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[center][color=black][b]May 1[sup]st[/sup], 2016. Star City, California.[/b][/color][/center]

Silas King slammed both fists upon his desk, inadvertently scattering various documents and files that had been piled up on the edge. His chair creaked as the man leaned forward, dark eyes glaring at the unlucky messenger across from him. 

"What do you [i]mean[/i] the shipment was destroyed again? I told you assholes to increase security!" 

The younger man flinched at the words screamed at him. He was just the poor sap who had gotten the unfortunate duty of informing King of the most recent raid, and had no authority to affect anything, security or otherwise, in the operation. But he wasn't foolish enough to remind Silas King of that fact. It was well known that King, a captain in one of the Pacific's largest drug cartels, had quite a temper, having earned his higher position for his ability to keep the lower lieutenants and their underlings in line through promises of brutal violence and retribution of any failure. It was also rumored that he was close to, and had the direct ear of, the Pusher Man himself. All in all, it was best not to give the already angered drug trafficker any more reason to be upset, the messenger decided. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but this week's product we were going to ship to the Philippines was intercepted by --" His voice was cut off by another loud crash as Silas brought his fists back to the table even harder. 

"It was [i]her[/i] again, wasn't it?" Silas spat out the question, venom in his words, practically daring the courier to confirm what he already knew. 

The messenger's eyes flicked back and forth, nervous to respond. He eyed the two guns in the room; one in the waistband of King's personal muscle, and the other to the right-hand side of his desk, just within arm's reach of the cartel captain. 

"Y-yes, sir." He stammered out a response, tendrils of fear gripping at him. "Several of the men you had guarding the shipment, the conscious ones, all spoke of a woman in black who jumped them from the shadows." 

Silas leaped out of his chair, sending it skirting back behind him and clattering against the wall. "That's the fourth fucking time this goddamned bitch has screwed with the shipments! We're losing product almost as fast as we can make it, and our business partners are beginning to question us!" 

A metal cigar tray was flung across the room, nearly striking the now whimpering messenger in the temple, as King seethed at this latest misfortune. 

"It's just a fucking girl," his screaming caused veins to start bulging from his neck. "This isn't Gotham, she isn't the goddamned Batman! I thought I hired dangerous [i]men[/i] to guard the shipments, not fucking [i]pussies[/i]!" 

King reached for his handgun, tired of the incompetence of his employees and wanting to make a point of no longer tolerating its presence in the way his simple mind usually leaned towards. Just as he gripped the weapon, a new voice interjected the fury-filled silence. 

"Sir, if I may make a suggestion."

King whirled around to face the owner of the voice. Red-headed and strikingly beautiful, she seemed out of place in a room belonging to the captain of a drug cartel. Her grey business attire definitely clashed with what the three criminals present wore - even the sniveling messenger was wearing an untucked, plain t-shirt, and sneakers. Her thin glasses framed green eyes, and she wore a polite smile as she spoke to her superior, unfazed by his tirade. 

She was already talking again, not waiting for King to renew his shouting. "This woman who keeps disrupting operations is clearly skilled, at least enough to dispatch close to a dozen heavily armed men on multiple occasions. For all we know she isn't working alone. It is possible, after all, that she is merely the distraction while others attack from out of sight. 

"Even still," she continued. "there are certain measures that can be taken to prevent this mystery woman from interfering again." 

Silas King eyed her, his fury still present but his curiosity now piqued at her statement. His methods may be simple, but Silas wasn't stupid, he had already taken several precautions after the first instance, and with the most recent before this one he had more than doubled security at the docks. His supply of able men wasn't unlimited, though, and he couldn't continue to sacrifice them to this assailant indefinitely. So the notion that there could be a method he hadn't considered was worthwhile to hear out, he knew. 

The woman before him, who looked more like an accountant than a member of an international drug trafficking organization, was named Sara White. She was the former adviser to one of his lieutenants in Washington state, and King's current counsel on intricate matters after his last had died in the flood caused by the April First Invasion. Sara had been highly praised by his lieutenant, having been instrumental in the evasion of law enforcement agencies in Seattle, and had been proving the same here in Star the past month. In fact, aside from the woman in black, his side of operations had been running smoother than ever before in recent times, and most of that could be attributed to Sara's newly valued advice and input.

"I'm listening," growled King. He still held the pistol in his right hand, but it was now at his side and pointed harmlessly at the floor. For the moment, at least. 

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Ten minutes later the messenger exited the room hurriedly, sweat clinging to his brow and soaking his hair as he quietly thanked every higher power he could think of that King's counsel had spoken up when she did, taking any and all heat that had been focused on him away. With Silas King's reputation as it was, the young man was confident that he had been mere seconds away from, at the very least, a case of shattered knee caps for merely being the proverbial bearer of bad news. 

Following behind, at a much calmer pace, heels clicking against the wooden floor, came Sara White. As she left King's office and rounded the nearby corner, a subtle smirk broke across her face. It was the smirk of a woman who was very pleased with herself. It was also the smirk of a predator who had just laid out a very carefully planned trap, long in the making, for an unsuspecting prey. While Silas would believe this trap was intended for the woman in black that had been troubling him for weeks, the reality of the situation was going to be far more problematic for the cartel captain than he ever could have realized. 

The well-dressed woman whispered to herself as she made her way outside of King's run-down complex. "Good job, Dinah. You've really outdone yourself."