Amy lazily reclined on her bed flicking through a battered copy of ‘New Scientist Magazine’ while a noisy fan clicked its way across the room. She liked to keep up to date on the latest developments, but there wasn’t much else she could do in between jobs. She glanced over at the line of three telephones across the room on her desk incase she missed someone calling, but none of the answer machine lights were flashing so she went back to her article.

The room in question was a single open plan space that occupied the small corner of the third floor of a block of flats. It had only one widow that looked onto the alley beside the building, but was permanently netted over to stop anyone who shouldn’t be looking in. The rest of the room comprised of a small kitchen along the back wall, a desk boxed in by two large grey filing cabinets upon which sat the 3 phones a small lamp and a filing tray, and a large chest of draws across the front wall behind the door. Ontop of the draws was an old black and white TV and the fan. Past this was the door that lead off to the bathroom which held a toilet and a shower. Next to Amy on her left was a large padlocked chest that was currently her resting place for a glass of water.

It wasn’t much when you looked at it. The floorboards had long since lost their varnish and the peeling wallpaper flapped in the breeze from the fan, but it had been home for the past 3 years and if circumstances stayed the same it would continue to be so.

Amy sighed, checked the telephones once more then turned the page and carried on to the next article.

Tricity scrolled through her phone numbers and found the number she was looking for. She wondered whether this person was still 'available'. After a few rings and no answer, Tricity waited as the voicemail prompted.

"Hi, this is Tricity. I'd really appreciate it if you gave me a call. I'm in need of your...services and I'm willing to pay well for them." Tricity paused a moment, taking a sip of water since her throat was incredibly dry from being asleep for a couple of days. "I need you to track down a certain base, facility, lab...whatever. It concerns the safety of all mutants. Apparently, our species is being kidnapped off the streets and it's poured into the mansion here. So, please give me a call. Thank you."