's get to the choppers," ordered the captain, still shaken from the ease of Aya's feat. "We'll open the case back at headquarters."

--

Note: This scenario was originally going to be the center piece for the action of the story. But I found that as I was writing it, I was having more fun with the individual characters than any mission type thing, so I abandoned it. The end result is the same, but Aya was just a bit more subtle than we've become accustomed to. As to how she exactly did it, it's one of those PE powers that makes sense but you know didn't make it into the game for fear of hurting the gameplay. The essence is that Aya was able to mask her pheromones from the ANMC's, maybe even bending light as well. Not being able to smell her, she could slip in and out as long as she wasn't forced into direct combat. Aya is quite powerful by the end of PE2, so one can't help but wonder what other powers she has.