[b]DIS HQ - 3 Hours Ago [/b]
Striker awoke in the surprisingly soft cot that he would now call his bed. Apart from some odd possessions and pieces of clothing that he had lazily strung on the floor, the room was clean and empty to the point that it felt sterile and uncomfortable. The day before he had been collected by another Britishman named Cian from the airport and brought to base. He seemed like a nice enough guy, although his name was a bit too similar and so Cain decided he would simply go by ‘Striker’; it was what he expected he would be called on missions anyway. Striker felt slightly bad though, for he didn’t take the time to meet anyone or get properly settled in but instead went to bed to try fend off the jet lag. 

Striker’s trail of thought was interrupted by a knocking at the door and before he could get up the door swung open to reveal a guard. “Sorry to barge in but you have an urgent call in the conference room. I don’t know who it is, I’m not high enough clearance for it to tell me. Thought I better get you quickly.” The guards words were sputtered out quickly and were barely understandable. Striker simply sighed in response as he rose out of bed and was about to ask the guard to wait outside when more rambling came out, “Oh! And I also brought you your uniform.” 

---
Striker stood in the large oval room on his own as the screen before him continuously flashed the words ‘establishing secure connection’. His face was dark with anger and embarrassment as he stood there in his tight gym shorts and polo top – his new teachers outfit. On more than one occasion he nearly found himself attacking other DIS members who looked at him a second too long on his way to the room. When the familiar face of London Director Stewart Menzies popped up on screen Striker could help furrow his brow in surprise. “Good morning Cain. I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.” Director Menzies’ carried distinction and authority, even over the video link. 

“Apologies, I was feeling jet-lagged. How can I help you?” Replied Striker as he stood straighter and futilely tried to make himself look smarter in the gym-wear. 

“Firstly, I hope you were smart enough to realise that you weren’t simply transferred to L.A. because of a lack of manpower? The truth is you’re being placed there because we want someone we feel we can fully trust and who we know finds it hard to trust others themselves.” The director paused to let Striker let the words sink in. “There has been a vast increase in activity and human DIS agents have suddenly started dropping like flies in the offices surrounding L.A. We believe that there may be a security leak; which is why we wanted to bring in someone from outfield. Moreover we believe that given the deaths have been primarily human agents, that it might be due to a supernatural member, of which there are a few in L.A.” 

“You know I don’t like [i]supes’[/i] being on the team so I make the ideal man for the job?” guessed Striker. 

“Ideal is perhaps a bit much.” Smiled the director “If nothing else the team over there could use some more experience and a decent handler for the supernatural members. With this increase in activity it would also be nice to have a direct feed of information coming to me without having to rely on someone who could be compromised.” 

Striker nodded in agreement “Understood. Is there anything else I should know or would you like me to get straight to business?”

“I hope it goes without saying that this is to be kept secret. You are to speak about this to no-one except me. As far as your new team is concerned, you just wanted to get away from the awful British weather and it turned out a spot had opened up on their team. Director out.” And with that the feed disconnected. [i]‘Director out? What a pompous git’ [/i]Striker smirked.