Nothing quite felt real. Henry stood on the edge of the room taking quiet notes, the ink of his pen leaking ever so slightly as he did. Occasionally his glasses would slip down the ridge of his nose, and as he pushed them back into position he became aware of just how much he was shaking; a few days ago the idea of parachuting into Nazi occupied France would have seemed ludicrous, but now it seemed more like some elaborate practical joke. [i]And a bloody real practical joke at that,[/i] he reminded himself. 
  
Looking up, Henry focused on the woman named Maria Bianco, a young woman with dark hair and a flawless complexion. He wondered what a person had to do in order to be placed in charge of such an organisation as the Westminster League of Extraordinary Individuals. Perhaps she was born into politics, or maybe she came from a wealthy family with the right connections. Involuntarily, his thoughts turned darker, and he found himself wondering whether or not she had ever killed anyone before. Cocking his head to the side, Henry regarded the rest of the room with intrigue - some of the men and women certainly looked as if they had the potential to be killers. He wondered if he too would have to kill someone. 
  
A bead of sweat rolled down Henry's left temple, bringing his focus back to Maria's speech. With the cuff of his shirt he wiped it away, desperately hoping that no one had noticed, and resumed his note-taking until the woman had finished speaking. [i]You're going to war,[/i] he heard his father's voice echo in his mind, remembering part of the long discussion they'd had only days earlier. [i]This isn't what I wanted for you, but I believe fate gave you these powers all those years ago, and fate is taking you to war now. You need to be strong.[/i]

It was these words that had stuck with Henry, for whatever reason. His father had never been the callous type, as many people had come to expect from wealthy businessmen, but neither had he ever been that type to speak of fate. 

As those who filled the room began to rise and slowly make their way to the trucks, Henry followed. A quiet figure who clung to the back of the group. He hadn't the faintest idea what awaited him as he climbed aboard - one of the first despite having been towards the back of the group. The others apparently wanted to linger, but Henry preferred to take a seat on one of the uncomfortable benches and resume his note-taking. It was as he did so that a thought occurred to him.

"Jesus Christ!" he remarked under his breath. "I'm terrified on heights..."