[h2]The Ophiuchus Project[/h2]


	Commissioner Eli Staff stared out of his office window, sweating. Even in the winter, the impregnable walls of Rikers Island prison complex insulated heat to an unbearable level. A thin smile stretched across his face. [i]Almost unbearable[/i], he reminded himself as he turned once again to face the two men. "Do you want to know why I love my job, gentlemen?" Both men said nothing as he began to pace slowly along the perimeter of his office, his left boot scraping unevenly behind him along the concrete floor. Tall metal bookshelves lined the white walls, a portable cooling unit sputtered and wheezed in the corner. He plucked a book from one of the shelves, tossing it a short distance. The leather bound tome landed on ground at the feet of both men with heavy thud; Commissioner Eli Staff wiped at his forehead, "I love my job because it never ceases to surprise and inspire me." He laughed, "Fifty employees, twenty inmates, monitored checkpoints, surveillance placed at the doors of each entrance, and the entire underground level. That's everything you need, isn't it?" The Commissioner gestured to the book at their feet, "A record of all the construction ever done on Rikers Island complex. I think your team will find that when working below ground, modern blueprints won't account for the false walls or old piping." 
		
	"So that we have an understanding, each of the employees and inmates will be hand-selected by our team. I'll need access to their files." 

	The Commissioner laughed again, but more explosively. "Is that so?" He looked between the two men trying to decide whether or not to believe them. It was his first time noticing how different both men seemed from each other in both stature and demeanor. One considerably older and seemingly indifferent, he kept his hands in the pockets of his navy blue suit; dark eyes scanning the countless titles around the office. The one who had spoken looked to be in his thirties, tall and broad chested. He didn't seem like a doctor, although he had been introduced as Sector 12's Head of R&D. "Dr. Casper, was it? I read your dossier in it's entirety and it never mentioned anything about you getting to [i]choose[/i] which of my people you'll be taking for this project." 

"A small oversight." Massive Dr. Casper replied candidly while reaching into the breast pocket of his blazer. He pulled out a cellular phone and punched in a number and without hesitation, extended his arm. The old man shook his head and picked up the book. The tail ends of several tattoos peeked from his cuffs as he began flipping through pages.  

	A nerve at the left-side of his temple began to throb, Commissioner Staff snatched the phone, "Is this a joke?" he snarled, holding the phone up. "Mayor Dyer?" the Commissioner looked up at both men, his chin slack with momentary shock as the Mayor of New York City answered on the first ring. Surprise melted into disquiet. "Joe? That you?" recovered, he spoke rapidly into the phone, loosening his neck tie, "You know about this? Well- no- no, don't tell [i]me[/i] what's beyond our control. This is my jail. The best faculty? How are we going to make up for that? Do you want a riot? I helped you get elected Joe, don't forget that-" he was shouting into the phone now. Worse too, that Mayor Joe Dyer's voice seemed distracted, almost bored. He kept repeating that there was nothing to be done, but that the Commissioner had [i]nothing[/i] to worry about and should go along with whatever Sector 12 wanted. 

	Red mist clung to the corners of his vision, he opened and closed his mouth several times. Using his good leg to send the wastebasket near his desk flying, he began to curse until spittle formed at the corner of his lips. "Thirty years, I've been here in this hell hole for thirty years..." he stabbed END CALL. "Let... Let me ask you two something..." he struggled to catch his breath, "what does it taste like, eh? Tell me, because I really need to know." He looked up at both of the men, revealing a set of grey teeth, "I bet you two had to blow just about every good ol' boy in Congress to make this happen." He lurched forward and latched on to the front of older man's suit, grasping him tightly by the lapels. 

	The older man stood unfazed, peering over the Commissioner's shoulder to glance at the clock, "Dr. Casper, you've got this handled right? I'll get the driver to pull around." 

	"Very well, Dr. Holiday. Call Dr. Jameson and tell her The Ophiuchus Project has been green lit. Renovations and interviews begin tomorrow. At this rate we can expect to resume our search in the spring."  

	"The hell it has! Any of you cocksuckers think you can survive the heat? Do you? It'll roast you alive. Flies. Flies everywhere-" The Commissioner's voice cracked. Pain radiated from the left side of his body as the enormous vice-like grip of Dr. Casper's hand clamped down on his shoulder. 

	"I see you can't be reasoned with." Dr. Casper flexed his fingers and waited patiently for the screaming to stop. "Relax. It's only a hairline fracture," he released his grip and watched as the man began to dry heave into the concrete. "Let's keep in touch Commissioner."