RE: Soho house operation

Director,

Many thanks for picking up this operation on such short notice. The members of The Bureau and I have taken into account the…suddenness of the anomaly’s appearance, and upon return, a meeting will be set up to discuss a raise in your pay. Take it as a thank you for your quick co-operation, and swift erection of a temporary base around the property.

Thankfully, as you are aware, we had an abundance of Techies and other staff members at our disposal. However, we are aware of EX-138’s station in the operation. You and EX-138 have a, let's say difficult but efficient work ethic, despite your past.

Remember, you are the director. Don’t let an EX get under your skin. Besides, he’s the only one we have available at this given time.

Those behind info death have pushed forward the false claims of an irradiated site. Though an infestation would have been less time-consuming, it has caused the evacuation of civilians in a five-mile radius. Any accidents, well, it will be much easier to cover up. Don’t worry about that though, it's below your pay grade.

Keep the staff happy, and report any findings in the BDoA (Bureau Database of Abnormalities).

* The Members of the Bureau

Jessica sighed, as she found herself doing with all emails from the Bureau. She placed her elbow upon her temporary desk and leant on her propped up hand. They were right, this was impromptu, extremely so. If she was in any other form of employment, she would’ve flat out refused. But of course, this wasn’t an ordinary line of work. No excuses, no matter the commitment. If you’re called up, you’re called up. Birthdays, funerals, weddings, none of it mattered when the anomalous is concerned. It was less of a job, and more like prisoner labour with paid holidays.

She knew this of course, even when they held her employment meeting. It was nothing new, it was just like the MI5, just with a few extra steps, and the percent chance of death increased tenfold.

But again, paid holidays were nice.

Her sigh however wasn’t aimed at the Bureau’s nonchalant take on the operation, or their baseless promises of a raise (of which had been promised more times than she could count). No, it was his includement. EX-138.

Her thought pattern was suddenly broken by the swift appearance of a gruff, tall man. A beige coat covered a buttoned white shirt, clearly unironed, with fitted Bureau mandated black trousers. On his side sat a leather gun holster, a deep brown colour, which had been brought out by some kind of polish. The fact that the man spent more time caring for his holster and didn’t spend the five minutes to iron his shirt puzzled her. This holster would usually house a modified Colt .45, specifically crafted for all staff members and directors. However, the gun occupying the holster was in fact an old school Smith and Wesson revolver, its barrel shortened. From that alone she knew who it was , if the cheap scent of aftershave didn't give it away as soon as he entered.

Behind him however followed a much shorter man, in his early 20s. His once fixed and smartened hair now rustled with stress, with beads of sweat falling from his forehead onto his black buttoned shirt.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Apologies, Director. I tried stopping him but he’s an EX and-”

“It's ok, Davis, you may leave”. Jessica cuts through the intern’s words, who in turn nods, and turns to leave, closing the temporary flimsy wooden door behind him. Both Smithson and herself stood facing each other. A long winded few seconds passed before either got the courage to speak.

“Well, you uh-”

“Look like shit?” Smithson interjected. “Don’t worry, I’ve been told that aplenty on my way here”

Jess gave a wry smile and chuckle. Another long pause grew.

“You um, you have a rough night then or?”

“You could say that. Alarm didn’t go off. Turns out ‘take at 5:00AM’ doesn't exactly give any leeway.” Jess watched as Smithson smiled, his eyes only briefly making contact with hers, before darting around the room for another point of focus.

“You keeping yourself well-”

“Look Jess, could we please skip the small talk? It's as cliche as it is unbearable.” Smithson blurted out, taken aback by his own words as soon as he uttered them. Jess in turn was shocked, and both began to blush slightly from embarrassment.

“Shit, sorry Jess I-”

“It's fine, Smithson,” Jess replied, a hint of agitation in her voice that Smithson picked up on immediately, “just tell me what you’ve come in here for and go.”

Smithson struggled for a short minute, trying to find some words to heal the situation, but finally managed to get rid of the tension within himself. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out his notepad, and extended it towards Jess.

“I did a small amount of recon around the house early this morning. I was told to report the findings to you so they can be catalogued in the database.”

Jess takes the notebook, flipping through a few pages before sitting down at her desk and transferring them onto a document. Silence permeated throughout the room, with it only being broken by the mutterings of staff through the walls and the quiet buzz of the makeshift office lights. After a few antagonising minutes, the silence was completely broken by a robotic voice:

“Information has been catalogued and saved. Thank you. With the Bureau, comes safety.”

Jess gently closes her laptop, and once again stands up, walking towards Smithson and handing back his notebook. He in turn nods, grabbing it and storing it in his coat pocket. With a last attempt, Smithson opens his mouth to try and form some sort of apology, but nothing comes out, instead he smiles, and turns to leave, making no attempt to say goodbye as he shuts the door behind him.

Upon the door closing, Jess lets out a held in breath, exhaling long and hard. She opens her desk, retrieving a worn purple stress ball, of which she began to squeeze, causing it to wrinkle and deflate, before puffing back up again. The brief moment is cut short however, as with a knock on her door, Davis hurriedly enters the room.

“What is it Davis?” Jess asks, the stress ball once again flattening in her grip.

“Sorry to disturb you again ma’am but uh,” Davis rustles in his pockets, retrieving a small folded up piece of paper, clearly torn from Smithson’s notebook, “the uh, the EX agent left me with this, told me to give it to you.” He places it on her desk, before smiling and quickly exiting the room, trying not to cause Jess any more impromptu stress.

Jess released her grip on the stress ball, placing it back into her draw, before reaching for the paper, and unfolding it. Her grip on the paper becomes strained, with crinkles appearing upon the piece’s surface as she scans the writing.

Songbird

She rustles in the draw once again. From it, Jess retrieves a small Clipper lighter, and ignites the paper, watching it burn. When nothing but ashes remained, she swept them onto the floor. Her hand reached under her glasses, and she rubbed the top of her nose, relaxing her eyes. She was tired. Stressed. But she couldn’t stop, as whatever this house was, it just became interesting. And it was connected to her and Smithson somehow.

And now James.

She stands, as her phone lets off a quick buzz. After a quick decryption, it read:

The briefing has been finalised and is available in your emails. Please provide all staff with the document, as well as a meeting to discuss its contents. The operation will henceforth be known as Operation Caged Bird.

* The Members of the Bureau

Jess chuckles, grabbing her blazer from her chair, and moves towards the door, having one final thought coming to mind.

So that's why we’re here?