The fan rotating lazily above his bed and the drum of the TV helped the dreary attitude of Ghost's dingy hotel room. Somewhere near the border of New York and Vermont, he was laying low on his way to Canada. He had never been out of the country on his own before, that is, without being at the end of a leash, and liked the sound of settling down in a small French cafe every morning for breakfast. Theodore was not particularly excited for the move, more curious as to what living there would be like. He would most likely wind up leaving. And staying in more dingy hotel rooms until he made it to another city that would hold his attention for less then a year. Just another passing face on public transit. 

[i]"Thank you Sandra. Now, on to other news. There's a memorial service today in remembrance for the tragic event that happened with Obsidian just two years ago..."[/i] Ghost sighed and curled himself into a sitting position at the mention, immediately searching for the remote to change the channel. His pale hands patted the horrendously patterned duvet below him as he yawned; he was tired and bored after an uneventful morning. Ghost existed on a inconsistent yet reliable income from his questionable profession. He rarely lacked the money to stay at a nicer hotel, but he preferred the quick and dirty atmosphere of lesser establishments. Five star hotels reminded him of his time as an Operative, whereas a dirty hotel room made him think of his time before he had joined Obsidian.

He finally slapped his hand down on the remote and drew it to him. He rubbed a hand down his face as he flicked through the channels aimlessly until his control of the thing frizzed out. Brow furrowed as he continued to click and gesture with the remote, he grumbled. Into view came an unfamiliar figure, dressed in an strangely yet pious fashion. A black mask hid his features. But the part of the scene that drew Ghost's attention was the device in his hand. 

At first, Ghost watched with a tilted head and suspicious visage, but the gravity of the situation settled on him as the man continued. His voice was chilling, but what was truly unnerving was the message it bore. After a brief moment of panic, followed by a thudding pulse then much relief as the unknown figure selected and dispatched a random somewhat-martyr for his cause, Ghost stood, the remote limp in his hand. "[i]... And, for your sake, I do hope you consider.[/i]" At that, Ghost (sputtering mild curses every so often) started to shove his clothes into his backpack. He threw his few sundry belongings in as well. He grabbed his key and stopped at the door, looking around to make sure he didn't forget anything. Satisfied, his hustled out the door and into the lobby, and then fidgeted through his whole transaction with the receptionist. She popped her gum, looking up at him with clearly suspicious eyes as the old computer whirred through his transaction. 

"Here," she muttered at him as he quickly grabbed his change (for he had paid in cash) and quickly walked out the door. It was late afternoon, and he knew he could get into a hotel by midnight if he left now. It was late, and traffic wouldn't be too bad if he stayed outside the city proper. Ghost didn't think he was very frightened, but the more he thought on the man's threat, the thicker the infested blood running through his veins felt. He knew he couldn't be sure that the device the man had used was indeed what he claimed, but the prospect was enough for Ghost to consider it as a threat. His four hour drive was passed with thoughts heavy with the people he would see the next day, apprehension the main emotion dampening his chest like early morning fog. His sojourn felt more like a midnight reckoning hour than a countryside stroll. 
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ghost managed to hole up in a decent hotel a little ways away from the city. The next morning, dressed freshly in a green shirt and dark jeans, he was tucked away on the subway, having decided to take the trip incognito. He stood awkwardly vigilant on the subway, making sure to not alert anyone to his presence. It was one of the many times of day New York's public transit was packed tight and so he had to be careful to stay out of peoples' way. When he finally got to his stop in the city, he had much trouble removing himself from the subway. More than a few people were tripped as he was bumped around by unsuspecting passersby, but he managed to hurry away and up onto the street without too much suspicion. On the street, his used his normal technique for maneuvering metropolitan areas; he climbed across the faces of buildings. It was not major act of gymnastics, though it did show he was athletic(or at least it would have had anyone actually saw it). Perched on a particularly high overhang, Ghost tapped his foot impatiently as he scanned the crowd for any familiar faces. 

He laughed at himself a moment later, the sound lost to the cacophony that sounded from the city engulfing him. He hoped dearly that he had come at the right time. Police had invaded the Square, and he was careful to keep from getting too close. A cop would be the one to immediately suspect an Operative if he noticed a spot of empty space at this time of day, especially because they were on high alert. He stood there for a long while before he saw a familiar face. Having gotten there around 9 o'clock, it took Ghost a little while to spot a woman seated at a bench who triggered something in his memory. He shuddered when he realized who it was; Cheshire. The strange woman made him cringe. After a few moments of him watching her, he figured she was just waiting around like him.

It was a little less than an hour later when things got a little more interesting. He spotted another familiar woman just as she entered the square. Citrine, well-dressed as ever, came striding purposely through the square. As he tried to keep an eye on both of them, the same strange interaction played out twice before him. They were both approached by shady looking characters and handed something his couldn't quite discern. Then, both of them hurried out of the Square and headed off to some destination unknown to Ghost. 

He groaned as he realized that if he wanted in on the party, he would have to get an invitation. The one advantage he had over the other Operatives was that his face wasn't that well known, so when he dipped into an ally and back out, now visible, he was too worried about anyone who wasn't looking specifically for him. He wondered aimlessly for a bit before the same thing happened to him that did the two others he had observed. A man approached him, handed him a wallet that had definitely not been his, and disappeared. He opened it to find a few hundred bucks and a convincing ID with his picture. A note was there too, and he was soon on his way to Magnet Theater at a brisk pace. 

Ghost went invisible again as soon as he could. Admittedly, he had felt a little naked before and was worried about how many people on the street were working for the masked man. He was anxious to catch up with the other Operatives and nearly jogged to the theater. Ghost had made very few enemies during his time with Obsidian and had departed on good terms with more than a few other Operatives. In this predicament, he knew he'd have a better chance with a few allies by his side. But he knew not to rely on anyone else just yet. He went inside with the feeling that the other's he had seen would most likely already be encountering something sinister. He made it the the theater and rushed inside. He only stood around for a moment before a door, marked for employees, swung open and a child came out. She directed him to the elevator and nearly shoved him inside, pressing a button and leaving just as quickly as she had come. The elevator dinged as it descended, soft music playing in the background. Ghost reappeared. If the elevator opened and they saw no one inside, it would be pretty obvious that it was him who had come down. 

When the elevator stopped, Theodore took a deep breath and took a calm exodus from the metal box. It closed behind him, and he approached a gathering of familiar figures. The very first of which, who commanded the attention of everyone in a room, was the hulking beast that passed for an Operative, Hannibal. With how little control they actually had over the creature, Ghost had wondered often in the past, and again in that moment, why he had stuck around with them for as long as he did. Hannibal was both a good and bad thing. If shit hit the fan, following the lizard-man would probably be a good chance of survival. That is, if you didn't get in the way or look particularly appetizing. The escape route hovered in his mind as he walked slowly forward, wondering whether that act would be considered weak by the creature and warrant digestion. He didn't have any idea where he stood in the creature's eye and didn't even attempted to assume what that station would be. He decided that it would be safest to just stay away from him if he could.

Finally, Ghost looked up to the man who had reactivated the invisible noose around his neck. No mask hid his features now, and Ghost made sure to get a good look at his face. He had come in just as the man started talking of his plan. "An intelligence agency in New York recently recovered the blueprints of a prototype weapon created by the Russians. This device has the potential to create an artificial mini-black hole. I need it, which means I need you, preferably alive..." Ghost held back a groan. He hated going to Russia.