A/N: WOW! Wow, I did not expect this thing to get this much attention! Thank you to everyone who's followed, favorited, and left reviews on the story so far, and I'm sorry this one took so long to get out! It occurred to me shortly after publishing The Nuclear Option that I should proooobably have an idea of where I want this story to go and how to get there, so that's what took up most of the time between last chapter and this one. But now that I know where we're going, it shouldn't take so long to get to the next chapter! Assuming I don't get distracted...or bored...or end up dead in a ditch somewhere...pretty even chance it could end up being any of them. Or all of them.
For now, enjoy this chapter where we get introduced to the Bureau of Strategic Operations and Command! With special guests Taiyang Xiao Long and Qrow Branwen...
"I don't think she's coming back, Tai."
Qrow hadn't meant for those words to sound so resigned, so tired, so empty. But after seventy-two sleepless hours of standing on a cliffside overlooking a snowy valley, with nothing but a half-empty flask and a few granola bars to keep the hunger and the headache at bay, it was hard for him to put anything more meaningful into such a volatile phrase.
Sure enough, Taiyang Xiao Long broke his relentless, restless pacing, eyes as blue as the moonless night staring into the scraggy, scruffy Huntsman. "You don't know that. You don't mean that. She'll come back here any minute now. You'll see."
"Tai…" the young Branwen bandit-turned-Huntsman cradled his brow. "You've been saying that for the last ten hours. If she was coming back 'any minute', it would've happened by now. It hasn't so we can only assume -"
"Assume what?!" growled the blonde man, fiery tattoos glowing across his arms, casting a light in the darkness. "That Salem killed her? That she failed? That she's gone?!"
Taking a sip from his now-empty flask, Qrow shrugged. "I mean...it's either that, or she's stopping by the supermarket on the way back. But we both know which one's more likely."
The light from the tattoos faded, and the man began sobbing in the night. The darkness returned, and Qrow could only hear, not see, Taiyang's grief. True, he could have turned into a bird and gained the ability to see as though it was broad daylight, but Qrow didn't need to see his friend cry. He had already seen it a thousand times.
"...we should have gone with her."
"Tai…"
"Don't 'Tai' me! We could have helped her! We could have saved her! I could have protected her!"
"Salem would've seen your hotheaded ass coming a hundred miles away. Her semblance was the best bet for getting close enough to -"
"And you! You and Raven could have followed her! Made sure she got there okay! Made sure she came back and -"
"We turn into birds, you idiot, not angels. What were we supposed to do, fly over Salem and blind her with bird shi-"
"It would have been something! Maybe it would have helped! Maybe we could have -"
"Dammit, Tai, we're not having this conversation again. This was the only way it could have worked. You know it. I know it. She knew it. Ozpin said -"
"To hell with that old man!" roared Taiyang as he shattered a tree into splinters with his bare hand. "He just killed the only person in my life that matters to me!"
Qrow sucked in a breath through his teeth. There was...a lot to unpack with that outburst. Sure, one could argue that the enigmatic Headmaster was at least partly at fault for coming to them years after graduation with an "important mission"...but right now, there was something else that needed addressing.
"...the 'only' person that matters?"
"Don't you dare…"
"What about Yang, huh? Does she not matter anymore?"
"Don't you fucking dare…"
"Or what about Raven? Or me? Or everyone in Patch that depends on you to keep them safe?"
"Qrow, I swear to the fucking gods if you don't shut your goddamn bea-"
"Or what about Ruby? Does she not matter anymore?"
CRACK. Qrow immediately felt a fistful of pure muscle and Auric energy slam into the side of his jaw, sending him flying backwards into the forest (and thankfully not off the edge of the cliff). The grizzled Huntsman sighed in pain as he felt a newly-splintered tree trunk break his sudden flight, showering him in falling leaves and sharp woodchips. Thankfully, his injuries weren't serious - his own Aura absorbed most of the force, keeping his spine and all his squishy bits inside his skin. Keyword, of course, being "most."
Because it still hurt like hell.
Reflexively, Qrow's hand went for Harbinger, ready to draw the scythe-concealed-as-a-sword to better defend himself. If his former teammate really did intend to fight him on Summer's favorite cliff, he wasn't about to just let himself become a maroon-colored punching bag. But Taiyang finally seemed cognizant of his actions, and the anger left as soon as it had come. Now, faintly outlined in the darkness, Qrow watched Taiyang slink back to the edge of the cliff.
"...I'm sorry. I just…"
"Yeah...I know…" With a sigh, Qrow released his weapon. "I know."
"Then...can you understand why I can't go back and tell them? Why I can't...be there for them?"
Oh no.
"Tai...I'm not their dad."
"You're their uncle. You're family, as far as they're concerned."
"To one of them, sure, but - "
"Qrow...please. I can't...they shouldn't have to witness daddy coming home without mommy. I can't do that to Yang again. And I can't do it to…"
With a pained groan, the avian Huntsman picked himself up, brushing a few splinters off his cape. "You can't stay out here forever, Tai. You have to come home eventually."
"I know. And I will. I just...need to find the words to say, first. I'll...I'll get you all the whiskey you want, if you do this. Just...please..."
Qrow sighed in resolve, before vanishing with a squawk and a flurry of black feathers as he soared into the night, heading back for the little house on the edge of the island of Patch.
Wherever Summer was now, Qrow hoped it was better than here.
"In visual range now, sir. Preparing final approach."
William Carter felt an elbow in his side, prompting him to tip the brim of his gray hat so it no longer covered his eyes. Next to him, the silver eyes of Summer Rose stared at him for a moment longer, before she looked out the bulbous canopy of the Skyranger as it soared across the barren landscape. John Kinney sat on the other side of Summer, rubbing his eyes as he stretched.
"Quick flight," he said groggily, "Did we catch a jet stream on the way here?"
Across from him, Thomas Nils chuckled. "Maybe the backblast from those bombs gave us a boost."
Angela Weaver sighed and rolled her eyes, while Myron Faulke just nodded to their pilot. "Bring us in, Barnes, nice and easy."
Leon Barnes nodded as he keyed his radio again. "Control, this is Skyranger-One, requesting permission to land."
A bored but relieved sounding voice answered the transmission. "Copy, Skyranger. Permission granted. You are cleared for landing pad three."
Carter watched as the futuristic-looking helicopter gradually descended down towards a military base with rounded aluminum-plated buildings and tall fences topped with barbed wire, a United States flag waving proudly on its mast. It seemed to be completely ordinary...until one of the landing pads opened up to reveal a yawning chasm into a tunnel of concrete and steel. The Skyranger gently touched down on a steel platform, which whirred and hummed as it descended along rails into the earth itself.
Summer tilted her head in fascination, while Carter just smirked. "Gonna take more than a hole in the ground to beat those things."
"Just admit it, you're impressed!" teased Nils, laughing softly at the utter delight on Kinney's face as they descended. Carter had to admit, part of him was impressed - not that he'd give Nils the satisfaction of knowing that, of course.
"So, um…" said Summer as she watched the tunnel swallow the world around them, "what is the Bureau, anyways?"
"Bureau of Strategic Operations and Command," answered Faulke brusquely, as if that explained everything.
"Never heard of it," said Carter with a shrug.
Faulke stared blankly. "You were never meant to."
Humming thoughtfully, Carter went back to watching the scenery pass them by. The bulk of the area surrounding their lift seemed to consist of a massive underground parking structure, full of workers unloading boxes from some battle-worn APCs. Forklifts moved around the structure, scientists and engineers took their relevant cargo to their areas of expertise, and medical personnel were there to escort wounded-looking soldiers to a series of elevators.
"Hey, check it out!" said Kinney as he pointed, "Looks like the rest of the convoy from Groom Range made it here!"
Sure enough, even from this distance, Carter could see the distinctive red hair of the so-called "Mucallin brothers", as well as the scruffy, slightly-slumped posture of the British World War II veterans. "You sure it's okay to let them walk around down here? I don't think we're on international soil here."
"This base wasn't meant to be fully operational for another year," explained Faulke. "We've called in every operative, engineer, and scientist we had earmarked for the project, but, well...let's just say that we'll be a bit understaffed. So I'll take whatever help we can get, wherever it comes from."
"And besides, they were already cleared for access to Groom Range and her facilities," added Nils, "Whatever they see here, odds are they were allowed to see it in Nevada."
Carter nodded. "Guess that makes sense. Still...guess they weren't ready for what they ended up seeing, huh?"
"None of us were," shot back Weaver. "Or at least, none of you were."
With a sigh, he adjusted his hat and waited out the rest of the trip in silence. After a seemingly never-ending series of elevator rides and access lifts, the group finally arrived at yet another checkpoint. This one, instead of leading to yet another pig-iron corridor, led to a well-furnished office space that loomed just beyond the glass windows.
"Director Faulke, sir," said one of the guards with a stiff salute. "Welcome back."
Faulke nodded, then pointed to Weaver, Carter, and Summer. "These three are with me. Nils, Kinney, check in with the medical staff, and get yourselves debriefed. You know the procedures."
Summer blinked a few times. "They're...not coming with us?"
"What's wrong?" chuckled Nils, "You don't feel safe enough walking alongside the toughest sons-of-guns in the Bureau?"
"Regardless of how well they've...recovered," said Faulke cautiously, "the fact remains that they still took life-threatening injuries in the field. We need to make sure there are no long-term effects or lasting damage."
"It's a pretty small place, actually," said Nils, "I'm sure we'll run into each other again."
Kinney nodded, then turned to address Carter and Summer (but mostly the latter). "Guess this is where we part ways for now. See you on the field again!"
Then with a tight salute, the Engineer and the Recon operative split off from the group as the rest of them crossed a pair of double doors into the office area.
"At least this location is secure," murmured Carter as he saw a pair of M2 Brownings stationed at the checkpoint.
"And I intend to keep it that way," said Faulke. "I'll be giving a report to all staff at 0300. Report to the Operations Room at that time. I have a lot to prepare. Agent Weaver will show you and Rose around."
Weaver rolled her eyes, but nonetheless led Carter and Summer away from the Director as he went off on his own. The Senior Field Agent led them downstairs into hallways and rooms full of advanced-looking computers, sporting top-of-the-line magnetic film reels and radio antennae. Soldiers stood at attention with M14s and AK47s, communications workers sat hunched-over their consoles and paperwork, and technicians and workers pushed carts of supplies across the smooth stony floor.
"When Ivan put Sputnik up in the sky, the brass got real scared," said Weaver as she led her charges through the facility. "This project became top priority - off the books, of course."
Carter just looked around as they moved, sparing a glance at Summer as she seemed to regard the facility around her with an almost-bored expression. What did she think about all this? Was she in quiet awe, or was this nothing special to her? Compared to where she was from, were they just playing with Tinker Toys and 3-Tracks? Carter wasn't sure he wanted to find out...but at the same time, he wondered what he'd have given to read the enigmatic woman's mind for just a moment.
The trio eventually approached a large room with windows and concrete on all sides, rows and rows of consoles and filing cabinets lining the floors of the gymnasium-sized space. A single large projector hummed at the back of the room, trying to shine an image on the massive wall-to-wall blank screen at the front.
"Almost...a little more to the left...no, no, that's the right...that did it! Hold it there! Don't move it!"
Carter turned to the source of the voice - a man in similar vestment to the other agents he had seen, with a thick mustache and slick, combed-back brown hair. Once he caught sight of Weaver and her pair of guests, he clapped his hands and started walking towards them.
"Alright, people," he called out with a chuckle, "show's over. Back to work." As he approached them, he extended his hand out to Weaver. "Angela. Good to see you're still in one piece."
The woman leading Carter made no move to reciprocate the gesture. The look in the man's eyes made him think this wasn't the first time he'd been given the cold shoulder from Weaver before. Instead, she simply looked to Carter, then to the man.
"Carter, this is Nico DaSilva, Senior Field Agent and Squad Leader for Strike-Two," she explained professionally. "Nico, you'll be sharing your workspace with Agent Carter."
Nico shrugged, then turned to Carter, hand still extended. He let out a smile when Carter at least had the decency to return the handshake, then turned to look at Summer. "Just like back in college, huh? And who might this...lovely young lady be?"
Summer rolled her eyes, while Weaver glared. "We're working on finding that out. Calls herself 'Summer Rose', though it might just be an alias. Possible amnesia. Not your concern."
Carter watched as the young woman tensed up a bit, possibly even stifling a shiver.
"In the meantime, I want you to take Carter. Faulke wants him up and running ASAP. 'Time is of the essence,' he said. His words, not mine."
"Gotcha," said Nico with a nod. Then he turned to Summer and Carter, smiling as he spread his hands out. "Welcome to the most advanced facility on Earth."
Summer visibly mouthed the word 'earth' to herself. Carter pretended not to notice as DaSilva led him away from the two women.
"Come on," he said to Carter, "our office is right over here. My desk is on the left side, yours is on the right. Get comfortable, Will. Things as they are now, this is both your office and your quarters." He paused. "You don't mind if I call you 'Will', do you?"
"Yes. I do mind."
"Well, I'm not calling you 'Agent Carter' all the time," said Nico as he rolled his eyes. "Not exactly a fan of formality."
Carter scowled. "I prefer William."
"Yeah, well, I prefer 'Nico,' but my mother insists on calling me Nicolas. There are some things that are just beyond our control. So, Will, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? I mean, obviously everyone here's read your file, but I'd like to get to know the real William Carter, you know?"
As "Will" was led to a modest desk space while Nico prattled and prodded, he grumbled a bit to himself.
He was gonna have a lot of friends here, he could tell.
The hot water washed over Summer Rose like a spring rain, causing an involuntary moan of relief to escape her lips. She didn't usually like taking showers all that much - she had always been an advocate for the benefits of a nice, long hot bath. But after spending over six hours in a dead officer's uniform, sticking her feet into the shoes of a fallen soldier, and splattering herself with both enemy blood and her own, a cleansing rinse of any kind was very much appreciated.
As she scrubbed and soaked in repetitive motions, her mind wandered beyond the confines of the women's washroom. This world…"Earth," as the DaSilva man had called it...was certainly something. The technology was different, less advanced. Without the power of Dust, it seemed like these people had to rely on other means of engineering and invention. Weapons were simple and unsophisticated, and didn't seem to serve any purpose besides pointing and shooting. No swords or other melee implements, either, at least not in this part of the world. Communications equipment was big and bulky, unlike the sleek, smooth Scrolls she was used to. And no one seemed to be all that concerned about attracting the Grimm, or setting up defenses against the shadowy monsters - so it was safe to assume that either they didn't exist here, or were the least of everyone's concerns.
But aside from that...it really wasn't all that different from Remnant.
Even the people seemed familiar, as odd as it sounded. Not only did they look similar to her and speak the same language, she saw people from her old home in the new faces around her. Director Faulke, for instance, was as enigmatic and seemingly unflappable as Ozpin himself - everyone seemed to look to him for guidance, and he carried himself with the demeanor of a man who had seen impossible things. Then there was Carter, who was surly, grouchy, didn't like relying on others, and had a bit of a drinking problem - much like a dusty Qrow she had known in a past life. And from what little she had seen of DaSilva, he seemed to aspire to be a "ladykiller" like Taiyang had been...or had tried to see himself as, in any case. And Weaver…the stone-cold woman reminded Summer quite a bit of Raven, and not in the good way.
She still had a lot of questions about the world she was apparently part of now, and she knew her "amnesia" story wasn't going to hold under much scrutiny for very long. She would need to learn about this world if she was going to survive here. Especially when there was already threat of an alien invasion going on -
"Oh!" came the yelp of a young woman from just outside the shower stall, "I-I'm sorry! I didn't think anyone else was in here..."
Summer poked her head out of the plastic curtain, casting a pair of silver eyes over her "visitor." The flustered-looking young woman was awkwardly trying to clear the steam off her glasses in one hand, as the other arm was currently carrying a large, thick book. Her pale skin and short dark brown hair made her deep red blush stand out all the more, and her somewhat-rounded face had a nervous grin as she tried to recompose herself.
"It's quite alright," said Summer with a soft chuckle, "As long as you're there, do you think you could hand me a towel? I forgot to grab one before I started…"
The woman blinked a few times in quick succession, as if her brain was trying to process what she had just heard. It must have clicked, however, because she walked to the nearby towel rack, grabbing one (abandoning her attempts to clear her glasses in the process) and bringing it to Summer's shower stall. The Huntress snaked out a dripping wet arm and took the towel, careful not to splatter the book as she did so.
"Thanks," she said with a grateful smile, "I'll be out in just a second."
The woman just stood there, nodding and smiling.
Summer frowned. "Um...you're going to turn around, right?"
Something snapped into place. "OH! Oh, of course!" She whirled on the spot, burying her face into the hardcovers in her arms.
With a soft laugh, Summer shut off the water and began drying herself off. Now that she was no longer under the protection of a warm stream, the cold redoubled its attack, making her shiver. But wrapping herself up in a towel proved an adequate defense, at least until she could get to the pile of clothes on the other side of the washroom…
...which this woman was currently blocking.
"Um...sorry, can I ask another favor?"
"O-of course. What is it?"
"Those clothes over there...can you bring them here? Or at least whatever goes on first."
The woman nodded and did so, handing a white undershirt, a pair of boxer shorts, and a soft set of gray dress pants through the shower curtain. After their little 'tour' had concluded, Weaver had pushed a set of spare agent clothes towards the Huntress, told her to change and not touch anything or talk to anyone, and left five seconds later to report to Faulke. Summer wasn't about to complain about being forced to wear 'guy clothes' or anything like that. At least it was more practical than that ridiculous pencil skirt.
Summer stepped out half-dressed and started putting the rest of the uniform on, buttoning up a dress shirt and vest and slipping a pair of black socks and shoes on over her feet. As she did so, she caught glimpses of the woman staring at her - or rather, Summer assumed, her muscles and physique. The third time it happened, her eyes met Summer's, and the Huntress got a good look at a pair of hazel eyes and a cute button nose just staring at her.
"Um...is something wrong?"
The woman shook her head. "No, no, you're fine, it's just...it's really you…"
As if a switch flipped in her mind, the woman suddenly straightened up. "Oh! But where are my manners? I'm Penelope Cohen, Communications Analyst under Officer Chulski. But you can just call me Penny. Everyone else does." She extended a hand out.
Summer chuckled as she stood up and shook the hand. "Summer Rose."
"Oh, I know," said Penny with a smile, "or, at least, I had a hunch it was you. The way that some of the agents were talking about you...it's almost like you were Wonder Woman out there."
The Huntress blinked. "Wonder...Woman?"
Penny's smile faded a bit. "...right. Amnesia. Of course. Sorry, you...probably haven't had much time to adjust, have you?"
"You could say that," said Summer as she tucked the newly-fixed tie under her vest. "Things certainly seem to move fast around here, don't they?"
"They do!" said Penny brightly, "Just a few hours ago I was helping DaSilva's team figure out the pattern behind a series of odd weather phenomena, and now there's talk of extraterrestrial activity being behind the unorthodox climate anomalies!" She blinked, then smiled sheepishly. "Um...I have a few questions for you, if you don't mind."
"Go ahead," said Summer, taking the towel and drying off her hair.
"Is it...is it true that you've fought aliens?"
The silver-eyed Huntress paused. "Yyyyyeess?"
"And is it true that you...killed them with your bare hands?"
"I mean...I used a big metal spike to do it, but yes. I also shot them."
"And...did you really kill over a hundred of them with a single blow?"
"Ah, no. That might be an embellishment."
"That's what I figured," said Penny with a sigh, "Kinney's a good person, but he does tend to exaggerate quite often. How did -"
But whatever questions that Penelope may have had were cut off by an announcement on the loudspeakers, asking all personnel to head to Operations Room for a staff-wide report in ten minutes.
"Sounds important," said Summer as she buttoned up the last buttons. "Let's get down there."
Penelope nodded, but then stopped. "Oh! Sorry, one more question. Do you...have an office yet?"
Summer paused, turning to look at the woman. "Um...no, I don't think Weaver's given me an assignment yet. Is that normal for agents to get an office?"
"Usually, yes, but…" Penny pushed her glasses back into place. "W-Well, if you haven't been assigned anywhere, you can...share an office with me. I was supposed to share it with someone who was being transferred from Groom Range, but...I don't think she's going to need it…"
The Huntress's heart sank, but she did a good job of hiding it. She smiled instead. "Thank you for the offer. We can talk more about it after Faulke gives his report."
"Sure thing!" Penelope said brightly as she and Summer left the washroom. "Wait...Faulke?"
The two women filed into the Operations Room just in time to watch Director Myron Faulke walk up to a podium overlooking a crowd of at least four dozen people. Some were dressed in full suits, others wore comfortable jeans and bomber jackets. Summer could recognize Carter, DaSilva, and Weaver standing closer to the middle of the room, while Kinney and Nils stood off to the side (escorted by some medical staff and one wrinkled-looking doctor). Behind the podium, on the big screen that she had seen DaSilva fiddling with earlier, an emblem with the words "Vigilo Confido" was displayed. Summer wasn't sure what that meant...but given how that same emblem was also painted on the floor beneath them, it seemed to be quite important.
The Director lit a cigarette, took a long draft, and exhaled a puff of smoke. "Lights."
At his command, the room went dim, and the screen shone brighter. The picture changed to show an image that sent unease rippling through the room - a military base on fire, besieged by an enemy unknown.
"We are at war," announced Faulke, his words echoing across the room. "And not the one we were expecting."
He gestured again, and the picture changed to showcase the horror and carnage from a different angle.
"What you see here is an assault on Groom Range that took place at 2100 hours. One of America's most closely-guarded secret installations, staffed with over two hundred of the finest men and women this country has ever seen. The survivors of said attack are standing in the room with us right now - all seventeen of them."
An audible murmur swept through the crowd. People gasped. Penny looked down at the ground and folded her hands.
"In just a few minutes, our enemy managed to destroy the primary strategic command center," continued Faulke, "By 2130...Strategic Command itself ceased to exist."
Waiting a moment for the whispers to die down, Faulke capitalized on the moment to take another whiff of his cigarette. "Our combined military forces have been completely and utterly routed, or outright destroyed. Communications across the globe have gone dark. All the lines have been cut. The red phone will not be ringing."
He stepped out from behind the podium, pacing as he continued to speak.
"And that is why as of now, I, Myron Faulke, am assuming command of what's left of our nation's defenses. The Bureau of Strategic Operations and Command was founded to coordinate resistance forces in the event of a complete and successful Soviet invasion. That mission remains the same...even if our enemy does not."
Summer watched as the energy around Faulke seemed to hum, as all eyes turned to him.
"We now face an opponent from beyond our world, whose identity is yet unknown to us. But make no mistake - this enemy has crippled us, but not destroyed us. They have technology decades beyond what we possess. We must make it our own. Their weapons will become our weapons. And when they do...we shall annihilate them."
A chorus of "ooh-rah!"s came from somewhere in the right side of the room. Summer had to guess at least some of them were from the troops that made it back from Groom Range. Faulke seemed to take it in stride, nodding affirmatively towards them. Then he turned and addressed the entire room.
"I want this facility running on all engines at all times. I want ears on the radios, eyes on the skies, hands in the labs and in engineering, and boots on the ground ready to deploy at a moment's notice. From here on out, I expect nothing but focused determination. Everyone drives, everyone works, everyone does something. And above all else, I want everyone to be prepared to do whatever it takes to survive, adapt, and most importantly, win."
Faulke stopped pacing, and in that moment, that brief pause, everyone in the room could swear he was speaking directly to them.
"Welcome...to XCOM."
XCOM. Ex com. Eggs com? Summer would have to ask for clarification later, but for now she watched as the director stepped back behind his podium. "We'll begin by asking any and all scientifically-inclined individuals to report to Dr. Dresner's laboratory on sub-level four. We've recovered a number of alien artifacts from the attack on Groom Range, and the sooner we figure out how they work, the sooner we can turn them against our foe. Everyone else, to your stations. Rest if you need to, get some food and drink if you want to, but be ready for when we need you. Dismissed."
Summer watched as people in the crowd seemed to form around Nils, Kinney, and the wrinkled old man, while other people disappeared into the hallways and doors. She turned to Penny, who was still next to her, clutching her books tightly.
"You okay?" she asked. The young woman nodded tightly.
"Y-yeah. I'm okay...just...finally realizing what's going on, you know? This is...this is real…"
Summer was about to speak a few words of comfort when she caught sight of Carter, Weaver, and DaSilva approaching. She waved at Carter, who responded with a tip of his hat, then looked at Weaver impassively. Penny darted behind Summer, as if she was trying to put a shield between herself and Weaver - not that anyone could blame her.
"Despite my...misgivings," Weaver spoke coldly, "Director Faulke has decided to assign you to field work. You'll be ASL for Strike Three, reporting directly to Agent Carter. Is that clear?"
The silver-eyed Huntress gave no other emotion in her body language or facial expression aside from a stiff nod. She had no idea what an "ASL" or a "Strike Three" was, but she could always ask later.
"I'll be gathering the rest of Strike Three for field drills at 0800 hours," said Carter. "Do you have an office assignment yet?"
Summer hesitated, then looked back at Penny. "Well...if it's allowed, Penelope Cohen has offered to share her office space with me."
Weaver raised an eyebrow. "Penelope Cohen is not cleared for field duty. Furthermore, she has not been authorized to -"
"Request granted."
The look that Weaver shot at Carter told Summer that the man in the hat probably violated a few protocol commands. His small, there-one-moment-gone-the-next smile told her that he didn't care all that much either.
"Faulke's still trying to avoid co-ed office sharing as much as possible," said DaSilva, whose smile was far more clear. "Trying to cut down on 'distractions', as he called it. So it would make sense for Agent Rose here to share an office with another woman. Unless you'd like to share your big fancy office with Summer here?"
Weaver opened her mouth as if to protest, then spun on her heel and stomped away. DaSilva chuckled as he watched Faulke's second in command walk away in a huff, then turned to Summer.
"Well...looks like you're already making waves here," said the man with the moustache, "I'll let you get to it then. Come on, Carter. The Kraut wants to run a few tests on these 'healing hands' of yours."
"Great," grumbled Carter, "looking forward to it." With one more tip of his hat towards both Summer and Penny, the Squad Leaders were off again.
Penny let out a sigh of relief, then straightened up. "I should probably report to Officer Chulski. I'm ready for more work, if it means keeping people safe. Can you find the office by yourself? It should be down the hall, the last one on the right. It'll say 'P. Cohen' on the side of the door. Feel free to get settled in, if you want."
Summer nodded. "Okay. I'm gonna go get some sleep before those field tests. See you around?"
"Of course," said Penny. Then as Summer turned to leave, she exclaimed, "Oh, one more thing!"
The Huntress spun back around to see Penny holding out the book she had been holding tightly, extending it towards Summer. "I...I have a lot of books in my office. They might help you with your...with your amnesia. You can start with this one. It's the most recent World Almanac. I've added some notes of my own in the margins, but...you don't have to read those if you don't want…"
Summer chuckled as she took the book from Penny's hands, smiling gratefully. "Thank you. I'll be sure to read every word of it."
Penny smiled in return, then turned and headed off towards another group of people. Humming gently, Summer tucked the book under her arm like it was a precious treasure, and headed out in search of a warm meal, a place to lie down, and information about this strange new world she had found herself in.
